FNL - Man Up (NC-17)
Oh, Matt Saracen, how are you so awesome and so hot? Really? Also, initially this pairing did something weird to my brain and made it think we were writing Superman Returns/ Batverse again.
Friday Night Lights
Jason/Tim (Jason/Lyla, Tim/Tyra)
Spoilers for 1.07 'El Accidente'
Rated Adult
Beta by antheia, coercion by musesfool, dedicated to lyra_sena, remaining fuck-ups by me.
Man Up
On the first day of first grade Jason Street wore his blue shirt with the red stripes and khaki shorts. His mother chose his outfit; Jason chose his shoes. Jason's mother wanted him to wear his nice oxfords, but Jason wanted to wear his sneakers with the mud and the scuff marks from playing football in the backyard with his dad. When his mother complained, his father replied, "Lay off the kid, Marianne, he's a boy. Boys like to get dirty."
So Jason got wear his sneakers to his first day of school. He also got to bring his new red lunchbox and wear his brand new backpack. He got to sit at a desk with his name on it in big black letters, and when the teacher did her roll call he got to say 'here'.
Actually, Jason was so excited to say 'here' that he said it too early, because R comes before S.
Riggins comes before Street.
So when Jason Street said 'here', the boy at the desk in front of him turned around and glared at him as only six year-olds know how. "I'm Tim Riggins, not you."
Jason blinked and said "Hi."
Tim Riggins glared for another minute and then smiled. "Hi, back."
Jason cocked his head to the side. "Do you want to come to my house and play football after school?"
Tim's hair flopped around his head as he nodded. "'kay."
On the first day of third grade Jason Street and Tim Riggins met at the front of Dillon Elementary School. Jason had spent most of the summer visiting his aunt and uncle in Houston, and while he was gone Tim's hair had grown longer. His bangs now hung in his eyes and he didn’t brush them to the side, instead he peered out from behind them like he was hiding behind a curtain,
"I got a new football," Jason said proudly, displaying a smile that was missing two front teeth.
Tim rubbed at his nose with the back of his hand. "Billy taught me how to fish," he said after a moment. He had a stain on the front of his tee shirt, but that never seemed to bother him.
Jason's mom said that Tim Riggins' family was trash and that she didn't want Jason playing with him anymore, but Jason didn't think school counted, because it was school.
"Hi, Jason," Lyla Garrity said as she walked by with her shiny shoes, a pink ribbon in her hair and the other girls that always seemed to be around her. Jason wrinkled his nose, girls were icky.
"Girls are icky," he said to Tim with certainty.
Tim gave him a wan smile, but Jason didn't understand the look on Tim's face at all -- it was almost like he was sad. "Coach Tatum says he's gonna take us to see the Mustangs play next week," Jason blurted out.
This wasn't strictly true, of course, Jason's Pee Wee coach had said he was willing to take Jason and his dad to see the Mustangs, but Jason figured if he asked his dad he could get Tim a ticket too. Plus, it had the desired effect of making Tim smile. He was missing a tooth, too. "Cool," he said.
Jason nodded in agreement. "Cool."
Six days before the start of seventh grade Ellen and David Riggins died in a car crash two miles from their home. They were on their way to see their eldest son, Billy, start in a scrimmage game against the Saltillo Tornados. This was Billy's senior year of high school and the scouts were out in full force; this would be the last game that Billy played sober for the rest of the year.
The Riggins funeral was held the day before school started, and for the whole first month of school Tim stayed with the Streets. For Jason it was one continuous sleepover -- they made forts out of blankets and watched lots of tapes of the Dallas Cowboys from the mid-90s. Jason was in awe of Troy Aikman's arm. "I'm gonna throw like that some day," he'd say. Tim would just snort and go back to picking at the stitching on Mrs. Street's designer pillows. It drove Jason's mother crazy, but it wasn't like Billy could take care of Tim, Jason's mom whispered to Mrs. Garrity on the phone, he could barely take care of himself.
On the night before their first day of eighth grade, Jason slept over Tim's house. They stayed up the whole night completely unsupervised, because Billy had a hot date and in his words, "wasn't about to stay up babysitting two numb nuts when he hadn't gotten a blow job in three weeks." Tim had just waved it off and gone to call Domino's; Jason judiciously decided not to tell his mother about any of this.
Since Tim's parents had died, the house had gone completely to seed. Billy parked his brokendown truck in the front yard and left beer bottles all over the counter. On this particular evening he'd also left a large stash of porn on the living room table, so Jason and Tim looked at glossy pages of women with gravity-defying breasts and drank warm bottles of PBR that Tim had boldly taken right out of the refrigerator. "It's not like Billy counts them or nothin'," he told Jason.
Jason just grimaced around his first taste of liquor and went back to flipping through Penthouse. "Nobody looks like this around here," Jason said a bit disdainfully while Tim was in the kitchen looking for chips.
Tim leaned over the back of the sofa, green eyes bright, his face right next to Jason's. "I dunno," he said, taking a swig of beer. "Lyla's kind of hot."
Jason didn't choke at all. "Lyla Garrity?"
When Tim reached up to brush his hair out of his eyes, he elbowed Jason in the ear. "Why, you got somebody else in mind, Jay? Maybe Tyra?"
"Tyra Collette?" This time Jason gagged audibly.
Tim laughed right in Jason's ear, and he could feel the heat from Tim's breath on the side of his face. "You're a tough man, Street."
Jason raised an eyebrow. If he turned his head just a little -- no, no way. He cleared his throat and took another swallow of his beer. "That's what they're gonna call me in the NFL," he said, ignoring the crack in his voice, "Tough Man Street."
Tim's laugh rang in his ears. "Dream on, Street, dream on."
Jason looked down at Tim's mouth for a brief moment and then went back to his magazine.
According to Jason's mother, he could've been friends with anybody, so why did he have to hang around with scrubby little Timmy Riggins with the too long hair and the stained tee shirts, who climbed in Jason's bedroom window in the middle of the night so they could sneak off to the river and talk about playing varsity football? Why didn't Jason call up Mrs. Garrity's daughter some time and ask her out? Jason's mom would drive them wherever they wanted to go.
When his mom gave him grief, Jason would just tune her out. Tim had never done anything to Jason's mom, except that one time they'd been tossing the ball around and he'd landed in her begonias. Tim had never done anything but be Tim, with his bright eyes and lopsided grin and the way he always knew exactly where Jason was going to throw the ball.
When Jason's mom gave him grief about Tim, Jason never responded, because honestly, he wasn't sure what he would say if she pushed too far. He wasn't going to give up Tim; the idea wasn't even something to be considered.
On the third day of their freshman year of high school, Jason Street kissed Tim Riggins for the first time. It wasn't a particularly good kiss -- they'd been sitting on a dead log by the river, and Tim had been drinking because Billy had been giving him shit about football and how he had to step up his game, because Billy had had to give up his dream for Tim and he fucking owed him. Plus, it was near the anniversary of the deaths of Tim's parents, which was just a bad scene all around.
Jason didn't actually mean to kiss Tim, but Tim was upset, and when he was sad his mouth did this twisty thing that made Jason's chest hurt. Jason had just wanted to make things better, so he'd leaned in and pressed his lips against the corner of Tim's mouth. Except that then Tim had pushed Jason away and got up and run off. That wasn't a good sign at all, and the next morning at football practice Tim wouldn’t come near him. So at lunch Jason asked out Lyla Garrity, because he couldn't think of anything else to do. He needed to be distracted. He needed to not think about Tim.
Two days later Jason woke up in the middle of the night to find Tim throwing rocks at his window. "I'm on the ground floor, dumbass!" Jason had to duck, because he opened the window just as Tim lobbed another rock. "You could've just knocked."
Tim snickered. "Hey, man, you could've had company."
Tim was a little unsteady in the moonlight, his shirt more wrinkled than normal. There was something different about him that night, and Jason narrowed his eyes as they adjusted to the dark. "Company like who, your mom?"
Tim smirked and something in Jason's heart unclenched a little bit. He could pretend like nothing had happened too -- it was probably for the best. "I was thinking more like the lovely Ms. Garrity."
Or maybe he wasn't off the hook. "Tim, man, you know I can--"
"Guess who just had sex?" Tim staggered all the way up to Jason's window and now Jason could see what was different. Everything. Everything was different. Tim's eyes, his mouth, his shirt was even on inside out.
Jason could feel his nostrils flaring. "You had sex," he repeatedly slowly. "With who?"
Tim gave Jason an enormous smile. "Tyra Collette."
It took every fiber in Jason's being not to throw up.
On the fifth day of their junior year at Dillon High School, and a week before the huge game against Westlake, Tim Riggins climbed through Jason Street's bedroom window as Jason was getting ready for bed. Well, Jason wasn't getting ready for bed as much as he was sitting in his sweatpants and studying his playbook, because Coach Taylor had said that scouts were sniffing around and making noise about giving Jason a scholarship.
Tim was a little unsteady on his feet as he climbed in, and he belched loudly once he got his bearings. Jason snorted and shook his head. "Why don't you just come through the front door if you're gonna announce that you're here anyway?"
Tim hiccupped and dropped down on the foot of Jason's bed. The mattress quivered. "Jay, Jay, Jay -- why so worried? I feel like you need to loosen up a little bit -- you know, have some fun."
Jason laughed. "Right, because I really want to go to practice with a hangover in the morning? I'll pass."
Tim hiccupped again and poked at Jason's bare feet.
Jason closed the playbook and stuck it by the side of his bed. Tim hadn't been in his room a while. "To what do I owe the honor of this visit, seriously? Tyra dump you again or something?"
Tim shrugged and pushed his hair out of his eyes. "Tyra's -- you know, Tyra's Tyra."
Jason snorted and leaned back against his headboard, folding his arms behind his head "Right."
Tim shrugged again, his eyes darting around Jason's room. Looking everywhere but at Jason. "She doesn't get it -- she just--"
Jason could feel his forehead creasing in confusion, because there was something Tim was trying to say, but for whatever reason it wasn't coming out. Tim was many things, but he never had problems expressing himself. He always made his intentions very clear. So when Tim jumped Jason, Jason should've understood what was happening -- but of course he didn't.
One minute Tim was sitting on the end of Jason's bed, eyeing Jason's poster of Jenny McCarthy, and the next he was sitting on Jason's thighs, his hands on either side of Jason's head. Jason reeled back so quickly he slammed his head against the wall and Tim snickered again.
"Real smooth there, Jay," Tim said, and Jason heart jumped in his chest as Tim licked his lower lip and eyed him consideringly.
"If you're fucking with me --" Jason tried to keep the wobble out of his voice, but then Tim was kissing him, and it didn't matter that Jason had tried not to want this. He had Lyla, he wasn't supposed to want more, but Lyla didn’t have bright green eyes and a soft mouth with sharp teeth.
Lyla didn’t groan into Jason's mouth and grind her dick against Jason's stomach. Lyla was nice, but she wasn't solid against Tim's chest and didn't have stubble that rubbed against Jason's chin. Lyla just wasn't Tim. No one else was Tim, and no one could take his place in Jason's heart, no matter how hard Jason tried to stay on the right path.
So Jason gave up trying, and instead focused on keeping a hold of Tim and not shouting down the entire house as Tim shoved his hands inside Jason's sweatpants and stroked his cock. It was hard -- the not shouting -- it was really hard, and it didn't help that Tim was writhing against Jason and panting against his neck.
When Jason came he was so busy trying to get Tim's jeans open that he couldn't even appreciate it, but then Tim gave this whimper when Jason insinuated his hand in the opening of Tim's boxers that just made everything fifty times better.
Tim was so hot and he thrust against the circle of Jason's hand, grabbing Jason by the back of the neck and slamming their mouths together in some semblance of a kiss. Jason was so stunned he couldn't even figure out what to do, so he just held on and let Tim fuck his hand, and then Tim shuddered and Jason twitched and came again. Tim hadn't even been touching him; he'd just been Tim. Like always.
Jason didn't know what to do with his hands afterwards, but Tim took care of the awkwardness by grabbing a bunch of tissues from his nightstand and wiping them down. "I'd spend the night," he said getting to his feet slowly, "but you know how the coach don't like distractions before a big game."
Jason scoffed derisively, or he tried to, but his brain was a little slow "And what was this?"
Tim smirked as he went back to the window. "This wasn't a distraction; this was just us."
Jason nodded his head. "Us, huh?"
Tim rolled his eyes before climbing back out the window. "You're not too smart, Street, it's a good thing you're pretty and can play ball."
Jason rolled his eyes and threw his pillow at Tim's head, but Tim was already outside. "Look who's talking," he called.
He could hear Tim's laugh long after he was gone.
--end--
Friday Night Lights
Jason/Tim (Jason/Lyla, Tim/Tyra)
Spoilers for 1.07 'El Accidente'
Rated Adult
Beta by antheia, coercion by musesfool, dedicated to lyra_sena, remaining fuck-ups by me.
Man Up
On the first day of first grade Jason Street wore his blue shirt with the red stripes and khaki shorts. His mother chose his outfit; Jason chose his shoes. Jason's mother wanted him to wear his nice oxfords, but Jason wanted to wear his sneakers with the mud and the scuff marks from playing football in the backyard with his dad. When his mother complained, his father replied, "Lay off the kid, Marianne, he's a boy. Boys like to get dirty."
So Jason got wear his sneakers to his first day of school. He also got to bring his new red lunchbox and wear his brand new backpack. He got to sit at a desk with his name on it in big black letters, and when the teacher did her roll call he got to say 'here'.
Actually, Jason was so excited to say 'here' that he said it too early, because R comes before S.
Riggins comes before Street.
So when Jason Street said 'here', the boy at the desk in front of him turned around and glared at him as only six year-olds know how. "I'm Tim Riggins, not you."
Jason blinked and said "Hi."
Tim Riggins glared for another minute and then smiled. "Hi, back."
Jason cocked his head to the side. "Do you want to come to my house and play football after school?"
Tim's hair flopped around his head as he nodded. "'kay."
On the first day of third grade Jason Street and Tim Riggins met at the front of Dillon Elementary School. Jason had spent most of the summer visiting his aunt and uncle in Houston, and while he was gone Tim's hair had grown longer. His bangs now hung in his eyes and he didn’t brush them to the side, instead he peered out from behind them like he was hiding behind a curtain,
"I got a new football," Jason said proudly, displaying a smile that was missing two front teeth.
Tim rubbed at his nose with the back of his hand. "Billy taught me how to fish," he said after a moment. He had a stain on the front of his tee shirt, but that never seemed to bother him.
Jason's mom said that Tim Riggins' family was trash and that she didn't want Jason playing with him anymore, but Jason didn't think school counted, because it was school.
"Hi, Jason," Lyla Garrity said as she walked by with her shiny shoes, a pink ribbon in her hair and the other girls that always seemed to be around her. Jason wrinkled his nose, girls were icky.
"Girls are icky," he said to Tim with certainty.
Tim gave him a wan smile, but Jason didn't understand the look on Tim's face at all -- it was almost like he was sad. "Coach Tatum says he's gonna take us to see the Mustangs play next week," Jason blurted out.
This wasn't strictly true, of course, Jason's Pee Wee coach had said he was willing to take Jason and his dad to see the Mustangs, but Jason figured if he asked his dad he could get Tim a ticket too. Plus, it had the desired effect of making Tim smile. He was missing a tooth, too. "Cool," he said.
Jason nodded in agreement. "Cool."
Six days before the start of seventh grade Ellen and David Riggins died in a car crash two miles from their home. They were on their way to see their eldest son, Billy, start in a scrimmage game against the Saltillo Tornados. This was Billy's senior year of high school and the scouts were out in full force; this would be the last game that Billy played sober for the rest of the year.
The Riggins funeral was held the day before school started, and for the whole first month of school Tim stayed with the Streets. For Jason it was one continuous sleepover -- they made forts out of blankets and watched lots of tapes of the Dallas Cowboys from the mid-90s. Jason was in awe of Troy Aikman's arm. "I'm gonna throw like that some day," he'd say. Tim would just snort and go back to picking at the stitching on Mrs. Street's designer pillows. It drove Jason's mother crazy, but it wasn't like Billy could take care of Tim, Jason's mom whispered to Mrs. Garrity on the phone, he could barely take care of himself.
On the night before their first day of eighth grade, Jason slept over Tim's house. They stayed up the whole night completely unsupervised, because Billy had a hot date and in his words, "wasn't about to stay up babysitting two numb nuts when he hadn't gotten a blow job in three weeks." Tim had just waved it off and gone to call Domino's; Jason judiciously decided not to tell his mother about any of this.
Since Tim's parents had died, the house had gone completely to seed. Billy parked his brokendown truck in the front yard and left beer bottles all over the counter. On this particular evening he'd also left a large stash of porn on the living room table, so Jason and Tim looked at glossy pages of women with gravity-defying breasts and drank warm bottles of PBR that Tim had boldly taken right out of the refrigerator. "It's not like Billy counts them or nothin'," he told Jason.
Jason just grimaced around his first taste of liquor and went back to flipping through Penthouse. "Nobody looks like this around here," Jason said a bit disdainfully while Tim was in the kitchen looking for chips.
Tim leaned over the back of the sofa, green eyes bright, his face right next to Jason's. "I dunno," he said, taking a swig of beer. "Lyla's kind of hot."
Jason didn't choke at all. "Lyla Garrity?"
When Tim reached up to brush his hair out of his eyes, he elbowed Jason in the ear. "Why, you got somebody else in mind, Jay? Maybe Tyra?"
"Tyra Collette?" This time Jason gagged audibly.
Tim laughed right in Jason's ear, and he could feel the heat from Tim's breath on the side of his face. "You're a tough man, Street."
Jason raised an eyebrow. If he turned his head just a little -- no, no way. He cleared his throat and took another swallow of his beer. "That's what they're gonna call me in the NFL," he said, ignoring the crack in his voice, "Tough Man Street."
Tim's laugh rang in his ears. "Dream on, Street, dream on."
Jason looked down at Tim's mouth for a brief moment and then went back to his magazine.
According to Jason's mother, he could've been friends with anybody, so why did he have to hang around with scrubby little Timmy Riggins with the too long hair and the stained tee shirts, who climbed in Jason's bedroom window in the middle of the night so they could sneak off to the river and talk about playing varsity football? Why didn't Jason call up Mrs. Garrity's daughter some time and ask her out? Jason's mom would drive them wherever they wanted to go.
When his mom gave him grief, Jason would just tune her out. Tim had never done anything to Jason's mom, except that one time they'd been tossing the ball around and he'd landed in her begonias. Tim had never done anything but be Tim, with his bright eyes and lopsided grin and the way he always knew exactly where Jason was going to throw the ball.
When Jason's mom gave him grief about Tim, Jason never responded, because honestly, he wasn't sure what he would say if she pushed too far. He wasn't going to give up Tim; the idea wasn't even something to be considered.
On the third day of their freshman year of high school, Jason Street kissed Tim Riggins for the first time. It wasn't a particularly good kiss -- they'd been sitting on a dead log by the river, and Tim had been drinking because Billy had been giving him shit about football and how he had to step up his game, because Billy had had to give up his dream for Tim and he fucking owed him. Plus, it was near the anniversary of the deaths of Tim's parents, which was just a bad scene all around.
Jason didn't actually mean to kiss Tim, but Tim was upset, and when he was sad his mouth did this twisty thing that made Jason's chest hurt. Jason had just wanted to make things better, so he'd leaned in and pressed his lips against the corner of Tim's mouth. Except that then Tim had pushed Jason away and got up and run off. That wasn't a good sign at all, and the next morning at football practice Tim wouldn’t come near him. So at lunch Jason asked out Lyla Garrity, because he couldn't think of anything else to do. He needed to be distracted. He needed to not think about Tim.
Two days later Jason woke up in the middle of the night to find Tim throwing rocks at his window. "I'm on the ground floor, dumbass!" Jason had to duck, because he opened the window just as Tim lobbed another rock. "You could've just knocked."
Tim snickered. "Hey, man, you could've had company."
Tim was a little unsteady in the moonlight, his shirt more wrinkled than normal. There was something different about him that night, and Jason narrowed his eyes as they adjusted to the dark. "Company like who, your mom?"
Tim smirked and something in Jason's heart unclenched a little bit. He could pretend like nothing had happened too -- it was probably for the best. "I was thinking more like the lovely Ms. Garrity."
Or maybe he wasn't off the hook. "Tim, man, you know I can--"
"Guess who just had sex?" Tim staggered all the way up to Jason's window and now Jason could see what was different. Everything. Everything was different. Tim's eyes, his mouth, his shirt was even on inside out.
Jason could feel his nostrils flaring. "You had sex," he repeatedly slowly. "With who?"
Tim gave Jason an enormous smile. "Tyra Collette."
It took every fiber in Jason's being not to throw up.
On the fifth day of their junior year at Dillon High School, and a week before the huge game against Westlake, Tim Riggins climbed through Jason Street's bedroom window as Jason was getting ready for bed. Well, Jason wasn't getting ready for bed as much as he was sitting in his sweatpants and studying his playbook, because Coach Taylor had said that scouts were sniffing around and making noise about giving Jason a scholarship.
Tim was a little unsteady on his feet as he climbed in, and he belched loudly once he got his bearings. Jason snorted and shook his head. "Why don't you just come through the front door if you're gonna announce that you're here anyway?"
Tim hiccupped and dropped down on the foot of Jason's bed. The mattress quivered. "Jay, Jay, Jay -- why so worried? I feel like you need to loosen up a little bit -- you know, have some fun."
Jason laughed. "Right, because I really want to go to practice with a hangover in the morning? I'll pass."
Tim hiccupped again and poked at Jason's bare feet.
Jason closed the playbook and stuck it by the side of his bed. Tim hadn't been in his room a while. "To what do I owe the honor of this visit, seriously? Tyra dump you again or something?"
Tim shrugged and pushed his hair out of his eyes. "Tyra's -- you know, Tyra's Tyra."
Jason snorted and leaned back against his headboard, folding his arms behind his head "Right."
Tim shrugged again, his eyes darting around Jason's room. Looking everywhere but at Jason. "She doesn't get it -- she just--"
Jason could feel his forehead creasing in confusion, because there was something Tim was trying to say, but for whatever reason it wasn't coming out. Tim was many things, but he never had problems expressing himself. He always made his intentions very clear. So when Tim jumped Jason, Jason should've understood what was happening -- but of course he didn't.
One minute Tim was sitting on the end of Jason's bed, eyeing Jason's poster of Jenny McCarthy, and the next he was sitting on Jason's thighs, his hands on either side of Jason's head. Jason reeled back so quickly he slammed his head against the wall and Tim snickered again.
"Real smooth there, Jay," Tim said, and Jason heart jumped in his chest as Tim licked his lower lip and eyed him consideringly.
"If you're fucking with me --" Jason tried to keep the wobble out of his voice, but then Tim was kissing him, and it didn't matter that Jason had tried not to want this. He had Lyla, he wasn't supposed to want more, but Lyla didn’t have bright green eyes and a soft mouth with sharp teeth.
Lyla didn’t groan into Jason's mouth and grind her dick against Jason's stomach. Lyla was nice, but she wasn't solid against Tim's chest and didn't have stubble that rubbed against Jason's chin. Lyla just wasn't Tim. No one else was Tim, and no one could take his place in Jason's heart, no matter how hard Jason tried to stay on the right path.
So Jason gave up trying, and instead focused on keeping a hold of Tim and not shouting down the entire house as Tim shoved his hands inside Jason's sweatpants and stroked his cock. It was hard -- the not shouting -- it was really hard, and it didn't help that Tim was writhing against Jason and panting against his neck.
When Jason came he was so busy trying to get Tim's jeans open that he couldn't even appreciate it, but then Tim gave this whimper when Jason insinuated his hand in the opening of Tim's boxers that just made everything fifty times better.
Tim was so hot and he thrust against the circle of Jason's hand, grabbing Jason by the back of the neck and slamming their mouths together in some semblance of a kiss. Jason was so stunned he couldn't even figure out what to do, so he just held on and let Tim fuck his hand, and then Tim shuddered and Jason twitched and came again. Tim hadn't even been touching him; he'd just been Tim. Like always.
Jason didn't know what to do with his hands afterwards, but Tim took care of the awkwardness by grabbing a bunch of tissues from his nightstand and wiping them down. "I'd spend the night," he said getting to his feet slowly, "but you know how the coach don't like distractions before a big game."
Jason scoffed derisively, or he tried to, but his brain was a little slow "And what was this?"
Tim smirked as he went back to the window. "This wasn't a distraction; this was just us."
Jason nodded his head. "Us, huh?"
Tim rolled his eyes before climbing back out the window. "You're not too smart, Street, it's a good thing you're pretty and can play ball."
Jason rolled his eyes and threw his pillow at Tim's head, but Tim was already outside. "Look who's talking," he called.
He could hear Tim's laugh long after he was gone.
--end--