More Than One Last Call, Tami/Eric, PG
Title: More Than One Last Call (or five drinks in the life of Tami Taylor)
Fandom: Friday Night Lights
Pairing: Eric/Tami (Taylors forever! <3)
Rating: PG
Spoilers: for the whole series
Disclaimer: Not mine - they belong to Peter Berg, NBC, DirecTV and whoever else wants in on it. I'm just playing and there's no profit being made.
Prompt: The Unsinkable Tami Taylor, there isn't enough wine in the world (feat. Special Guest Stars Beer and Tequila)
Dedication: To my delightful joie_de_vivre, who is the most fun inside Duvetfell or out (ooh, that sounded worse than I meant it to!). This has been tricky to get into the shape I wanted it, but for you it is definitely worth it.
[Dos Equis, Mexico. 6 bottles]
Okay.
Okay.
No more dancing. Because if Tami jumps around like that any more, she’s pretty sure she’s gonna puke, and nobody wants to be that girl. So she’s going outside (but not in the pool, oh no. She’s already been thrown in once tonight and that is not happening again.)
So, the porch is fine. Maybe the wood feels a little bit like it’s rolling under her feet, but that’s okay. She can’t even blame the damn heels she ‘borrowed’ from Jamie-Lynn, because they came off somewhere between the ground and the water earlier and that is gonna be a problem when it comes to sneaking them back into Jamie-Lynn’s closet.
What Tami wants is to lie down, maybe. The world will definitely not spin quite so much if she does, or at least she hopes so. Definitely going to help with the not puking. And there’s a perfectly good porch swing right there that she could lie on very easily, if it weren’t for the floppy-haired guy flicking through what looks like Sports Illustrated. Stupid jocks, Tami can’t move in this town for them. It’s like there’s not a guy left in the county who’s actually read a book.
“You mind?” Tami asks him, with what she knows is a very flirty smile. It got Rick to drive her to this party, and it’s had the beers coming her way all night. Now it’s going to get her somewhere to lie down before she falls down.
“There’s room for you,” he answers, without looking up. Tami huffs at him not taking the point, but sits down anyway. The breeze is getting up, because it’s still only spring and the nights aren’t kind to girls in bikini tops and bare feet. Tami tucks herself into a corner of the swing, shivering just a little. She doesn’t talk to the strange guy, and he doesn’t look at her anyway.
But after a few minutes, when Tami has her eyes closed to stop the spinning, she hears him quietly say ‘here’, before a soft flannel shirt falls across her bare arm.
“You sure?” She asks, and he looks her in the eye for the first time. And damn, he has really nice eyes
“Yup,” he nods, and he actually looks interested for the first time since she came out here.
“I’m Tami,” she says, feeling shy like this is high school or something.
“Eric,” he says and he finally smiles. From the way her stomach does a backflip, it’s probably just as well he doesn’t do it all the time.
[Jose Cuervo, Mexico, ½ bottle]
“Come on, honey!” Tami yells over the music. It’s something by the Doobie Brothers that she normally hates, but tonight everything is just fine by her.
They’re celebrating Eric’s new job, and it might just be JV coaching, but it’s the first step he’s been waiting for. He’s full of beer and enthusiasm, fumbling for more words than he usually uses, raving about these bright kids he’ll get to coach and all the ideas he has to make them ready for high school. Tami wants to kiss him, half because he’s so cute and half to get him to shut up about the benefit of regular sprints in practice.
She sees him leaning on the bar, and it’s an excuse for just one more shot to go and grab him in person. They have her shared apartment, upstairs, to themselves tonight and she has no intention of wasting it.
“Come on,” she urges, one more time. But Eric is getting a slap on the back from yet another new buddy, and so she sticks two fingers up for the barkeep’s benefit. Another two shots later, and Eric gets free just in time to taste the lime on her lips.
“You wanna go?” He asks, and his voice is smoky like he has the exact same thing on his mind. “Only I have to go to the drugstore and--”
“Never mind that,” Tami says, feeling as reckless as she does happy. “Let’s just get upstairs. Now.”
“But you’re the one always telling me that we have to--”
“Eric Taylor, do you want to get laid or not?” Tami whispers this last bit right in his ear, and he reacts so quick it’s a wonder he doesn’t throw her over his shoulder, caveman style.
She laughs as they practically drag each other up the narrow staircase, and they litter the theadbare carpet with their clothes as they go.
[Painter Bridge Chardonnay, California, 1 glass]
Tami lifts her glass for the last of the toasts, but puts it back down without touching a drop. Someone’s bound to notice, eventually, and God knows Shelley is already suspicious. Instead, Tami shifts a little in her seat, trying to ease where the dress is just a little too tight across her stomach. It’s white and it’s lacy and it’s (mostly) what she wanted, but a wedding planned in about three weeks flat doesn’t leave a lot of time for getting picky about anything.
Still, there’s some good food being served up to their friends and family, and a friend of Eric’s with a kid on the team is making sure they pay almost nothing for the hall. That plan to buy a nice little house in a year is shelved, and they got the keys to their brand new rental just two days ago. Tami will say this for her new husband: when the pressure is on he certainly comes through.
Hidden by the tablecloth, Tami lets her hand rest on her belly for just a moment. It’s hard to believe she’s almost four months’ gone, and she doesn’t know that it matters too much when everyone starts doing the math.
Eric lifts his own glass, draining it before giving her one of those lazy grins that drive her crazy in both the good and the bad way, depending when he busts it out. The band (another favor, and not a well-rehearsed one) launch into something sung by Sinatra that she needs another bar or two to recognize, but she’s already humming along.
Uncle Stewie is having a ball as the MC, and he thumps the microphone yet again to make the announcement. Eric’s standing next to her, hand outstretched as the words (and a crackle of feedback) boom out in the crowded space.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the bride and groom.”
[Llai Llai, Pinot Noir, Chile. 2 bottles]
It seems a lot like the hardest thing she’s ever had to do (until she remembers not going to Austin, and not asking him to stay, and going up against the Boosters and that asshole McCoy).
She doesn’t love the job, though. Not with the politics and the roadblocks and the constant griping from every quarter, no matter how much she gives them.
But if it’s the choice between helping Becky (and being honest with Becky, and being the kind of person that all these girls need her to be) or toeing some line set by people who want government out of their lives, but their politics in everyone else’s, well Tami will do what is hard every day of the week.
Tonight, though, when the tears keep falling and there’s not a lot that anyone can say to make it feel better, Tami is going to tell it to the nice red stuff in a very big glass. She’ll pour, and she’ll cry and her head will feel like a car wreck in the morning, but that’s just the way that has to go.
Before she opens the second bottle with the corkscrew that needs too many twists to get anything done, Tami lays out the aspirin and a water bottle by the bed. Dillon might not change, and teenage girls might not change, but in all the important ways, Tami already has.
[Heidsieck Monopole Brut, Champagne, 1 bottle]
He leaves it in the fridge, with a note that says ‘you were right’. The big white space hold only an empty egg rack, a carton of milk and this bottle of champagne. Tami can’t help smiling, even if she’s so tired right now she could cry.
They’ve just moved in, and there are boxes in every room. Eric is down at the school, meeting his new staff. The college have sent her everything she needs, and there’s still a week to go. Tami doesn’t feel the desperation to get there now. She doesn’t feel the same need to see if her office is really there, now that she’s at least in the same town.
It’s a couple of hours later, sore and a little sweaty from all the unpacking, that she hears the tires on the new gravel driveway. The sounds startles her at first, until she remembers that everything is just a little bit different here.
He finds her in the bathroom, the tub still filling as she hands him a freshly-poured glass. Eric pulls his cap off, letting it fall on the bare, tiled floor with a quiet little clunk. Gracie Belle is down for the night already, he’s good enough to ask though, and with the prospect of an evening together hangs pleasantly in the air between them.
“Am I invited to this bath?” He asks, looking just a little jealous of the deep, warm water.
“Sure,” Tami nods. They haven’t done anything this ridiculous in years. It feels like a good way to start a new chapter, with fun and comfort (it’s the payoff he’s always been promising, that she’s never demanded until now. It’s his and hers closets, and a house where nothing feels cramped).
“You wanna propose a toast?” He asks, smiling with his eyes in that way he has, and though it isn’t surprising now, Tami still smiles at the backflipping feeling.
“Here’s to us, babe,” she asks, and their glasses clink softly to seal the deal.
Fandom: Friday Night Lights
Pairing: Eric/Tami (Taylors forever! <3)
Rating: PG
Spoilers: for the whole series
Disclaimer: Not mine - they belong to Peter Berg, NBC, DirecTV and whoever else wants in on it. I'm just playing and there's no profit being made.
Prompt: The Unsinkable Tami Taylor, there isn't enough wine in the world (feat. Special Guest Stars Beer and Tequila)
Dedication: To my delightful joie_de_vivre, who is the most fun inside Duvetfell or out (ooh, that sounded worse than I meant it to!). This has been tricky to get into the shape I wanted it, but for you it is definitely worth it.
[Dos Equis, Mexico. 6 bottles]
Okay.
Okay.
No more dancing. Because if Tami jumps around like that any more, she’s pretty sure she’s gonna puke, and nobody wants to be that girl. So she’s going outside (but not in the pool, oh no. She’s already been thrown in once tonight and that is not happening again.)
So, the porch is fine. Maybe the wood feels a little bit like it’s rolling under her feet, but that’s okay. She can’t even blame the damn heels she ‘borrowed’ from Jamie-Lynn, because they came off somewhere between the ground and the water earlier and that is gonna be a problem when it comes to sneaking them back into Jamie-Lynn’s closet.
What Tami wants is to lie down, maybe. The world will definitely not spin quite so much if she does, or at least she hopes so. Definitely going to help with the not puking. And there’s a perfectly good porch swing right there that she could lie on very easily, if it weren’t for the floppy-haired guy flicking through what looks like Sports Illustrated. Stupid jocks, Tami can’t move in this town for them. It’s like there’s not a guy left in the county who’s actually read a book.
“You mind?” Tami asks him, with what she knows is a very flirty smile. It got Rick to drive her to this party, and it’s had the beers coming her way all night. Now it’s going to get her somewhere to lie down before she falls down.
“There’s room for you,” he answers, without looking up. Tami huffs at him not taking the point, but sits down anyway. The breeze is getting up, because it’s still only spring and the nights aren’t kind to girls in bikini tops and bare feet. Tami tucks herself into a corner of the swing, shivering just a little. She doesn’t talk to the strange guy, and he doesn’t look at her anyway.
But after a few minutes, when Tami has her eyes closed to stop the spinning, she hears him quietly say ‘here’, before a soft flannel shirt falls across her bare arm.
“You sure?” She asks, and he looks her in the eye for the first time. And damn, he has really nice eyes
“Yup,” he nods, and he actually looks interested for the first time since she came out here.
“I’m Tami,” she says, feeling shy like this is high school or something.
“Eric,” he says and he finally smiles. From the way her stomach does a backflip, it’s probably just as well he doesn’t do it all the time.
[Jose Cuervo, Mexico, ½ bottle]
“Come on, honey!” Tami yells over the music. It’s something by the Doobie Brothers that she normally hates, but tonight everything is just fine by her.
They’re celebrating Eric’s new job, and it might just be JV coaching, but it’s the first step he’s been waiting for. He’s full of beer and enthusiasm, fumbling for more words than he usually uses, raving about these bright kids he’ll get to coach and all the ideas he has to make them ready for high school. Tami wants to kiss him, half because he’s so cute and half to get him to shut up about the benefit of regular sprints in practice.
She sees him leaning on the bar, and it’s an excuse for just one more shot to go and grab him in person. They have her shared apartment, upstairs, to themselves tonight and she has no intention of wasting it.
“Come on,” she urges, one more time. But Eric is getting a slap on the back from yet another new buddy, and so she sticks two fingers up for the barkeep’s benefit. Another two shots later, and Eric gets free just in time to taste the lime on her lips.
“You wanna go?” He asks, and his voice is smoky like he has the exact same thing on his mind. “Only I have to go to the drugstore and--”
“Never mind that,” Tami says, feeling as reckless as she does happy. “Let’s just get upstairs. Now.”
“But you’re the one always telling me that we have to--”
“Eric Taylor, do you want to get laid or not?” Tami whispers this last bit right in his ear, and he reacts so quick it’s a wonder he doesn’t throw her over his shoulder, caveman style.
She laughs as they practically drag each other up the narrow staircase, and they litter the theadbare carpet with their clothes as they go.
[Painter Bridge Chardonnay, California, 1 glass]
Tami lifts her glass for the last of the toasts, but puts it back down without touching a drop. Someone’s bound to notice, eventually, and God knows Shelley is already suspicious. Instead, Tami shifts a little in her seat, trying to ease where the dress is just a little too tight across her stomach. It’s white and it’s lacy and it’s (mostly) what she wanted, but a wedding planned in about three weeks flat doesn’t leave a lot of time for getting picky about anything.
Still, there’s some good food being served up to their friends and family, and a friend of Eric’s with a kid on the team is making sure they pay almost nothing for the hall. That plan to buy a nice little house in a year is shelved, and they got the keys to their brand new rental just two days ago. Tami will say this for her new husband: when the pressure is on he certainly comes through.
Hidden by the tablecloth, Tami lets her hand rest on her belly for just a moment. It’s hard to believe she’s almost four months’ gone, and she doesn’t know that it matters too much when everyone starts doing the math.
Eric lifts his own glass, draining it before giving her one of those lazy grins that drive her crazy in both the good and the bad way, depending when he busts it out. The band (another favor, and not a well-rehearsed one) launch into something sung by Sinatra that she needs another bar or two to recognize, but she’s already humming along.
Uncle Stewie is having a ball as the MC, and he thumps the microphone yet again to make the announcement. Eric’s standing next to her, hand outstretched as the words (and a crackle of feedback) boom out in the crowded space.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the bride and groom.”
[Llai Llai, Pinot Noir, Chile. 2 bottles]
It seems a lot like the hardest thing she’s ever had to do (until she remembers not going to Austin, and not asking him to stay, and going up against the Boosters and that asshole McCoy).
She doesn’t love the job, though. Not with the politics and the roadblocks and the constant griping from every quarter, no matter how much she gives them.
But if it’s the choice between helping Becky (and being honest with Becky, and being the kind of person that all these girls need her to be) or toeing some line set by people who want government out of their lives, but their politics in everyone else’s, well Tami will do what is hard every day of the week.
Tonight, though, when the tears keep falling and there’s not a lot that anyone can say to make it feel better, Tami is going to tell it to the nice red stuff in a very big glass. She’ll pour, and she’ll cry and her head will feel like a car wreck in the morning, but that’s just the way that has to go.
Before she opens the second bottle with the corkscrew that needs too many twists to get anything done, Tami lays out the aspirin and a water bottle by the bed. Dillon might not change, and teenage girls might not change, but in all the important ways, Tami already has.
[Heidsieck Monopole Brut, Champagne, 1 bottle]
He leaves it in the fridge, with a note that says ‘you were right’. The big white space hold only an empty egg rack, a carton of milk and this bottle of champagne. Tami can’t help smiling, even if she’s so tired right now she could cry.
They’ve just moved in, and there are boxes in every room. Eric is down at the school, meeting his new staff. The college have sent her everything she needs, and there’s still a week to go. Tami doesn’t feel the desperation to get there now. She doesn’t feel the same need to see if her office is really there, now that she’s at least in the same town.
It’s a couple of hours later, sore and a little sweaty from all the unpacking, that she hears the tires on the new gravel driveway. The sounds startles her at first, until she remembers that everything is just a little bit different here.
He finds her in the bathroom, the tub still filling as she hands him a freshly-poured glass. Eric pulls his cap off, letting it fall on the bare, tiled floor with a quiet little clunk. Gracie Belle is down for the night already, he’s good enough to ask though, and with the prospect of an evening together hangs pleasantly in the air between them.
“Am I invited to this bath?” He asks, looking just a little jealous of the deep, warm water.
“Sure,” Tami nods. They haven’t done anything this ridiculous in years. It feels like a good way to start a new chapter, with fun and comfort (it’s the payoff he’s always been promising, that she’s never demanded until now. It’s his and hers closets, and a house where nothing feels cramped).
“You wanna propose a toast?” He asks, smiling with his eyes in that way he has, and though it isn’t surprising now, Tami still smiles at the backflipping feeling.
“Here’s to us, babe,” she asks, and their glasses clink softly to seal the deal.