A/N: It's been many moons since I've written any fanfiction but I've been watching Friday Night Lights recently and have really enjoyed the Tim and Billy Riggins business. I can't say that it's all that canon, I'm just playing with characters that I have no ownership of. I would like to try to make a multi chapter fic like the ones that I enjoy so much, but I don't know if I have that kind of writing prowess! Let me know if you have any ideas for future chapters!

The Couch

Tim Riggins walked in his brother's house and shivered as he set his backpack down on the floor. It was cold for October in Texas and his jacket wasn't quite cutting it. That, however, was far down on his list of concerns – after all he was back home and there was a cold 6 pack calling his name.

He walked to the fridge and grabbed a couple of beers and settled into the couch. Tim flipped through the channels – not too much exciting stuff on public television these days. He settled on a game of golf.

Sentimental and boring.

He started to doze.

It had been a few days since Tim had slept in his bed, conveniently coinciding with his last visit with Walt Riggins. Their visit started out good as usual, but ended up with Walt calling his son a failure and a mistake. Ended with Tim throwing a bottle at his father's head after he started yelling and cussing, knowing that he was wasted and gave up on being sober weeks ago.

Tim walked home that night. It had been a few miles home from the dump of a motel room that Walt was staying in, but the ache that set in his muscles was a welcome distraction from the ache in his heart.

Billy saw him trudge in that night. He asked Tim how things went and asked him if Walt screwed up again.

Of course he did, did he even have to ask?

That "conversation" ended up in Tim not saying a word and Billy yelling at him for not talking. The brothers ended up in silence on the couch watching an infomercial.

Billy broke the silence.

"Nothing like Japanese craftsmanship, right Timmy?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"That shit is damn sharp. Too bad one knife is more expensive than your truck."

Tim scoffed. Billy looked over and saw a small smirk on his face.

Billy tried to make his brother happy. Tried to make him less miserable. Tried to fill the hole that his parents left.

He wasn't enough, but he tried.

Billy could see Tim relax some more into the couch and eventually the boy started to drift off.

Tim had started sleeping on the couch after his mom left the first time. It just didn't feel right to sleep in his bed. His room was too quiet, and too much silence led to too many thoughts. Plus that was a miserable road to travel down. The only downside of sleeping on the couch was that he'd wake up to his dad walking in in the middle of the night drunk and crying or singing. Sometimes mad.

Sometimes violent.

When Billy left the house Tim stopped sleeping on the couch. He would sleep in Billy's room. The room was still filled with momentos from Billy's high school years, it brought him good memories and it was the most comfort he would get until he would end up on his brother's front steps, asking to live with him because mom left and dad stopped caring whether he ate or not.

Tim woke with a start to the sound of a car door slamming, eventually stumbling steps and the rustling of keys. Then a clatter to the ground.

"Damn it." Billy muttered.

"Door's open!" Tim's voice was a bit husky from sleep.

Billy stumbled in and kicked his keys through the door.

Tim ran a hand over his face and through his hair. "When did you start thinkin' that we locked doors around here? Think someone will steal some piece of shit from this place?"

Billy barely managed a "shut up" before slumping down on the couch, narrowly missing Tim's legs.

"Hey! There's another seat in this place, you know."

Billy slowly turned his head. "You…shouldn't sleep here. Get."

Tim had heard it before and didn't care. "I can sleep where I want."

Billy stayed where he was with no intention of moving.

"I'm staying here, Timmy, do what you want." Billy was seeming to quickly sober up.

"Fine." Tim was wide awake now, not feeling tired anymore.

"You want to tell me why you are still sleeping out here?" Billy pressed.

Tim could feel his anger rise along with his defenses.

"I just want to. You got a problem with that?"

"You know, sometimes a man just wants his couch to himself and your lazy ass has been getting in my way for days." Tim turned, glaring.

"You know…you're just like him." Tim didn't need to say who "he" was. They all knew who the bastard was.

Those were fighting words.

Billy reared at that. "If I was like dad, you'd be on your ass with nowhere to go. You want that, Tim?"

Tim got up from the couch, and stormed over to the door. Billy followed suit, grabbing Tim's arm.

Tim ripped his arm away and walked out of the house. It was cold, but he didn't care. He left his shoes in the house, but he couldn't feel the rocks digging into his feet. He felt the flush in is face and that was it.

He could hear Billy yelling at him, telling him to get his ass back in the house and put some goddamn shoes on, but his words didn't register.

"Fine! Freeze for all I care!"

Billy slammed the door and Tim kept walking.

A/N: There's the first chapter! Please let me know what you think!