Hot For Teacher ch 1
Summary: AU, no walkers. Daryl is Carl’s teacher. When Carl starts acting out in school Mr. Dixon requests a parent-teacher conference with Rick and Lori (who are going through a divorce) and when Rick meets this mysterious Mr. Dixon he can’t stop thinking about it. Rick/Daryl slash.
So DropkickingBulletShells (over on fanfiction.net) and I are doing a kind of story exchange. We swapped story ideas and this is what I came up with.
Chapter One
Carl walked with his head hung when Rick picked him up from school that day. It was Rick’s weekend with him, Thursday until Sunday, the absence of his wedding ring a heavy reminder, and as he waited in his squad car he narrowed in on his boy trying to figure out what was wrong. He looked fine, no scratches or bruises so it wasn’t a fight and Carl wasn’t crying so he was physically fine every other way, but the kid’s lips were pursed in a pout and his cheeks were stained red. When Carl finally approached the car he reached for the door handle with hesitant fingers and didn’t look up even when Rick plastered on what he hoped was a comforting smile and leaned over to pop the door open for him. Carl silently set his backpack on the floor and climbed into the front seat avoiding his father’s eyes, biting at his lip nervously.
“How was school?” Rick asked even though he knew the answer probably wasn’t going to be positive. Carl mumbled something Rick couldn’t understand so he asked his son to repeat himself.
“I got in trouble. Here-” Carl handed him a folded up piece of paper. Rick raised an eyebrow but wordlessly took the sheet of paper, unfolding it cautiously as if it would explode if he wasn’t too careful. Written in messy chicken scratch was a note from Carl’s teacher, Mr. Dixon, whom he had heard plenty of good things about (Carl seemed to adore him) but still had yet to meet.
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Grimes,
It is with great displeasure that I write you this note to inform you of Carl’s misbehavior in my classroom. Recently he has begun to act out, talking while I am trying to teach, teasing other students, and talking back. Today’s incident seemed severe enough for me to request a parent-teacher conference. Monday evening would be especially convenient for me but can be planned for another day if necessary. You can reach me here at the school any time tonight until 7:00 sharp or tomorrow during school hours; on Fridays I leave promptly when school ends for the children. Thank you for your time.
-D. Dixon
And next to the printed name was a sloppy signature. Rick read it three times before taking a deep breath and setting it down, looking at his son. Carl had yet to look at him and Rick couldn’t tell if he was ashamed or if he was just angry. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger, willing the headache away and tried to figure out how to handle the situation. Rick’s first instinct was to yell at Carl but since he hadn’t heard Carl’s side of the story yet he resisted, and his second instinct was to march into the school and face Mr. Dixon right now. But Rick stayed put, looking at his cowering boy with sadness.
“What happened?” Rick finally asked.
“I said I curse word.” Carl glanced at Rick quickly before looking back down at his lap.
“You what?” Rick and Lori were pretty strict about the language and managed to watch themselves around Carl.
“Mr. Dixon asked me to stop drawing on my desk and I yelled at him.” Was Carl crying?
“What exactly did you yell?”
“I told him to ‘mind his own damn business’.” Then Carl flinched bodily, like Rick would start yelling or perhaps strike him even though Rick barely ever raised his voice and certainly never struck his son.
“We’ll talk about his at home,” Rick stated firmly, starting the car. He waited until Carl was safely buckled in and drove to his new apartment.
Inside the furnished apartment was dismal and depressing, the bland beige walls blending in with the bland beige carpets which in turn blended in perfectly with the bland beige furniture. The sight made Rick blanch every time he saw it and even though he didn’t quite miss Lori like he thought he would he defiantly missed his-her-house. The colorful walls and unique furniture, pictures covering every flat surface and all the random and unnecessary decorations. Now he was greeted with the simple sight of his luxury, but boring, second floor apartment. It was large enough, two bedrooms, two baths, open floor plan with a patio overlooking a surprisingly pretty scene of a pond and some trees. When Rick moved in the owners of the apartment complex warned him of the snakes in the pond.
“Straight to your room, buddy and no TV. I’ll call you when it’s time for dinner.”
Rick tugged at his shirt collar, unbuttoning the first few buttons of his uniform. He loved being a Sherriff and he took pride in the uniform but it was mighty hot in the Georgia sun. Rick rummaged around in his junk drawer-which had somehow already become cluttered-looking for the list of numbers for the school he knew was stashed there. The inside of the drawer was filled with takeout menus and batteries, an odd mixture he hadn’t seen since before he was married, and in the back, crumpled and greasy was the school directory list. Rick pulled a beer from the fridge, popping the top off as he walked and ignoring it as it bounced on the linoleum floor of the kitchen, and sat on the couch sinking in as deep as he could. It was ugly but thankfully comfortable and Rick tried not to think of all the other tenants who had previous sat there. He dialed the number, waited four rings, and held his breath when a man with an extremely gruff southern accent answered.
“This is Mr. Dixon,” He said and Rick’s breathe caught in this throat. Even though this Mr. Dixon sounded redneck as hell and tougher than nails there was a sweetness to his voice that Rick found intriguing. “Hello?” Then Rick realized he was sitting there on the phone breathing into it like a stalker.
“Hello, sorry about that, this is Mr. Grimes.”
“Hello, Mr. Grimes, thank you for getting back to me so promptly.” Mr. Dixon sounded intelligent but like he was working hard to go against his natural accent and way of speaking.
“It’s no problem. I was rather concerned when I read your letter. I’m sorry about Carl’s behavior.” Rick took a swallow of his beer.
“No need to worry, Mr. Grimes, these things happen. I just wish for you and Mrs. Grimes to come in so we can discuss the specifics. Is Monday alright with you?” Rick could hear Mr. Dixon writing something down, perhaps grading papers.
“Monday is fine.”
“Thank you, Mr. Grimes, if you could be here around 5:00 that would be perfect. Sorry to cut this call so short but I have a huge stack of papers here to grade.” Rick could hear a smile on Mr. Dixon’s face. For some reason it made him smile, too.
“Alright then I’ll see you Monday. Have a good night.”
“You, too.” With a chuckle Mr. Dixon hung up the phone and Rick sat there with the phone still to his ear listening to the dial tone.
Carl and Rick ate in silence that night; Rick called Lori shortly after speaking with Mr. Dixon and she had been furious, demanding to speak with Carl. He could hear her yelling from five feet away. Carl had started crying then, handing the phone back to his father and that’s when Lori started in on Rick. Rick shut her down quickly, using calming words and tones and explained Mr. Dixon wanting to meet with them. She agreed and suggested Shane watch Carl while they go. As soon as Shane’s name left her mouth she stopped short, gasping quietly and Rick had felt his hands clench into fists. He and Lori were civil with each other but things were still tense, especially when it came to Shane. But Rick agreed anyways; he may not like the backstabber anymore but he trusted Carl with him, more so than almost anybody.
So there Rick and Carl sat, neither talking nor looking at each other and Carl was picking at his food more than he was eating it. Rick wasn’t a very good cook and the food looked and tasted as bland as the rest of the apartment so he set his fork down and got Carl’s attention, smiling at him. Carl’s eyes were still puffy and red-rimmed from when he had cried but he smiled back, ducking his head shortly after so his hair hung in his eyes. Rick made a mental note to take him for a haircut soon. He stood, taking his and Carl’s plates-paper plates-and threw them in the trash. Then he pulled out the impressively pitiful stack of takeout menus and put them in front of Carl who perked up.
“Take your pick. We’re going to order some food and pig out in front of the TV like real men.” Rick puffed out his chest and Carl started giggle. He handed Rick a menu for a nearby pizza place.
“One large meat lover’s pizza, 10-piece wing, and a 2-liter of cola?” An Asian man was at the door with a sweet smile on his face. He looked younger, early 20’s, and kind.
“That’s us. Hey Carl, you want to pay him?” Rick turned his head to look at his son who immediately raced to the door and took the money from Rick’s hand. The young boy held the cash out for the pizza boy to take.
“My name is Carl,” He said, beaming up at the Asian kid.
“I’m Glenn. It’s nice to meet you, Carl,” Glenn smiled humorously at him and handed back his change. “I like your shoes.” Glenn pointed at Carl’s blue Converse then at his own.
“They’re my favorite. I have more! In all sorts of colors.”
“So do I. But I’ve had these for years. They’re my favorite, too.” Glenn was chuckling kindheartedly with a fondness in his eyes.
Then Carl looked at Rick questioningly.
“You can give him as big a tip as you want, little man. You’re in charge here.” There was $10 left over. Carl handed Glenn all of it and before Glenn took it, eyes wide, he looked to Rick for reassurance. Rick just smiled and nodded, gesturing for him to take it.
“Thank you, Carl!” Glenn eagerly pocketed the cash. “That was very sweet of you. If you guys ever order from us again I’ll make sure to bring you dessert!”
“Wow! Thanks Glenn!” Carl was beaming now, all traces of sadness gone.
“Have a good night, buddy.” Glenn smiled at Carl before looking to Rick. “Seriously, thank you so much.”
“Think nothing of it. We’re having a bad day and Carl seems to like you.” Glenn nodded one last time before leaving.
“He was super nice,” Carl said, sitting on the couch.
“He sure was.” Rick didn’t bother with plates but grabbed two glasses and sat next to Carl, opening the boxes so they could dig in.
“Can we get pizza from there again?” Carl asked, leaning over the pizza box as he ate.
“Sure, kiddo. Now eat up. It’s almost time for bed.”
Carl was tucked safely into bed hours before Rick fell asleep that night. He lay in bed, the lights off with his hands under his head thinking about Mr. Dixon. He fell asleep to the memory of his voice.
A/N: Please let me know what you think! More to come soon.