Tim Riggins

LINK: Six, ya' takin' me on a date, dude.

LINK: Easy to forget when ya' got the legit porn channel hooked up... but am I allowed to jerk off in a communal living room?

[Follows THIS, THIS and THIS]

Tim really had only agreed to let Mac give him cash for a bed because he knew there was a real chance she might smack him in the face, and he wasn't sure he wanted the headache. It was a miracle he had escaped without a black eye after all this as it was, so he didn't want to tempt fate. He also did really want to get out of that house for awhile, but it was impossible with that amount of snow outside. He had left his truck in Dillon with Billy, too. An impulsive act because he really didn't expect to get bail. It had been a shock when they granted it, but he knew the very essence of the reason he was sitting in the jail cell meant Billy didn't have the money to bail him out. Tim hadn't wanted to ask Jason, after everything. It would be pushing the friendship right to the limits, a friendship that had already been hanging in the balance for years.

But it was that or stay in jail until his trial, and that notion frankly made Tim want to throw up. He knew what he was doing, and it was the right thing to protect Billy, but that didn't mean he actually liked the prospect he could be facing jail time. He didn't, not one bit. But life sucked. Life had always sucked, so why was now any different? It was probably a miracle he hadn't ended up in jail before now, anyway. But Jason had come through and bought Tim some time, which he was eternally grateful for. He just didn't know how to show it. All he could think of was to offer Jason the truth, it was the only tool he really had to show his gratitude. He really did literally have nothing else. No job, no home, no truck, no Skeeter. The land sale would fall through, too. They wouldn't be confident it wasn't dirty money he was using to pay for it. He had been wondering if he even had any friends too, before Jason miraculously turned up in Dillon. He thought he had hit rock bottom in the past. He was wrong. This was rock bottom right here, and all he could feel in general about it was numb and empty.

Numb, empty, and nauseous. He told Jason he was feeling better, but he couldn't shake that cold sick feeling in his gut. It ached, no matter what way he sat. At some point, he had shifted from the sofa to the recliner, where he was still now sprawled, blue eyes locked unseeingly on the TV screen. He had stopped taking in what was on the screen around an hour ago. He had only moved to go to the kitchen and the bathroom, before going back and sitting in the living room blankly. What else was he supposed to do? If only some higher power would dump that answer directly into his lap. He just felt like he wanted to sleep, but even that was eluding him. Since he turned himself in, insomnia had set in. He wanted to ask Jason to come sit and just talk with him for awhile... like old times. But Tim was even too proud for that. Not that pride had ever gotten him anywhere in the past.

5.10. "A mere friend will agree with you, but a real friend will argue."
Russian Proverb

Co-written with itwontstopme

SPOILERS FOR FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS SEASON 4 FINALE

The temptation to think that some higher power was trying to tell them something was strong. It was taking all of Jason's effort and energy, both of which he had very little left of, not to let his mind jump on that route and stick there. 'Disaster' couldn't even begin to describe what Jason and Taylor's intended wedding day had turned out to be. It had to go beyond the realms of disaster just for the sheer laughability of how much went wrong. At the end of the day, all they could do was write the day off and go to Plan B... if they even had a Plan B. One doesn't exactly anticipate needing something like a Plan B when you're trying to pull off the best day of your life.

( It all started on Friday... )

All muses referenced with permission


Word Count | 3,085

If Tim hadn't always been completely and totally drained the night before, the encounter with Sam would have sealed the deal. He hadn't even been further tempted with the weed in the kitchen, he just stripped off, went to bed and passed out cold from exhaustion. He never professed to ever be a particularly deep person, so shit like this just stuffed him. It was already hard enough trying to figure out what he was supposed to do to help Jason. Not that Tim actually thought he was going to be the one to come up with the solution. He had never managed to successfully help his best friend. The one time he tried, by taking him to New York after the chick with the baby, it all turned out shit anyway and Jason ended up right back at square one. Tim really couldn't be apologetic about that because he did prefer to have his best friend close to him rather than hundreds of miles away.

He did feel helpless, though. Plying Six with booze and making sure he didn't fall out of bed or the wheelchair when he was pissed off his face was helping, right? At least it was help Tim could manage and didn't involve too many emotions Tim didn't understand. But it was morning now. Or rather, just just click from morning to afternoon being 12:03pm. Stumbling out of bed, Tim managed to drag on some track pants and feel his way out into the living room. Coffee would be good. With a beer. "Hey, Six," he grunted at his friend in greeting, until he stopped short a couple of steps past the sofa and turned back, blinking groggily. That wasn't Six. "Who the hell are ya' and what the fuck have ya' done with Six?" he asked in confusion, frowing.

Until a few weeks ago, Tim had started to lose track of time passing. It made no difference to him how quickly or slowly it passed anyway because one day just melted into the next. When he was sitting at home drinking with Jason, he was out drinking alone or ending up in random women's bed, often not even realising the fact until the morning. That was usually when he stumbled back to the place he was sharing with Jason and passed out in his bed until it was ready to start the cycle all over again. That was, until he just stopped by Riggins Rigs one day and ended up helping Billy out. Ever since then, he'd mostly just been heading there to help each day by default and Billy just started paying him. No agreement was really passed between the brothers, but that wasn't unusual for them.

Then all the shit with The Great Dillon Divide started going down. Tim was hardly involved, or cared. Seems he was always ensconced in West Dillon, though the place he was living at with Jason was East. As far as Tim was concerned, Dillon was Dillon. All this division crap was bullshit. Which is why, when he heard Coach was struggling with the new football team of deadbeats, Tim found himself rocking up after the Lions' practice and somehow offering to help. Tim didn't really know why he did that, just some sense of undying loyalty to Coach, really. Maybe his football loyalty had always just been with Coach? And to Six. It was like it Tim finished out high school playing for the Panthers, it would be a shout-out to his best friend. So, it probably made no sense why he didn't actually tell Jason he was helping out with the new team.

Maybe because he felt like it should be Jason's job, while Jason could barely face getting dressed most mornings. Losing Mac was like losing his legs all over again, but this time he didn't seem to have the energy to get back up again after the knock. Tim thought maybe he should try to talk to Mac, but he could never bring himself to do it. He didn't want to think about the whole thing himself. He functioned better not dealing with it. With his new responsibilities, he could almost pretend none of it happened and refreshingly, no one was judging him right now. No one was looking at him like he was doing anything wrong because they all had their own shit going on. Tim preferred it that way.

Now he was heading home after a full day at the garage and a rough practice with the Lions. Coach had let him crash at his place for a few nights while they put the lazy bastards through drills but Tim needed to make sure Jason had died in his sleep or something. Plus, he was looking forward to sleeping in his own bed. He had gotten used too living with his mate, and liked it. It was that little bit of independence Tim never really had in his life before and he was reluctant to just kiss it goodbye. He was barely managing to stay awake as he drove up the street in the rain. He rubbed his hand over face in an attempt to stay awake. He pulled into the drive and shut the truck off, but took a few moments to sit and rub his eyes tiredly. He was starving, too. Hopefully Six had something to eat that he could borrow. He usually did.

He jumped out of the truck and slammed the door shut. It hadn't been raining very long. In fact, it only started a couple of blocks away, but it was heavy. Rain hadn't ever been something Tim was bothered by and he had lost count of the number of games and practices he had gotten through soaked to the bone. It was only as he was making his way up the drive and around the van parked there (wait, van?) that he saw Sam standing there in the rain. He didn't say anything, and seriously contemplated just turning around, getting back in his truck and driving away. He didn't want to talk to her. He didn't want to see her. Somewhere along the line, the hurt he felt over her making him feel like an idiot turned into a passive anger. Avoidance was his tactic to deal with it. What did she want him to say? Because whatever it was seemed to be failing him. "Wanna check m'truck t'see if Lyla's under one of the seats?" were the words that decided to come to the forefront. Not surprising, really.