"Billy - seriously, move over - you're doing it wrong."

"No, I'm not, you jackass, you're just in my way. If you get out of my damn way, I'll do it myself." Billy gives Tim a shove.

"Watch it, Billy - you're gonna shove me off the damn roof. Who the hell's gonna help you hang lights if I'm not around?"

"Someone capable, I hope."

"Yeah, this from a guy who once nailed his hand to a frigging wall," Tim rolls his eyes and starts climbing back down the ladder.

"That was once, jackass, once!" Billy shouts down to him from the roof. "Turn the damn switch now - I think I've got it."

"Hey, keep it down, y'all," Tyra Collette emerges from inside of the Riggins house with a hand on her hip. "I mean seriously, you do know your kids are in there, right Billy?" she snaps. "Enough with the yelling."

"Sorry, sorry," Billy mutters. "It's just - he doesn't know what he's doing, and he's up here on the roof trying to -"

"I don't care what you boys are doing," Tyra rolls her eyes. "Just keep it down. And Mindy sent me out here to tell y'all to come in for dinner."

"We're almost done, tell her we're almost done," Billy responds. "Switch it, Tim!" he yells.

Tim flips the switch; a bright swath of Christmas lights shine from the rooftop.

"Yes!" Billy calls triumphantly. "We did it!" he climbs down off the ladder. "You see that, Tyra? Now, -that- is how it's done."

Tyra raises an eyebrow and smiles. Sweetly. "Might've been nicer if it'd been done before Christmas Eve."

"Hey," Billy replies. "I don't see Santa and his sleigh yet. So pipe down."

Tyra grins and smacks him. "Seriously, boys. Inside," she directs them sternly. Billy scurries into the house ahead of Tyra.

"Merry Christmas, Tyra," Tim grins at her as he follows her into the house, closing the door behind him.

"Yeah, yeah," she replies. "Just don't sit too close to me at dinner or I may stab you with my fork."

"Aren't you supposed to, like, put aside grievances on Christmas?," Tim grins. "I would say that stabbing someone with some kind of . . . cutlery . . . is downright un-Christian on any day of the year, but especially on Christmas."

"It's Christmas -Eve-, jackass," Tyra raises an eyebrow. "Tomorrow I'll be nice," she grins as she saunters away from him.

Tim laughs and shakes his head. He wipes the dust from his hands off on his pants and looks around the room. His eyes stop – and he breaks into an adoring smile, he can't help himself – when he sees her. She's sitting on the Riggins' living room sofa with a glass of wine in her hand, chatting with her father. She looks up and catches his eye, smiling back at him warmly, before turning back to Buddy Garrity . . . .

"Lyla, hon, I mean, I'm just sayin', if Tim's gonna be there already – I mean, who's to say he can't make some connections at the college level? Because that's where the action is, you know?"

"Dad, let me get this straight – Tim hasn't even started the new job yet, but you want him to start feeling out connections so that you can get into some . . . special suite at Texas Memorial Stadium?" Lyla smiles and shakes her head in disbelief.

"Honey, it's not just a special suite. It's the -boosters- suite."

"Whatever it is, Dad, not sure Tim's going to be doing you any favors any time soon," Lyla rolls her eyes.

"Now, honey, that's all just water under the bridge right there. We've had a man-to-man about all of that old stuff. Settled things. We're good, honey, we're good," Buddy waves a hand dismissively.

Lyla raises an eyebrow.

"Seriously," Buddy says emphatically. He smiles at his daughter.

"A man-to-man, eh?" Lyla asks. Her eyes are twinkling.

"Well, you know, honey, your daddy is human – I make mistakes. But I know when I'm wrong. And I know how to apologize."

"Mhmm," Lyla smiles incredulously.

"And, aside from that one, albeit minor, transgression, I've welcomed Tim with open arms into this family and –"

"With open arms, eh?" Lyla laughs. "Kicking and screaming, more like it."

"Well, Lyla, he doesn't have a hedge fund," Buddy smiles.

"Dad –"

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding," he smiles at his daughter. "Look, Lyla, I know Tim loves you. And I know he's a good man. I'm gettin' with the program, honey; it might be late – a few years late – but I'm gettin' there. That's gotta count for somethin', right?" Buddy raises his eyebrows hopefully.

"Yes, Dad, it does," Lyla replies, smiling at him.

"So, all I'm saying, honey, is, if Tim Riggins and I are gonna be – well, like family now – then there should be some perks there, right? Perks like, maybe, getting some great tickets to Longhorns games? Really, Lyla, I just want to make sure that I'm taking full advantage of the -lifestyle- which a place like Austin affords."

Lyla raises an eyebrow and laughs. She takes a sip of wine. "You realize that, when most people think of 'the lifestyle which a place like Austin affords,' they're not thinking about football, right?"

"Well, honey, I hate it to break it you, but you happen to be the daughter of a Dillon Panther and the girlfriend of a Dillon Panther, who also happens to be a football coach now. Really, I think you just need to get used to football as a priority in life, honey, wherever you are. And the one silver linin' to this whole Tim Riggins thing, I suppose, is the hope that, one day, I'll have me some football-playing grandbabies. I -will- give partial credit to Tim Riggins for -those- genes." . . . .

Tim finally tears his eyes away from Lyla and Buddy Garrity and looks over at Mindy and Angela Collette, who are finishing up dinner preparations and moving things to the dining room table. Tim grins as he watches Billy try to put his finger in the mashed potatoes . . . .

"Seriously, Billy, get your hand out of there, or I'm going to ban you from the kitchen altogether," Mindy swats Billy's hand away.

"Okay, okay," Billy says, patting Mindy's bottom, "okay, can I at least get a couple beers?"

"Are the lights up?"

"The lights are up."

"Get the beers and go," Mindy smiles at him, shaking her head . . . .

Tim's eyes move from Mindy and Billy to Tyra, who has joined the twins in a game of peek-a-boo by the Christmas tree, while Stevie runs around the tree, loudly counting presents . . . .

"Hey, Stevie, Dan brought you something, too," Tyra calls out to him. She squeezes the hand of the guy sitting next to her – her new friend, boyfriend?

Tim doesn't really know what Tyra's calling him these days, but the recent arrival of Dan – another new teacher at Dillon High – into Tyra's life has ushered in at least a partial melting of the up-till-now frosty relations between Tim and Tyra. Tim thinks that she still hates him, but not quite as much as she used to. Which is something. And if Dan sticks around long enough, Tyra might even downgrade the level of cutlery with which she threatens him. Either that or he'll be far enough away in Austin that it won't matter.

"What did you bring me?" Stevie is clearly enthused by the prospect of another gift-giver.

"You've gotta wait until tomorrow morning, buddy," Dan winks at Stevie. "It'll be awesome, though, I promise."

"It will be," Tyra nods at Stevie and smiles back at Dan. He puts a hand on her shoulder and squeezes it . . . .

Tim smiles once more as he watches Stevie tear around the Christmas tree, before finally turning back toward Lyla. He walks over to her and her father, and sits down next to her. She immediately takes his hand into hers.

"Hi, Mr. Garrity," Tim says.

"Tim Riggins - what are your thoughts on Longhorn football, son?"

Tim and Lyla exchange amused smiles. "I haven't given it much thought, Mr. Garrity," Tim replies.

"I was just talkin' to Lyla here about you maybe usin' some of that Tim Riggins charm to get us into one of them booster suites over there at Texas Memorial Stadium."

"Mr. Garrity, I'm going to Austin to coach high school football, sir."

"I know that, Tim," Buddy smiles impatiently. "But football is football, and connections, community – that's the lifeblood of football, son. You know that. You're a Panther. Always will be."

"Right," Tim nods in mock seriousness.

"Besides," Buddy continues. "How do you know where you'll be a year or two from now? This could be good for both of us, Tim. You keepin' your college coachin' options open, me keepin' my booster options open. We could be a really great team here, son."

"Right, Mr. Garrity," Tim says. "I'll give that some serious thought." He grins at Lyla and puts an arm around her, pulling her close to him. She smiles and leans her head against his chest.

When Mindy finally calls everyone to the table, Tim guides Lyla to her seat. Buddy has finagled a spot next to Angela Collette - of course. The room is crowded, loud, and hot; the food is plentiful. Really, it's a pretty perfect Christmas, Tim thinks, looking at Lyla, who is sitting next to him and smiling at something Stevie is doing. Pretty damn perfect.

As dinner winds down, Billy finally gets everyone's attention, hitting a knife against his beer bottle several times. "Okay, okay," he calls over the din of the room, "I want to - I want to do a toast. Make a toast," he corrects himself. "Hey, everyone! . . . . Hi. Thank you." Billy rises from his chair. "I just want to -" he stops, looking around the table.

Stevie sits next to him, yawning. Mindy watches him, a smile playing on her lips, as she tousles one of the twin's hair; Tyra holds the other twin on her lap, while holding Dan's hand. Angela sits on the other side of the table, smiling up at Billy, her eyes shining. Buddy's cheeks are flushed with excitement as he tears his eyes away from Angela to listen to Billy. Tim sits with his arm around Lyla; he pulls her close to him as he turns his attention to Billy.

"I want to thank y'all for coming here," Billy says. "Tonight. For spending Christmas with me and my family here," he smiles at Mindy and the kids. "I learned a long time ago that family isn't what what you're born into. It's who you choose. Timmy and I - we had a tough go of things," he looks at Tim, who's watching him intently. "And we had to make our own way from pretty early on in life. There were a lot of people that helped us do it. Some of those people are here with us tonight," he smiles at Mindy and at Lyla. "Some aren't . . . . I, for one, am real grateful that we're celebrating Christmas tonight with people we love, and who love us . . . . And we have something pretty damn special to celebrate here tonight," he looks at Tim and pauses.

"Timmy," Billy smiles, his eyes shining, "You are - you are my little brother, and you are also my hero. Four years ago you did something for me and my family here that - that we'll never be able to repay you for. That we will be eternally grateful to you for." He pauses and swallows. Tim is smiling back at him.

"I just - to see how you've changed - grown - since then, it's been a privilege to watch that. And now –" he grins, "now you and the little miss here - the one who's been harassing me about your future for what seems like half your life - hell, half my life," he laughs and winks at Lyla, who is smiling and resting her head against Tim, "are starting one together. For real. A new city. A new job. Coach Riggins," he smiles proudly at Tim. "Also, almost as important, a very nice flatscreen TV - I've seen the apartment," he grins at Tim and Lyla, who are laughing. "Y'all have something real incredible right here. The relationship, not the flatscreen, although the flatscreen's somethin' pretty special, too." He pauses, his expression growing serious.

"So, here's to Timmy and Lyla," he raises a glass, "together again, true love and all that crap - but really, if you've seen them together and have known them for as long as I have, you know that this right here is the real deal. Which is good, since, really, the only people they've ever been faithful to is each other," he laughs. "And I -am- using that one at the wedding," he winks at Tim, who is grinning and shaking his head. "So don't even try to go and make Jason Street your best man," he raises a fist, "I will kick his ass, you know I will," he grins. "Or he'll kick mine," he adds, shrugging and grinning at Tim, who's raised his eyebrows and is nodding in amused agreement at the latter admission.

"Anyway," Billy continues, "the fact that you are so damn happy is pretty much the only reason I'm not hog-tying you to the house here to keep you from leaving." He smiles at Tim again. Seriously. Emotionally. Tim and Lyla look at each other - happily - and look back at Billy.

"So, Timmy, here's to you, little brother," he raises a glass, "I am so damn proud of you, you can't even imagine. I love you, man," he nods at Tim, who smiles back at him, raising his own glass. "And," Billy adds, looking around the table, "here's to this family. This pretty damn incredible family. Merry Christmas, y'all. Merry Christmas."