I just got to watch season 1 again, and I suddenly had this idea. Because it bugged me so how lost and upset Riggins was after he found out that his dad had stolen the team's camera… Time for some comfort, don't you think?
It's my first try at writing FNL, I honestly hope it's not too bad? It might remain a one-shot dealio, or it might not… Anyhow, feedback is greatly appreciated :)
He stood there, the friggin' camera dangling from his fingers until he tightened his grip again, tightened it until his hand hurt. Still, he didn't mind the pain. He was used to that, to physical pain. Football had taught him all about it, and there didn't seem to be any sort pain left he hadn't at one time experienced.
Until this day; until his dad disappointed him so badly. And it hurt more than anything else ever had. Standing in front of the door to coach Taylor's home, Tim felt lost and more upset than ever before. No fight with his brother, no lost game, nothing had ever made him feel like this. Betrayed, numb with pain.
The coach had been right all along. Tim should have known. Coach T. at least was an honest man, always was, always would be. Unlike his dad who never was, and yeah, never would be…
Sighing, he waited for the door to be answered, waited for the coach to see him, and know. And Tim honestly hoped he'd be strong enough to just hand the camera over, hand it back, wouldn't crack. Not in front of coach T.
Not later, either.
It wasn't the coach who opened the door to him, though, it was his daughter…
"Tim?" she queried, her voice gentle and quiet. She scrutinized him, wondering what had brought him here, when her gaze fell on the camera in his hand.
She didn't say anything, but from the look she gave him he could tell that she had heard of the incident with the camera. Sure as hell, the Taylor's were one of those mythic families still having dinner together and talking about their day, sharing stories. He nearly cracked a small smile at the thought. Instead he lowered his head, so as to hide the bruises on his face.
"I… is the coach home?"
"No, he and mom went to go and get things for the…," her voice trailed off and to his surprise he saw her blush slightly. "Can I—do you want to leave a… a note or something?"
"Nah. I just—I just wanted to return this." He handed her the cursed camera and nodded slightly.
"Sure. Sure! I'll… I can take it, I'll tell him you were here?"
"Yeah, that'd be great," he muttered without enthusiasm and made to leave. Unfortunately, she saw it then, the discoloration, the bruised skin.
The look in his eyes.
She half choked on a swallowed down exclamation of shocked surprise, but couldn't quite stop herself from gasping audibly at the sight.
"My God, Tim," she finally whispered and he cringed. "Did…"
Please don't say anything, he begged silently, just let me go…
No such luck. This was Julie Taylor he was facing here. She didn't know the ways of tough men like her dad, like himself… Or if she did, she didn't care.
"Are you okay?" she whispered, and didn't get an answer out of him. If he'd say just one word now, he would surely crack. He would… "Do you want to come in?" Julie asked; her voice too gentle, too laced with understanding.
He felt his face contort against his will, into a grimace of pain. He couldn't fight it. "No," he finally managed, but it was too late since Julie had already extended her soft-skinned hand and slightly touched his rough one.
"Come on in," she beckoned. It was nothing but a whisper of air. He could pretend he hadn't heard it.
But he couldn't pretend away her hand holding his.
"Come, it's alright…" Julie took him by the hand, more firmly now. It felt odd. He was Tim Riggins after all, and she was Julie Taylor, his teammate's girlfriend. (Wasn't she?) What else had they in common? Had she even ever talked to him before, like, really? When her dad had not invited him and his brother over for dinner? At school maybe? After one of the games? He didn't think so, no. And yet here she was, inviting him into her family's house.
Because he looked so terribly lost and broken that she simply couldn't let him go like that.
She didn't know what happened to him, but if it was enough to make his eyes shine with yet unshed tears, right in front of her, it had to be bad. Very.
When he stopped, only halfway into the house, she turned to fully face him again. There were only inches between the two of them, and an odd tension coursed through her, half embarrassment, half something else. Cocking her head slightly, trying to see past the cracks in his mask, Julie scrutinized him some more, until their eyes met, their gazes locked, and she could only stare…
Following a sudden, strong impulse, Julie bent forward then and put her arms around him in a gesture of comfort. Even in moving already berating herself for her stupid, stupid—ridiculous!—behavior, she was more than a little surprised when, after a short time in which she was embarrassingly hanging on to a rigid Tim Riggins, she could feel his tension slowly leave his body, until he eventually leaned into her embrace and let go.
Because he could no longer keep up the fight; there was no strength in him left. And, God, if he had to deny it for the rest of his life, but right now only this girl's arms around him, her gentle way, her soothing whispers, could make him believe that he'd be okay again.
Call him a pussy, he didn't care. Not as long as she was holding him.
And then he cupped her pretty face with his hands, wallowing in the delicacy, the beauty he had, strangely, never noticed before, and he kissed her.
Thanks for reading.
