{ I own nothing }


He spends his summer getting drunk and waking up with a different girl every morning, and he'd be lying if he says he doesn't love every minute of it. Being a State Champion Dillon Panther has a way of getting you anything you want, really, and he milks it while he can.

Seeing Lyla Garrity for the first time in three months passing out flyers in a parking lot is like a breath of fresh air, until she opens her mouth.

You're still number one, he says, trying to snap her out of her funk. Still the best I've ever had.

Enjoy your depraved hedonism, she snaps, and he wonders if that's some kind of sick joke, considering what they did last year. How ironic.

... ... ...

He knows she hates to ask for his help getting her dad home, but he'd never hesitate if she really needed him. Even with her newfound faith, she seems heavier, a little jaded, maybe. He thinks he probably has something to do with that.

He sees a little glimpse of the Lyla he used to know, by the lamplight in her dad's apartment, and he can't help but smile. He kisses her cheek, and he might be giving himself away when he lingers a beat too long, but he can't find it in himself to care.

Because he loves her. He always has, and he probably always will, and all the time and distance between them has changed everything and nothing all at once.

... ... ...

This new coach makes him wanna quit more than Coach Taylor ever did, and sitting in the ER with an IV attached to his arm, he seriously wonders if all the effort is worth it if MacGregor doesn't care.

Lyla shows up – as a friend, she insists – and tries to recruit him to her Jesus cult or whatever. Maybe it makes him a prick if he sees it as a chance to get closer to her, but he's feeling a little lost (tries to pretend like she didn't call him out, didn't see right through him) and a little desperate and he'll take whatever opening he can get.

The smile on her face when he shows up at church is worth it.

And okay, maybe showing up in her bedroom unannounced is a dumbass thing to do, but he really did feel something at church that night, and he really does want to talk about it with her. But she looks so sweet and understanding, and after everything Street said at his door a few days ago, it's nice to see that familiar look on her face again, the one that says he's not a screw-up.

So he tries to kiss her and sees his chance disappearing before his eyes, and he's back to feeling lost again.

... ... ...

Tim interprets I hate your guts as come with me to Mexico. Naturally.

He doesn't know what he thought Jay was getting himself into, but it becomes clear pretty quickly that whatever this procedure is, it's too dangerous to let him go through with it.

He calls Lyla because he doesn't know what else to do, doesn't know who else can help.

And okay, maybe it's not his brightest idea considering all their relationships are strained at the moment, but he meant it last year when he said the three of them could get through anything together. He and Lyla are the only ones who've seen Six through every stage of his injury and healing, and he knows they're the only ones who can get through that thick skull of his. He feels better when she's there, even if neither Jay nor Lyla are too pleased about it, but it's a lot easier when he can share the burden of this whole situation with someone else.

When Jay throws himself off the side of the boat, Tim's heart drops into his stomach, because this can't be it, can't be the way it ends. Lyla clings to him (and he clings to her, if he's being honest with himself), and when they find him on that beach, Tim's never felt so relieved in his life.

She kisses both of them at the bar that night, and maybe she's a little tipsy, but he wonders if it'll always be this way, if he'll always have to share the girl he loves with his best friend.

... ... ...

She asks him to help her with her charity project, this kid Santiago, and that's when he realizes he's a total fucking sucker for her, because the second she gives him that disappointed look, he decides he'll do anything to wipe it off her face.

... ... ...

No one seems to agree that his trip to Mexico wasn't selfish and irresponsible. Apparently by traveling to a foreign country to save his best friend from a life-threatening decision he disrespected his coach, his team, his teachers, the entire town, it seems. (He doubts they'd feel that way if they knew Jay could have come back in a casket, but he wouldn't wish for that, so.)

He helps this Santiago kid for Lyla, but maybe also for himself, too, because if Coach sees him putting in an effort, it might help his chances to get back on the team. And okay, he's not a heartless jackass, so seeing the kid trying so hard makes it easy to want to help him. It doesn't hurt when Smash and Seven join in, and when Coach walks by, he feels a little sliver of hope in his heart that maybe things are looking up.

... ... ...

He leaves his house because this whole thing with Billy and Jackie just pisses him off. He feels betrayed and he's just fed up with the whole situation.

Staying with Tyra was never the best idea, but it gives him some time to figure out what he's gonna do. (He never actually planned on sleeping with Mindy, for the record.)

Maybe he should've done a little more research on this ferret guy, but at least he's got a floor to sleep on and a roof over his head.

It's not hard to figure out what kind of extracurricular activity this guy's got going on. He thinks he knows even before he finds the trailer in the yard. But what choice does he have, really? He's got no one else at this point, so he turns a blind eye.

... ... ...

He shows up at practice because he misses it. He misses the guys, and the feeling he gets when he makes a play for his team, and that adrenaline rush right before a game.

The fact that it delays going back to the hellhole he's living in for a few hours might play into it a little bit.

He realizes now that while he knows he did the right thing, going to save Jay like that, he also neglected his responsibilities in the process. So he apologizes to each of his teammates individually, and Coach finally, finally, gives him a break.

He's grinning like an idiot when he takes his place for warm-ups, but he doesn't care, because he's home.

... ... ...

He's kind of the laughing stock of the athletic department, holding up scores at gymnastics meets and washing uniforms for the girls' soccer team and collecting balls at volleyball games, but he doesn't mind it so much. He knew Coach wouldn't let him off the hook that easily, and it delays going home, so it's alright.

He knows he has no right to show up at the Taylors' door when his living situation sours, so he sleeps in his car in front of their house instead.

He's really got nowhere else to go, and he can't, won't wake up again with a shotgun pressed to his chest. That guy is batshit crazy and he never should have shacked up with him.

As he's playing with baby Grace on the couch and looking around at the life the Taylors have, he thinks he could be happy like this one day. Married to a good woman, coaching ball, raising a couple kiddos. He's never wanted much more than what he can get here in Dillon anyway.

... ... ...

He takes Julie out because he sees her sulking over Seven, and he feels an obligation to Coach to help her out. He doesn't see the harm in her having a few beers, until he remembers that she's the Coach's daughter and she's probably never had a sip in her life.

And yeah, it sucks that Coach finds them in a compromising position and assumes the worst, but he supposes he would feel the same way if it were his daughter. He knows trying to explain himself is useless, but he tries anyway, because Coach is one of the only adults in his life he actually respects.

He can't fault Coach for kicking him out, but it sure does make his life a hell of a lot more difficult, because where the hell is he gonna sleep now?

... ... ...

Apparently Billy's not doing so great, because when he goes back to the house there's an eviction notice on the door, and when he sees Jackie, she says they broke up and that Billy lost his job. Then he finds Billy on the front lawn, and Tim's still hurting about the whole Jackie situation, but he's always found it hard to hold a grudge.

He's also kind of missed sitting around with his brother, drinking beer and moaning about life. It's always been the two of them against the world, and now they've got this whole house situation to figure out, and it's pretty easy to just settle back into old patterns.

He knows it's wrong to steal the money from the ferret guy but honestly, he can't think of any other way to pay the mortgage. And really, the guy probably owes it to him after the hell Tim went through living there anyway.

... ... ...

It feels really good when Coach apologizes for the misunderstanding, and Tim didn't realize how much the situation was weighing on him until that weight's gone. He tries to pretend like he doesn't care what anyone thinks of him, but really, all he wants is to do right by the people he cares about. And when Coach calls him an honorable man, he decides maybe he's doing better than he thinks.

... ... ...

Lyla starts doing a Christian radio show. It's pretty ridiculous, if you ask him.

When he calls the radio station, he's really not trying to be an asshole, and he actually does think it's funny. Until Jay calls him out on his bullshit.

Is this your way of telling her you like her?

And okay, maybe he shouldn't be making fun of something that's obviously really important to her, especially if he ever wants her to feel about him the way he still feels about her. But then she shows up at his door, genuinely upset with him, and there's that look again. He kind of hates that she has the ability to make him feel about two feet tall.

He goes to the radio station with flowers because he wants to make it up to her, to show her that he loves that she's following her passion, regardless of what anyone says about her, even him. He figures it's about time he shows her how he really feels instead of hiding behind beer and football and charm.

And he should have known it wouldn't work out in his favor, because that idiot kid from the radio station has his tongue down her throat, and it's obvious that his feelings aren't reciprocated.

He throws the flowers in the trash and goes home to crack open a beer and forget all about stupid Lyla and his stupid plan.

... ... ...

He invites her over for dinner because he feels the need to fight for her, to show her that the dork from the radio station isn't her only option, that he's here if she wants him.

He doesn't mean to tell her he loves her, but he can feel her slipping through his fingers, and he doesn't know what else to do.

I don't feel the way you feel about me. Move on.

So that sucks, and he still feels like she's not being honest with herself, but it's not his problem anymore. He said his piece, and it's time to let go.

... ... ...

Ferret guy scares the shit out of him, honestly, and when he gets cornered in the parking lot, he wonders for the first time what the hell he was thinking, getting mixed up with a meth addict.

Lyla gives him the money, and he tries not to read into it but he can't help it, because he loves her, and she's sending mixed signals.

But he uses the money to settle up with ferret guy, and it's not pretty, but at least it's over.

... ... ...

His little bender with Seven seems like a good idea until he sees Lyla and Christianson or whoever having a cute little lunch date, and he can't help himself, he has to say something.

She gives him that look again, that disappointed one, and he rolls his eyes, but a little piece of his heart breaks in his chest.

... ... ...

He shows up at church every chance he gets, because he's afraid if he just disappears into the shadows, like he's prone to do, she'll just forget about him. He can take her being annoyed with him, or angry, or even hating him, because at least then she's thinking about him. But he can't take her forgetting about him.

Then he goes a step further and gets his own radio show. He tells himself it'll look good on a college application (ha), but really he just wants to get under the Christian kid's skin. And maybe insert himself into their lives a little bit.

Are you really going to show up every Sunday? She asks when he shows up at church again.

Whatever it takes, he replies, and he means it.