online numbers can really fuck you up when it comes to your creative work because you're sharing something you worked on with all your heart but it's very important to remember there's actual people behind those numbers. even if it's 1. that's one whole actual person. that's a human being who said "haha nice". that's a connection with a REAL person with a REAL life and REAL thoughts and feelings and experiences. like. damn. that should mean something
summary - gator has a bad morning and eddie is trying his best to comfort him :] post s5 of fargo
tags - fluff & angst, hurt & comfort, blind gator, soft gator, gator also kinda mean tho, mentions of roy tillman, mentions of dot lyon, eddie is trying his best, eddie is a goofy goober and a big softie
notes - first time writing gator so i hope he is enjoyable to read!! i started this as practice for writing him but idk metaldeputy has really grown on me. two of my like fav characters??? kissing and stuff??? yes.
i also only skimmed over this so if it doesn't sound perfectly proofread that's bc it's not. so sorry team
“Gator.”
A sound escaped the lump beneath the covers, unmoving and adamant about staying in bed. Eddie let out a sigh, poking at what was presumably Gator’s back, earning another disgruntled noise from the other man.
“Fuck off.”
“C’mon, up. You said you wanted to start setting a schedule.”
“I was lyin’,” he replied, voice muffled by the comforter above him. He groaned as Eddie tugged it off of his head, swatting at the air. Eddie leaned back, narrowly missing a hand to the face.
Gator did, in fact, remember asking Eddie to help get him up in the mornings. He’d lost track of time when he was in the hospital, the lack of visibility affecting his body’s ability to regulate his sleep. He never thought he’d miss sunlight so much.
“Asshole,” he hissed, scrubbing a hand over his face, mussing his bandages in the process. “It’s too fuckin’ bright in here.”
“You can’t see.”
“I can see fuckin’ light, smartass.”
Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Even with that wrap over your eyes?” He asked knowingly, hand lingering on the edge of the blanket, holding it up. His other hand came out to readjust his bandages, pulling them back into place.
These sort of black out eye covers were mandatory for Gator right now. They didn’t want his still-healing eyes to be too exposed to any lighting to ensure the smoothest recovery possible.
“Whatever,” he grumbled. “Heard ya open the curtains. Damn early bird. Don’t ya got anything better to do?”
“Than do my job of waking you up?” He asked, batting his eyelashes for the effect. Gator didn’t have to see him to know exactly what he was doing. “Absolutely not, deputy. I’m a committed man.”
“Quit talkin’ like that. Too early for me to wrap my head around yer shit.”
Gator sat up with a grunt, hands planted firmly on the bed at his hips as he took a second to gather the gall to actually get up. Eddie snorted at his annoyance, tugging the covers the rest of the way off, exposing his boyfriend’s legs.
“And you say you’re not cranky in the morning?”
He watched as Gator held his hands out for help getting up, choosing to silently ask with motion rather than words for the sake of his sanity. Him talking meant Eddie talking, and he loved the boy to death, but he really needed him to zip his lips sometimes.
Eddie helped pull him to his feet, a bit unsteady with lingering sleep, parts of his body still aching with numbness from staying curled up for so long. It was difficult to transition to the schedule of a normal day when he’d been stuck in the hospital for so long prior, unable to get up and move, paralyzed with the fear of his freshly stolen sight.
As exasperated as he acted, the humor helped. He’d take the stupid, only really half-funny comments Eddie made over coddling any day. The thought of being babied when he already felt so incapable made him angry in a way that could melt his skin off.
He wasn’t a damn invalid. He could still do things for himself.
With an arm draped over Eddie’s shoulders, he walked with him into their shared kitchen, sized well enough that once he got better at navigating alone he’d be able to find everything relatively quickly. Eddie was more than prepared to help him practice remembering where everything was.
“Feeling food today?”
The edge of Gator’s mouth turned down in a grimace, not too pleased with the idea of trying to choke down breakfast. His silence was all Eddie needed to hear.
“Alrighty. Coffee then. But you have to eat something before noon,” he reminded, giving his waist a squeeze when he made a noise of complaint. “Nuh-uh. None of that. Can’t have you living off coffee and oatmeal raisin cookies, can we?”
“Could. What do I need ta be fit for? My job as a deputy?” He asked, not bothering to add any laughter. It was too early to be faking that he had any sort of energy.
He wasn’t over it. How could he be? Within one day, all of the duties he took pride in were stripped from him. No more job. No more driving. No more independence. He didn’t often dip into how hurt he was from the experience unless he was in some kind of therapy, and even then, he was a tough nut to crack. Talking about his emotions made him feel emasculated, no matter how many times he was told it wasn’t healthy to ‘have that kind of thought process’.
And every day, those words echoed back in his head.
If there was ever a point to you, it’s gone now.
“Gator?”
Gator’s head tilted in the direction of Eddie’s voice, his hair falling over his forehead, still damp from last night’s shower. Had Eddie said something to him?
“Sit down, baby. You’re hovering.”
He ushered Gator forward and towards the kitchen table, watching as the other man held a hand out in front of himself, feeling around in the pitch black before him before his fingertips found the table. His palm smoothed across the surface as he sat down, feeling Eddie’s hands slip away from him.
It felt the same every time. If he wasn’t being spoken to, or guided through touch, there was just emptiness. He was constantly left alone in the dark. The setting didn’t matter. Out in public, in his home during the daytime. He hated that it didn’t take all that much for him to feel so isolated.
Luckily for him, his other senses grew to compensate. He could always smell the essence of Eddie’s scent when he walked by. He could hear him click his tongue when he was concentrating, or picking at his nails when he was nervous. In a way, he was grateful that it was making him pick on the smaller things he’d never really noticed before.
“So…don’t feel too talkative today either?” Eddie asked. He sounded distant now, accompanied by the press of a button and then the whirring sounds of the coffee pot. Gator shifted in his seat, angling himself to be more open in Eddie’s direction.
“Thinkin’.”
“Anything good?”
“Nah.”
Eddie tilted his head, just sort of looking at Gator from his position at the counter. He was used to him being straightforward, even if he wasn’t willing to do a deep dive into his feelings. It never made him feel less bad for what happened. He’d never admit it, but he was still kicking himself for not being able to prevent it, or at least to have interfered in some way.
“You’re far,” Gator said, voice slicing through the silence. Eddie smiled, perking up some and taking a step forward.
“I’m like, five feet away you doof.”
Gator held a hand out, palm down, fingers flexing to beckon his boyfriend.
“Five feet too far.”
Eddie rolled his eyes, knowing very well Gator could probably sense the attitude in the way he took his hand. He pulled himself forward, smoothing a hand over the other’s hair as he felt a warm hand graze his waist.
“Someone’s gotta deliver you your coffee.”
Gator made a sound of acknowledgment as he let his head fall against Eddie’s chest, not necessarily one that showed he cared. He appreciated the enthusiasm but he didn’t have the wit to keep up right now.
“Hey,” Eddie murmured, his fingers carding through Gator’s hair, nails grazing his scalp just the way he liked. Like a salve for the open wound that was his soul right now. “What’s going on?”
It wasn't news to him that Gator was touchy. He knew the man gravitated towards physical touch when it came to love languages (no matter how many times he’d called it a ‘bullshit concept’) but to see him now, after the incident? So unsure of himself but constantly reaching for Eddie regardless. He was desperate for the touch in a way he’d never admit to.
“Not sure what yer askin’,” he answered after a pause, voice half muffled against his Eddie’s band tee.
“Yes you do,” Eddie replied, knowing but not accusatory.
Gator’s shoulders deflated as he exhaled, body sagging before he picked his head up. He tilted it back as if he was looking at Eddie, brows slightly furrowed from where they were poking out of the top of his optical bandages.
“You gonna keep pokin’ at me all day ‘til you hear what you want?”
“Probably,” he admitted. “I thought you’d be happier after getting out of the hospital. Like, jumping-out-of-bed happy. But you hardly want to get up unless I’m asking you to,” he said. “Well, making you.”
Gator’s expression didn’t budge. His thumb rubbed against Eddie’s hip bone, slow and mindless.
He couldn’t argue. It was the truth. But he thought he could avoid the topic for longer than this. Damn his boyfriend and his emotional intelligence.
“I’m worried,” Eddie exhaled, taking on a more serious tone. “I know you hate talkin’ about it but…it’s just me, you know? And you’re safe here. Actually safe.”
“Yer a sap,” Gator grumbled.
“One of us has to be.”
He flinched initially when he felt Eddie’s hand cup his jaw, partly out of not expecting it, partly because he was still wary of anyone getting that close to his eyes. What was left of them, anyway.
“I want to be that excited to be home,” he said after some time, voice unusually soft. The kind of quiet that was only revealed to be present in him after the incident, pulled somewhere from the depths of his being after experiencing such trauma. Like a switch had been flipped.
“I want…that stupid fuckin’ optimism. That everyone’s tellin’ me I should have. But I don’t feel it. I don’t feel free.”
“Free?”
“From Roy. I know I got Dot ‘n her family or whatever, ‘cause somehow she’s got it in ‘er to forgive me,” he continued. “But that man shaped so much of me. It’s like…it’s like he’s got this fuckin’ chain around my neck, ‘n every time I move forward to get better, he yanks me back.”
Eddie’s brows furrowed, his thumb smoothing across the other’s cheek, feeling the abrasiveness of his stubble beneath the pad of his finger. As much time as they’d spent together, pre and post event, he’d never really heard Gator speak about his father. If you could even call him one of those.
“I don’t wanna be him. But how do ya go about unlearnin’ what you been taught for the last twenty-some years of yer life?”
Upon hearing nothing but his own breathing in return, Gator shrank back.
“This is stupid.”
“No no– I’m listening,” Eddie insisted, chasing him back with his hand, finding a comfortable spot on his shoulder rather than his face. “I’m listening, Gates. Just thinking. Keep going.”
“Well don’t think so hard that you go mute on me,” he huffed.
“I won’t. I’m good. Keep going.”
“Gee, I’m glad yer good, princess.”
“Gator.”
“Okay– okay.”
Gator took a deep breath, sitting up as if that would help him gain back any confidence. He wondered how his past self managed to have so much of that all the time, so effortlessly, like it was his default. Where did he go?
“I just…don’t see anything gettin’ better,” he said honestly. It might’ve sounded darker than he intended.
“Can’t be a deputy, which is what I trained for for half my life. Wasted all ‘a that time. Dad thinks I’m a waste of space, he’s in prison. Mom’s dead. Dot’s welcomin’, but hesitant. Which…fair. But it just makes me feel like I’m intruding when I get invites over. Got a dirty record, lost my fuckin’ eyes,” he scoffed. “Lost. My. Fucking. Eyes. How the hell are you comin’ back from that? Right, ya fuckin’ don’t.”
“You’re really not giving yourself enough credit–”
“And at the hospital…” he continued, talking over Eddie. If he stopped now he wouldn’t start again. “They put this wrap over my face,” he said, slightly breathless, his voice wobbling. “It feels…exactly how it did before. When he put it on me, right after. It’s like this constant, grating reminder that I’ll never see again. He stole my fuckin’ eyes, Eds.”
And then he was sniffling, lips downturned as he resisted the urge to cry. It only hurt him to, stinging the scabbing injuries that made up that section of his face. Soaking his bandages and only causing discomfort. That’s if the wetness could even make it out of his disfigured tear ducts.
The sight of him grappling with himself made Eddie’s chest ache, his heart squeezing painfully behind his ribs. His hand squeezed around the knot that was Gator’s shoulder.
He couldn’t give Gator his vision back. But he could build him up, reassure him that he’d never grow into the monster that Roy so badly wanted him to be.
“Do you know just how much you’ve come back from?” He asked, swallowing dryly. “I’ve seen you put up with so much since I’ve met you, Gator. Seen you find ways through it. When has it ever stopped you before?”
Gator drew in a trembling breath, fist curled in the side of Eddie’s shirt, gripping the fabric so hard that his knuckles were being drained of color. His ears were ringing so loudly that Eddie’s words couldn’t penetrate his mind.
“I’ll never fuckin’ see you again.”
The words left him in a sob, his voice so strained and watery that it sounded like it had physically hurt to say. Like it was the only thing he really cared about through it all.
Eddie’s hands came up to cup Gator’s face, smoothing his thumbs across his cheeks. His face was twisted into a painful expression of its own.
“You don’t need to, sweetheart,” he whispered back, tone heartfelt but tight, like he was trying to hold it together for his partner. “You can hear me. Feel me. Sense me. You still see me in those ways.”
Gator’s teeth scraped back over his bottom lip, jaw set since otherwise he’d be shaking uncontrollably. With his other senses gaining sensitivity, Eddie’s hands against his skin now felt more prominent, always leaving a chill in their wake.
“What if I forget what you look like?”
“You won’t,” he replied, sounding too sure for a man that hadn’t been at all prepared to comfort Gator like this. Regardless, he was glad he was finally talking about it.
“Even if it starts to get fuzzy, I can always paint you a picture,” he said, combing a hand through Gator’s hair, watching him lean into it. “Tell you what my hair’s doing that day. What I’m wearing, even if you’d hate it. Maybe surprise you some days with the lack of what I’ve got on,” he joked quietly, grinning as the other’s lip twitched up in a reluctant smile. “Any detail you can think of that you wanna hear about. I’ll find a way to describe it.”
“Be your in-real-time translator whenever you want, baby. Wherever.”
Gator nodded a little, the hand that had been gripping Eddie’s shirt traveling up in the air, open but expecting. Eddie carefully wrapped his fingers around his wrist, guiding his hand to his face slowly, allowing him to place it where he wished.
He moved slowly, fingers gliding curiously along the side of Eddie’s face, following the curve of his cheekbone before dipping below to his jaw, muttering something about how Eddie needed to shave which earned a laugh from the latter. He was careful not to make any sudden movements, more than happy and willing to let Gator explore.
Or not explore, per se, as none of it was new territory for him. It wasn’t the first time he’d asked to touch Eddie like this either– he’d done so countless times in the hospital, constantly needing the reassurance of his boyfriend’s presence to keep him from losing his mind. And now that just seeing him there wouldn’t work, he had to make up for it with his hands, letting them become his new eyes.
It wasn’t limited to touch either. Being confined to the dark now, as he was, he grasped at anything that would keep him afloat. Scent meant a lot to him too. He had compared it to torture then– having to sit in a sterile hospital room all day and night that smelled of nothing but alcohol and latex. He’d practically beg Eddie to bring him various articles of his clothing, to wear and just have around, maybe occasionally using one of his hoodies for a blanket.
Anything to remind him that there was still life outside of that facility, and more importantly, that his wasn’t over.
Gator began to calm down with the balm that was touching his boyfriend’s face, sometimes pausing to feel over a particular ridge or dip, like he wanted to really commit it to memory.
Eddie’s mouth opened just a little as Gator’s thumb swiped across his lower lip, breaths warm and damp against the pad of his finger. There was enough of a pause to make him suspicious.
“...If you lick me I’ll fuckin’ kill you.”
“I thought you liked getting licked by me?”
Gator groaned as Eddie laughed, tilting his head away, hand faltering.
“Nonono– I’m sorry, come back,” he urged, quickly grabbing the other’s hand and putting it back on his cheek where it had been. “I won’t, scout’s honor.”
“Nah, heart’s not in it anymore. You ruined the moment.”
“I ruined it? You were the one accusing me of heinous acts before they were even done. I am innocent.”
Gator snorted, pinching Eddie’s cheek lightly before letting his hand fall away again. He stifled a yawn as he twisted in his seat, his other arm coming up to rest on the table.
“Yeah yeah. Can ya grab that coffee now? Probably gettin’ colder by the second.”
“I can. But you owe me.”
“Owe ya what, dipshit?”
“Kiss tax,” Eddie replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“If yer taxin’ me like this I better get a cookie too.”
“By God, you are such a nag, Gator Tillman.”
Eddie leaned down to accept his kiss gracefully, smacking his lips off Gator’s much louder than necessary before pulling away to prepare them both their respective cups of coffee. And get his boyfriend a cookie.
“Yer like a dog, all that damn spit when you kiss me,” Gator complained, the back of his fist rising to wipe at his lips. He was really playing his dislike up to compensate for his earlier vulnerability.
“Aw c’mon, don’t wipe the kiss off!” Eddie whined back, glancing over his shoulder just in time to see Gator swipe at his mouth. “If you do that the tax doesn't count. I’ll have to do it again.”
“Can you do it after I’ve had coffee in me and feel a little bit less like a zombie?”
“Fine. You did it to yourself, ya know.”
Gator moved his arm further back on the table when he heard Eddie pad back over, making space for their mugs. He heard the smallest of thuds on the table right before him, his hand immediately feeling around for where the item was.
“Right here,” Eddie said softly, tapping on the table right next to where he had placed the cookie so courteously on a paper towel. Gator found it instantly with the help, picking it up and bringing it to his mouth. He knew it was an oatmeal raisin cookie just from the feel of it, the scent warm and inviting.
“It’s warm,” he said around the bite he’d taken, chewing slowly. Confusion flickered across his face. “Didn’t Dot drop these off like three days ago?”
“She brought a new batch this morning. Dropped by after she took Scotty to school.”
The motion of his chewing stopped, face falling slightly. “This morning? You didn’t wake me?”
“I tried, babe,” Eddie laughed. “When I finally got you up today it was like, my fifth attempt.”
The idea that Eddie is stronger than he looks is fun.
There's nothing else to it.
He doesn't have the stereotypical "jock muscles" that he teases Steve about and very much resembles a gangly, floppy-muppet creature (especially in the midst of his cafeteria speeches and other such performances). But he's not weak!
And everyone gets their own taste of what that means.
Exhibit A: The Party
Eddie will absolutely haul the children around with the same ease he hauls his laundry bag around (he is SLIGHTLY more careful with the children because they bruise easier than his laundry bag). If they're being particularly unruly, they're going over the shoulder to get the potato sack treatment.
Whenever they need to set up a space for D&D from scratch, Eddie's the one doing most of the heavy lifting. He brings the most stuff (from gear for the actual game to the snacks) and deals with the tables and chairs.
He is the only one allowed to move his throne. He's the only one who knows exactly where it goes for the best effect.
Exhibit B: Corroded Coffin
Similarly, there's a lot of heavy lifting. Eddie and Grant (the unnamed freak in CC) are the only ones who can lift their band's speakers on their own. Gareth and Jeff need to work together, or have help from Eddie and Grant.
He has carried each of them at least once after rescuing them from bullies or for the heck of it (this mostly applies to Gareth since he's still short enough that his feet dangle when Eddie lifts him up).
No one talks about it out loud, but they know Eddie's had to defend his "territory" in the woods on more than one occasion. Being a known dealer in Hawkins has never been as easy as he makes it look.
Exhibit C: Jocks
Eddie's not an inherently violent person, necessarily, but he will and has absolutely thrown down to defend his sheepies. And unlike Steve's track record with human opponents, he's won enough fights to make even jocks like Jason Carver nervous.
He's not afraid to get loud, he's not afraid to bear his teeth, he's not afraid to get in people's faces. No punches actually need to be thrown for jocks to get the idea.
His metal rings have left their marks on certain offenders. The smart ones have healed, but those stupid enough to keep going? Well, at least they'll always have a fun conversation starter when they meet new people.
Steve's not the only one who's been thrown against a wall. He's just one of the few who Eddie willingly let go before the fight was finished. He's also the only one who's walked away relatively unscathed.
Exhibit D: Steve
Eddie refuses to let Steve carry the grocery bags. Even if they're preparing a party that involves all of their friends and their families, and end up buying a quarter of the store to accommodate everyone, Eddie will fight Steve when it's time to get the groceries back to the car. He insists that they maintain the foundation of equal trade--Eddie handles the bags, Steve handles the food later on.
He despises Steve's morning runs, and makes sure Steve knows it. He will cling to Steve the night before and refuse to let up, even when still under the enchantment of sleep. It's only when Steve uses all his might to try and escape that Eddie finally wakes up--no alarm clock needed anymore. Whether Steve proceeds with his run or not depends heavily on his skills of persuasion that day. He's found that bribery usually works best.
Eddie will regularly trap Steve in blanket burritos when he feels like Steve is running himself ragged or notices that he's especially stressed. He's the only one who can get Steve in the blanket and the only one who knows how to secure it so that Steve can't get out on his own.
Steve might be The Party's resilient knight, but he's Eddie's fair maiden. And Eddie treats him accordingly. He loves scooping Steve into his arms with loud declarations of adoration, spinning him around, and then settling him on his lap. Bonus points if Steve ends up falling asleep--it warms Eddie's heart that Steve trusts him enough to NAP in his presence when he's usually too worried about everything to randomly fall asleep.
He will carry Steve to bed if they stay up late watching a movie, or Steve needs some time to come down from a nightmare. That includes braving the stairs with so much care that Steve doesn't realize he's been moved until the next morning.
(If he and Steve had been together during the latter's encounter with Billy Hargrove, or even just friends, Eddie would have left Billy with a permanent limp for laying his hands on Steve and Lucas.)
Some NSFW prompts
Eddie likes pinning Steve against the wall when they make out. He likes it even more when Steve lets Eddie hold him completely--jumps up and wraps his legs around his waist and everything. It feeds his ego to know that he's the first of Steve's partners who can pick him up and hold him where he wants.
When given permission to manhandle Steve around during sex, he doesn't hesitate. He TAKES it. He loves the way Steve moans and whines and tries to grind back into him at Eddie's show of strength. Just as much as he loves watching Steve's blush extend past his face and travel down his body.
He likes holding onto Steve hard enough that his fingerprints leave bruises. His fingerprints on Steve's ass have been a favorite between the two. Hawkins isn't a safe place to be out, but Steve likes physical reminders that he's with Eddie to substitute not being able to freely take him out on dates or commit to his usual grander romantic gestures, and Eddie will leave his mark any way he can.
immediately after an interaction: i have GOT to get more normal oh god i need to get more normal immediately i have to get more normal or they're going to hunt me down they're going to hunt me down and flay me for sport
during an interaction: and why not put a little spin on it? why not add some conversational zest?
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