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Ripping At Skin - Part 5

(Gator Tillman x M!Reader)

Summary: Your mom had married Roy two years ago, wanting a man with money and status. She died one year ago, after only a year of marriage, leaving you alone on that godforsaken ranch. All you wanted to do was leave, but Roy saw you as his own now and he would never let you go.

TW: mentions of abuse, ptsd, pseudocest (not really, the reader’s mom died a year ago and Roy already remarried)

Story Masterlist

Male Characters Masterlist

You watched from the front porch as Roy’s truck drove away, dirt kicking up as he rounded the corner towards the entrance and disappeared. He was gone, he left. He wouldn’t be back until Sunday night, an entire forty-eight hours without him breathing down your neck, yanking you around, or demanding something be cleaned.

You turned around and headed back inside, too happy to control the pep in your step. Two weeks ago you would’ve hated the idea of being home alone with Gator. But now, it was heaven on earth. A blissful two days free of any work. And your arm was healing just fine, so you figured you’d be able to defy Roy after he got back and return to work.

“Hey.” Gator called out as you headed for the stairs, the prospect of a long, hot shower practically making you melt on the spot. “You, uh… we doin’ dinner?”

You turned to him, brows scrunched. Well, of course you were having dinner, especially with Roy gone. What kind of question is that? Oh, right, the kind of question that comes when you don’t know how to cook.

“Yeah.” You nodded. “But I’m takin’ a shower first.”

“Good.” Gator scrunched his face in disgust. “Cause ya’ smell like shit.”

“Thank you.” You said sarcastically, practically running up the stairs.

You really did stink, and you were starving. Gator had managed to sneak you that granola bar and burger a few days ago, but not a whole lot after that. Roy had spent too much time on the ranch and sneaking around with him there was the definition of impossible. But at least you had gotten some food. And now you were gonna have a long, hot shower, actually getting the chance to clean the dirt off of yourself after the quick, one minute sessions Roy had imposed for the last week because, according to him, that’s how the soldiers do it.

~~~~~

When you returned to the kitchen, hair still damp and dressed in a clean pair of pajamas because you were not going to do a damn thing, Gator was also changed, lounging on the couch scrolling through his phone, your vape held in his hand as he took the occasional puff.

You snuck up behind him, being sure to avoid the squeaky spots on the floor. You did tell him to just take your vape, but he seriously couldn’t go out and buy his own buy his own by now? It was ridiculous. He was always so lazy.

You threw out your good arm as fast as you could, hand open and aimed for the vape in his own. But he saw you a second too soon and he threw his arm to the side, holding the vape just out of reach.

“Give it back.” You demanded.

“No.” Gator turned to you. “Ya’ told me to take it. I ain’t givin’ it back now.”

“It’s mine.” You argued.

“Ya’ gave it to me.” He retorted.

“To borrow.” You exclaimed.

“Not what ya’ said.” Gator smirked, hand with the vape refusing to move any closer.

You squinted your eyes, glaring at him. And then you threw your arm out again, practically throwing yourself halfway over the back of the couch in order to reach out far enough. You managed to grab a hold of his wrist, keeping him locked in place. But so were you, and at that angle your free arm couldn’t reach far enough. But if you let go of his wrist to try and grab the vape then he would just take it away again. Before you could even settle on what to do Gator snatched the vape up with his own free hand and held it even further out of your reach.

“Come on.” You whined. “Would ya’ just give it back?”

“Just buy a new one.” Gator said, like it was obvious, and you just stared at him for a moment, the weight of your punishment weighing down on you. “I’ll buy ya’ a new one.” He said quickly, his face showing the same thoughts.

You quickly switched your gaze back into a glare. “Buy yourself a new one.”

You didn’t have anything else to say, and there was no way you were going to be able to steal the vape back now that he knew you were gunning for it, so you simply pushed yourself up with a huff. You could feel his eyes following you as you crossed back into the kitchen, trying to busy yourself with making dinner. You were starving anyway, and Gator was useless.

“Watcha’ makin’?” Gator called out as you rummaged through the cabinets and the fridge, trying to find something quick and easy.

“Pasta.” You said simply.

“Pasta.” Gator mocked.

You rolled your eyes to yourself as you grabbed the box from the cabinet, eyes trailing to the floor for a moment when you froze. There was a small, almost hidden speck of red between the cracks of the wood. Your blood. God, how much did you bleed the other night that there was still blood on the floor? So much that even Karen hadn’t been able to get it all out?

You forced your eyes back up, shoving the thoughts to the back of your mind. You had bled in this house so many times that you surely should’ve been dead by now. So why was this one incident affecting you so much? It wasn’t like the blade slicing open your flesh was all that surprising or abnormal for Roy. But his hand on your face? His possessive thumb brushing across your lips? God, that terrified you like nothing else. It terrified you more than Jack. Because you knew what Roy was capable of, and you knew that he never held back from getting what he wanted. Jesus Christ, did he want you?

“Hey.” Gator’s voice snapped you back to reality and you realized you were still frozen there, box of pasta in your hands and eyes staring blankly at the stove. “Ya’ good?” He asked and that immediately switched your terror to confusion.

“What?” You whipped around to him, mouth slightly agape as you tried to make your brain form words, any word.

“Ya’ spaced out there.” Gator said cautiously, slowly rising from the couch and crossing into the kitchen.

“Just… I got distracted.” You lied, eyes flickering down to the spot of blood and then back up at him.

Gator followed your gaze, his eyes landing on the stained wood, and his face softened. “Guess Karen didn’t do such a good job.” He tried to joke, tried to lighten the mood, but he didn’t stick the landing.

“Yeah.” You nodded noncommittally before snapping yourself back out of it. “Get me a pot.”

Gator’s brows scrunched, mouth opening and closing for a moment as he was taken aback by your sudden change in demeanor. And then he clamped his mouth shut and got you the pot.

~~~~~

The two of you ate your dinner in silence, sitting on the couch with the tv on but neither of you actually paying attention. It was some old reruns of a sitcom, something that Roy never allowed to play on his screen. He only ever listened to the news, getting riled up by every word.

Gator had stood back as you cooked, watching you and taking the occasional hit of your vape as he waited for you to tell him what to do. It surprised you that he hung around, that he leant a hand. You had expected him to go right back into the living room, plop down on the couch and scroll through his phone until you told him it was time to eat. But he stayed with you willingly, staying silent and attentive as he awaited orders. And he didn’t even burn anything this time.

“I’m bored.” You announced plainly.

“Then do somethin’.” Gator said, feet up on the table and lounged back into the cushions as his eyes never left the screen.

You then thought of something, something that might be really fun and could help take your mind off of everything for a bit. You pushed yourself off the couch, a small smirk forming on your face and refusing to leave as you headed for the kitchen. You snatched up a bottle of whiskey and grabbed two shot glasses. You weren’t sure if Gator would even go along with this, never brave enough to venture past a few beers. But with Roy gone for the next two days you thought you might be able to coax him into it.

You placed the bottle of whiskey and the shot glasses onto the table by his feet, earning his attention as his eyes drifted to the drink and his brows furrowed. He removed his feet from the table and sat up slowly, eyes flickering between you and the shot glasses and back again.

“What’s this?” Gator asked.

“Whiskey.” You stated as you sat back down.

“Why?” He asked cautiously.

“Cause I’m bored.” You shrugged. “Now I won’t be bored. We’re gonna drink.”

“I ain’t havin’ whiskey.” Gator waved his arms in the air, eyes locked on the amber bottle.

“It’s a game.” You explained. “Truth or drink. We ask each other questions and if ya’ don’t answer then ya’ have to take a shot.”

“No.” Gator shook his head, looking back up to meet your eyes. “No.” He said sternly.

“Oh, come on.” You smiled. “Just this once. No one’s home and ya’ ain’t gotta work.”

“You’re tryin’ to pressure me.” Gator pointed an accusing finger at you and you froze for a second, images of Jack flashing through your mind.

“I’m just tryin’ to have fun.” You said, words faltering a bit. “Ain’t had fun for two weeks.”

Gator’s eyes dropped back down to the whiskey as he wiped a hand over his mouth. “Fine.” He huffed. “Pour the damn whiskey.”

You couldn’t keep the satisfied smile off of your face as you opened the whiskey and poured out the two shots. You had just gotten Gator to agree to something, you had never gotten him to agree to anything before.

“All right.” You said as you placed the bottle back down and turned to him. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Seriously?” Gator asked incredulously. “That’s what ya’ start with?”

You let out a small laugh “Just tryin’ to ease ya’ into the game.”

Gator rolled his eyes. “Blue.”

You stared at him, waiting for him to ask you a question, but it looked like he wasn’t even trying to think of one. “Ya’ gotta ask me a question.”

“Oh, uh…” Gator trailed off, eyes drifting around the room as you watched the gears in his brain turn. “What’s your favorite candy?”

“Three Musketeers.” You answered quickly, just itching to ask your next question. “Who was your first kiss?”

Gator froze, like a deer caught in headlights, and then he swiped the shot glass from the table and downed it in one go. His face grimaced as he tried to hold back his cough, not used to the burn. But you just couldn’t believe that he had taken the shot. It was such a simple question and, yet, he completely refused to answer you.

“Oh, come on.” You complained. “That was an easy one.”

“Ya’ said answer or take a shot.” Gator said with a noncommittal shrug as he grabbed the whiskey and refilled the shot glass. “So I drank.”

“God.” You let out a long, exaggerated sigh, earning the shadow of a smile from Gator.

“All right.” Gator cleared his throat and the smile disappeared completely. “Why’d ya’ start workin’ at the bar?”

“No where else.” You shrugged. “My dad was friends with the manager.”

Gator hummed and nodded his head, offering you zero verbal response. You didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. A part of you wanted him to ask a follow up question, to want to know more about those years between school and your parents’ marriage. But he just sat there, silent, waiting for you to continue the game.

“Okay. My turn.” You tapped your fingers against your knee as you thought, trying to think of something deeper to ask and that he would actually answer. Just something that wasn’t ’what’s his favorite blank.’ “What’s one place that you’ve always wanted to go?”

Gator shifted uncomfortably for a second, eyes dropping to your chest. “I’ve always wanted to go to Disney World.”

“Disney world?” You echoed and he gave you a small nod in response. “I’ve been once, when I was young.”

“Was it fun?” Gator asked, eyes trailing back up to your face.

“It was the best.” You smiled. “Guess we’ll have to plan a trip.”

That earned a laugh from the both of you. The thought of planning a trip like that was endearing, but you both knew it was impossible. But now all you wanted to do was take Gator there. Let him experience the magic of childhood that he was never allowed to have.

“All right.” Gator took a deep breath, getting his small fit of laughter under control before fixing you with a serious look that you mockingly returned. “What’s your biggest fear?”

That question caught you off guard. It was a simple one, one most often asked during truth or dare and truth or drink. But you couldn’t tell him your biggest fear, because you weren’t exactly clear on what it was. But, right now, it wasn’t Jack’s hands on your body, and it wasn’t you catching feelings for Gator either. It was Roy. Not his beatings or his insults. It was the way his hand had grabbed your face, the way his thumb brushed across your lips. It was the way he had held you in place, bare chest just an inch from you as he said you looked like your mother.

You grabbed the shot glass and downed the drink in one swift motion, offering zero reaction for the burn you knew all too well. Gator’s eyes squinted almost imperceptibly as he watched you, as he tried to figure out why you had deflected his question so harshly. And you waited, nearly breathless for him to say something. But he didn’t. He just watched you, straightening himself out as you refilled your shot glass.

You took in a small breath and turned your attention back to Gator. “What’s your biggest fear?”

Gator huffed, almost sounding like a laugh, and then he did laugh, a few, genuine chuckles leaving him as he smiled, a smile so wide that you could see his dimples. You didn’t even know he had dimples. It was cute.

“Spiders.” Gator finally said, still smiling.

“Spiders?” You echoed, genuinely not expecting him to have answered, or for his biggest fear to be something as simple as spiders.

“They’re disgustin’.” Gator gave a mock shiver. “All those damn legs an’ eyes.” He shook his head, like he was trying to clear the thought away. “No.”

“They’re just bugs.” You laughed.

“They’re arachnids.” Gator corrected. “And they’re disgustin’.”

“They’re arachnids.” You mocked lightly. “Guess ya’ are educated.”

“Shut up.” Gator huffed, lips turning downwards into a frown. “What’s your favorite ice cream?”

“Ya’ really know how to ask those hard hitting questions.” You joked, reaching out for the shot glass and downing it.

“The hell?” Gator asked, completely flabbergasted by your action.

“I just wanted a drink.” You waved him off. “My favorite’s mint chocolate chip.”

“Those ain’t the rules.” Gator huffed in complaint, pouting like a toddler.

You grabbed his full shot glass and held it out to him. “Here. Then we’ll be even.”

Gator stared at the shot glass for a moment, eyes flickering up to you and then back down and then he took it. He downed it quickly, face grimacing instantly, looking even more pained than the first time as he coughed lightly.

“How do ya’ drink this shit?” Gator complained.

“Cause I like the effects.” You took the glass back and put it on the table. “There.” You said as you refilled the glasses. “Happy?”

“No.” Gator frowned and, God, maybe you needed another drink because he really did look adorable right now. “Who was your first kiss?”

You thought about it for a moment, mouth open to provide the answer. And you grabbed your shot glass and drank it. You knew who your first kiss was, and you weren’t embarrassed about it, but it was a guy that Gator really hated. The two of them constantly at each other’s throats back in high school. You didn’t want to spoil the mood by bringing up his name. You were genuinely having fun with Gator, and you didn’t want to ruin that.

“Seriously?” Gator said, deadpanned. “You’re not gonna tell me after makin’ a big fuss about me not sayin’?”

“If ya’ tell me yours, I’ll tell ya’ mine.” You threw up the ultimatum, waiting to see if he could catch it. And when he stayed silent you smirked at him. “Who was your first kiss?” You asked.

Gator’s lips twitched, looking like he wanted to sneer or snarl at you, frustrated that you had asked the unanswerable question again, forcing him to grab the shot glass and take the drink with yet another grimace.

“Stupid.” Gator grumbled as he refilled the glass.

“What?” You asked, feigning innocence. “Me or the game?”

Gator glared at you. “Both.”

“Wanna stop playin’?” You asked genuinely, because Gator was starting to look like he was having a bad time, the easy look on his face hardening back up. And you didn’t want to see that, you didn’t want to be the cause of it.

“No.” Gator sighed. “What’s your favorite color?”

“No.” You shook your head and Gator’s face scrunched in confusion. “It ain’t your turn to ask. That’s a penalty.”

“A penalty?” Gator echoed incredulously. “The hell ya’ mean a penalty?”

“I mean a penalty.” You grabbed his shot glass and held it out to him. “Now drink.”

“Are you serious?” Gator fixed you with a look and you just shoved the glass closer to him. “Stupid.” He grumbled again as he took the glass and downed the amber liquid.

You took the glass back from him and refilled it, wracking your brain for your next question. A part of you wanted to switch back to easier questions, ones that Gator would answer and that you could actually learn something from. But you had just taken three shots in less than thirty minutes and the other part of your brain was screaming at you.

“How old were ya’ when ya’ had your first kiss?” You asked, knowing that he wasn’t going to answer you. And you were right. He took the glass and reluctantly downed another shot.

“Fuck.” Gator coughed. “Shit’s disgustin’.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out your vape, taking a long drag of the mint to help mask the burn of the whiskey.

You watched him intently, eyes trained on his lips. No, not his lips. You were watching your vape. You were definitely not watching Gator’s lips right now. You waited until he pulled the vape away from his lips and you threw your arm out, successfully wrapping your hand around the device and snatching it out of his grasp.

“Hey.” Gator complained, voice slurred and movements sloppy as he reached out to take your vape back.

Oh, you really did it now. You got Gator Tillman drunk. Like, drunk drunk. You had seen him tipsy before, straddling the border of drunk. But you had never seen him so gone that he was slurring and moving blindly. You caught his eye and you focused on his pupils. They were blown wide. But it’s not like you were exactly sober right now. You were drunk, just past the point of buzzed that the room swam a little bit. But you were no where near Gator’s level. But if he was going to end up wasted, then screw it, so were you.

You snatched up your filled shot glass and downed it before slamming it back down on the table. You brought the vape up to your mouth and took a long drag from it as your other hand grabbed the bottle of whiskey and you poured yourself another shot, the smoke slowly escaping through your noise and clouding the air. You took the glass and quickly downed the new shot.

“What’re ya’ doin’?” Gator slurred.

“Drinkin’.” You said simply as you turned back to face him, the back to back shots, all them taken within the last half hour going straight to your brain.

You and Gator were on equal footing now, both five shots deep, and you decided to cut it off there. You were still just a step behind him in the drunkenness due to your years of built up tolerance. But anymore and you might throw up in the morning. Gator was definitely going to have the worst morning of his life tomorrow.

Gator just stared at you, his eyes a little glossy and distant. His eyes were locked with yours, but you couldn’t decipher any emotion from them. He was just sitting there, breathing, gazing at you. And then his eyes flickered down, locking on your lips before coming back up to your eyes and he leaned forward, his whiskey coated lips unsteadily crashing into yours.

You felt your breath hitch, catching in the back of your throat as you froze. Gator’s lips were on yours. He was kissing you. Gator was kissing you, his lips soft and slightly chapped and incredibly sloppy from his drunken state and your body finally caught up to your brain and you kissed him back, eyes fluttering closed as you steadied out his drunk lips with your slightly less drunk ones.

Gator’s hand flew out and landed on your waist, pulling you closer to him as your lips continued to move together, like they were always meant to be doing that. You had expected Gator to be a more forceful kisser; hungry and needy. But he was just so gentle right now that you nearly melted into him, your chests going flush as you moved in closer. And then Gator froze, and you froze, and you both realized what you had done as you slowly and carefully broke apart.

“I’m really drunk.” Gator whispered, that look of fear flashing behind his eyes.

“So am I.” You breathed and then moved back in, hand reaching up to cup his cheek as you reconnected your lips.

Gator hummed softly against you as his hand found its way back to your waist, pulling you in and making your chests go flush once more. You grabbed his own waist, squeezing it just slightly as your hand on his face slowly trailed its way to the back of his neck and started playing with the gelled hair, softening it out.

Gator’s own hand flew up, gently cupping your face as he brushed his thumb across your cheek. And his touch was nothing like Roy’s possessive swipe across your lip or Jack’s burning grip on your chin. Because this was Gator, the real Gator hidden behind the mask. And the real Gator was just so tender that you melted into his touch.

Gator’s mouth parted slightly, his tongue brushing against your lips and asking for permission, and before you could think about it you opened your own mouth, letting him in. And then you realize what you had done and the fear that he would be expecting more from you rose in your chest. But he just continued to stay gentle, his hand on your waist never moving to explore elsewhere and the one on your face never tightening its hold. And you realized that he didn’t want more either, he just wanted this. He wanted the softness, he wanted the tenderness. He just wanted you.

Gator broke away slowly, your hands still holding each other as his eyes stayed closed for another moment before fluttering open, yours following suit as the two of you just sat there, faces only an inch apart, slightly breathless. Gator’s face then fell, his forehead connecting with yours and staying there for a moment, your whiskey covered breaths mingling between you before he slowly moved his head down, forehead hitting your shoulder before he turned and buried his head into the crook of your neck.

Gator’s hand fell from your face and he slowly, as if he were scared, wrapped his arms around you, arms encircling your middle. You couldn’t wrap your mind around what he was doing, what he was feeling, but he was seeking your comfort, that much was obvious. So you moved one arm to wrap around him, hand landing gently on his side as you held him close to you. Your other hand trailed its way up the back of his neck and to the top of his head where you slowly and carefully carded your fingers through his hair, gently brushing out the gel until it was back to its natural state, soft and floppy.

You were screwed, completely fucked. You had kissed Gator, he had kissed you back. If Roy ever found out about this then you two were dead. Really, truly dead. He’d probably dish out every form of torture imaginable before finally putting a bullet through your brains and dumping your bodies below that windmill. The thought scared you, completely terrified you. But with Gator in your arms, so vulnerable and open and completely unreadable, you vowed to yourself that you would never let that happen to him. That you would figure out a way to get him off of that ranch and as far away from Roy as you possibly could. You would make sure that happened even if you couldn’t follow along.

~~~~~

When you woke up in the morning the two of you were still on the couch, your bodies turned to each other as Gator laid curled up on the edge of the cushions, his head tucked against your chest. You had your good arm resting up and around the back of his head, fingers still threaded in his hair as your bad arm was draped over his back. His own arms were curled up in front of him, fingers grazing the fabric of your shirt.

He looked so peaceful right now, even more relaxed than he had been when you had slept in his truck. You could already feel your headache aching behind your eyes, but luckily the two of you had stuck with the whiskey all night, so you were mostly okay. Give it two hours and a couple painkillers and you’d be as good as new. Gator, however, yeah, it was gonna be hell.

You leaned your head down and pressed your lips against his hair, now all soft and mussed thanks to you. You liked it better this way, always had. The first time he had slicked back his hair, all the way back in sophomore year, you had almost grimaced at the sight. It wasn’t as perfectly styled as it was now, all pushed to the side and the ends refusing to stay down. It wasn’t a good look, but he learned. You still didn’t like the gel, but he figured out how to make it look good. Then again, Gator always looked good.

Gator shifted slightly, a small hum rumbling against your chest before his eyes cracked open. He shifted back slightly, soft eyes blearily looking up at you. And then you could see it in the drop of his features, the widening of his eyes. A wave of nausea rolled over him.

You quickly shot up from beside him, retracting your arms before reaching back out again and helping him rise to his feet as fast as possible as he held his mouth clamped shut. He went running out of the room and down the hallway, the sound of the bathroom door swinging open echoing throughout the house. And then you could hear him retching.

You took a few deep breaths to steady yourself, the fast movement jostling your brain and aggravating your stomach. But you managed to get the feeling under control because you didn’t also need to go puking right now.

You slowly rose from the couch and made your way to the bathroom where Gator was kneeling on the floor, arms resting on the seat of the toilet as he gripped tightly to the white porcelain, body hunched all the way forward as he practically puked his guts up into the water.

You slowly knelt down beside him and placed your hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles. You could see the sheen of a cold sweat across his skin and reached your free hand up to the sink, grabbing whatever towel you could find and wetting it under the water before bringing it up to his face. Gator sighed in relief as you dabbed the damp cloth over his forehead and cheeks before resting it against the back of his neck.

“Sorry.” You apologized. “I shouldn’t have made ya’ do so many shots.”

“Didn’t make me.” Gator rasped. “I agreed.”

“Either way.” You sighed, bringing up a side of the cloth to dab at his cheek again. “You’ve never had anythin’ other than beer.”

Gator groaned as he turned and glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “How are ya’ not pukin’?”

“I didn’t mix.” You shrugged, earning another groan of complaint as he turned back towards the toilet. “I’m fine if I don’t mix.”

“You’re not hungover?” Gator asked with a grimace. “We had like ten shots a piece.”

“Five.” You corrected. “And I have a headache. But, again, I didn’t mix. And I’ve had things a lot fuckin’ stronger than shots.”

“Like that mystery cooler punch at graduation?” Gator asked with a small smile.

“Oh, God.” You laughed. “That shit was delicious. But it had me pukin’ out my guts for hours. Had a hell of a time, though.”

“I know. I saw it all.” Gator’s smile widened, eyes going distant. “Ya’ kissed me that night.”

“W-what?” You stammered, body freezing, your comforting movements halting as your brain began to short circuit. You kissed Gator that night? When? Where? And why had he never brought this up before? And what in the hell had possessed you to do that? This had to be a joke, right? A way to get back at you for forcing all those shots on him.

“You were already at the point a’ blackin’ out.” Gator explained, eyes still distant as he seemed to perfectly recall the memory. The memory that was apparently very real. “Came into the bathroom while I was pissin’. Took ya’ about a good minute to notice me. I walked over and tried to push ya’ out the door when ya’ full body leaned forward and kissed me.”

“I… I don’t remember any of that.” You whispered, your brain trying to recall the events of that night, but it all came back as a blur. You had drunk everything offered to you, you had ridden around in the bed of someone’s truck. But you could only barely recall the blurry face of Gator off in the corner, nursing his beer as he tried and failed to flirt with some of the girls.

“Like I said.” Gator rasped and your attention snapped back to him, back to the present him where his eyes seemed to focus again. “Ya’ were already at the point a’ blackin’ out. I pushed ya’ off, told ya’ to go find your friends. Took ya’ another minute to register what I said. Then ya’ took my beer and walked off. Ya’ didn’t even say nothin’.”

Realization then hit you like a goddamn hurricane. The way Gator had deflected that first question, the way he had downed the shot as he refused to give an answer. As he refused to tell you who his first kiss was.

“Wait a minute.” You said slowly, a small smile spreading across your face. “Was I your first kiss?”

You could see the blush creeping its way up his neck and onto his cheeks, the way his eyes fixed onto the toilet. “Yeah.” He answer, voice barely above a whisper.

“Ya’ didn’t kiss anyone in school?” You asked, genuinely curious.

“No.” He said sheepishly. “I tried, asked some girls out. They all said no.”

That confession, that knowledge, it just broke your heart. Gator was a jackass back then, still was to basically anyone that wasn’t you. But there seriously wasn’t a single girl that wanted to kiss him? That wanted to be able to say that they had been with a Tillman, even if they were afraid of them? You thought that, despite his personality, his looks had still managed to get him dates. It did now, but apparently not then.

You resumed your soothing rubbing on his back as you leaned over and planted a light kiss on his cheek. “I’m not sayin’ no.”

Gator’s eyes widened slightly, his head tilting up before slowly turning towards you, shock written all across his features. “You’re not?” He asked quietly, like he was afraid of the answer.

“I’m not.” You confirmed with a soft smile and Gator smiled back, that real, genuine smile that showed off his dimples. And you leaned over and placed a kiss right on them, causing him to blush again.

~~~~~

You and Gator had been sitting on the couch for the last few hours as he nursed his—to your very much extreme surprise—first hangover. You were completely shocked to find out that he had never had a hangover before. But you supposed it would make sense since he never drank more than a few beers in a night. Never enough to ever inhibit his driving.

You had managed to get him to eat a slice of toast earlier, and he was already on to his second glass of water. You half expected him to just power through it, to insist that he was fine and go about his day normally. But after he had finally gotten everything out of his stomach and into the toilet he had turned into such a baby. He was groaning with every slight ache to his head, complaining every time his mouth went dry. And then he’d sigh in content when you comforted him. Something you were sure he had never experienced before. Maybe when he was really young and his mom was still around, but not anymore. And although you had finally come back to yourself and realized how weird this whole situation really was, you also couldn’t find a single thing to complain about. Content to just sit there with him and provide him the comfort that he had been lacking since the day he was born.

“My head still hurts.” Gator complained.

“It’s gonna.” You mused, eyes never leaving the tv. “Ya’ had five shots in thirty minutes. And ya’ ain’t ever had more than beer. You’re gonna be feelin’ like hell all day.”

“How do ya’ do it?” Gator huffed. “How do ya’ just go about your business?”

You sighed and finally turned to him, his eyes already on you. “I’ve built up a tolerance. Many years of drinkin’ mystery shit and I rarely get more than a headache ‘less I mix.”

“I hate it.” Gator pouted. “I ain’t ever drinkin’ this shit again.”

You threw up your hands in mock surrender. “I said the same shit and then I drank. And I drank again and again and again. And now look at me.” You put on a cocky smile. “I’m immune.”

“You’re annoying is what ya’ are.” Gator mumbled, army crossing over his chest as he turned towards the tv.

“And you’re a baby.” That earned a sideways glare from him. “Suck it up, sweetheart.” You gave him a mocking pat on the shoulder. “Don’t want the ranch hands seein’ ya’ like this.”

Gator turned his head back towards you, lips going from a pout to a frown. “Aren’t ya’ s’posed to be workin’?”

“Probably.” You shrugged. “But he ain’t leave a list or tell me nothin’. So I ain’t doin’ nothin’.”

Gator nodded his head with a distant hum, eyes dropping to your chest. There probably was something you were supposed to be doing, some nonsensical continuation of your punishment. But Roy really hadn’t said anything, nor did he leave any type of list. You figured now was as good a time as any to start defying him again. And you didn’t want to leave Gator’s side right now. And not because he was still nursing his hangover, but because this was probably the last chance the two of you were going to get to be completely alone for a while. And you wanted to savor it.

~~~~~

Gator had recovered by the late afternoon, the two of you never leaving the house for anything. A few of the ranch hands came by a couple times, telling Gator about any problems and asking him what else needs to be done. He answered them in his usual gruff bravado. Puffing out his chest and barking orders like he was the man of the house, and then the moment the door was closed his shoulders relaxed and the crease in his brow disappeared. The cockiness, it was just the mask being pulled into place, just like it always did. Because if the workers saw who he was when the door was closed then they might go talking, and Roy might end up hearing, and then both of you would end up either chained up or with bullets in your brains, or maybe both.

The sun had set a little while ago, staying out and illuminating the world for as long as possible in that muggy, mid summer air. The ranch hands and other workers had left, nothing left to do at the ranch with Roy away. You were standing in the kitchen, trying to decide what to cook for dinner when Gator walked in, your vape held in his mouth as he took a hit.

“What the hell?” You exclaimed as he exhaled the smoke slowly, letting fill the air between you and curl up around your face. “Where’d ya’ get it?”

“The couch.” Gator shrugged. “Musta’ fell outta your pocket.”

“Well, give it back.” You held your hand out, the other one flying to your hip as you fixed him with a stern look.

“Ya’ not want my mouth on it or somethin’?” He smirked, that cocky, brazen attitude fitting into place easily as he crawled his was under your skin.

“Give it.” You demanded, trying not to fall into the childish trap. But it was damn near impossible when he always made himself such an easy target.

Gator slowly lifted the vape back up to his mouth, purposefully taking the longest drag possible and then letting it out slowly, the smoke hitting you right in the face, making your eyes flutter slightly, the smell of mint hitting your nose and the taste lightly coating your tongue. Tasting it at the same moment he was tasting it, you were hit with the realization that he doesn’t smoke mint vapes. He always has some weird fruit flavor. But you didn’t let his actions or your thoughts falter your glare.

“Let’s do somethin’.” Gator said.

“Like what?” You asked.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Let’s just get outta here.”

You planted both hands on your hips. “Roy said no fuckin’ off.”

“He said no fuckin’ off in the middle of the day.” He retorted. “It’s night.”

“What an astute observation.” You mocked. “Ya’ come to that conclusion all by yourself?”

“Ya’ sure like makin’ fun of my intelligence.” Gator said as he took a small step forward.

“I call it as I see it.” You shrugged.

His eyes flickered down to your lips for a moment, that soft look crossing over his eyes before he shot his gaze back up. “Come on.” He coaxed. “Everyone’s gone. Ain’t no one gonna know if we’re gone, too.”

“Fine.” You let out a long, exasperated sigh, dropping your hands from your hips. “But wherever we go, we better get food.”

Gator nodded with a small smile, happy that he had won the small argument, something that he had never done before. But it would be nice to get out of the house, to leave the ranch for a little while. Even without Roy around you still felt the waves crashing down, knocking you upside the head as you sunk deeper below the surface. You needed to get out before the water filled your lungs and you were sucked away forever.

~~~~~

Gator had stopped at the diner and picked up some burgers, leaving you to wait in the truck so that no one would see you. There were surely some deputies sitting inside, other men who made it their life’s mission to worship Roy. And none of them were quiet, they would definitely go running their mouths at the odd scene of you and Gator walking in together, of ordering food together. It was best to stay in the shadows.

Gator had driven around for a bit, aimlessly turning down the empty roads, the food steadily cooling down. You had opened the bag at some point, trying to enjoy your food as best you could before it all turned to ice. Gator had silently put out his hand and you had given him a fry. You kept feeding him the food until he finally turned off the road and onto a field and pulled to a stop.

“What’re we doin’ here?” You asked as you took out the food, stomach growling at the smell for the past twenty minutes.

“Just wanted to go somewhere.” Gator said dismissively as he started stuffing his face, clearly trying to keep you from asking more questions.

“Ya’ took me to the middle a’ nowhere.” You pointed out, not letting him get out of the conversation that easily.

“Still somewhere.” Gator shrugged, eyes trained on his food.

You ate your own burger in silence for a few minutes, only letting him off the hook for the moment because the food really was cooling down quickly and by this time tomorrow who even knew if you’d be allowed more of it.

You glanced over at Gator, a small bit of ketchup stuck at the corner of his lip as he stuffed another fry in his mouth. His hair was still loose, soft and messy as it fell down by his eyes. You were surprised he hadn’t slicked it back before leaving since, even though you were parked in the middle of nowhere, he still had to be seen in public in order to get the food.

You opened your mouth to say something, to start demanding an actual answer out of him when you were cut off by the sound of your phone buzzing in your pocket. Gator’s head shot up and he locked eyes with you, both of you just staring at each other in confusion. Who the hell would be texting you? Especially at this time of night. The only person you ever texted was Gator, and he was sitting right beside you. Maybe it was your boss, trying to see if you could cover or begging you to get back to work as he became overwhelmed by the late night rush without you.

You pulled out your phone and opened it up and you felt your heart drop, your ability to breathe abandoning you.

I’ve missed you baby. I know I did some stupid shit the other week but I promise I’ll make it up to you. Just wanna see that pretty face again.

Oh, God, it was Jack. You had been so overwhelmed the past two weeks with all of Roy’s punishments and just trying to get the memories to leave your mind that you completely forgot that he had your number.

“What?” Gator asked, but you couldn’t tear your eyes from the screen, couldn’t even move a muscle. “Hey, what is it?”

You took in a short breath, air getting caught in your throat and refusing to leave. Your hand started to shake, the feeling of those fiery hands and bruising lips so present it was like he was right there, like he was straddling your waist and pinning you down.

“Hey.” Gator’s soft voice called out, but it was distant, distorted like it was underwater. “Hey, look at me. Come on, just look at me. What happened?”

You couldn’t get your eyes to move, couldn’t get them to look away from the vile words on the screen. You wanted to turn, you wanted to look over at Gator, Gator who was nice and kind and safe. You wanted his grounding touch, but you couldn’t move.

“Hey.” Gator’s voice called out again, a gentle whisper that cut through the cloud in your brain and got your lung to work again, a small, shaky breath reaching all the way down and slowly escaping.

A hand came into view. Gator’s hand, you reminded yourself. A hand that wasn’t reaching out to hurt, a hand that was reaching out to comfort. He grabbed the phone and gently slipped it from your grasp, and your eyes followed along, watching his hands on the phone, tapping away at the screen before he shut it off and put it up on the dashboard.

“I blocked him.” Gator stated plainly, a hint of anger lacing his words. “He ain’t gonna text ya’ no more. I ain’t gonna let it happen.”

Your eyes finally found his face, tracing over those soft features that had shown up only around you, that were reserved only for you. You studied the curve of his lips, the dip of his nose, all of those beautiful freckles and moles. Each item crafted specifically for him.

“Gator?” You whispered as your eyes finished their studying, landing on his soft doe ones.

“Yeah?” Gator whispered back.

“When ya’ said sorry in the truck, after you… after ya’ came and got me, was that real?” Your voice wavered dangerously, tears beginning to well.

“Yeah.” Gator nodded softly. “That was real.”

It was real? It wasn’t a hallucination? Gator really apologized to you? It didn’t make any sense. Even now, in these last twenty-four hours since you had kissed, neither of you had said sorry or thank you or any type of nicety.

“What… what were ya’ sorry for?” You asked shakily, as if afraid of the answer.

Gator’s face fell, the glossy sign of tears welling in his own eyes. “I’m sorry for not gettin’ there fast enough. I just sat there and argued with ya’. If I’d have left the moment ya’ asked then he would’ve never gotten his hands on ya’.”

“Gator.” You whispered, voice strained behind the unshed tears as you tried to keep yourself grounded in the present. “He already touched me. On the couch.”

Gator’s lip wobbled slightly, jaw tightening, and you could swear that he was about to start crying, a sight you had never seen before, not even with all of Roy’s beatings. He looked like his entire world had just come crashing down around him, burned and tumbling into rubble.

You slowly reached your hand over across the leather bench, fingers outstretched next to him, waiting for him to make the connection. His head dropped towards your hand as he sniffled, and then he reached out, his hand wrapping around yours, fingers lacing themselves together. The touch, the hold, it calmed both of you, evening out your shaky breaths and grounding you in each other’s presence. You squeezed each other tighter, not one space of air left between your skin, as if one small break would have you disappearing from each other forever. And that’s what you wanted, you wanted Gator, here, now, forever. Just the two of you, no more Jack, no more Roy, no more ranch. Just him and you.

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