Fic - Runaway (Julie, Julie/Tim) pg-13, 1/1
Title: Runaway
Summary: Julie doesn't want to go home. Life is just made up of a series of opportunities. You either take them or you don't.
Rating: pg-13
Author's Notes: 1,401 words. Set during that ambiguous time period between seasons two and three. Written for the prompts run, truck, and lonely over at Porn Battle XII. First time with these characters so be gentle. Con-crit is both welcome and appreciated.
Panther’s make it to the playoffs and it’s like Christmas has come twice this year
There is a party at Bradley’s lake house afterwards and Julie gags her way past the moose heads and the memories and tries to have a good time. But Matt is still jerking her around (and using one of those annoying, airhead rally girls she loathes so much to do it) and Landry and Tyra had showed up for all of five minutes before leaving her to fend for herself. It is somewhere after her fifth beer and seeing Tim make his own exit that she decides she needs to get the hell out of dodge and the constant reminders of what once was.
Her fingers grace the edge of his door as his key turns in the ignition. She says, “can I hitch a ride?” all innocent and breathy, like she’s not the reason he’s still number one on her father’s shit list and they’re actually friends rather than the mutual acquaintances they really are.
Tim looks at her for a long beat. Finally, he says, “Yeah, alright,” like he only half means it.
Julie will take what she can get and as she climbs into the front seat of his truck she remembers that she still technically owes him one. She knows this is probably more than she deserves.
+
“You know,” Tim starts after a lengthy silence, and she feels his eyes on her, burning a hole in the side of her head. She wrings her hands together out of nervousness. “Running’s all good and everything, but it really doesn’t mean much unless you’ve got a destination.”
Julie raises an eyebrow in his direction. “Look at you waxing all poetic,” she says, and snorts something completely unladylike. “Just how drunk are you?’
“Not at all actually.”
“Liar.”
Tim smiles briefly in her direction and her heart does this little thing inside her chest, but she’s had a few so she chalks it up to the alcohol and keeps facing forward.
“Maybe just a little.”
She smiles in satisfaction. “I thought so.”
Silence fills his truck again. She’s oddly thankful.
+
Julie doesn’t want to go home.
She tells him this.
And because Tim doesn’t ask questions he already knows the answers to, he doesn’t question it.
(She thinks, probably, he doesn’t want to go home either.)
+
“Saracen will come around you know,” he says softly.
There’s a six pack between them, half gone, and they’re sprawled out on the football field on a blanket he’d had in the back of his truck (and she’d rather not know what it has previously been used for, thank-you-very-much, so she sips her beer and focuses on everything but) and Julie turns her head towards him and is surprised to find him already looking at her.
She’s a girl and he’s Tim-Freaking-Riggins so sue her if her heart skips a beat.
“Maybe he won’t.” She pauses for a moment then continues, “maybe I don’t want him to.” She thinks about Bradley’s lake house again, that couch, that night, and wishes she could go back to last year when things were so simple and good. Before the baby, before the break up, before Austin, before she turned into everything she has ever despised and ruined a really great thing. “Maybe he shouldn’t,” she finishes quietly and refuses to meet his eyes.
“He will.”
“How do you know?”
Tim laughs, low and throaty, and something pools deliciously in the pit of her stomach. “I’m a guy, I know. At the end of the day, we’re all the same.”
Julie thinks that Matt and Tim couldn’t be more different if they tried. She thinks that’s probably what she likes most about him: Tim is everything Matt’s not, everything she doesn’t want to remember.
He smiles and she counts the lines the crinkle around the edges of his mouth.
+
It is Julie who kisses Tim, which isn’t all that surprising because she knew he’d never make the first move because he owed her father one or some bullshit like that. Either way, it’s her who kisses him, and she regrets it almost immediately - is already formulating plans and fabrications about having too much to drink in the back of her head - because he freezes and stills. He doesn’t kiss her back.
“Sorry,” she mumbles, pulling away. “I’m sorry. God,” she rubs the heels of her hands over her eyes and breathes in a ragged breath as she sits up. “I had too much to drink -“
Tim’s hand reaches up and cups the back of her head, pulling her down towards him forcefully, kissing her hard and bruising on the mouth. His mouth is warm, strong and skillful as it works over hers.
Julie kisses him back.
+
She won’t lie, she remembers that night with acute clarity - his body above her, his lips on hers (even if for the briefest of seconds) - and she has wondered what it would be like to kiss him before.
Then again, what girl in Dillon didn’t?
And this, well, this is not at all what she imagined.
Julie has her hands in his hair and his are on her hips. Tim’s kisses are hard and biting, almost as if he’s trying to get her to pull away, think twice.
She doesn’t.
Instead, she matches him inch for inch, pushes her hands under his shirt and onto the warm flesh underneath as she molds herself into him.
+
Maybe it’s because of Matt. Maybe it is some last attempt to get him to realize that she’s not going to wait around forever. Maybe it’s a big giant fuck you to her father - hooking up with his star player on the Panther football field is rather poetic - but she's far from the girl with daddy issues, so deep down she knows where the intentions behind this lay.
Julie thinks Tim probably knows it, too, which in her mind kind of makes this kind of okay.
His hand slips under her shirt, traveling up up up, his skillful fingers cupping the satin of her bra and she forgets how to breathe, forgets how to think. Suddenly all the reasons and motives fly right out the window (right after her inhibitions) and she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him as close as possible, all the while her lips never leaving his.
There’s a moan - his, probably hers - and her knees bend on their own free will, the weight of his body coming to rest firmly in-between them. The feel of him above her is delicious, intoxicating, and no matter what the reasons behind this, he kisses her like she’s the only thing in his world. Her shirt up gets pushed up around her armpits, the clasp of her bra comes undone easily, and his fingers gently knead her flesh with skill and precision and probably a little too much ease. Julie arches up and into him without thought.
Tim’s different than Matt - hard where Matt’s lean, experienced in areas Matt wasn’t - different from the Sweede and in the silence that surrounds them, Julie pulls away for a much needed breath. Tim looks down at her, eyes dark, lips parted and she can’t help but mark the differences in the back of her mind. It unnerves her, unhinges her almost completely.
She leans up and kisses him again.
+
Unsteady fingers skim the button of his jeans and maybe it’s shitty luck or a sign, or some sort of divine intervention, but a car horn honks in the distance. The sound filters through the white hot haze surrounding them, and Tim pulls away almost immediately.
Julie groans at the loss of contact.
Reality comes crashing down around her in pieces, and this, whatever is between them, is over before it really even began.
He runs his hands through his hair, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and she re-hooks her bra, adjusts her shirt. She stands and knows he’s watching her without even looking in his direction.
“It’s late,” she says, sliding her flip-flops back onto her feet. She’s nearly sober by now and the cold bites at her skin. “Can you take me home now?”
Tim sighs, heavy and slow, says, “Yeah,” as he runs a hand through his messy hair.
She wonders if he’ll ever think about her again.
Summary: Julie doesn't want to go home. Life is just made up of a series of opportunities. You either take them or you don't.
Rating: pg-13
Author's Notes: 1,401 words. Set during that ambiguous time period between seasons two and three. Written for the prompts run, truck, and lonely over at Porn Battle XII. First time with these characters so be gentle. Con-crit is both welcome and appreciated.
Panther’s make it to the playoffs and it’s like Christmas has come twice this year
There is a party at Bradley’s lake house afterwards and Julie gags her way past the moose heads and the memories and tries to have a good time. But Matt is still jerking her around (and using one of those annoying, airhead rally girls she loathes so much to do it) and Landry and Tyra had showed up for all of five minutes before leaving her to fend for herself. It is somewhere after her fifth beer and seeing Tim make his own exit that she decides she needs to get the hell out of dodge and the constant reminders of what once was.
Her fingers grace the edge of his door as his key turns in the ignition. She says, “can I hitch a ride?” all innocent and breathy, like she’s not the reason he’s still number one on her father’s shit list and they’re actually friends rather than the mutual acquaintances they really are.
Tim looks at her for a long beat. Finally, he says, “Yeah, alright,” like he only half means it.
Julie will take what she can get and as she climbs into the front seat of his truck she remembers that she still technically owes him one. She knows this is probably more than she deserves.
+
“You know,” Tim starts after a lengthy silence, and she feels his eyes on her, burning a hole in the side of her head. She wrings her hands together out of nervousness. “Running’s all good and everything, but it really doesn’t mean much unless you’ve got a destination.”
Julie raises an eyebrow in his direction. “Look at you waxing all poetic,” she says, and snorts something completely unladylike. “Just how drunk are you?’
“Not at all actually.”
“Liar.”
Tim smiles briefly in her direction and her heart does this little thing inside her chest, but she’s had a few so she chalks it up to the alcohol and keeps facing forward.
“Maybe just a little.”
She smiles in satisfaction. “I thought so.”
Silence fills his truck again. She’s oddly thankful.
+
Julie doesn’t want to go home.
She tells him this.
And because Tim doesn’t ask questions he already knows the answers to, he doesn’t question it.
(She thinks, probably, he doesn’t want to go home either.)
+
“Saracen will come around you know,” he says softly.
There’s a six pack between them, half gone, and they’re sprawled out on the football field on a blanket he’d had in the back of his truck (and she’d rather not know what it has previously been used for, thank-you-very-much, so she sips her beer and focuses on everything but) and Julie turns her head towards him and is surprised to find him already looking at her.
She’s a girl and he’s Tim-Freaking-Riggins so sue her if her heart skips a beat.
“Maybe he won’t.” She pauses for a moment then continues, “maybe I don’t want him to.” She thinks about Bradley’s lake house again, that couch, that night, and wishes she could go back to last year when things were so simple and good. Before the baby, before the break up, before Austin, before she turned into everything she has ever despised and ruined a really great thing. “Maybe he shouldn’t,” she finishes quietly and refuses to meet his eyes.
“He will.”
“How do you know?”
Tim laughs, low and throaty, and something pools deliciously in the pit of her stomach. “I’m a guy, I know. At the end of the day, we’re all the same.”
Julie thinks that Matt and Tim couldn’t be more different if they tried. She thinks that’s probably what she likes most about him: Tim is everything Matt’s not, everything she doesn’t want to remember.
He smiles and she counts the lines the crinkle around the edges of his mouth.
+
It is Julie who kisses Tim, which isn’t all that surprising because she knew he’d never make the first move because he owed her father one or some bullshit like that. Either way, it’s her who kisses him, and she regrets it almost immediately - is already formulating plans and fabrications about having too much to drink in the back of her head - because he freezes and stills. He doesn’t kiss her back.
“Sorry,” she mumbles, pulling away. “I’m sorry. God,” she rubs the heels of her hands over her eyes and breathes in a ragged breath as she sits up. “I had too much to drink -“
Tim’s hand reaches up and cups the back of her head, pulling her down towards him forcefully, kissing her hard and bruising on the mouth. His mouth is warm, strong and skillful as it works over hers.
Julie kisses him back.
+
She won’t lie, she remembers that night with acute clarity - his body above her, his lips on hers (even if for the briefest of seconds) - and she has wondered what it would be like to kiss him before.
Then again, what girl in Dillon didn’t?
And this, well, this is not at all what she imagined.
Julie has her hands in his hair and his are on her hips. Tim’s kisses are hard and biting, almost as if he’s trying to get her to pull away, think twice.
She doesn’t.
Instead, she matches him inch for inch, pushes her hands under his shirt and onto the warm flesh underneath as she molds herself into him.
+
Maybe it’s because of Matt. Maybe it is some last attempt to get him to realize that she’s not going to wait around forever. Maybe it’s a big giant fuck you to her father - hooking up with his star player on the Panther football field is rather poetic - but she's far from the girl with daddy issues, so deep down she knows where the intentions behind this lay.
Julie thinks Tim probably knows it, too, which in her mind kind of makes this kind of okay.
His hand slips under her shirt, traveling up up up, his skillful fingers cupping the satin of her bra and she forgets how to breathe, forgets how to think. Suddenly all the reasons and motives fly right out the window (right after her inhibitions) and she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him as close as possible, all the while her lips never leaving his.
There’s a moan - his, probably hers - and her knees bend on their own free will, the weight of his body coming to rest firmly in-between them. The feel of him above her is delicious, intoxicating, and no matter what the reasons behind this, he kisses her like she’s the only thing in his world. Her shirt up gets pushed up around her armpits, the clasp of her bra comes undone easily, and his fingers gently knead her flesh with skill and precision and probably a little too much ease. Julie arches up and into him without thought.
Tim’s different than Matt - hard where Matt’s lean, experienced in areas Matt wasn’t - different from the Sweede and in the silence that surrounds them, Julie pulls away for a much needed breath. Tim looks down at her, eyes dark, lips parted and she can’t help but mark the differences in the back of her mind. It unnerves her, unhinges her almost completely.
She leans up and kisses him again.
+
Unsteady fingers skim the button of his jeans and maybe it’s shitty luck or a sign, or some sort of divine intervention, but a car horn honks in the distance. The sound filters through the white hot haze surrounding them, and Tim pulls away almost immediately.
Julie groans at the loss of contact.
Reality comes crashing down around her in pieces, and this, whatever is between them, is over before it really even began.
He runs his hands through his hair, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and she re-hooks her bra, adjusts her shirt. She stands and knows he’s watching her without even looking in his direction.
“It’s late,” she says, sliding her flip-flops back onto her feet. She’s nearly sober by now and the cold bites at her skin. “Can you take me home now?”
Tim sighs, heavy and slow, says, “Yeah,” as he runs a hand through his messy hair.
She wonders if he’ll ever think about her again.