Chapter Text
He knew he was a genius, every award and ribbon, every piece of praise and compliment only served to boost his ego. His ego was stroked and boosted around every turn Wile E. Coyote was by no means an ordinary man, he went above and beyond in his field. Dean’s list? Check. Scholarships? Check. PhD? Check. And he thought it was rather impressive considering his limitations. Engineering was his passion and he was not going to let his mutism get in the way of his goals or take away from his accomplishments.
Since he was young, he was always told he was special. But sometimes being special isn’t a good thing. Not everything went his way in the social category, his inability to speak often caused misunderstandings and issues with others, and most were unfortunately not keen to see his point of view. Sign language was the first way Wile E. learned how to communicate, it came abnormally naturally but that is to be expected by a genius like him. Writing came afterwards and eventually he grew tired of having to write down what he was thinking just to be heard. Eventually, text to speech devices became his go to, that way he could be heard rather than seen or read. No longer was he confined to waiting until someone was willing to look at him, most people didn’t even know sign language as it was. He couldn’t help but feel like he was being ignored or left behind, that his inability to do one thing led to his inability to do many completely unrelated things. He chalked all of these factors up to his annoyance with others, his frustration with those around him.
Despite all of this, the ups and the downs of his life, when he had graduated he expected more doors to open. He expected companies to want to scout, no, fight over him and his achievements, his sacrifices. But no such opportunities arrived at his doorstep, or his mailbox, or anything really. Wile E. had never been so frustrated in his entire life, practically ripping his hair out in annoyance, mentally kicking himself for getting his hopes up. All of his hours of sleepless nights, overworking, pushing away others were worthless. When the first actual job offer had been given to him (not one of those spam texts like usual) he took it without thinking twice.
That was six years ago and now he was a burnt out man in his early thirties with barely any motivation to get out of bed in the morning. All of those big dreams? Bright ideas? Gone, long gone in fact, in its place were piles upon piles of lesson plans, ungraded tests and worksheets with tea spilled on them. Wile E. Coyote was reduced to an overworked public school engineering teacher. And worst of all? They were highschoolers, he hated highschoolers, young enough to get away with everything but still smart enough to know better. They knew not to tease him by hiding his things, they knew not to throw trash at him while he was teaching, they knew better than to bother him with useless questions but they did it anyway and it drove him insane. Nothing stopped those brats even when he sent them to detention they would show back up the next day like nothing ever happened. No respect for him.
Everyday was another day where he would go to work to lose more and more of his sanity, an endless repeating cycle. And his off days were the days he spent dreading Monday, the day he was forced to walk back into those doors. Weekends were simply the days leading up to the inevitable return to the madhouse that was Looney High School. At least he was able to tinker on his own projects and take his high speed outings on Saturday’s and Sunday’s, nothing but his own head and his hands on the handlebars to comfort and soothe his thoughts.
But of course, that was not one of those days, August 2nd was the first day of school back for all teachers. The worst part of being a teacher to him was having to show up a week early to go to pointless meetings about nothing and eat soggy sandwiches in his office.
Yipee.
Wile E.’s old truck rattled a sorry sound as he pulled into the parking space he was always assigned, in the shade of a large tree at the back of the gym building. Settling next to the rusted old door with a number lock pad that he knew like his right hand. The lot he was in was by far the smallest of all the ones located on campus and also the only teacher exclusive one. In between the gym building and the three athletic fields that consisted of a tennis, baseball and football field it held about enough room for only a measly nine cars. To access this side of the building you had to take a rather narrow side road which blocked the parking lot from view of the front.
Kicking open the door of the slightly rusty once silver truck, he stepped out and covered his eyes with his hand instinctively, shielding it from the sun that was beating down on him. Suddenly remembering what he forgot, he leaned back into the vehicle to pull out his leather messenger like bag, slinging it over his shoulder effortlessly while fishing a smoke out of the pack in the pocket of his denim jacket. He didn’t need to look presentable or fancy today, just an old band shirt from a thrift store he didn’t remember the name of, his denim jacket with fading patches and a brown belt with simple scruffy jeans he had owned since forever plus worn black sneakers.
Thank god there weren’t any kids to watch out for.
He paused to think as he struck the red zippo lighter, holding it up to the cigarette that now dangled lazily from his mouth. It lit quickly, he snapped the lighter shut and slipped it into his pocket as he headed for the door. He had lost the keys for his car awhile ago, probably somewhere in his junk room of an office so he never bothered locking it. He drew the smoke into his mouth and he let out a long exhale, allowing the sudden rush of nicotine to steady him. A few strides to the door later he effortlessly climbed up the three little stairs to the threshold and leaned against it for a moment, tilting his head back and closing his eyes before taking another drag.
“You really shouldn’t be smoking here, Wile E.,” called a voice to his right.
He opened his eyes slowly, groaning internally as he caught sight of who was interrupting him. Before him stood a short man, with jet black hair, a condescending glare, yellowish-orange pants, turtleneck sweater and black loafers. The man tapped his foot against the pavement knowingly, his arms crossed and gaze unamused. Daffy, the annoyingly unpredictable English teacher that always seemed to find him at his most rule-breaking moments. Wile E. swears he has a sixth sense for getting him in trouble. Whatever pot Daffy can stir he is sure to do it without hesitation.
“Leave me alone Duck,” Wile E. signed.
When he wasn’t being a total stick up his ass, Daffy could be somewhat agreeable, maybe even friendly, he knew a good amount of sign language and some teachers made more of an effort than others to communicate. Wile E. pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand, leaning forward to begin turning towards the door.
“Maybe if you followed the rules even slightly I wouldn’t have to reprimand you, why must you always make me the bad guy when you are just so unprofessional? ” Daffy hissed, his lisp sounding louder at his last word.
Wile waved his hand at his dismissively, taking one last puff from his cigarette before dropping it on the ground and stomping it out. He didn’t want to spend his morning being lectured so he quickly punched in the code to the door, 1949, and stepped inside slamming it behind him before further protest could occur. Surrounding him were concrete walls, basic and boring, another door was directly in front of him as well as to the right and to the left was a staircase that led up to the gym lobby. Unfortunately, his classroom and office were tucked underneath the gym, hidden away in the dark corner of the basement. But on the bright side he got his own office, he had it for as long as he worked there, as there had never been an actual gym teacher at the understaffed school. If there was he would have to share, so at least he never had to worry about cleaning. The door to the right had the words “Dr.Coyote,” on a small plaque directly next to it and an empty one underneath on the other side was a plastic folder like mailbox that he opened and pulled keychain with a rabbit's foot and three keys out of before unlocking the door and stepping inside.
The office was just how he left it in the early summer, a wooden desk in the corner with two monitors and a printer, a red ripped up chair begging for him to sit on. There were a few filing cabinets filled to the brim, broken or unable to close on their own. And in the far corner was a corkboard he rarely used, a long metal cabinet with a microwave and mini-fridge sat on top of it, humming gently. His standing fan was not plugged in but stood in the middle of the room like a landmark. The room was not large, and there was another small door that led to a one room bathroom with a sink that always leaked and a toilet. A few old projects and reminders plastered one wall and a huge trash can filled with various pieces of rolled up blueprint paper and posterboards lay inside, untouched. He flicked his fan on and flopped down into the chair, placing his bag on the standing lamp that functioned as both a lamp and coat rack.
Wile felt the wind from the fan hit his face and was momentarily soothed before he turned on the PC underneath the desk and started to check the various teacher portals he had to inspect like a yearly ritual. Third period was his free period which meant he didn’t have to deal with the students during lunch, good. He scrolled through his email inbox, not bothering to open any of them as most were notices about things that didn’t concern him. After about an hour of doing various amounts of nothing important he leaned back in his chair, propping up his legs on his desk and grabbing a textbook that he rarely used that was sprawled out on the desk.
Covering his eyes with the worn pages, he closed them and sighed. His insomnia was hitting him particularly hard this week, and last night was no exception. The one hour of sleep he received wasn’t cutting it so he might as well catch up on what he missed until the required faculty meeting started later in the afternoon. Wile slept lightly, aware of the noises and sounds around him, his half sleep was interrupted not long after it started with the loud noise of the big metal door to the parking lot opening followed by a rather cheery female voice. Even from inside the office he could hear them speaking.
“Wile certainly has a reputation, he’s like super grumpy in any kind of weather, I swear, maybe he needs a ray of sunshine in his life or something,” the female voice spoke rather loudly.
Wile groaned at the sound of Lola, the scatterbrained overly optimistic art teacher. He tended to avoid her at all costs because if he stayed near her too long she might never stop talking and his ears would subsequently fall off. The person who Lola was supposedly chatting to did not respond.
“Here we are, it just needs a loving touch and some sparkles,” she announced and all of a sudden the door to his office slammed open.
He nearly jumped out of his seat, book falling to the floor in his confusion and he steadied himself with his left hand on the desk. Lola walked into the room like she owned the entire school, a big box in her hands, her eyes scanning the surroundings and finding the confused man who had just had a rude awakening. She was wearing a simple pink dress, her flats clicking on the tile floor. Wile gestured wildly, confused.
“Oh hey! I’m so glad you are here,” she beamed at him, crossing the room and placing down the box near the mini-fridge.
Wile gestured at her and then at the door then around the room. What the hell are you doing?
“Huh,” Lola tilted her head, confused, “did you check your email?”
He did but he also didn’t. He looked blankly at her, blinking slowly.
“Well I get to be the bringer of great news,” she squealed her hands making an excited movement, “say hi to your new roomie!”
Lola was back at the door, pulling in someone Wile had never seen before. A man, of average height, holding a cardboard box and looking at him with a curious expression. Wile was floored, whether it be from the confusion that the past thirty seconds had or the nearly flawless man in front of him. The newcomer’s auburn hair was tied up in a ponytail with a blue scrunchie, he wore a pale blue tank top with a logo Wile did not recognize, shorts that ended right above his knees, socks with a star pattern and blue tennis shoes, tied up with yellow laces. The man smiled at him, an effortless smile that just screamed friendly. Wile noticed the freckles speckling his bronze skin and the short feather earrings that looked like they would tickle his face. He was attractive, not that Wile thought that but it was more of a fact.
The man didn’t say a word, Wile waved. He still did not speak. Rude.
“Roadie is our new gym teacher, about time right!” Lola exclaimed, nudging the man, who Wile now knew as Roadie lightly.
Roadie giggled lightly, breaking his gaze with Wile as he placed the box down on top of a nearby filing cabinet. Wile stared for a moment before snapping his head to his computer scrambling to search for some proof that this was real. He found the email within two minutes that felt like forever and read it quickly. Faintly aware of Lola speaking, he drowned her out. He skimmed the message quickly, new gym teacher, sharing an office, clean up, track coach, Rhode “Roadie” Jay, and his eyes landed on the last few words. Mute, knows sign language. This was a revelation.
He looked to the left of his monitor and at the pair who were currently moving in a large standing plant and a smaller potted one. While he was distracted, a small white desk and blue cushioned chair had found their place in the middle of the room, some filing cabinets had been re-adjusted and more boxes were placed on various surfaces. How they had managed to rearrange half of the room within five minutes was beyond him, even his fan was moved almost directly next to him. Lola was talking about the latest episode of her favorite drama TV show while the stranger was setting up a PC underneath the desk, crouching down and messing with a power strip. Wile just watched, his whole routine had been turned on its head with the arrival of a single person.