Just doing my part to tide us over till '09.
Title: Home
Author: happywriter06
Fandom: Friday Night Lights
Rating: PG-13
Category: Het (Post season 2)
Characters/Pairings: Tim Riggins/Tyra Collette
Disclaimer: I wish I had something to do with this show.
Warnings: Vague spoilers for the entire series.
Summary: The more things change, the more things stay the same.
Notes: So the first time I watched season one, I fell in love with Tim/Tyra. They are dysfunctional yet I like them together. They keep getting in their own way. So one day late last year or early this year (i can’t remember), I got this plot bunny and wrote this fic over the course of a couple of hours. Off to the beta it went. Thanks saestinafor the beta (it wouldn’t be as good without your help) and for posting about how great this show is until I just had to see for myself. I tinkered with it after she betaed so any remaining mistakes are mine. I hope this works, that you guys find the characterization believable. The only thing I can say is, I’m a hopeless romantic.
She hasn’t been back in ten years - not to Dillon, not to Texas, not to the South save for a couple of promotional appearances here and there. The day she graduated was the same day she boarded a bus to Los Angeles. She’s no Julia Roberts but she’s a star in her own right on a highly rated, highly acclaimed show, a show she’s proud of. Seven years doing commercials, modeling and starring on various TV shows paved the way to where she is now.
The dry, dusty air whips her hair around her face as the landscape flows past. Ten years and it’s still the same. She smiles rather than shakes her head at this realization. She finds comfort, strangely enough, in the fact that it hasn’t changed.
There aren’t a lot of people she cares about left in Dillon. In fact, there weren’t a lot of people she cared about when she did live here. Mom and Mindy for sure. And then Julie, her mother. Even Landry somehow managed to slip in there.
Tim’s still in town, just like everybody predicted.
It’s still early when she checks into her hotel, too early to call it a night.
She asked around and found out where he lives. He still lives in the same house but it’s not the same. The front lawn is manicured and the exterior looks new. It looks like he cares about the place. Walking up to the front door, she can hear the voices of guys gathered around a TV. A shaggy-haired boy - who can’t be more than nine or ten - with eyes that remind her of Tim’s when he was that age answers the door and for a second she doesn’t know what to say.
“You okay?” he asks looking up at her, his brow knotted in confusion.
She shakes her head and smiles to reassure him. “Yeah, I’m good. Is Tim Riggins here?”
“Yeah,” he says before yelling “COACH!”
Calling Tim coach makes her smile even though she knows what he does for a living. Remembers how he coached Powerpuff that year. It’s just that it’s Tim and while she knows things change, she’s just not sure how much.
“YEAH?” she hears Tim yell back.
“There’s a pretty lady here to see you.” And with that he’s gone leaving the door open as if he expects her to follow. The moment she steps in, pushing the door open a little more, there’s Tim.
It’s almost as if he’s frozen in time - hair still long, tucked behind his ears; open shirt with the sleeves rolled up; faded blue jeans and boots that have seen better days.
There’s shock written all over his face and she’s not surprised by that. She can’t believe she’s here either. They’re staring, mouths slightly open, at a loss for something to say.
“Coach, aren’t you going to introduce us?” comes a voice from the room.
Tim shakes his head slightly as if to clear it. “Yeah, yeah. Guys, this is Tyra Collette. I went to school with her.”
“Hi, Miss Collette,” comes a chorus of voices.
“Hi,” she says back, smiling. There’s about ten guys in the room excluding Tim. They look like they are all about thirteen-fourteen save for the little one - the one that opened the door - sitting on the couch. Turning back to Tim, she tells him “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just stopped by. If you’re busy…”
“No, no. We were just finishing up, right guys?” he says turning to the boys.
“Right,” says one, whose t-shirt reads ‘Wilkes’. “Let’s go guys.”
They file out, one after the other with Wilkes in the lead, some of them looking between her and Tim with sly smiles on their faces. Tim shuts the door behind them and then they are alone.
“Good to see you, Tyra.”
“Yeah, you, too.” She doesn’t question the desire to hug him figuring it’s borne out of not seeing him for ten years and nothing else. She doesn’t though, doesn’t even make the effort, and neither does he. Not everything has changed.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
“I’d like that. Whatever you have.”
“Be right back.”
He goes to the kitchen leaving her alone to survey the place. It’s clean and she smiles to herself thinking she doesn’t ever remember seeing it that way. There were always beer bottles lying around or pizza boxes or magazines scattered here and there. Either Tim has finally learned to clean up after himself or he’s got a girlfriend. She figures it’s the latter.
“You can sit down ya know,” he says, walking back into the room. He hands her a glass of lemonade.
“I know. I was just in awe of the fact that the place is clean,” she teases.
“People do change you know,” he replies, intending to sound offended but failing.
“So this isn’t the work of a girlfriend?”
“No girlfriend.” He sits down in the armchair next to the sofa.
“Tim Riggins, excuse me, Coach Tim Riggins, single?” He just smiles, dropping his head a bit.
He looks up to say, “Like I said people do change.” He pauses after, holding her gaze. “What about you?” he asks, looking up again.
“I’m too busy for that. I work a lot.”
“You know what they say?”
“You sound like my mother.”
“First time I’ve ever heard that.”
“I’m sure it is.”
The silence stretches between them, it slightly uncomfortable. So he’s changed and she definitely has but they together haven’t. At least the they they became after Garrity and him. To be fair, it wasn’t just Garrity. It was her, too. He had moved on and she desperately needed to for more reasons than one. Moved on all the way to California.
Her lemonade is nearly gone when he breaks the silence to ask, “You hungry?”
“I could eat.”
Dinner feels like old times except she can’t remember them ever having a real date. And she thinks she might be romancing the past because they were fifteen, sixteen, seventeen when they were together, off and on, drinking and fucking. Always finding their way back to each other until they didn’t. Her therapist would say it was easy, similar history and similar fate and all that. And they were in their teens, not the smartest time in one’s life. Looking back, she likes to think though that maybe they were in some kind of love.
Nostalgia. That’s it. You can’t feel that for something that never was. Sometimes during dinner neither has to finish their thought because the other knows. And sometimes it’s the way he looks up at her after some hair has fallen into his face. All that isn’t new.
It scares her enough to actually consider making up some excuse and leaving.
“You okay?” It’s the second time she’s been asked that today, which makes her wonder just how great of an actress is she. Supposedly she learned the fine art of schooling her face to say one thing while she feels something altogether different. Now she’s not so sure she has.
“Yeah, fine. Just thinking.” The way he smiles at her, like he knows exactly what she’s thinking, she can’t help the blush that creeps up into her cheeks.
The ride to his house is quiet save for the breeze whipping around them and the noises that only the countryside makes at night. She’s actually missed the sounds, the peace even with all that noise. Longed for it when things have gotten crazy. And they must have been crazy to make her miss Dillon.
“Where are you staying?” he asks as they walk to her rental.
“At the Marriott.”
“Fancy.” It really isn’t by Hollywood standards but in Dillon, it might as well be the Plaza.
“Well, I’m a big Hollywood star now,” she says, mock serious.
“Absolutely.” They’re quiet for a moment before he asks, “What are you doing tomorrow?”
She shrugs. “Just hanging out I guess.” And really, that’s all she’s doing. She could’ve gone back to LA after taping that guest spot in Dallas. She didn’t though. Told her agent she needed a couple of days of downtime.
“Do you want to get together again?”
“Come by the hotel around one. You can show me around.”
“Nothing’s changed much around here.”
“All the more reason. I’m feeling a little nostalgic.”
/ / / /
She didn’t realize just how nostalgic until now. They sit in the back of his pickup, drinking a couple of beers and all she wants is for him to kiss her like he’d done a dozen times before when they were out in this field. Make the last time they were here - her leaving and him telling her she could go - not be the last memory she has of this place.
She had found her way back to him but he wasn’t there. And her heart did break. Not a lot but enough. Of course, she wouldn’t have admitted that then.
She did admit it later to her herself though, later at the fair when he had come to apologize the way he does, or at least used to. There were times when she wondered if she should’ve given him another chance. Then she remembered Garrity, Jackie, Landry, college.
God, she thinks as she pushes her hair off her neck. I’ve been out of Texas too long. She blames the heat, believes it’s getting to her, making her think too much. She shouldn’t be this nostalgic. She couldn’t wait to get out of here. The last time they were together was way before she left. Had told her herself that what they had was done and not meant for the real world.
She thinks that maybe the reason she’s even thinking about them at all is because she can’t remember the last time she went out on a date that wasn’t for publicity. She can’t even remember the last time she actually liked a guy.
She tells herself this isn’t about Tim but the fact that she’s admittedly lonely and he’s familiar.
She jumps at the press of his beer cold bottle to her leg. “Hey!”
“Just trying to get your attention.”
“Sorry,” she says sheepishly, letting her hair fall back into her face. “Just thinking.”
“You’ve been doing that a lot lately.”
“I guess being back here is doing that to me.”
“I know the feeling. I felt the same way when I first came back.”
“You left?” she asks, her surprise evident.
He looks only slightly annoyed that she thinks he never left. He can’t blame her with his ‘Texas forever’, which might as well have been ‘Dillon forever’ thing. “Yeah,” he says bringing his bottle to his lips. He takes a long drink, draining the last of it. Then says, “Only went to Houston. Stayed a couple years. Came back.” He doesn’t elaborate and she doesn’t push.
“Ever think about leaving again?”
His answer is immediate. “This is where I’m supposed to be.”
“That must be a great feeling.” She can’t believe she just said that but she means it just the same.
“Don’t tell me you don’t feel like you belong in LA? You couldn’t wait to get out of Dillon.”
She smiles, remembering how she used to lament Dillon and how the outside world had to be thousand times better. “I know. I’m not saying I don’t belong there. It’s just…”
“No need to explain.”
It’s not like she could if she wanted to, which she does. She just can’t put it into words. Honestly, she’d never even thought about it that much until she was back in Texas and woke up with the need to come to Dillon. Not until she’s spent the better part of the day with him. And oh, doesn’t she feel like she’s in one of those romantic comedies she’s always turning down?
She only knows it’s after eleven-thirty pm when she closes her eyes because Leno is just starting. They are on his sofa, his feet propped up on the coffee table and her head resting on the arm of the sofa at one end. The minute she lays her head down, he picks her feet up and puts them in his lap. She feels him shift under her. She even feels the barest of caresses as his thumb runs across her ankle.
His bedside clock reads eight-thirteen am when she wakes up in his room. At first, she doesn’t know where she is, but she knows she can’t remember ever driving back to her hotel. The curtains are drawn, just a sliver of light coming in through the middle. She’s alone, the other side of the bed looking like he hasn’t touched it. Her stomach dips a little at that observation.
She swings her legs over the side and stands, stretching and then smoothing her hands over her wrinkled sundress.
He’s at the kitchen counter, drinking coffee she presumes and reading the paper. It’s only when the floor creaks under her feet as she walks toward him does he turn.
“Morning.”
“Morning.”
“Hungry?”
“Yeah.”
He makes her eggs and toast and orange juice.
“You didn’t sleep in the bed last night,” she says, hoping she sounds curious and nothing else.
“I got a call from Johnston’s mom; he didn’t come home last night. He’s been having a rough time since his dad left. By the time I got back, I just crashed on the couch. I didn’t want to wake you.”
“I wouldn’t have minded. It’s your bed.” She probably wouldn’t have even known when he got it if he had. She doesn’t even remember getting in it herself.
“I know.”
“And you should still be sleeping.”
“Don’t sleep late much anymore. Football everyday but Sunday.”
“Some things never change.”
/ / / /
It’s six months before she hears from him. Five since she put the whole thing behind her. He tells her he’ll be coming to LA for a week, and although she wants to tell him off, the only thing she says is, “Okay.”
The night before he arrives she can’t sleep, and the butterflies that kept her awake intensify at the sight of him strolling through the airport, all eyes on the Texan in a black tee and shades.
This time they do hug, arms wrapped tight around his neck and his tight around her waist. They hadn’t even hugged when she left. The desire was there but neither of them took that step. There was just a promise from him to keep in touch. He’d said it first, not her.
They go to breakfast and do some sightseeing. The eyes of every woman they pass look him up and down. She thinks he doesn’t notice until she realizes he leans in a little closer, touches her in some way every time he gets a look.
They have dinner - take out - on her deck because can’t cook. She doesn’t have time even though she has the inclination to learn. It’s rather peaceful out where she lives just outside the city - far enough to forget the city but close enough to only forget for awhile.
“You’d ever think you’d be out in LA…” he asks, not finished his question when she cuts him off.
“No.”
“…with me?”
She turns to him, sees the hope in his eyes. “Definitely not.”
He smiles then, reaches across the space between their chairs and takes her hand. He doesn’t let it go as she flicks off lights and checks the locks.
They spend the next three days of his seven day stay making up for lost time. They tell each other things:
I don’t know what I was thinking.
I did some things, too.
I hated it when you cut your hair.
I shouldn’t have kicked you out.
I should have been there for you.
I should’ve told you.
Whether in bed or out, they don’t talk about what may happen after he gets back on that plane. They think this can’t last but that doesn’t force them to address the issue until the morning of the day he leaves.
He wakes up to find her on the couch reading scripts, her legs tucked under her. She looks up at him and smiles. He clears her papers away and sits down beside her. She straddles him, kisses him, tasting the mint of her toothpaste.
The kiss is long and drawn out, a little desperate as his hands come up under her shirt and she presses down, feeling his arousal against her.
“Good morning to you, too,” he says, when they finally come up for air. There’s a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes on his face. She knows that look. She rests her forehead against his. “You can’t leave LA. I wouldn’t want you, too.”
“And you can’t leave Dillon. I wouldn’t ask you to.”
His hands come up to take her face in his. He looks her in the eye. “So what do we do then?”
“I don’t know,” she whispers against his lips.
“Just know I’ll take what I can get.”
She closes her eyes tight to keep the tears at bay but they come anyway. He wipes them away with the pads of his thumbs before arching up to kiss her.
Somehow they make it work. When she’s not working, she’s in Dillon. And when he’s not working, which is hardly ever, he’s in LA. When her shows ends, she thinks about staying in Dillon permanently but he tells her no, she has to work. He says there’s a reason why she left. She replies there’s a reason why she keeps coming back.
She does get another job working on a television show. It’s about football as religion in a small town in Texas based on the book written about Coach Taylor. It actually shoots in Dillon. She plays Tami Taylor, something she laughs about often.
Every so often she gets asked does she miss LA. Of course, she misses it but not as much as she would miss Dillon. She never thought she’d say that. She’s just glad the old saying ‘You can’t go home again’ isn’t true.
Extra Note: I wanted to use this as my icon but for some reason LJ won't let me upload it. Isn't it perfect?
Author: happywriter06
Fandom: Friday Night Lights
Rating: PG-13
Category: Het (Post season 2)
Characters/Pairings: Tim Riggins/Tyra Collette
Disclaimer: I wish I had something to do with this show.
Warnings: Vague spoilers for the entire series.
Summary: The more things change, the more things stay the same.
Notes: So the first time I watched season one, I fell in love with Tim/Tyra. They are dysfunctional yet I like them together. They keep getting in their own way. So one day late last year or early this year (i can’t remember), I got this plot bunny and wrote this fic over the course of a couple of hours. Off to the beta it went. Thanks saestinafor the beta (it wouldn’t be as good without your help) and for posting about how great this show is until I just had to see for myself. I tinkered with it after she betaed so any remaining mistakes are mine. I hope this works, that you guys find the characterization believable. The only thing I can say is, I’m a hopeless romantic.
She hasn’t been back in ten years - not to Dillon, not to Texas, not to the South save for a couple of promotional appearances here and there. The day she graduated was the same day she boarded a bus to Los Angeles. She’s no Julia Roberts but she’s a star in her own right on a highly rated, highly acclaimed show, a show she’s proud of. Seven years doing commercials, modeling and starring on various TV shows paved the way to where she is now.
The dry, dusty air whips her hair around her face as the landscape flows past. Ten years and it’s still the same. She smiles rather than shakes her head at this realization. She finds comfort, strangely enough, in the fact that it hasn’t changed.
There aren’t a lot of people she cares about left in Dillon. In fact, there weren’t a lot of people she cared about when she did live here. Mom and Mindy for sure. And then Julie, her mother. Even Landry somehow managed to slip in there.
Tim’s still in town, just like everybody predicted.
It’s still early when she checks into her hotel, too early to call it a night.
She asked around and found out where he lives. He still lives in the same house but it’s not the same. The front lawn is manicured and the exterior looks new. It looks like he cares about the place. Walking up to the front door, she can hear the voices of guys gathered around a TV. A shaggy-haired boy - who can’t be more than nine or ten - with eyes that remind her of Tim’s when he was that age answers the door and for a second she doesn’t know what to say.
“You okay?” he asks looking up at her, his brow knotted in confusion.
She shakes her head and smiles to reassure him. “Yeah, I’m good. Is Tim Riggins here?”
“Yeah,” he says before yelling “COACH!”
Calling Tim coach makes her smile even though she knows what he does for a living. Remembers how he coached Powerpuff that year. It’s just that it’s Tim and while she knows things change, she’s just not sure how much.
“YEAH?” she hears Tim yell back.
“There’s a pretty lady here to see you.” And with that he’s gone leaving the door open as if he expects her to follow. The moment she steps in, pushing the door open a little more, there’s Tim.
It’s almost as if he’s frozen in time - hair still long, tucked behind his ears; open shirt with the sleeves rolled up; faded blue jeans and boots that have seen better days.
There’s shock written all over his face and she’s not surprised by that. She can’t believe she’s here either. They’re staring, mouths slightly open, at a loss for something to say.
“Coach, aren’t you going to introduce us?” comes a voice from the room.
Tim shakes his head slightly as if to clear it. “Yeah, yeah. Guys, this is Tyra Collette. I went to school with her.”
“Hi, Miss Collette,” comes a chorus of voices.
“Hi,” she says back, smiling. There’s about ten guys in the room excluding Tim. They look like they are all about thirteen-fourteen save for the little one - the one that opened the door - sitting on the couch. Turning back to Tim, she tells him “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just stopped by. If you’re busy…”
“No, no. We were just finishing up, right guys?” he says turning to the boys.
“Right,” says one, whose t-shirt reads ‘Wilkes’. “Let’s go guys.”
They file out, one after the other with Wilkes in the lead, some of them looking between her and Tim with sly smiles on their faces. Tim shuts the door behind them and then they are alone.
“Good to see you, Tyra.”
“Yeah, you, too.” She doesn’t question the desire to hug him figuring it’s borne out of not seeing him for ten years and nothing else. She doesn’t though, doesn’t even make the effort, and neither does he. Not everything has changed.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
“I’d like that. Whatever you have.”
“Be right back.”
He goes to the kitchen leaving her alone to survey the place. It’s clean and she smiles to herself thinking she doesn’t ever remember seeing it that way. There were always beer bottles lying around or pizza boxes or magazines scattered here and there. Either Tim has finally learned to clean up after himself or he’s got a girlfriend. She figures it’s the latter.
“You can sit down ya know,” he says, walking back into the room. He hands her a glass of lemonade.
“I know. I was just in awe of the fact that the place is clean,” she teases.
“People do change you know,” he replies, intending to sound offended but failing.
“So this isn’t the work of a girlfriend?”
“No girlfriend.” He sits down in the armchair next to the sofa.
“Tim Riggins, excuse me, Coach Tim Riggins, single?” He just smiles, dropping his head a bit.
He looks up to say, “Like I said people do change.” He pauses after, holding her gaze. “What about you?” he asks, looking up again.
“I’m too busy for that. I work a lot.”
“You know what they say?”
“You sound like my mother.”
“First time I’ve ever heard that.”
“I’m sure it is.”
The silence stretches between them, it slightly uncomfortable. So he’s changed and she definitely has but they together haven’t. At least the they they became after Garrity and him. To be fair, it wasn’t just Garrity. It was her, too. He had moved on and she desperately needed to for more reasons than one. Moved on all the way to California.
Her lemonade is nearly gone when he breaks the silence to ask, “You hungry?”
“I could eat.”
Dinner feels like old times except she can’t remember them ever having a real date. And she thinks she might be romancing the past because they were fifteen, sixteen, seventeen when they were together, off and on, drinking and fucking. Always finding their way back to each other until they didn’t. Her therapist would say it was easy, similar history and similar fate and all that. And they were in their teens, not the smartest time in one’s life. Looking back, she likes to think though that maybe they were in some kind of love.
Nostalgia. That’s it. You can’t feel that for something that never was. Sometimes during dinner neither has to finish their thought because the other knows. And sometimes it’s the way he looks up at her after some hair has fallen into his face. All that isn’t new.
It scares her enough to actually consider making up some excuse and leaving.
“You okay?” It’s the second time she’s been asked that today, which makes her wonder just how great of an actress is she. Supposedly she learned the fine art of schooling her face to say one thing while she feels something altogether different. Now she’s not so sure she has.
“Yeah, fine. Just thinking.” The way he smiles at her, like he knows exactly what she’s thinking, she can’t help the blush that creeps up into her cheeks.
The ride to his house is quiet save for the breeze whipping around them and the noises that only the countryside makes at night. She’s actually missed the sounds, the peace even with all that noise. Longed for it when things have gotten crazy. And they must have been crazy to make her miss Dillon.
“Where are you staying?” he asks as they walk to her rental.
“At the Marriott.”
“Fancy.” It really isn’t by Hollywood standards but in Dillon, it might as well be the Plaza.
“Well, I’m a big Hollywood star now,” she says, mock serious.
“Absolutely.” They’re quiet for a moment before he asks, “What are you doing tomorrow?”
She shrugs. “Just hanging out I guess.” And really, that’s all she’s doing. She could’ve gone back to LA after taping that guest spot in Dallas. She didn’t though. Told her agent she needed a couple of days of downtime.
“Do you want to get together again?”
“Come by the hotel around one. You can show me around.”
“Nothing’s changed much around here.”
“All the more reason. I’m feeling a little nostalgic.”
/ / / /
She didn’t realize just how nostalgic until now. They sit in the back of his pickup, drinking a couple of beers and all she wants is for him to kiss her like he’d done a dozen times before when they were out in this field. Make the last time they were here - her leaving and him telling her she could go - not be the last memory she has of this place.
She had found her way back to him but he wasn’t there. And her heart did break. Not a lot but enough. Of course, she wouldn’t have admitted that then.
She did admit it later to her herself though, later at the fair when he had come to apologize the way he does, or at least used to. There were times when she wondered if she should’ve given him another chance. Then she remembered Garrity, Jackie, Landry, college.
God, she thinks as she pushes her hair off her neck. I’ve been out of Texas too long. She blames the heat, believes it’s getting to her, making her think too much. She shouldn’t be this nostalgic. She couldn’t wait to get out of here. The last time they were together was way before she left. Had told her herself that what they had was done and not meant for the real world.
She thinks that maybe the reason she’s even thinking about them at all is because she can’t remember the last time she went out on a date that wasn’t for publicity. She can’t even remember the last time she actually liked a guy.
She tells herself this isn’t about Tim but the fact that she’s admittedly lonely and he’s familiar.
She jumps at the press of his beer cold bottle to her leg. “Hey!”
“Just trying to get your attention.”
“Sorry,” she says sheepishly, letting her hair fall back into her face. “Just thinking.”
“You’ve been doing that a lot lately.”
“I guess being back here is doing that to me.”
“I know the feeling. I felt the same way when I first came back.”
“You left?” she asks, her surprise evident.
He looks only slightly annoyed that she thinks he never left. He can’t blame her with his ‘Texas forever’, which might as well have been ‘Dillon forever’ thing. “Yeah,” he says bringing his bottle to his lips. He takes a long drink, draining the last of it. Then says, “Only went to Houston. Stayed a couple years. Came back.” He doesn’t elaborate and she doesn’t push.
“Ever think about leaving again?”
His answer is immediate. “This is where I’m supposed to be.”
“That must be a great feeling.” She can’t believe she just said that but she means it just the same.
“Don’t tell me you don’t feel like you belong in LA? You couldn’t wait to get out of Dillon.”
She smiles, remembering how she used to lament Dillon and how the outside world had to be thousand times better. “I know. I’m not saying I don’t belong there. It’s just…”
“No need to explain.”
It’s not like she could if she wanted to, which she does. She just can’t put it into words. Honestly, she’d never even thought about it that much until she was back in Texas and woke up with the need to come to Dillon. Not until she’s spent the better part of the day with him. And oh, doesn’t she feel like she’s in one of those romantic comedies she’s always turning down?
She only knows it’s after eleven-thirty pm when she closes her eyes because Leno is just starting. They are on his sofa, his feet propped up on the coffee table and her head resting on the arm of the sofa at one end. The minute she lays her head down, he picks her feet up and puts them in his lap. She feels him shift under her. She even feels the barest of caresses as his thumb runs across her ankle.
His bedside clock reads eight-thirteen am when she wakes up in his room. At first, she doesn’t know where she is, but she knows she can’t remember ever driving back to her hotel. The curtains are drawn, just a sliver of light coming in through the middle. She’s alone, the other side of the bed looking like he hasn’t touched it. Her stomach dips a little at that observation.
She swings her legs over the side and stands, stretching and then smoothing her hands over her wrinkled sundress.
He’s at the kitchen counter, drinking coffee she presumes and reading the paper. It’s only when the floor creaks under her feet as she walks toward him does he turn.
“Morning.”
“Morning.”
“Hungry?”
“Yeah.”
He makes her eggs and toast and orange juice.
“You didn’t sleep in the bed last night,” she says, hoping she sounds curious and nothing else.
“I got a call from Johnston’s mom; he didn’t come home last night. He’s been having a rough time since his dad left. By the time I got back, I just crashed on the couch. I didn’t want to wake you.”
“I wouldn’t have minded. It’s your bed.” She probably wouldn’t have even known when he got it if he had. She doesn’t even remember getting in it herself.
“I know.”
“And you should still be sleeping.”
“Don’t sleep late much anymore. Football everyday but Sunday.”
“Some things never change.”
/ / / /
It’s six months before she hears from him. Five since she put the whole thing behind her. He tells her he’ll be coming to LA for a week, and although she wants to tell him off, the only thing she says is, “Okay.”
The night before he arrives she can’t sleep, and the butterflies that kept her awake intensify at the sight of him strolling through the airport, all eyes on the Texan in a black tee and shades.
This time they do hug, arms wrapped tight around his neck and his tight around her waist. They hadn’t even hugged when she left. The desire was there but neither of them took that step. There was just a promise from him to keep in touch. He’d said it first, not her.
They go to breakfast and do some sightseeing. The eyes of every woman they pass look him up and down. She thinks he doesn’t notice until she realizes he leans in a little closer, touches her in some way every time he gets a look.
They have dinner - take out - on her deck because can’t cook. She doesn’t have time even though she has the inclination to learn. It’s rather peaceful out where she lives just outside the city - far enough to forget the city but close enough to only forget for awhile.
“You’d ever think you’d be out in LA…” he asks, not finished his question when she cuts him off.
“No.”
“…with me?”
She turns to him, sees the hope in his eyes. “Definitely not.”
He smiles then, reaches across the space between their chairs and takes her hand. He doesn’t let it go as she flicks off lights and checks the locks.
They spend the next three days of his seven day stay making up for lost time. They tell each other things:
I don’t know what I was thinking.
I did some things, too.
I hated it when you cut your hair.
I shouldn’t have kicked you out.
I should have been there for you.
I should’ve told you.
Whether in bed or out, they don’t talk about what may happen after he gets back on that plane. They think this can’t last but that doesn’t force them to address the issue until the morning of the day he leaves.
He wakes up to find her on the couch reading scripts, her legs tucked under her. She looks up at him and smiles. He clears her papers away and sits down beside her. She straddles him, kisses him, tasting the mint of her toothpaste.
The kiss is long and drawn out, a little desperate as his hands come up under her shirt and she presses down, feeling his arousal against her.
“Good morning to you, too,” he says, when they finally come up for air. There’s a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes on his face. She knows that look. She rests her forehead against his. “You can’t leave LA. I wouldn’t want you, too.”
“And you can’t leave Dillon. I wouldn’t ask you to.”
His hands come up to take her face in his. He looks her in the eye. “So what do we do then?”
“I don’t know,” she whispers against his lips.
“Just know I’ll take what I can get.”
She closes her eyes tight to keep the tears at bay but they come anyway. He wipes them away with the pads of his thumbs before arching up to kiss her.
Somehow they make it work. When she’s not working, she’s in Dillon. And when he’s not working, which is hardly ever, he’s in LA. When her shows ends, she thinks about staying in Dillon permanently but he tells her no, she has to work. He says there’s a reason why she left. She replies there’s a reason why she keeps coming back.
She does get another job working on a television show. It’s about football as religion in a small town in Texas based on the book written about Coach Taylor. It actually shoots in Dillon. She plays Tami Taylor, something she laughs about often.
Every so often she gets asked does she miss LA. Of course, she misses it but not as much as she would miss Dillon. She never thought she’d say that. She’s just glad the old saying ‘You can’t go home again’ isn’t true.
Extra Note: I wanted to use this as my icon but for some reason LJ won't let me upload it. Isn't it perfect?
