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

Summary: An entire year is likely to go by before Tim even remembers that he proposed, but it's not like you're in a rush to marry him anyway.

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04. You Crack a Smile, Talk a While

You're laying in your bed, thumbing through the latest issue of Modern Bride even though you've only been engaged two weeks. You and Tim hadn't even begun to discuss wedding plans, much less a date. Heck, an entire year is likely to go by before Tim even remembers that he proposed, but it's not like you're in a rush to marry him anyway.

After all both your sister and your mother had asked you if you'd lost your mind when you told them that you were engaged. Then Mindy had asked you if you were pregnant. It took you a good twenty minutes to reassure your mother that you were not with child. Not that you would've married Tim just for that fact alone.

You're folding down the edges of the pages that you wanted to go back to when you hear Tim's voice. He's talking to your mom and you can only imagine what they're talking about. Then Tim's walking into your room, saying, "Your mom asked me if you were pregnant again."

You push the magazine underneath your pillow, sighing as you sit up, "Yeah, she thinks that's the reason you proposed." Tim closes your bedroom door, his face hardening. "The answer's still no," you tell him when he starts to open his mouth to ask.

He shrugs off his jacket, setting it down on the edge of the bed. "It wouldn't bother me if you were."

"But I'm not."

He sits down beside you on the bed. "But if you were… it'd be cool. I want kids."

"I do, too. Just not tomorrow."

"Fair enough." He smirks at you, asking, "So what was so secretive?"

You feign innocence. "I'm not sure I know what you mean." He reaches behind you, pulling the magazine out from under your pillow. He stares down at the cover, nodding. "You've been thinking about it a lot?"

You shake your head, taking the magazine from him, insisting, "Not much, really." Tim gives you a disbelieving look and you sigh. "Okay. So I've been thinking about it more than… not much, but that's only because you haven't wanted to talk about it."

"I haven't brought it up because I've had other things on my mind."

"Like what?" you snap. Tim makes no move to explain. He just reaches behind himself for his jacket, extracting a teeny black box.

"I've been waiting for this," he says, shaking the box for you to see. "My mom had it and it took me a few days to find her and then another few days for her to find this. It'd been tucked away in a drawer so it needed a good cleaning and… I just hope you like it," he explains all in one breath.

Tim opens the box and extracts the ring before he takes your hand. When he does, it's shaking, but so is his so you don't feel like a complete moron. He slides the ring onto your finger and it's a perfect fit. And it's beautiful. It's antique-looking, but freshly polished so the white gold gleams. The ring itself sort of waves, a round diamond set in the middle.

"Well?" he asks, hopeful.

"It's beautiful, Tim," you tell him, teary eyes meeting his. You cross the space separating the two of you to gently brush your lips across his. His hand cups your cheek and lingers there, brushing away the tears that fall at his fingertips.

When you part, he says, "I hope those are happy tears." You crack a smile, nodding. He pushes a stray lock of your hair behind your ear, his hand dropping to take yours.

He brushes the diamond with the pad of his thumb, taking your hands to pull you closer. His hand falls behind you as he says, "It was my grandma's." You meet his eyes for a second before you look back down at the ring adorning your finger. You hadn't expected something so exquisite. Something out of a bubble gum machine, sure. But this? You most certainly hadn't expected this. "So now I guess we can start planning things now," he says, his words breaking through your thoughts.

"What?"

He reaches around you to grab the bridal magazine. He stretches out on his side and begins flips it open. "Planning," he says again. "You know, the wedding." You think maybe you heard him wrong, but then he says, "And for the record, I am not wearing tails. Let's just get that little fact straight right now."

You laugh laying down beside him. You push the magazine off the bed, curling up beside Tim when he flattens out onto his back. You discuss wedding dates, the possibility of eloping and Tim laughs thinking about the toast his brother would give.

Conversation drones on and on and until you ask him if he'll invite Walt. Tim stiffens, quieting. He doesn't want to talk about it and is quick to change the subject. He suggests picking a wedding date so you sit up and grab the calendar out of your nightstand drawer.

By the time Tim leaves an hour later you have a headache and the overwhelming need to pull all your hair out. But despite the latter and the mild arguing that ensued while you discussed what month you wanted to marry, at least you now have a date circled in your calendar.