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hackthis_archive) wrote2007-01-08 11:59 am
hackthis_archive) wrote2007-01-08 11:59 am
Entry tags:
FNL - Hotassery is Not Special Dispensation to be an Ass
I love Friday Night Lights like I'm blind. I dunno if I told y'all that or not, but yeah, I totally do. This is just some shit I tossed off while waiting for something else to come back from beta, because I totally think these two should now be BFF. I need an icon with them in it.
Friday Night Lights
Landry Clarke, Tim Riggins
Spoilers for 1.11 'Nevermind'
Hotassery is Not Special Dispensation to be an Ass
Crucifixtorius break up a week after Tim sees them play. Well, 'play' is not really the right word, but Tim doesn't know a word for 'bring death and destruction upon the eardrums of anyone within a twenty mile radius.'
"Sorry," is all he says when Landry tells him of the band's demise during their study session on the football bleachers. It's lunch time, so Tim's eating half of Landry's bologna sandwich and ignoring The Great Gatsby, which is the next book he's been assigned in English.
"Sorry?!" Landry squawks, bread crumbs flying out of his mouth. "That's all you have for me? Sorry? You were witness to the short life of one of the greatest metal bands ever, and all you've got is 'sorry'? You should be verklempt and beside yourself with agony!"
"Isn't verklempt a disease?" Tim asks curiously.
Landry's eyebrows disappear against his forehead. Tim has no idea how anybody can be so pale in Texas. "Stop pretending to be stupid, Riggins," Landry scowls.
"No, really, what's it mean?"
Landry rubs his forehead. "It means you should be speechless. In mourning for what was. We were the best metal band to ever come out of Dillon."
Tim can't help the tiny smile that escapes. "You mean the only metal band to come out of Dillon," he corrects, staring longingly at Landry's bottle of Coke. A sandwich is real dry on its own, and he's already eaten his own lunch.
He looks from Landry to the Coke and then back again a couple times. People always want to talk too much, Tim's pretty good about communicating without saying anything at all.
Landry rolls his eyes and leans down to hand Tim the bottle. "Small town people with small minds," he snorts. "My greatness is being squandered here. When I go to Austin and start up Stigmalingus, they'll get it. I will be a god among men."
Tim raises an eyebrow as he takes a swallow of Coke, but Landry probably can't see it for the hair in Tim's face. "You really think they'll appreciate you better in Austin?" he says, before taking another bite of sandwich. The sandwich needs more mayonnaise. Maybe some mustard.
Landry gives Tim a look, like he thinks Tim's playing stupid again. "Austin is for all the people who don't fit elsewhere," he explains slowly. "People like me. Not people like you, and your," Landry waves at Tim with the crust of his half of the sandwich like that explains it all. "Your thing."
Tim stuffs the rest of his sandwich in his mouth. "My thing?" he says with his mouth full.
"You know, with the football and the hair and the bad boy Riggins thing," Landry explains in irritation. "How'd you come up with this persona anyway? I mean did you just dream it up one night, and all the girls magically bought it the next day, or what?"
Tim shakes his head. "I dunno what you're talking about."
Landry scoffs openly, showing a mouth full of bologna. "You expect me to believe you just woke up like that one morning? Your hair doesn't do that naturally, does it?"
"Do what?" Tim's clearly missed some part of the conversation.
"Oh God, it's not fair," Landry grumbles as he digs in his brown paper bag for something else. Something that requires a plastic spoon.
Oooh, pudding. Tim loves pudding. He licks his lips and eyeballs Landry expectantly.
"Oh, hell no, Riggins," Landry says, clutching the pudding cup to his chest. "The puppy dog look may work on rally girls, but not on me. You already drank all my Coke."
Tim looks down at the empty plastic bottle in his hand. So he has. Huh. "How 'bout I get you another Coke, and you cough up the pudding?"
"How about you tell me about what you've read so far in The Great Gatsby, and I eat my pudding," Landry counters.
Tim belches. Loudly. "I don't like that deal."
"Yeah, well, a C+ doesn't entitle you to a good deal."
"It was a B-," Tim corrects, pushing his hair behind his ear. The only B- he's earned himself since, shit. Since he doesn't even remember the last time he did his own homework -- maybe grade school -- and he certainly didn't get grades like that when he did.
"When you get an A- then you can start bartering, but until then, start talking."
Tim shrugs. "There's nothing to say -- it's about this guy with all this money, and he's in love with this girl who doesn't love him back."
Landry pops the top on his pudding cup; Tim narrows his eyes. He could just take the pudding, but then he'd end up failing English.
"And?" Landry prompts.
"And that's it," Tim says stubbornly.
"That's not it, and you know it. Did you read the whole thing?"
"Why? You gonna quiz me on it?" Landry's smile is entirely too bright, and Tim groans and rubs his eyes with his hand. "Landry, you gotta get yourself a girl," he mumbles.
Landry's smile falls away. "Just 'cause you can get any girl here, don't mean you gotta flaunt that in my face, man."
It takes Tim a minute to realize that Landry's actually pissed at him. "I didn't mean like, you couldn't get one," Tim counters. "I just meant you needed one so you could stop bugging me."
"Yeah, well, from what I heard, getting a girlfriend doesn't solve your problems when you're in love with somebody else," Landry says with the plastic spoon in his mouth.
Tim's mouth snaps shut, and he drops the Coke bottle as he gets to his feet. "Yeah, whatever," he says grabbing up his paperback and turning to leave.
"Don't litter," Landry calls to his back, and Tim pauses and turns back around. Landry's sitting a few rows behind him, and his face is bright pink in the crisp autumn air.
Tim crouches down, grabs up the bottle, and flings it at Landry. The air current grabs it up, and Tim watches it bounce on bleachers ten feet away from where Landry's sitting.
"I wasn't talking about you and your situation," Landry says after the bottle settles. "I mean I could've been, but I wasn't."
Tim's shoes make the bleachers rattle as he stomps the two rows to where Landry's sitting and clutching his pudding cup. "We talk about books, we don't talk about me," he says flatly. "I'm only here so I can play ball."
Landry looks up at him, all wide eyes and invisible eyelashes. He reminds Tim of that special on albino alligators he saw on TV. "Does that mean we're not gonna braid each other's hair and talk about Justin Timberlake?" Landry asks innocently, and just like that they're back to where they were.
Tim snorts. "I ain't wearin' no pink suit for you."
"You did read it," Landry grins, his smile is all teeth and real happiness. No one smiles at Tim like that these days. "You can't have my pudding," Landry says putting his pudding on the seat beside him to dig in his bag, "but you can have a cookie."
When Landry presents Tim with a chocolate chip cookie from his lunch bag, Tim doesn't even know what to say. "Thanks," he mutters, taking the cookie and then sitting down next to Landry. "Next time though, bring some milk."
-end-
ETA: I kept being told to watch the deleted scenes from the FNL episodes, but I never got a chance until today. Holy SHIT, if you are not watching these you are missing out. The most recent three scenes from 'Nevermind' had me foaming at the mouth. Oh, GOD, this show is awesome. (They cue up one after another when you watch the first one). WATCH EEEEET!
Friday Night Lights
Landry Clarke, Tim Riggins
Spoilers for 1.11 'Nevermind'
Crucifixtorius break up a week after Tim sees them play. Well, 'play' is not really the right word, but Tim doesn't know a word for 'bring death and destruction upon the eardrums of anyone within a twenty mile radius.'
"Sorry," is all he says when Landry tells him of the band's demise during their study session on the football bleachers. It's lunch time, so Tim's eating half of Landry's bologna sandwich and ignoring The Great Gatsby, which is the next book he's been assigned in English.
"Sorry?!" Landry squawks, bread crumbs flying out of his mouth. "That's all you have for me? Sorry? You were witness to the short life of one of the greatest metal bands ever, and all you've got is 'sorry'? You should be verklempt and beside yourself with agony!"
"Isn't verklempt a disease?" Tim asks curiously.
Landry's eyebrows disappear against his forehead. Tim has no idea how anybody can be so pale in Texas. "Stop pretending to be stupid, Riggins," Landry scowls.
"No, really, what's it mean?"
Landry rubs his forehead. "It means you should be speechless. In mourning for what was. We were the best metal band to ever come out of Dillon."
Tim can't help the tiny smile that escapes. "You mean the only metal band to come out of Dillon," he corrects, staring longingly at Landry's bottle of Coke. A sandwich is real dry on its own, and he's already eaten his own lunch.
He looks from Landry to the Coke and then back again a couple times. People always want to talk too much, Tim's pretty good about communicating without saying anything at all.
Landry rolls his eyes and leans down to hand Tim the bottle. "Small town people with small minds," he snorts. "My greatness is being squandered here. When I go to Austin and start up Stigmalingus, they'll get it. I will be a god among men."
Tim raises an eyebrow as he takes a swallow of Coke, but Landry probably can't see it for the hair in Tim's face. "You really think they'll appreciate you better in Austin?" he says, before taking another bite of sandwich. The sandwich needs more mayonnaise. Maybe some mustard.
Landry gives Tim a look, like he thinks Tim's playing stupid again. "Austin is for all the people who don't fit elsewhere," he explains slowly. "People like me. Not people like you, and your," Landry waves at Tim with the crust of his half of the sandwich like that explains it all. "Your thing."
Tim stuffs the rest of his sandwich in his mouth. "My thing?" he says with his mouth full.
"You know, with the football and the hair and the bad boy Riggins thing," Landry explains in irritation. "How'd you come up with this persona anyway? I mean did you just dream it up one night, and all the girls magically bought it the next day, or what?"
Tim shakes his head. "I dunno what you're talking about."
Landry scoffs openly, showing a mouth full of bologna. "You expect me to believe you just woke up like that one morning? Your hair doesn't do that naturally, does it?"
"Do what?" Tim's clearly missed some part of the conversation.
"Oh God, it's not fair," Landry grumbles as he digs in his brown paper bag for something else. Something that requires a plastic spoon.
Oooh, pudding. Tim loves pudding. He licks his lips and eyeballs Landry expectantly.
"Oh, hell no, Riggins," Landry says, clutching the pudding cup to his chest. "The puppy dog look may work on rally girls, but not on me. You already drank all my Coke."
Tim looks down at the empty plastic bottle in his hand. So he has. Huh. "How 'bout I get you another Coke, and you cough up the pudding?"
"How about you tell me about what you've read so far in The Great Gatsby, and I eat my pudding," Landry counters.
Tim belches. Loudly. "I don't like that deal."
"Yeah, well, a C+ doesn't entitle you to a good deal."
"It was a B-," Tim corrects, pushing his hair behind his ear. The only B- he's earned himself since, shit. Since he doesn't even remember the last time he did his own homework -- maybe grade school -- and he certainly didn't get grades like that when he did.
"When you get an A- then you can start bartering, but until then, start talking."
Tim shrugs. "There's nothing to say -- it's about this guy with all this money, and he's in love with this girl who doesn't love him back."
Landry pops the top on his pudding cup; Tim narrows his eyes. He could just take the pudding, but then he'd end up failing English.
"And?" Landry prompts.
"And that's it," Tim says stubbornly.
"That's not it, and you know it. Did you read the whole thing?"
"Why? You gonna quiz me on it?" Landry's smile is entirely too bright, and Tim groans and rubs his eyes with his hand. "Landry, you gotta get yourself a girl," he mumbles.
Landry's smile falls away. "Just 'cause you can get any girl here, don't mean you gotta flaunt that in my face, man."
It takes Tim a minute to realize that Landry's actually pissed at him. "I didn't mean like, you couldn't get one," Tim counters. "I just meant you needed one so you could stop bugging me."
"Yeah, well, from what I heard, getting a girlfriend doesn't solve your problems when you're in love with somebody else," Landry says with the plastic spoon in his mouth.
Tim's mouth snaps shut, and he drops the Coke bottle as he gets to his feet. "Yeah, whatever," he says grabbing up his paperback and turning to leave.
"Don't litter," Landry calls to his back, and Tim pauses and turns back around. Landry's sitting a few rows behind him, and his face is bright pink in the crisp autumn air.
Tim crouches down, grabs up the bottle, and flings it at Landry. The air current grabs it up, and Tim watches it bounce on bleachers ten feet away from where Landry's sitting.
"I wasn't talking about you and your situation," Landry says after the bottle settles. "I mean I could've been, but I wasn't."
Tim's shoes make the bleachers rattle as he stomps the two rows to where Landry's sitting and clutching his pudding cup. "We talk about books, we don't talk about me," he says flatly. "I'm only here so I can play ball."
Landry looks up at him, all wide eyes and invisible eyelashes. He reminds Tim of that special on albino alligators he saw on TV. "Does that mean we're not gonna braid each other's hair and talk about Justin Timberlake?" Landry asks innocently, and just like that they're back to where they were.
Tim snorts. "I ain't wearin' no pink suit for you."
"You did read it," Landry grins, his smile is all teeth and real happiness. No one smiles at Tim like that these days. "You can't have my pudding," Landry says putting his pudding on the seat beside him to dig in his bag, "but you can have a cookie."
When Landry presents Tim with a chocolate chip cookie from his lunch bag, Tim doesn't even know what to say. "Thanks," he mutters, taking the cookie and then sitting down next to Landry. "Next time though, bring some milk."
-end-
ETA: I kept being told to watch the deleted scenes from the FNL episodes, but I never got a chance until today. Holy SHIT, if you are not watching these you are missing out. The most recent three scenes from 'Nevermind' had me foaming at the mouth. Oh, GOD, this show is awesome. (They cue up one after another when you watch the first one). WATCH EEEEET!
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