FNL fic: The Sword in the Stone [Riggins, Street]
Disclaimer: Friday Night Lights is not mine.
Notes: Written for sluttyvegas. Thanks to alliecat8 for assuring me it turned out okay. Any errors are my own, and I'm totally open to concrit here, since I've never written for this show before.
The Sword in the Stone
by eponine119
June 10, 2007
The day after high school graduation, Tim Riggins says to him, "I've got to get out of this town." They're words he'd expect from Tyra, not from Tim. Tim and Lyla, they both belong there. They'd never leave Dillon.
But here's Tim Riggins climbing in the passenger seat of his van. Screaming "woo hoo!" with his hands in the air as they speed past the city limits.
The first night is hard. He knows Tim loves him, like a brother, better than, and nothing will ever break that bond. But he's never let Tim see just all the things his life is anymore. It's hard for both of them to see. Jason because he finds shame in his body's inabilities now. Tim because it hurts him, because of that love.
They keep driving. They don't have any plans. It's summer and they're free. One day that'll change, but not today.
They roll into Vegas at sunset on Friday night. "I wanna stay in the castle," Tim says and Jason laughs as he makes the turn.
The valet seems startled by Jason's chair. He stands back staring at his hands while Tim gets Jason settled. Inside, a security guard demands ID before they've covered ten feet. They have fakes, of course. Of course.
"Makes me wanna joust, Jay." Tim says over his shoulder.
"Me too," he smiles, remembering light saber wars in his backyard. The Halloweens they dressed up, not as pro football players, but as Dillon panthers. No -- not they, just Jason. He doesn't remember what Tim went as. Maybe a ghost, bedsheet pulled over his tangled hair. That was the year Tim's parents split.
They head to the lounge, grinning at the terrible singer, overmiked and out of tune. They're not the only ones whose dreams have died. And yet, here she is, performing for a living. It's a dream of sorts.
Jason takes a seat -- so to speak -- and watches Tim at the bar. The way women seem to suddenly surround him, but when he turns and gives the thumbs up, Jason knows he's the only thing those green eyes are seeing.
He watches the heat creep into Riggs' face. You'd think he'd be used to it by now. He knows Riggs drinks, sometimes a lot. But he's still just a big, dumb boy. They both are.
They go into the casino. Tim yanks the arm of every slot machine they pass. "Wouldn't it be great," he says, and Jason nods. They'd be set, instead of worrying about their futures. The futures they don't seem to have.
Jason's thinking about something Tim said to him once. That he figured someday Jason'd have a ranch, and Tim would be the foreman, help him out, you know. Best future he could imagine for himself. Jason Street's best friend.
Tim's hand on his arm catches his attention. "You make everything okay. Know that, Jay?" He ducks his head. "When I'm with you, I feel like everything's gonna be okay."
It's not a small admission. Tim looks at him, and Jason smiles. "Me too," he says. "You, I mean. Me too."
Tim smiles. Beams. Like the sun.
Late that night, in an orgy of chips and the minibar and porn on TV, Jason says, "Coach offered me a job. Next year. Maybe I could --"
"Me too," Tim says, thinking they can be together. Jason watches it settle over him. Coach only needs one assistant. "Oh."
"It's a pity job," Jason says, dismissing it.
"No. You deserve it. You'll be good." Tim holds his eyes. Dares him to disagree. Then he releases him, lies back. "When do you figure we ought to head home?"
"Not til tomorrow, at least." Jason says. They both laugh, a bit hollow. He'll make it okay for Tim. He has to.
End.
Notes: Written for sluttyvegas. Thanks to alliecat8 for assuring me it turned out okay. Any errors are my own, and I'm totally open to concrit here, since I've never written for this show before.
The Sword in the Stone
by eponine119
June 10, 2007
The day after high school graduation, Tim Riggins says to him, "I've got to get out of this town." They're words he'd expect from Tyra, not from Tim. Tim and Lyla, they both belong there. They'd never leave Dillon.
But here's Tim Riggins climbing in the passenger seat of his van. Screaming "woo hoo!" with his hands in the air as they speed past the city limits.
The first night is hard. He knows Tim loves him, like a brother, better than, and nothing will ever break that bond. But he's never let Tim see just all the things his life is anymore. It's hard for both of them to see. Jason because he finds shame in his body's inabilities now. Tim because it hurts him, because of that love.
They keep driving. They don't have any plans. It's summer and they're free. One day that'll change, but not today.
They roll into Vegas at sunset on Friday night. "I wanna stay in the castle," Tim says and Jason laughs as he makes the turn.
The valet seems startled by Jason's chair. He stands back staring at his hands while Tim gets Jason settled. Inside, a security guard demands ID before they've covered ten feet. They have fakes, of course. Of course.
"Makes me wanna joust, Jay." Tim says over his shoulder.
"Me too," he smiles, remembering light saber wars in his backyard. The Halloweens they dressed up, not as pro football players, but as Dillon panthers. No -- not they, just Jason. He doesn't remember what Tim went as. Maybe a ghost, bedsheet pulled over his tangled hair. That was the year Tim's parents split.
They head to the lounge, grinning at the terrible singer, overmiked and out of tune. They're not the only ones whose dreams have died. And yet, here she is, performing for a living. It's a dream of sorts.
Jason takes a seat -- so to speak -- and watches Tim at the bar. The way women seem to suddenly surround him, but when he turns and gives the thumbs up, Jason knows he's the only thing those green eyes are seeing.
He watches the heat creep into Riggs' face. You'd think he'd be used to it by now. He knows Riggs drinks, sometimes a lot. But he's still just a big, dumb boy. They both are.
They go into the casino. Tim yanks the arm of every slot machine they pass. "Wouldn't it be great," he says, and Jason nods. They'd be set, instead of worrying about their futures. The futures they don't seem to have.
Jason's thinking about something Tim said to him once. That he figured someday Jason'd have a ranch, and Tim would be the foreman, help him out, you know. Best future he could imagine for himself. Jason Street's best friend.
Tim's hand on his arm catches his attention. "You make everything okay. Know that, Jay?" He ducks his head. "When I'm with you, I feel like everything's gonna be okay."
It's not a small admission. Tim looks at him, and Jason smiles. "Me too," he says. "You, I mean. Me too."
Tim smiles. Beams. Like the sun.
Late that night, in an orgy of chips and the minibar and porn on TV, Jason says, "Coach offered me a job. Next year. Maybe I could --"
"Me too," Tim says, thinking they can be together. Jason watches it settle over him. Coach only needs one assistant. "Oh."
"It's a pity job," Jason says, dismissing it.
"No. You deserve it. You'll be good." Tim holds his eyes. Dares him to disagree. Then he releases him, lies back. "When do you figure we ought to head home?"
"Not til tomorrow, at least." Jason says. They both laugh, a bit hollow. He'll make it okay for Tim. He has to.
End.