Chapter Text
“And again!” Negan barked at the jogging teens from outside the dugout, grinning at the chorus of irritated groans that rang out as they reached the end of their supposed last lap.
“And just for that? Two more!” He hollered out. Despite the scowls on their sweaty faces, they held their bitching in this time. Good. It was getting dark earlier now that fall had come, and behind him he could hear the unimpressed mutterings of the parents who’d come to collect their kids from practice. Tough shit. They’d be done when he said they were done.
He watched the last few stragglers finish before he blew two short bursts on his whistle, checking his watch. Just about fifteen minutes overtime. Perfect. The kids made their way over, grabbing their waters and catching their breath as they crowded around him.
He handed his clipboard over to the assistant coach, Eugene, who began calling out their positions for the upcoming game. Car doors opened and closed behind him as more parents approached the dugout, the faint sound of chattering and a child’s laughter coming closer.
He whistled sharply through his teeth this time to quiet the boys down again as they started high-fiving and congratulating by slamming each other on the back. They barely settled down as Eugene continued calling out names. Negan’s gaze landed on Carl, who was paying Eugene no attention whatsoever and had his disrespectful mop head turned towards the parking lot, sticking his tongue out and making faces.
Negan looked over to pinpoint who Carl was so preoccupied with and saw Carl’s dad staring his son down with a reprimanding look, sternly pointing two fingers to direct his son’s attention back to Eugene. His other hand stayed firmly on a little girl as she tried in vain to break free from his grip and run to her brother, her excited laughter echoing over.
“Carl,” Negan snapped. “Eyes front.” The boy dropped his silly expression back to his signature scowl, turning to look disinterestedly in his and Eugene’s vague direction. Negan bristled at the sheer disobedience, even if he had a reluctant respect for the kid. Negan knew teachers shouldn’t have favourite students, just like parents shouldn’t have a favourite child. But he wasn’t a parent.
Negan half turned to get a proper look at Carl’s dad, whose eyes caught his with a slightly embarrassed nod and apologetic wave for his son’s behaviour. Negan lifted a hand back, but Rick didn’t notice, he’d crouched down and was focused on tying his little girl’s shoelace.
Negan had been enraptured from the moment he’d seen said dad, struggling with an armful of kindergartner in his lap, sitting in the stands during the team’s last few baseball games.
The fact that of all the parents, it was Carl’s dad. Carl’s dad with the curly hair and blue eyes and equal enthusiasm for his son and his team, whether they were barely winning or losing a depressing loss.
Who Negan had seen embrace Carl with pride when their team had won, despite Carl being on the bench for most of it because he’d been a little shit to Negan in class two days before.
Rick, who’d been a widow the past five years. Who was raising a teenager and a five year-old as a single father. Who’d woken up from an on-the-job gunshot through the neck and chest induced coma, completely deaf, only to discover that his pregnant wife had been killed in a car accident one month prior, though the baby was saved. How he’d quietly retired from the force to be a full-time parent to his kids.
How Negan wasn’t half-bad with sign language from having to deal with Lucille’s insufferable sister for the entirety of their marriage. Her sister hated him, and for someone who didn’t speak, she was overwhelmingly vocal about shit-talking him to Lucille.
So, when he’d innocently asked Lucille to start teaching him, he’d omitted the fact that it was to understand whatever defamations of his character her sister was trying to put into his wife’s mind at whatever unbearable family function they were attending.
Negan was familiar with suffering, with loss. But on his first day at his new job, when the principal had pulled him aside to explain Carl’s home situation, Negan had almost developed an inadequacy complex. Who was he to wallow in his grief every waking moment of his life over losing his beloved? If Carl’s dad got through his wife’s passing with a new baby, a teenager and a disability… Well, Negan had found a grim inspiration in it.
And when he first laid his eyes on Rick, he couldn’t help the impulsive plans and strategies taking shape in his head. Even if the man turned out to be straight, Negan could at least busy himself with worthless pining to distract himself from his loneliness for a bit.
He couldn’t imagine how Carl had felt for the weeks between his mom’s death and his dad waking up. And with a newborn sister on top of that. Then the challenges that came with Rick losing his hearing. Negan couldn’t fathom how Carl hadn’t gone completely off the rails. He’d tried to connect with the boy, couldn’t comprehend what it was like for a kid to go through that.
Carl made it difficult.
He was quiet in class. He had friends, Negan could see that. But he wouldn’t participate. Negan could understand why, had held Carl back once, after being his history and gym teacher for two months.
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“Hey, kid.” Negan looked over at Carl, who stood in front of his teaching desk, his body half-turned toward the door, bag slung over his shoulder and ready to leave. “I know what it’s like, you know, to lose someone. Lost my wife of 15 years to cancer.” Negan’s gaze caught awkwardly on the pencils and pens cluttering his desk. “You ever wanna talk about it, I’m here.” He glanced up.
Carl looked him for a second. Negan met his eyes with empathy. Only for Carl to declare-
“That sucks for you, bye.”
And he left right through the classroom door. Negan tried to grin at the kid as he exited, but he’s sure he was baring his teeth at the teen’s back.
Negan was trying to build a rapport. He really was, it was just taking time. Sure, Carl was a bit short with him. Negan reminded himself of the boy’s home life whenever he’d spot Carl texting in class. It wasn’t a huge deal. He was more concerned with Carl having steady grades and a circle of friends. If the teen connected with him it would be just a bonus. He liked to think Carl could tell he was putting in the extra effort.
Negan had heard other teachers gossip at lunch, about ensuring the kid had all the support he needed, to make sure he was included, and all that. He’d often see how Carl was treated differently to other students, teachers taking a soft tone with him, condescending concern in their eyes as they asked him if he was doing okay.
Negan often mirrored the cringe on Carl’s face when he witnessed such. Which is why he made sure Carl got away with nothing. He didn’t want the kid to feel left out, after all. Negan was indiscriminate in disciplining his students, no special treatment.
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Negan looked up from the paper he was grading and glanced at the clock. With fifteen minutes to go until the end of detention, he looked at the handful of kids scattered about the classroom who were either doodling, doing homework or had their faces pillowed in their arms. “Consider yourselves lucky, I’m feeling generous today. Scram.”
He watched in amusement as the teens shot to their feet, dramatic inertia dissipating in an instant, shoving their things in their bags and zipping out of the room. He eyed Carl who trailed out behind them as he made his way for the door.
“Carl, a minute.” He waved idly in front of him. Carl paused, looking at him warily, before he sat himself down in the desk in front of Negan’s.
“Now, I’ve been noticing something really interesting. You’ve gotta hear me out, alright?” Negan intoned as he pulled out the last few detention acknowledgment slips that were to be signed by parents, eyeing them dramatically.
“I mean, the ‘R. Grimes’ might’ve been somewhat convincing if you even made the effort to change your handwriting.”
Carl scowled at him and Negan smirked back. “Hate to break it to you kid, but if a career in forgery was the plan, you might wanna reconsider…” Negan trailed off, raising his eyebrows at the boy. “What exactly would your daddy think when I tell him that his son is partaking in criminal endeavors?”
Carl glared at him, and Negan shrunk a little bit internally at the hardened intensity behind the boy’s blue eyes.
“Go ahead. It might be what finally pushes him over the edge. I’m sure he’d be glad for a final straw,” Carl grumbled, moving to leave his desk.
“Hey, wait.” Negan tried to keep the alarm from his voice and sound professional. “It’s been that bad at home?” He asked, concerned.
“He barely even leaves the house. He won’t even- He doesn’t even try.” Carl’s face screwed up like he was going to cry, but instead he got angry.
“He’s just wasting, and he acts like everything’s going so well, like I can’t hear him crying at night when my sister’s sleeping, when he thinks I’m sleeping,” Carl’s voice breaks, but he stubbornly blinks the tears in his eyes away. Negan’s brief uplift of pride that the kid is confiding in him is smothered by the actual reality presenting itself.
“So, no. I don’t tell him when I get detention. I tell him I’m doing after-school study. You can tell him whatever you like.” Carl stood from the desk and roughly pulled his bag over his shoulder, beelining for the door.
“Wait!” Negan pushed away from his desk, raising to meet Carl before he could wrench the door open. Carl stopped and looked at him impatiently.
“I don’t think your dad’s the only one with his plate full. Take it easy, alright? I’m not trying to make your life harder. I’d suggest seeing the guidance counselor, if I personally didn’t consider him a useless piece of shit.” Negan grinned as Carl cracked a reluctant smile.
Negan knew he lacked in any sort of wisdom, but if he could even be a soundboard for Carl, he’d be happy to help. “Just know you can talk to me, alright? I don’t just do this job for the money.”
Carl grinned in response at his sarcastic tone. “Thanks, Negan.”
“Your parent-teacher meeting is coming up soon, man.” Negan tried to get on the teen’s level. “You gonna make me tell him everything? Or you gonna participate a bit more? I know you’re a good kid. You’re smart. Bright.” He watched Carl shift in discomfort at the compliment. “Just… put in a little more, alright?”
Carl watched him warily for a moment, before nodding in understanding, and the boy quietly left his classroom.