Mama Deb (mamadebfic) wrote,
Mama Deb
mamadebfic

New Story: Mascot (Friday Night Lights, Jason/Tim PG-13)

For lomedat. Prompt: Lemonade


Mascot

"He's a jerk." Riggins tossed the beer can out of the truck window, and opened another.

Jason nodded. "You got that right. Coach Taylor..."

"Like he's any better, man? He got a call to a big fancy college and we got McGregor, who can't coach worth shit. Don't talk to me about Coach, okay?" Riggins emptied the new can in two gulps.

"That ain't lemonade, man." Tim tossed the can at him with a grin. "Least he wouldn't have told me not to be friends with you. Least he wouldn't have called me a mascot." Jason looked at the remains of the six pack sitting between them, but it took a lot more concentration to drive these days. Also, he'd have to ask Riggins to pour it into a mug for him, and that was more than he could do just now.

"You ain't no mascot, Street. You're the only thing keeping this team a team, with coach gone and Smash acting like he's God, not just captain, and Saracen...I don't know what's up with Saracen right now." Riggins stared at the cans, too, but didn't take one.

"Yeah, I'm a mascot. That's what I am - an in-spir-a-tion to the whole town is what I am. Bout time I faced up to it, you know? Lyla's gone all...all..." He kind of made a gesture with his hand, but it looked like nothing at all.

"Christian?"

"Like she wasn't before and all, you know? And Saracen...Matt's a good guy, you know. That's the problem. Good guys..." They don't go anywhere, unless they have talent, and Matt...he tried.

"You're a good guy. I'm going to bring you down, and you...you ain't no mascot."

Jason looked at Tim in the dimming light. He held a beer can on his forehead, letting the sweat from the can mix with the sweat from his forehead. His eyes were closed, but Jason knew they could see as well that way. And he thought about Tim and Lyla, and Tim and him, and everything that used to be. And Tim's lips were very red and he knew - he knew Tim would do anything for him.

He leaned across the seat, as far as he could. Tim must of have heard, because he opened his eyes and leaned the rest of the way - Tim could always read Jason's mind.

His lips were cold and bitter from the beer.
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