Author's Note: I write these stories to practice plotting and character development, so hopefully you won't find the next few chapters too boring while I try to set the story up Practice makes perfect, after all. :)

Disclaimer: I don't own anything here (except for Al) and am just doing this for fun and to pass the long months until Season 4.

Tim wasn't sure how it was that Al had been the one drinking on Friday night but somehow, he was the one who woke up with the hangover on Saturday morning. His head was pounding and all he wanted to do was sleep. Saturday passed in a blur of aspirin, naps, and orange juice. Al looked after him, and tried to talk to him about Walt, but Tim insisted he just felt crappy in general, not about anything in particular and that it had nothing to do with his father.

He felt better on Sunday morning and in the afternoon, he and Al walked the dogs up to Smitty's as they did every Sunday to share a pitcher of beer and watch sports on one of the giant televisions there. Al had even sweet-talked the bartender into keeping one of the televisions tuned to hockey, just for her, so that's where they were sitting on Sunday afternoon.

Al was especially excited because it was her favorite team, the Montreal Canadiens, playing their arch-rivals the Boston Bruins. Everyone else in the place was watching a car race, but Al was entirely focused on the hockey. Tim had been amused, but not particularly surprised, to find out that she'd played hockey on both a girls' traveling team and on her high school team. She'd been fast and tough and the leading scorer three years in a row in the girls' league. (This last bit of information he'd learned not from Al but from one of her brothers.)

The game was a real battle, with lots of shots on goal but no scoring through the second period. During the intermission, Al jumped up, kissed Tim on the cheek and headed for the bathroom. He drank his beer while he looked around the bar. A familiar face caught his eye and headed over. It was Bradley, home from college for the weekend for his mother's birthday.

They caught up on each other's lives and then Bradley went back to his friends. Tim looked up at the television and realized the game was already five minutes into the third period. Al wasn't back yet, which was unusual. He looked around the bar uneasily as concern worried at the back of his mind. Several more minutes ticked by in the game and the Canadiens scored. He was just about to go looking for her when she returned.

"I was worried you'd fallen in. Was just about to send out a search party."

"Sorry about that." She seemed distracted and didn't look at him when she answered. "Shit, I missed a goal. Who scored?"

"Kovalev. Sweet shot on a break-away. You okay?"

"Yeah, fine. Why?" She looked him in the eye and he thought he saw a flash of guilt.

"It's just not like you to miss any of the action."

"Oh, yeah, I ran into that realtor lady, you know, the one who talks and talks and talks?"

"Missy?"

"Yeah, Missy. And I didn't want to be rude."

"You ran into Missy the realtor here?"

Al looked up, cheeks flushed. "Not here, exactly. I was feeling a little light-headed, so I went outside and she was walking past. You know, doing that suburban power-walking thing that looks so funny?"

Tim nodded slowly and shifted his focus back on the game. Something wasn't quite right but he didn't know what it was. Or maybe it was him. Maybe he was seeing guilt in Al because he felt guilty for not wanting to talk about Walt.

On Friday night, as he was drifting off to sleep in her lap, she'd brushed his hair off his face and rested her hand on his cheek. Her touch was so light, he nearly thought he was dreaming but then he heard her voice: "Don't shut me out, okay?" He had tried to say something, but he'd been too tired to do anything more than nod sleepily.

On the walk home, Al looked up at Tim and smiled. "I'm a happy girl right now."

"Is that so?" he asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Yep. Not only am I with my favorite person and the best dogs in the world, and my team won, but Mindy agreed to be my maid of honor."

"No kidding? How'd you talk her into that?" Tim smiled. Al's enthusiasm was contagious.

"I told her she could wear whatever she wanted, that I didn't want a bridal shower or any of that crap, so her only job is to show up on the day and hold my flowers when necessary. And I told her that Landry promised he could photoshop her non-pregnant body into the pictures."

Tim laughed. "You really think he can do that?"

"Doesn't matter if I think he can do it. Only matters that Mindy thinks he can," said Al with a shrug and devious grin.

"I have to tell you, I'm relieved Mindy agreed. I was worried your backup would be Tyra and that would just be maybe a little weird."

"Tyra's volunteered to be our wedding planner."

"For real? Why would she want to do that?"

"She wants to start a party planning business – weddings, corporate events, Sweet 16s for rich brats, anything really. So she asked me if she could plan our wedding for the experience."

Tim stopped walking and looked at Al. "It's still going to be the wedding we talked about, though, right? The laid-back party at the lake?"

"Of course. What did you think?"

"Wedding planner sounds fancy and like they'd only plan something stuffy."

"Don't worry about it. All this means is that it's her job to worry about the details and I don't have to call 47 caterers or try to find 8 million strings of Christmas lights and a generator."

"Who would have thought a wedding would be so complicated?" said Tim with a grin.

Al rolled her eyes and poked him in the ribs with her sharp little elbow. "Anyone who wasn't a guy."

He slipped his arm around her and pulled her close as he started walking again. He decided to forget about everything else and just focus on the happiness of the here and now, with his favorite person in the world.