This started as a "songbird au" on tumblr where, a few weeks ago, an ask game went around where you had to put your ipod on shuffle and make an au based on the first song that came up. This came from A Footballer's Wife by Welsh artist Amy MacDonald. Hence the very odd title that, in and of itself, doesn't really apply to this plot at all. I was going to change but probably won't at this point haha. It has gone too far. XD

The original asker was jointheeggvolution, so you can thank them for this creation. :'3

I've started writing scenes that will eventually string together to form a storyline. Timing isn't necessarily consistent and I'm not spending too much time editing this one. It's just a fun short thing that I'm going to put up as pieces come out. I've been posting two scenes together over on tumblr for Tucker Appreciation Week and figured I might as well follow the trend here.

I don't know how far I'm taking this one, or even where it's going. But, whatever this ends up being, I hope you enjoy! :)

Footballer's Wife

March 3, 2015

"Mr. Foley," Lancer began, somewhat helplessly as he stared down at the portfolio in his hands.

"Yes?" Tucker asked, twirling a mechanical pencil in his hand. "Is it… not what you were talking about?"

"No, no," Lancer reassured him quickly. "This is definitely the sort of thing I was asking for in the assignment."

All traces of worry seeped out of the teenager. "Sweet."

"And this is all very impressive," the teacher added.

Tucker grinned. "Thanks."

"But this is…" Lancer waved to the file splayed out on the desk in front of him, looking for the right words to say. "This is far beyond what you needed to develop," he settled on, flipping between pages. "This is a full plan with a business statement and budget and… the scope…" he spread his hands.

"I don't know why you spend this much time on a single assignment when the effort would have more than covered all of the things you haven't bothered turning in up until this point," he coughed meaningfully.

"Yeah… right…" Tucker tried to look remorseful but mostly failed because he pressed, "But… this works, right? I mean it makes sense?"

Lancer looked through the folder again. "Yes," he admitted. "Yes, this is very detailed and accurate I see no reason that this would not make a successful business plan as it stands now."

Tucker flipped the pencil away into one of the many pockets of his cargo pants and leaned forward. "And if I decided to continue with it as a school project, I'd have access to school resources, right?"

Lancer mused. "I suppose that, yes, as an extension of an assigned project, we would be able to lend you certain support…"

"Awesome!" Tucker said, bolting straight out of his chair. "Thanks, Mr. Lancer!" he added hurriedly as he grabbed his file and darted out of the room.

Now he just had to convince his parents that this was a worthy cause, one for which he was willing to sacrifice a few outdated PDAs and even his standing preorder of the next few generations to see fulfilled.

All he needed was a single camera and he was in business.

In the end, it turned out that he didn't need to cancel any of his PDA orders after all.

Lancer, intrigued by his student's proposition and the opportunities that it could bring the school, explored the old, dusty A/V closets and stumbled across an outdated but perfectly serviceable camera that he decided the school was willing to sell.

Tucker's parents made up the small difference after he had sacrificed a few beloved but largely unnecessary models he'd planned to hoard until the apocalypse had come and gone in order to get the bulk of the funds he needed to relieve Casper High of their old tech.

Suddenly, Tucker was the owner of a beautiful high definition video camera.

He carted it around with him wherever he went. Teachers soon became accustomed to the sight of the guy unslinging it his shoulder as he sat down at his desk.

Classes weren't worthy of the wasted battery life, but if he wanted a free path to class, all Tucker needed to do was pull the lens cap off. The students parted before him like the waters of the Red Sea, footballers pounding fists together, band geeks waving awkwardly, girls giggling when he tried to zoom in as much as possible on their flawless smiles, and gestures that he would have to blur out later from the school lowlifes.

Footage detours cancelled out any time saved from not being jostled into the wall during the between-period rush, but at least his personal space bubble was intact and he wasn't shoved into any lockers.

Everyone respected the camera.

It came out at pep rallies, official school functions, and group presentations in select classes. It recorded school spirit during football games, basketball games, and cheer leading practices. Lots and lots of cheer leading practices.

Within a few weeks, he'd scored a decent editing suite on his computer and become fairly proficient in the ins and outs of the program, easily splicing together footage from around the school into a few sample videos that he burned to a disc and handed to Lancer at the end of class one day.

The man took it home, wishing that it had been the homework he'd actually assigned instead of a DVD, but he watched it dutifully and called Ishiyama for a consultation the next day.

The school board was easily persuaded to appoint Tucker the official documenter of school life. He negotiated a nice sum as a free lance cameraman and editor and was guaranteed airspace during school functions and fundraisers. Plus streaming on the school's website as long as he wanted to continue providing footage.

Tucker grinned as he signed the necessary agreement and release forms.

To be continued.