April Showers Prompt #2: Move like a Butterfly... (Friday Night Lights)
Title: Move like a Butterfly...
Author: roh_wyn
Prompt: #2
Fandom: Friday Night Lights
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Matt Saracen, Julie Taylor (mentions Smash Williams, Tim Riggins)
Genre: romance
Rating & Warnings: G; no warnings
Word Count: 200
Summary: It's not football that makes Matt Saracen come out of his shell...
Blue-32, blue-32, hut!
The ball is in his hands, all scuffed leather and heavy expectation. His palms sweat as he tries to remember everything from practice. Nothing to it, he thinks. Three-step drop, make your reads, right, left, pull back, throw.
The ball lands impotently on the grass, twenty yards past Smash, who beats his helmet and stomps the ground in frustration. On the other side, Riggins is yelling at him. "Seven! Pay attention!" When he looks up, it's too late to keep the linebacker from barreling into him.
The air leaves the stadium, and for a moment, the only things he can see are the lights, painfully bright, a reminder of his failure. He gets up, dusts himself off, casts a careless eye into the stands. That's when he sees her, all streaming blond hair and polite indifference. But she's looking right at him, and that's all he needs.
Nothing to it, he thinks, as he tucks the ball under his arm and runs. There is only green space and victory in front of him, and as he falls into the endzone, holding the ball out in front of him, the crowd cheers.
All he can see is Julie.
Author: roh_wyn
Prompt: #2
Fandom: Friday Night Lights
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Matt Saracen, Julie Taylor (mentions Smash Williams, Tim Riggins)
Genre: romance
Rating & Warnings: G; no warnings
Word Count: 200
Summary: It's not football that makes Matt Saracen come out of his shell...
Blue-32, blue-32, hut!
The ball is in his hands, all scuffed leather and heavy expectation. His palms sweat as he tries to remember everything from practice. Nothing to it, he thinks. Three-step drop, make your reads, right, left, pull back, throw.
The ball lands impotently on the grass, twenty yards past Smash, who beats his helmet and stomps the ground in frustration. On the other side, Riggins is yelling at him. "Seven! Pay attention!" When he looks up, it's too late to keep the linebacker from barreling into him.
The air leaves the stadium, and for a moment, the only things he can see are the lights, painfully bright, a reminder of his failure. He gets up, dusts himself off, casts a careless eye into the stands. That's when he sees her, all streaming blond hair and polite indifference. But she's looking right at him, and that's all he needs.
Nothing to it, he thinks, as he tucks the ball under his arm and runs. There is only green space and victory in front of him, and as he falls into the endzone, holding the ball out in front of him, the crowd cheers.
All he can see is Julie.