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Life is a storm, my young friend. You will bask in the sunlight one moment, be shattered on the rocks the next. What makes you a man is what you do when that storm comes.--Edmond Dantes ‘The Count of Monte Cristo’
Warning:Language, mentions of Voilence,
Negan liked his job, sure the pay was shitty and a majority of the kids were just a bunch of whiny snot nosed brats, but it was still loads of fun. But being a gym coach has its ups and downs.
One of those downsides was having to deal with fights and scuffles between students. And loandbehold it just so happens that today his most favorite student, Carl Grimes, just had to go punch another kid. Right out of the blue, no forewarning and right in Negan’s line of view.
‘ Sheesh, if your gonna hit someone at least don't do it in front of the teacher.’ Negan internally thought to himself as he observed a sullen Carl who kept his head hung and was refusing to make eye contact, while Negan was leaning back into his leather swivel chair, his feet propped up on his workstation in an unprofessional manner.
“Okay you little serial killer wannabe, tell me exactly what the hell was going through that head of yours prior to breaking that buck-tooth Joey's nose?” Negan cut to the chase after a long moment of silence, and watching the kid sit there like a sentinel.
“Nothin’” Carl reluctantly grumbled, however Negan didn't accept that bullshit answer.
“You telling me you just hit him for NO reason?!” Negan wagged an eyebrow, goading the kid, trying to make him spill the beans. “For no reason at all?”
Carl's mouth, which has already thinned into a hard line , seemed to tighten as his jaw clenched at the question. His brows deeply furrowed as he openly scrowled at his teacher, unashamed and unapologetic. Negan swore this kid was going to get wrinkles before he reached the age of twenty.
“You weren't there, you didn't hear what he said.” Carl retorted, causing Negan to assume it was something the other little dipshit said that caused Carl to react the way he did.
“Then enlighten me.”
“It's none of your business.”
“You fighting in my class is my fuckin’ buisness.” Negan threw back, sitting up right in his chair in order to lean over his desk and get a closer look at the defiant kid. Who Negan saw a bit of himself in at that age.
“He just said some stuff to get under my skin.” Carl visibly deflated. All the hot air that he puffed himself up with was gone, leaving him looking shriveled and just plain tired.
“Which it obviously did.” Negan pointed out, knowing that Carl wasn't one for being affected by taunts or insults.
“I know, it was dumb that I fell for it…” Carl was an upstanding kid, a pleasant parallel to his regular run of the mill dipshit classmates, though he could be a bit mischievous at times. Along with a few gym equipment themes pranks that Negan took pleasure in retaliating against. “And I won't fall for it again.”
“That is good to hear.” Negan praised the kid, because he genuinely believed Carl will stay true to his word...and he may have a sort of soft spot for the little killer; which he'd never willingly admit to. “But what I wanna know is, Carl. What did buck-tooth Joey say to you to make you discard that southern gentleman teachin’ of yours and deck him?”
The question caused Carl to clam shut again, as if Negan had asked him to share his most dirtiest secret. Which was probably something harmless; like how much chocolate the kid was hoarding in his sock drawer at home.
Negan drummed his fingers on his desk, idly waiting for the kid to spill his guts so they both could finally put this conversation out of it's fucking misery.
Then his thumb brushed against a n old newspaper and the answer hit Negan like a load of bricks, making him feel like a bigger as whole than he already was; “The little prick said somethin’ about your daddy, didn't he?”
Carl's silence, accompanied by his stiffened posture was all the confirmation Negan needed to know he hit the nail on the head.
Negan silently groaned to himself as he scrubbed a hand down his unshaven face. Damn, he hated kids sometimes.
Rick Grimes was a sheriff's deputy of King County police department. Run of the mill golden-boy and holier than thou upbringing and damn, one hell of a fine looking southern peach to boot. But some sorry ass piece of shit, someone who was unworthy of even breathing the same air as Rick, went and shot his pretty ass. Rendering him in a coma, unsure of when he'll wake up again. If he wakes up again.
“Look kid,” Negan said after a moment of silence. “How about instead of the standard ‘You need to learn to control yourself unless you want to end up in prison’ speech, and the mandatory detention I'm required to give you. Let's say I let you go home early, to cool off and relax a bit, not even a single red mark on your record.”
Carl fidgeted in his chair for a moment, biting his lip as he mules over his coaches words, before asking quietly; “You’d do that?”
“Damn straight I would.” Negan retorted, grinning widely at the bewildered look Carl gave him.
“Why?”
“Because I give a flying fuck about you, that's why.Your one of very few students that I can actually stand in my classes.”
Sure Negan was breaking a few rules--what else was new?--But it was worth it just to see Carl completely slump back in his chair in relief and give him a genuine, though a bit small, smile.
“Thanks coach,” Carl said, sounding sincere. “Your the best.”
“That's abso-fuckin-lutely right, never forget it.” Negan agreed, waving the kid out as he dismissed him. “Go call your mom, tell her your sick or somethin’. I don't really care. Though remember-” here he gave Carl a meaningful look, making eye contact with the little trooper before he exited his closet sized office. “You can always, and I mean fuckin’ always , come to me when you need anything.”
“Thanks coach, I'll remember.”
“You better!”
Something clenched inside Negan's gut as soon as the door clicked shut behind the kid. Something that nagged at his very core, a need to help and look after the little killer when his daddy is conked out and unable.
‘Would Rick approve?’ Negan wondered to himself. Rick didn't necessarily agree with his foul language, or his motivational techniques that he used on the kids, nor did the married man appreciate Negan's constant flirting-- though it was impossible to resist doing so when you have someone as handsome and wholesome as Rick hanging around --but Negan liked to think that Rick would appreciate Negan looking out for his kid when he can't.
‘Perhaps I can stop in and check up on things at home?’ It was an idea that Negan promised to do later. For now, Joey was in for a month's worth of detention.
Where have all the good men gone.
‘Holding out for a Hero.’--Bonnie Tyler