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fleurlbWarning: This story takes place after the end of Season 3 and may allude to things that happened during that season. So, if you're very spoiler averse, you probably want to come back another time.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything here and am just doing this for fun and to pass the long months until Season 4.
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Tim held the door open for Julie and then followed her into his place.
“So, are you hungry?” he asked.
She thought about it for a second. “You know, I am. I just realized I skipped lunch.”
“Yeah, me too. How's pizza sound? I was planning on making one tonight.”
“Like from a box?” she asked.
He smiled. “No, like from scratch.”
She tilted her head and looked at him skeptically. “You know how to make pizza from scratch?”
“It's pizza, Taylor, not rocket science or open-heart surgery. Don't look so surprised.”
“OK, I'll give it a try. I just can't believe you know how to make homemade pizza.”
“Yeah, I suppose I don't seem the type, but Herc inherited all of these kitchen appliances from his mom and it's like using power tools for cooking.”
“Power tools for cooking?” asked Julie.
“Yeah. The Kitchen Aid's my favorite. You wouldn't believe the things you can do with it. And it's a beautiful piece of machinery – older than both of us combined and still working like it's brand new. Whoever designed that knew what he was doing.”
Julie snickered.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing.....It's just.....I never thought I'd hear 'Big Tim Riggins' extolling the virtues of a kitchen appliance. You sounded like a 1950s housewife in a commercial or something.” She smiled and he couldn't help but smile back. He knew she was just messing with him.
He went back to his room to change his shirt, relieved that he'd just done the laundry the day before. In his bathroom, he washed his face and hands. He leaned over the sink and looked at his reflection in the mirror.
“Relax,” he told himself. “It's just two friends hanging out. Nothing more, nothing less.”
He sighed and wondered when he'd lost his talent for lying to himself. Then he shook it off and went back out to the kitchen, where Julie was waiting for him.
“Can I do anything to help?” she asked as he started to take ingredients out of the cupboards. He emptied a packet of yeast into a measuring cup, added a spoonful of sugar, filled it with warm water and then covered it with a clean dish towel.
“Nah, just keep me company,” he replied, as he dumped two cups of flour into the Kitchen Aid's big silver bowl. He added a bit of olive oil and a dash of salt.
Julie paced around the kitchen, watching him work. Ten minutes later, the water concoction had made its way into the bowl and the Kitchen Aid was proving its worth. When the dough was fully mixed and kneaded, Tim covered it with a towel and put it aside to rise.
He pulled out a cutting board and a knife and set them on the counter. Then he opened the refrigerator and looked back at Julie.
“What do you like on your pizza?”
She shrugged. “Most normal things, I guess. What do you usually have?”
“Pepperoni, black olives, and onions,” he said.
“That sounds good.”
“You know you don't have to have the same thing, right? I have tomatoes, peppers, garlic....I think we even have a can of pineapple somewhere.”
Julie laughed. “No, really, I like all three of those toppings. It's fine.”
The olives were easy, since they came pre-sliced in a can. Tim sliced the pepperoni next. Julie, apparently tired of pacing the small kitchen came over and pulled herself up onto the counter next to him. Her legs dangled down and she swung them lazily. Tim had to remind himself to focus on what he was doing.
“What about the sauce?” asked Julie.
“Oh, yeah. I cut corners there and just use spaghetti sauce.”
“That's a relief,” joked Julie. “I was starting to get worried that you'd become entirely too domesticated. It's good to know you're still a guy.”
He smiled at her. “I'm still a guy.”
Tim put the pepperoni slices into a bowl and then picked up the onion. He cut off one end of it and peeled back the skin, then began to cut it in thin slices. The onion was quite fresh and it was only a matter of second before his eyes were stinging. He put down the knife and pushed the cutting board away, looking toward Julie and blinking his eyes.
“It's okay, Tim. Have a good cry. Better out than in, that's my motto,” she said with a grin.
Tim gripped the edge of the counter and shook his head.
Julie sidled closer to him and giggled. “You can cry on my shoulder. I owe you one, after the last time I was here.”
He bent his head until his forehead was lightly resting on her shoulder. He breathed in her perfume, an intoxicating mixture of flowers and vanilla.
Tim realized there was nothing to hold him back this time. No Seven. No Lyla. No Coach. Nothing. He felt nervous, almost shy.
He thought about the time they'd spent together over the last two years. All that time spent just talking. He reckoned he'd probably talked more to her than to anyone in his life, even Six.
All those words. That's what she'd given him. An understanding of and appreciation for words. All those books she'd left at his house had built a bridge between them. They'd given him the compass and map that he'd needed to find his way to her.
He thought about the scrap of paper that was in his wallet, safely tucked behind his driver's license. It was folded in fourths and had been opened and refolded so many times, the edges had gone soft and were starting to wear away. He pictured his cramped handwriting. He focused on the words, trying to remember each one exactly. Because he had waited so long for this moment. He wanted it to be perfect and he knew that he only had one chance to get it right.
Tim turned his head slightly, letting his lips nearly brush her neck. He took a deep breath and whispered in her ear, his voice deep and rumbling.
“The day came
When the risk to remain
Tight in a bud
Was more painful than
The risk it took to blossom.”
He held his breath, muscles tensing, unsure of her reaction. He felt her hands on his chest before they traveled up around his neck as she pulled him close and kissed him. It was a deep, searing, aching kiss with days of longing and hope behind it.
Julie pulled back abruptly and looked at him, her eyes simultaneously asking and answering unspoken questions. Then she was falling back into him, kissing him like he was oxygen and she was drowning. She twisted slightly and pulled him over so she could wrap her legs around his waist.
He picked her up easily and carried her back to his room. He knew that later, she would ask him how he knew about the poem. He knew that he would take out his wallet, hand over the small paper square and watch her unfold it. He could picture the understanding flickering on her face.
He knew that this was probably not practical. That in six or eight months, she'd move away and he'd be left behind again. But right now, that didn't matter. Right now, he was going to enjoy her lips. Right now, he was going to put his hands on her body and feel her soft, hot skin. Right now, he was finally going to talk to her without words.
He'd waited a long time to make this particular memory and he was damn sure that he would have no regrets.
/fin
Risk, Chapter 1
Risk, Chapter 2
Risk, Chapter 3
Risk, Chapter 4
Risk, Chapter 5
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-07-17 07:10 pm (UTC)My wishful thinking aside, you write brilliantly and it was a beautiful story.
no subject
Date: 2009-07-17 07:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-17 07:31 pm (UTC)Very sweet and hot--I loved this!
no subject
Date: 2009-07-17 08:02 pm (UTC)Glad you liked it!
no subject
Date: 2009-07-17 07:48 pm (UTC)And that is one of the many, many things I love about Tim. It doesn't even occur to him to give a damn what anyone thinks, he just does what he likes. ♥
*happy sigh* This is just the kind of nice, warm & fuzzy ending I was hoping for. From your lips to the writers' ears.
no subject
Date: 2009-07-17 08:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-17 10:10 pm (UTC)And of course Tim can cook pizza... Nawww!
This was brilliant, thank you so much for sharing. *basks in warm-fuzzy-glow-type thing* ♥
no subject
Date: 2009-07-18 05:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-17 11:03 pm (UTC)No, srsly, adorable. And the thought of big Tim Riggins making pizza from scratch pleased me immensely.
no subject
Date: 2009-07-18 06:03 am (UTC)Yeah...I'm more than happy to read porn but not so much able to write it without turning purple and becoming seized with the horrifying certainty that my mom will read it. (Which is irrational since she doesn't use computers, ever, not even for email.)
You can take the girl out of Catholic school.... :) For my next trick, I'd like to try something I've never tried before but love reading - either porn or a story in second-person.
no subject
Date: 2009-07-21 11:55 pm (UTC)God. Damn. That was a really hot kiss and a total payoff, because the thing here was not so much UST, as it was the build up of emotional tension, the realization that, yes, staying a bud was more tight than the risk it took to blossom. (Brilliant poem choice, btw.)
I also like that this isn't Twu Wub foreva and eva ayemen. Tim's accepting of the fact that it's probably not going to last, but, if I may reference another poem (whose title and author I can't recall, I think it's Parker or St Vincent Millay) you have to take love when it comes. You can't take it and tuck it in your pocket for later, and this story captures that perfectly.
And yeah, he's going to talk to her without words, and make a memory, and it's going to be a profound one.
---
Thanks again!
no subject
Date: 2009-07-22 05:06 am (UTC)If anyone knows you have to take love where you can find it, it would be Tim. Must try to find that poem you paraphrased - it sounds like a good one.
no subject
Date: 2010-08-09 01:48 am (UTC)