Arrabbiata is Not for Inside

despite all of that, gator spent the majority of his time there. when he wasn’t working or busy kissing his daddy’s ass at home, he was at your place.

tonight, you had the house to yourself.

gator was working, so you had a night in. dinner on the couch, binge watching reruns of some trash reality show until your eyes burned.

around 11:30, you decided to turn in for the night. your bones pop and crack as you stand up and stretch before you drag your feet down the dark hall to your bathroom.

you’re going through the motions of your night routine, washing your face and brushing your teeth, when you hear a thud come from outside.

you freeze, heart jumping in your chest at the sudden noise amongst the silent house. you listen, ears almost straining to pick up any other sounds.

you’re just about to reach for the faucet handle to turn the water back on when you hear it again, this time louder.

you toss your toothbrush back into its holder, next to gator’s you kept there for him, and wiped your mouth. you shut off the light and grab your phone, creeping out into the hallway.

you peak out in the living room and from there you can see a dark figure through the frosted glass on your front door’s window. an awful, hollow pit formed in your stomach.

maybe it was gator, you tell yourself. maybe he is stopping by while on patrol or got off early. but you knew that wasn’t true.

you curse under your breath and make your way to your bedroom, phone already dialing gator’s number.

you will him to pick up as you shut the door and lock it behind you. it rings a few times and you’re scared that he’s busy or in the middle of a traffic stop or call.

finally, the line on the other side clicks and gator’s voice hits your ear.

“hey, baby girl.” you could practically hear his shit-eating smirk on the other side of the line, no doubt thinking you’re calling because you miss him and want attention.

you wish that were the situation.

“are you at my door?” you rush out as you make your way to your bedside, grabbing the metal baseball bat you kept tucked between your bed and your nightstand.

gator’s tone turned serious in an instant. “no, i’m patrollin’ on the highway. someone at your door?”

you can already hear the charger’s engine turn over and the tires screeching as gator began flooring it down the road.

“i was about to go to bed and i heard a noise outside. i thought it was a animal or something then i heard it again, louder. then i saw someone at the door through the window.”

“get your ass into your room now. lock the door.”

“i am.” you say as you open your closet and climb inside. your heart pounded in your chest, making it almost impossible to hear gator.

“i’m on my way. don’t hang up the phone, ya hear me? i’m almost there.”

“i’m fucking scared gator.” you whisper shakily.

“i know, baby girl. i’m comin’. ain’t gonna let nothing hurt ya.”

you could hear your front door being hit and broken down. you curse, curling yourself into a tight ball. you knuckles had gone white on your phone and the bat.

the intruder had made their way inside, heavy footsteps thumping through your house.

“gate, please hurry.” you whisper, squeezing your eyes shut. “they’re inside.”

gator mutters a small fuck under his breath and his engine roars louder. “hang on baby, turin’ down your road now.”

the sound of drawers being rummaged through roughly, things being picked up then tossed down echo loudly, but the sound of police sirens coming closer were louder.

you don’t even think the person inside your house had much time to react before gator came barreling through your front door.

“county police! put yer fuckin’ hands up!” gator’s voice angrily reverberates through the house. everything else is a blur.

the sound of gator knocking the person down. the sound of his fist repeatedly connecting to flesh. he could’ve shot them, sure, but he was pissed. he needed to let it out. a shot wouldn’t have been as satisfying for him.

when he was satisfied, having beat the guy to a pulp and handcuffed him then calling for backup. gator rushed down the hall.

his heavy boots thundered towards your room, banging on the door. “babe?”

you could barely pull yourself up and out of the closet, let alone walk to the door. but you managed to put your shaky legs to use.

when you opened the bedroom door, your phone was still clutched in your hand, still connected the call with gator even though he’d left his phone forgotten in his car, and the bat was in your other.

when your eyes landed on gator, you let out a sob and fell into his chest. his arms held you tightly to him, lips pressing to the top of your head. the bat fell from your grasp, clanging loudly as it hit the floor.

you cried, understandably shaken up. and gator let you, running his fingers through your hair.

“i gotcha. don’t worry, baby girl. i gotcha.”

after a few minutes, you pulled back and looked up at him.

“’s all taken care of, darlin’. ‘s okay.” he say, holding your face in his hands. you manage a nod and gator presses a kiss to your forehead.

“got some back up comin’ to take the son of a bitch in. i need ya to pack a bag. whatever ya need for a couple of nights.”

“why?”

“you’re stayin’ with me. no ifs ands or buts. ain’t letting ya out my sight.”

“gator-“

“you ain’t comin’ back to this house. i’m a find a better place for us. where this shit won’t happen.”

this makes you pause, your lips managing to curl up slightly. “a place for us?”

gator frowns down at you, narrowing his eyes. “you think i’m gonna let ya live alone after this shit? like hell.”

“if you wanted to move in with me, honey, you could’ve just said so.” you smirk.

gator scoffs, rolling his eyes. “the fucks the matter with you, woman? jokin’ after this shit. i need to be able to protect ya. ‘s all.”

your smile softens, your fingers curling into his vest. you knew that was only half of the truth. that really, he wanted to live with you because he wanted to. he wanted to be around you all the time at home. but he would never admit that.

“gator?”

“don’t.”

you shake your head, smiling. “thank you.”

gator’s face softens slightly, and he nods.

“it’s my job to protect ya. don’t thank me.” he mumbles. still, you lean you and peck his lips before turning to pack a bag for your stay at the ranch with him.

until you found your new home. together.

“we’re gettin’ ya a gun, too.”