Spoilers: Through 4.02

Author's Note: Call it a deleted scene, I guess, or at least a scene I wanted to see.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything here and am just doing this for fun.

Devin noticed him first, stopping mid-note to give Landry a little kick. They'd been sitting in Landry's garage, lounging on lawn chairs, just playing around with a few songs. It wasn't an official band practice. Landry had some unexpected time on his hands after the meltdown of East Dillon football.

Landry managed to get out a muddled greeting as he awkwardly extracted himself from the lawn chair. Devin was more graceful and had her guitar packed away before Landry realized what she was doing.

"Great, so I'll see you at school tomorrow," she said over her shoulder as she walked out of the garage.

Tim watched her go with an appreciative smile. "She's cute.....in a tom-boyish sort of way."

"You're not exactly her type," replied Landry.

Tim held out his arms and flashed one of his patented slow-burning grins. "Landry, I'm everybody's type."

Landry shook his head and laughed.

"What? You got something going on with her."

"No, it's not that.....it's just.....nah, you know what, you go for it. Knock yourself out."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. Let me know how it goes."

Tim nodded and looked around the garage. He wandered over to the drum set in the corner and gave the cymbal a few light taps.

"Can you please not touch that?" asked Landry as he reached over to stop the noise. Tim walked over to the workbench and hauled himself up, his long legs dangling down.

"So, how's football going?" asked Tim.

"Ha. Very funny. How's college?"

Tim gave Landry a sour look. "Over."

"Yeah, well, same here." Landry picked up his guitar and idly picked out a few chords, just to have something to do with his hands.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"No, Tim. I'm not," said Landry, turning a level gaze toward him. "I'm done and as far as I know, every other guy on the team is done too."

"You're done just because of one lousy forfeit?" asked Tim as he slid off the workbench and walked toward Landry.

"The forfeit's not the point. Coach Taylor quit on us. We gave him everything we had and it wasn't good enough. Do you have any idea what that feels like? To have someone you respect just give up on you like that?"

Tim put his hands on his hips, looked down and sighed. Then he took a deep breath, brushed his hair off his face with both hands, and looked back at Landry.

"So let me get this straight. Y'all are going to prove you're not quitters by quitting?"

"Well, now, I don't think I'd put it quite like that," said Landry.

"Sounds pretty ironic, don't you think?"

Landry smiled. "Glad to see all that English tutoring paid off."

"Do you really think Coach just gave up on you?" asked Tim.

"He forfeited the game."

"Maybe. But he still showed up for work on Monday morning. That sound like a guy who's given up?"

Landry opened his mouth to argue but then shook his head instead.

"You think Coach Taylor couldn't get another job? Hell, Larrabee was looking for a head coach this summer - you think he couldn't have gotten that job if he'd wanted it?"

"I guess he could've," said Landry grudgingly.

Tim clapped a hand on Landry's shoulder a little more harshly than was necessary. "I'm telling you this as your friend. Lose the chip and get your sorry ass over to Coach's special practice on Saturday night. And bring as many guys with you as you can."

"Or what?"

"Or you'll regret it," said Tim with a shrug as he dropped his hand and stepped back.

"I'll regret it? Tell me something. You regret dropping out of college?"

Tim rolled his eyes. "Don't change the subject."

"Well, if the subject is quitting, then we should be able to look at your behavior in that arena. It's only fair, don't you think?"

"Just get over yourself and get to practice. Seriously," said Tim as he walked away.

"Yeah, been real nice visiting with you. Be sure to stop by some time real soon," muttered Landry under his breath.