Extra Duty
by LadySilver
The morning after, Coach Finstock arrived at the school earlier than usual, alerted, as always, via the district's calling tree. Dust from shattered masonry and shredded drywall still choked the air, and each step down the hallway kicked up new plumes. Custodial staff scurried around him with brooms and extra large garbage bins on wheels while a team of electricians assessed a bank of lights that swung, flickering from the ceiling.
Not surprisingly, the coffee pot in the Teachers' Lounge was gurgling away. Empty mugs lined the counter like quarters on a popular arcade machine. Finstock poured himself a cup and indulged in a long sip. As the caffeine worked its way through his system, he listened to the Principal's voice echoing over the PA as it read off assignments for the building's triage. He'd have to deal with the locker room, of course. Always the locker room.
Finstock refilled his cup and reached for a donut from the nearby box. The lounge door swung open then. The teacher who entered was one of the new ones, hired to teach Latin or Klingon or something just as pointless, and, judging from his terrified expression, likely to be resigning before the day's end.
The teacher spotted Finstock, eyes traveling from his face to the coffee mug and back up. "Can I ask you something?" he asked. His voice shook nearly as hard as his hands did, and his new, neat suit already sported a large stain down one sleeve. Yeah, he'd have his letter turned in by day's end.
Coffee in one hand and donut in the other, Finstock narrowed his eyes, certain what the new guy was going to ask. Weak-ass new hires were all the same.
Glancing around at the empty lounge, the teacher dropped his voice to a furtive whisper. "The gangs, the terrorists, the gas explosions..." Waving a hand helplessly in the direction of the hallway where loud pounding noises had started up, he continued, "Why does this keep happening? Why does everyone treat this like it's normal?"
Finstock nodded, pleased that he'd won the bet with himself. Just for that, he decided to be magnanimous. "There's not a lot of schools like BHHS," he answered, taking a bite from the donut. He chewed, waiting for the other teacher to interrupt, but he didn't. "All the repair work means that no one in admin is ever gonna give you crap about a requisition to replace 'lost' equipment-"
The teacher nodded, still looking unconvinced.
Taking another bite of donut to fortify himself, Finstock laid out the real reason the faculty put up with Beacon Hills's problems. "And if you tuck a couple extras for yourself onto the inventory form..." At the thought of the new track suits that he'd be able to order, he blinked away wistful tears. A squeal of feedback over the PA brought him back to the moment. "Every job's got its crap. This one has some nice perks."
Again the teacher nodded. His eyes were glazed in shock and his hands continued to tremble. If that was going to be his attitude, Finstock thought, he really was not cut out for BHHS.
Finstock shoved the door open with his back and started through it. Half way through, he stopped. "It's mostly a good gig," he said with a smirk. "But the one thing I always hated about teaching at Beacon Hills High, is all the damn werewolves."
With his former colleague's stunned expression etched forever in his memory, he took another swig of coffee and stepped out to start earning his extra duty pay.
END
A/N: Since there are so many The Lost Boys references in Teen Wolf, it only seemed appropriate to incorporate another line. Thanks for reading! Comments and concrit are, as always, welcome and appreciated.