And All I Loved, I Loved Alone—Then I Found Tumblr

You had argued somewhere after the dinner rush. He got back from cleaning up his dads dirty work and being scolded for not doing good enough for him. 

Right after being chewed out by his father, he stopped by the little library where you work, as he always does after his shifts.

And he promised. You hadn’t seen him in a few days due to him being ordered to run around doing whatever the hell he did, you didn’t like to think about it. He promised he’d make sure to see you today.

So, of course when he texted you as soon as you got on your lunch break saying he was outside, you rushed your way out, abandoning the rest of your chips and sandwich just to see him. 

You hopped in his truck and immediately crossed over the center console, sitting in his lap and wrapping yourself around him.

He hugged you back, but his arms were tight and tense around you.

“I missed you.” You smiled into his neck, pressing little kisses against his neck to his jaw to his lips. You continued all over his face, his lips were weak and loose when he kissed you back.

“Baby- hold on, hey.” He said as nicely as he could, he turned his face away and held your wrists. “Can you calm down with the touchiness?”

“What?” You mumbled.

“Baby- don’t get me wrong, It’s nice and stuff, but you’re doin’ a lot right now, like goddamn just give me a minute to fuckin breathe.” He muttered, wiping a hand over his face.

Then he saw the way your face fell, that crease form between your eyebrows, the way you gulped and clenched your jaw. You pulled away slowly.

You slid off his lap and back into the passenger seat quietly. It took a few seconds of sitting in silence and staring ahead before he heard the car door open. 

“My lunch break is almost over, I should go back.” You muttered the lie as you hopped out, slamming the door shut before he could get a response out.

Now, the only light outside is the streetlamps, and Gators phone is still void of any texts from you while he decides what to do.

He sighs, both your parents' cars are in the driveway. From what it looks like from the windows, every light is off in the house. 

Except for the small rectangle of warm light on the side of the house, where your room is.

If Gator wasn’t so pissed off right now, he’d feel like a teenager again as he sneaks out to the side of the house, rapping his knuckles lightly on the window.

He can see that your door is closed, the doorknob is locked, you are nowhere to be seen in your room, and there is a small slither of your window left open with no screen on it.

He really should have never taught you how to take the screen off your window.

But now he’s worried, not panicking, he doesn’t panic. He just doesn’t like the idea of you being out this late at night by yourself. You already nearly made him pass out the other week with the spider.

Gator only clenches his fists and stomps as he mutters out curses. He whips out his phone and starts sending even more pathetically apologetic texts to you.

He’s on his second attempt of calling you by the time he’s back in his truck seat. He’s bouncing his leg enough to the point the vehicle is slightly shaking along with the movement. 

Your voice appears but it’s only your voicemail telling the caller to “leave a message and I’ll try to get back to you soon!”. And you sound so fucking sweet in it, it’s killing Gator.

The slicked back style of Gators hair has been long destroyed by now with the amount of times he’s ran his hands through it and his excessive stomping. The next best thing he can do is try and find you himself, he is not waiting. 

The truck pulls off the sidewalk and he keeps his foot on the pedal with enough weight for him to be going at a slow but tolerable pace, he’s impatient. He’s worried, but he doesn’t like to say that. It makes him feel like he’s saying he’s scared, which he is, but it makes him feel weak.

You couldn’t have gone far? It’s a small neighborhood. You’re probably just walking somewhere farther down the sidewalk? Maybe you were walking the other way when he was coming down your street?

He’s nearing the end of the street and he’s on the verge of smacking his horn, but a few more feet and you’ve appeared.

You’re at the playground that got built not too long ago at the end of your neighborhood, you’re sitting on the swingset. You’re in an old hoodie and pajama pants, your using the toe of your sandal to sway yourself back and forth.

Gators headlights practically blind you as you look up. He can see you squint, recognize it’s him, then grimace and look away.

He doesn’t even try to attempt to park nicely in between the freshly painted white lines. His truck is slanted and taking up three parking spaces.

You’re still swaying, you know Gator is walking up but you keep your eyes on the ground. Keeping that pouty look while you let your head lean against the chain on the swing.

Gator sighs and slides his hands into his pockets, he’s doing his own swaying now too.

Goddamn, he feels like a piece of shit.

“Planning a getaway?” He tries to joke. It falls flat.

“‘M not talking to you, Gator.” You mumble.

You didn’t mean to be so sensitive, you were just excited to see him. Gator is still getting used to physical touch being a good thing. Your hands have been the first to feel like his skin isn’t stinging when you touch his.

“Yeah. I kinda..noticed that.” He sighed. For the first time in awhile, Gator has no smart comebacks.

“Thought you wanted space. Thought you wanted to be alone.” Your eyes are burning holes into playground dirt, digging the sole of your old closed toe sandal into the woodchips.

“I wanted to say…that ‘m sorry.” He winces, it sounds pained. He doesn’t apologize much. “Sorry” is a word that’s becoming more common in vocabulary now that he’s met you.

God, you hate him. You’re considering taking your shoe off and throwing it at him.

You’re considering telling him to leave. But you won’t. You don’t want him to.

You’ll torture him a bit more.

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry.” He says clearly. Pitfully, pathetically. 

“I heard you.” You finally look up at him, your pink and slightly puffy eyes feel like a million tiny daggers into his body.

“So…you’ve got nothing to say about that? Nothing to say back?” He sticks his neck out. You roll your eyes and look away. You’re not looking at Gator, it’s making him ache.

“What is there to say? I heard you.” You shrug, pursing your lips together.

Gator sighs again, sliding his hands out of his pockets and pressing them against his back. He lets out a little groan as he stretches, he’s torturing you now.

“I guess you won’t be gettin’ my apology gift then.” He shrugs.

He catches the way your eyes shoot up. You’re a sucker for gift giving. Giving and receiving. Though you don’t get the latter much often from others.

Gator does his best to make up for it.

“Guess I’ll just return it, I got the receipt somewhere in my glovebox.” He shrugged. “It’ll just go back on the shelf and some other sorry boyfriend will buy it.” He sighs, kicking a few rocks. He’s putting on the most dramatic act to win you over.

And it’s working. God, you hate him.

He turns slowly and walks back to his truck, he can feel your eyes on him. He turns on the engine, but he’s not moving anywhere. He’s counting down. 

Waiting for it. 

It takes a little over 30 seconds. And then there’s the light knocking on his passenger window. Your silent way of asking to be let in. You can’t help but be polite.

He reaches over to push the door open, letting you see the surprise sitting on the passenger seat.

It’s a teddy bear with a little bow wrapped around it’s neck, as well as a fake flower that you can slip from its arms. There’s two party sized bags of your favorite candy along with it.

Worst of all, he’s buckled the bear in. The seatbelt is fastened right around its stomach and over its shoulder. 

You almost smile, you have to fight it, really fight it.

Yeah, he’s won you over. But you won’t let him know what yet.

Gator’s got one hand on the steering wheel, clenching and unclenching. His bottom lip is tucked under his teeth. He’s nervous. 

You purse your lips and clench your jaw, tilting your chin up as you inhale. 

You unbuckle the seatbelt and grab the bear from it’s spot, you hold it in your hands and stare at it like you’re analyzing it. You’re pretending to decide how you feel.

The poor teddy's little beady eyes are staring right back at you. You swallow your pride happily.

Gator’s already moving the bags of candy out the way so you can sit. His eyes stay on you while you hop into the seat. You shut the door and keep your eyes on the bear.

Gator tilts his head, he’s trying to look at you, get you to look at him. You rub one of the bear ears between your thumb and pointer finger, the fur is soft and a little silky against your skin.

“I’m still mad at you.” You let him know sternly, you still haven’t smiled yet.

“I know.” He sighs. He lets his hand fall from the steering wheel.

He grabs the bar under his seat and pushes his seat back, all the way back.

“C’mere.” He murmurs, laying slack against the seat. His hands lay flat on his thighs.

You slouch down into your seat and look at the side mirror, pretending to ignore him.

“Don’t make me ask you again.” Yet there’s no demand in his tone. But fuck, he’s worried he’s being mean again.

“You’re not even asking me. You’re just telling me.” You grumble.

But you go and you sit in his lap anyways, leaving the bear back on your seat and crawling over the center console to get to him. Lips jutted and eyes looking down and away from his face. You can see the cocky little smile blooming at the ends of his mouth in your peripheral vision.

“You’re so pouty.” Gator squishes your face between his fingers while his other hand lays against your waist.

The thing that’s changed in your personality now that you’ve gotten more comfortable with Gator. You pout a lot, you’re sensitive, you’re still quite shy. Just pouty too. Gator brought out the mouthy side of you that’s been hidden for years.

And Gator takes any chance he can to tease you for it. Because he’s Gator.

“I’m not pouty.” You grimace.

“Yea? Then what’s all this about?” He squishes your cheeks more and shakes your face lightly in his grasp.

“You.” Now you’re getting annoyed. You shove his hand away and move your head back. Your face seems to be stuck in a scowl.

Gators face slowly drops, he feels like an asshole again.

“Hey.” He says as softly as he knows how to, “Hey, ‘m not mad at ya.” The hand that you shoved away comes up to rub at your upper arm. Your fiddling with his hoodie strings, eyes focused on the way the gray cords of fabric twirl around your fingers.

Gator runs his hand down your arm and stops at your hand. He takes it into his, the rough pad of his thumb skates over your knuckles. He tilts his head down again, trying to get you to look at him. You give in.

Your eyes meet his and you swear you can see his face soften with relief.

“Look, ‘m pretty pissed you snuck off this late in the cold in this lil pair of shorts.” He mumbles as he tugs at the hem of your pajama shorts with his other hand, rubs at the fabric. “But ‘m not mad at you.”

A little sigh leaves you, you’re not sure how to respond. So he takes his chance to keep talking.

“Baby, I love you touchin’ me. I love your hands on me, all over me.” He takes your hands in his and presses them against his chest. You can feel the rump of his heartbeat under your palm when you press. “I love you touchin’ on me, yeah?” He brings up one of your hands to his lips, he presses kisses over your fingers, your palm, your knuckles, your wrist. 

He’s really trying to make it up to you.

“I didn’t mean to make you upset. I just- I had a shit day, I’ve been surrounded by asshole and fuckin idiots and- I was pissed off and I should’ve let myself cool down real quick before I saw you,” He’s rambling, this is new. “I should’ve told you I was pissed off and I could’ve- I should’ve been nicer ‘bout it. Should’ve been nicer to you.” His eyes are wandering all over as he fumbles through his words, looking everywhere but your face.

He takes a breath to swallow his own stubbornness.

“And I’m sorry, baby.” He squeezes his eyes shut and hangs his head a bit.

Good fucking god, he’s embarrassed. He can feel you looking at him and he wishes you weren’t, at least not in this moment. He can’t let you see him like this.

When he opens his eyes, you look away again. You’re biting the inside of your cheek.

“C’mon baby.” He murmurs, cradling his hand against your face, giving it a little push of encouragement to get you to turn your face to his. “I’m sorry.” You still avoid his eyes, he knows you’re waiting for more, you’re making him beg. This is a humiliation ritual for Gator.

He gets an idea and reaches over to the passengers seat where your new bear lays. 

“Gator’s sorry, yeah?” He picks up the bear, brushes the face of it against yours. The fake fur tickles your nose. Your face spreads into a meek smile. “You gonna forgive Gator? Gonna stop torturing him?” He keeps pressing it against your cheek until you can’t hold back and let out a little giggle. 

You grab the bear and he takes his chance to press a kiss against your cheek while you’re occupied. 

“Fine, fine.” You say through another giggle, Gator could faint at hearing your voice again. “I’m done torturing you. For now.” 

“Good.” He smiles. “You can get fussy with me all you want, I deserve that, but don’t go running off ‘cus of it.” He holds your chin gently, tilting your face down to give you a kiss to your forehead, the tip of your nose, then your lips.

You just smile and kiss him back before you wrap your arms around his neck, you smush yourself against him.

“I’m sorry you had a bad day.” You speak into his shoulder.

“You don’t gotta apologize, ‘s nothing. You made it better.” He feels like a cornball saying that outloud, but he can feel you smile against him, so it’s not too bad.

The two of you stay like that for a little while. Gator strokes his hand up and down your back while pressing little kisses to your neck here and there. Your shoulders loosen after some time, your chest rises and falls more slowly against his.

“You falling asleep on me?” He nudges you.

You absolutely are.

“Mm-mm.” You give him a lazy shake of your head. 

Gator pulls you away from him like he’s trying to take tape off a piece of paper without ripping it. Once he gets a look at your lidded eyes and pouty lips, he knows you’re about to knock out.

“Alright, time to go home.” He rubs his thumb against your cheek and you groan.

“Why can’t I just stay with you?” You whine.

Last time you fell asleep in his car, smushed against him, your neck hurt the rest of the following day.

“Next time.” He promises with a kiss to your lips. “Gotta get back to the ranch.” He holds onto your waist as you slip off his lap and onto the passenger seat, he’s pretending to guide you, he really just wants to hold you.

“I thought you were patrolling?” You yawn, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Only to find you.” He kisses the top of your head before turning on the engine. You smile to yourself.

Once he’s parked outside your house again, he walks you to your window and lifts you just a little bit so you can sneak back in through your window.

“Get your little sneaky ass back in there.” He gives you a small swat to your ass and he can hear the little giggle you try to hide.

He passes you the two bags of candy he bought for you, you already carried your bear with you crawling through your window.

Gator finishes off giving you his gifts by leaning in and pressing one last kiss for the night to your lips, he lingers.

You’re just about to say goodnight and close your window when he stops you.

“Uh uh, screen back on the window.” He tells you with that stupid cocky grin. You roll your eyes but you listen anyway, you pick up the window screen from where it’s laying against your wall and shove it back into the windowsill. 

It’s annoying having to look at each other through the thin grid, you feel like some princess locked in a tower.

“I better not see you running around this late again.” He's still got that stupid grin on his face. He shoots a wink at you before walking away from your window.

“Uh huh. Later Gator.” You say with a sweet sweet smile, you know it pisses him off. 

And before he can fully turn around, you’re shutting your window and closing your blinds. You laugh behind your hand, you love torturing him.

Gator drives back to the ranch in silence. He yawns and runs his hand down his face to his neck, rubs at it.

He wishes he crawled through the window with you, wrapped his arms around you and stayed in your bed for the night. Feel your arms tucked around him and legs lay over his under the covers, feel your hands twitch the way they always do and listen to the little breaths you always make when you’re asleep.

His phone vibrates on the dash. 

It’s a text from you.

goodnight 💕

He’s so amused by you.