Disclaimer: For the love of Tim Riggins, none of it is mine.

Summary: He takes your hands in his and it's the moment that your skin contacts that you realize that you're shaking. You're actually scared that he's serious and that you'll be compelled to agree to this crazy idea of his.

Notes: So. I couldn't just stop with Curse Your Fate. I wanted to write something different and long, but then I started brainstorming and a world without Michael and Daddy!Tim just made no sense to me. So spurned the Bridge & Tunnel verse, which will be an entire series of fics that switch between past and present, remaining (for the most part) in Tyra's voice.

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02. Life's Just a Cocktail Party on the Street

"You're such an ass, Tim," you yell to his retreating back. He says nothing, just stalks to his truck and reaches for the door handle. He stalls, but the door doesn't open and he doesn't look at you. At first anyway.

Then he looks at you, studies you mostly, and calls across the yard, "We should get married."

Your eyebrows shoot up and you squeak, "In what parallel universe?" Because clearly the real Tim Riggins has disappeared to some unknown galaxy that only exists on Sci-Fi.

"I'm serious, Tyra." He pushes away from the truck and stomps back toward you, stopping at the bottom of the steps, barely a foot away. He takes your hands in his and it's the moment that your skin contacts that you realize that you're shaking. You're actually scared that he's serious and that you'll be compelled to agree to this crazy idea of his.

You swallow past the lump that has formed in your throat, shaking your head. "No. You can't be serious, Tim. All we do is fight. We were fighting not more than five minutes ago!" You're more flustered than you are appalled and that doesn't bode well for you declining Tim's proposal (if you could even call it that).

"Because you were being unreasonable," he points out, kicking at the shards of grass at his feet. He makes a mental note to cut the grass over the weekend.

"Forgive me, but whatcha is not a word, and it's completely unacceptable for Scrabble."

He huffs, "We weren't playing in a tournament, Tyra. You could've let it go." You start to argue, but he interrupts, "See? We're already bickering like an old married couple, we might as well make it official."

"Just because we can argue with the best of them doesn't mean that we should get married, you dumbass." You think that maybe he's been hit in the head with a football one time too many.

He's not letting up, though. He squeezes your hands, stepping onto the bottom step, inching just a little bit closer. "I know it's stupid and we're probably too young, but I can't imagine my life without you, Tyra. There's no one I'd rather go to bed with and wake up with and there's surely no one else I'd rather fight with." He takes a deep breath and murmurs, "Marry me."

You blink back tears, hating that his monologues always get to you. A hiccup escapes your throat when you try to speak and it takes you a moment before you can voice a response. "It might not work out."

He scoffs, "Must you be such a pessimist?"

"One of us has to be, he who proposes on a whim."

Tim averts his gaze, murmuring, "And apparently I'm getting shot down."

"It's just…," you trail off, looking away. "You're a football player."

He rolls his eyes and points out the obvious, "I've always been a football player, Tyra."

You run your fingers through your hair while Tim stares at you sternly, awaiting an explanation, an answer, something. "You're going to be this big football star. Girls will be throwing themselves at you. Remember that girl from the movie store yesterday? There will be more like that."

He shrugs nonchalantly. "What's your point?"

You wonder how he can be so cavalier. Then again he is Tim Riggins. He mastered cavalier in elementary school. "I don't want to be the reason that you can't revel in the fame." You also don't want to be the loyal wife to a husband who isn't. You keep that to yourself, though.

His voices softens and cracks. "Well, fame's worth squat if I can't share it someone I love... if I can't share it with you."

And your heart breaks into a million tiny little pieces. You smile, he smiles, and before you can stop yourself, you throw yourself into Tim's arms. His arms wind around you, chests pressed together, heartbeats beating rapidly in succession.

Then, he kisses you and it's sweet and gentle and full of promise. After a moment, Tim pulls back, meets your eyes and prods, "Well?"

You nod, grasping the lapels of his jacket. "Okay."

"Okay?" He searches your eyes, looking for some glimmer of hope or doubt, which you're not quite sure.

But then you realize that okay may not be the answer he was looking for so you gasp, "Oh. YES!" He expels a deep breath, his lips curving into a smile. "Yes, I'll marry you, Tim."

He picks you up and twirls you around, the two of you laughing and giggling with excitement (and you're sure there's a little bit of fear and trepidation mixed in there, too).

When your feet touch the ground a few spins later, he brushes his lips across yours, then takes a step back toward his truck, saying, "Okay. I have to go."

"Now?" You balk. It's just like Tim to propose then run away.

"Well, you want a ring don't you?" Your eyes drop to your hand, your lips twitch and you hear Tim snicker. "I'll be back," he promises. He kisses you again before he turns and walks back to his truck.

You stand watching as he climbs in, smiling and proud of himself. He blows you a kiss -- yes, he actually blows you a kiss! -- then speeds out of the driveway.

You wrangle open the screen door and walk back into the house. You're not sure how it's all going to work out, but you have no doubt in your mind that it will. You and Tim fought to make the last three years together work. You'll fight to make a marriage work, too.

You throw yourself down onto the sofa, taking a much needed breath.

You're marrying Tim Riggins.

And you couldn't be happier.