#gator

bad day

wc: 2.5k

summary: Gators bad day comes home with him, but what happens when he lets it out on you?

cw: mean!gator, hurt/comfort, happy ending, fighting, silent treatment, crying, mention of long nails, soft!gator at the end, lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: thank you so much for the request!! i know it's a little similar from a recent fic i posted but i didn't wanna leave you hanging and wait for time to pass to put it out! religious!r x gator out next!! enjoy<333

You could tell by Gators texts he sent to you earlier that today's been a bad one for him. 

Apparently his dad humiliated him in front of the whole squad, calling him names and pushing him around. Which then became fair game for the rest of the guys to treat him like shit even ‘pretending’ to spill his burning coffee on his leg when he got away from his old mans torture. 

Once he was finally sent out for a call, some small job that normally he’d fight to ditch but with how the day was playing out he took it with a sigh. Turns out pulling over a guy who's practically blacked out drunk could lead to getting a punch in the face. Nice and heavy, full fist ready for Gator. To then go back to the station to get ridiculed even more, a punching bag physically and metaphorically. 

Safe to say Gator wishes today never happened. Wish that he could fight back, lay his hands on anyone near him. Gain back some type of control that was stripped away piece by piece throughout the long day. Anything would make him feel better than he did right now.

Which is where you are left now. Waiting patiently for your boyfriend to get home with his favorite meal in the oven. The second he said his day was bad you got started on it, knowing it wouldn't cure him but hopefully help. That’s kinda what you've learned within these past few months of dating Gator, you couldn't fix him completely despite your tried efforts, it was just helping him in whatever way he’d accept. 

The front door opened and closed loudly, letting you know his mood hadn't smoothed out any. Heavy footsteps made their way towards you as you tried to offer with the softest smile you could.

“Hey baby, i’m making dinner it’s got about 4 more minutes till it’s done-” 

“Jesus alright.” He mutters with a finger to his lips in a ‘shh’ pose. A small way to tell you to shut up. 

His focus is closed on the fridge that holds what he’s been thinking about all day, a cold beer. The start to forgetting this day happened and helping his mood change. But once he closed it his vision suddenly opened up. Taking in the kitchen, what you’re doing, and how messy it looks. 

“What’ve ya been doing all day, sittin’ around? Place looks like a fuckin pig sty. I tell you I have a bad day and you don't even bother tryin’ to help?” 

“What? No– no it’s just messy because I made you your favorite and I..” Your words somehow get lost in your own throat. A small ‘doing the dishes’ on the tip of your tongue. Because if his eyes were working at all he’d see you with the cleaning gloves, latex wrapping around each finger ready to wash dirty plates and silverware. 

“Man, you really are useless huh?” A scoff leaves his lips as he shakes his head. Like he can't believe what he’s witnessing. 

Really you feel the exact same. Because what about what he’s seeing makes you look useless? The dishes in the sink from you cooking for him or the dish soap in your hand getting ready to clean them, maybe it’s the food that was already in the oven– not held to the last minute. 

There were no words good enough in that moment to say back. A screaming match wouldn't help, trying to gently parent him certainly wouldn't help, all you can do is remain silent. Go back to the task at hand, try and pretend his eyes on you aren't the worst feeling ever. Act like he’s not even there. Regardless of his rude words that are still replaying in your head or ripping at your heart. 

The loud alarm that goes off to tell you dinner is ready is what snaps you out of your dissociative state. Bringing you back down to a place you wish you could run away from. Gators bad day now finding it’s way to spread to you, getting all over your home like some bacteria. 

You let him eat the food alone at the dining table. Finishing cleaning up the kitchen he threw a fit over before he has another. He doesn't object to it, eating in silence. When he finishes he brings the plate to you, gently sliding it into the sink as you keep your eyes on what you're washing. Knowing if you let yourself look up at him he’ll see the tears flooding your eyes, threatening to slide down your cheek.  

“Was real good doll.” He says off hand as he grabs another beer closing the fridge door softer than the front door. 

It was only once he left the kitchen that you let yourself break down. Slight sobs leaving your mouth as your hand rests on your chest, feeling your lungs breathe air in and out. You decide to leave his dish unwashed, a small grudge you can hold to feel like you could get back at him in some way. Then it’s your chance to eat, taking small bites as your lashes wetten from the thick tears. 

You can hear Gator snap the beer open and turn on the tv. Watching some sport you can't really make out. He turns it up almost like he knows what he’s doing. Drowning out your small plea to see he’s hurt you. The act only stirs you on more, leaving your plate there on the table before rushing to your shared room. 

Except you don't shut the door like he does, you don't let him know you're crying, he has no clue about your now bad night. A small part of you wants to trash what's his in retaliation, make some stance to show him you can't be talked to like that. Although you know it wouldn't lead anywhere good, nor would it help. If anything you’d die of guilt only after cleaning everything up. 

That’s when you decided on the silent treatment. 

Completely shutting yourself off to him, not giving into his actions or words. Certainly not trying to force him how he’s in the wrong. All you can hope is he uses the distance and silence to think about what he’s done. Your crying hasn't been so extreme that your eyes are unable to go back to normal. Maybe your eyes are a little red and bloodshot but not swollen, nothing else showing that you just had a quick breakdown because your boyfriend yelled at you. 

Simply going out into the living room where he was sitting and sitting at the far end of the couch. Creating physical space between you two. You let yourself get comfy, grabbing a blanket to drape over you with a book you’re almost done with in your hand. It’s a normal thing for you to do, late night reading. 

Sitting this far from Gator however, is not normal. And you can see his head turn slightly as you stay in your spot. Not bothering to get up and move towards him for cuddles. Which now that he’s calmed down a bit he could really use. Your soothing voice in his ear telling him he’s much better than what they did to him or having your long nails scratch his head that's been trapped under a hat all day. Even better getting an ice pack for the growing bruise on his face. He’s unsure of how it looks but since you didn't have a freak out seeing him he’ll take a guess that it’s not ER worthy. 

The book you're reading is placed perfectly to where you can't see Gator's face and he can't see yours. It feels unfair to him that he is given this distance after the day he’s had. And after he updated you on everything, you should understand how he's feeling. That’s why he shyly grabs at your ankle, using his thumb to rub at your skin. A little something to say ‘hey im right here’, which you’re so painfully aware of. 

Typically you’d swoon for this type of touch from him. Any touch that isn't asked for or a return of your first touch is a win in your book. But staying strong with your plan is more important than his half ass olive branch he’s trying to give you. So you pull your feet under the blanket, tucking the fabric under your legs so he couldn't touch them if he wanted. 

“Come cuddle.” His tone shows he’s telling not asking but it comes out terribly soft. 

Maybe it’s him asking and doing things he doesn't regularly do or it could be his tone but for some reason it breaks you completely. Lip wobbling and tears sliding down your temples to your ears from the position your laying. 

Seeing his head try and poke up above your book to get a look at you has your eyes widened, knowing you've been caught. Which in turn makes you shove your wet face between the pages trying to hide. Between the sniffles you let out you can feel him scoot closer to you. 

“Wait, are you cryin’?” His hands hold you by your knees and even give them a squeeze when you don't respond right away. “Cmere, lemme get ya.” He says pulling at the security blanket you were using, trying to get you out of the self made trap. 

The words are so sweet and the way he needs to hold you is even sweeter, it’s why you break. Letting him remove the blanket from you, grabbing your hips to bring you closer to him. Within seconds your arms are wrapped around his neck, letting the tears land on his skin while your legs cross around his torso. Fully sitting on his lap attached like a koala. 

His large hand rubs your back as he lets you cry it out. Never once telling you to stop or to calm down, just waiting for you to catch your breath and loosen your tight grip on his shirt. Your face is burning hot in his neck which doesn't help anyone cause he runs hot. You must be made for him because anyone else would push him away, searching for air instead of going without. 

So despite your lack of calming down he still tries to go for it. 

“I know I was an asshole, angel. I should've never said any of that nasty stuff to ya, ya deserve much better. ‘M real sorry, if I could take it back I promise I would.” A beat of silence passes as he waits for you to say something but you don't so he continues. “Shoulda never taken it out on ya, just let my day take over which isnt.. It ain't healthy and I know it. Gonna be better for you, swear.” 

Gator can physically feel your wet skin unstick from his neck, salt bonding you to him from how long you stayed in that position. This was the first time he truly saw you face to face since he got home and man does he wish he could do this day again. Not to have a better day at work but to handle his feelings differently that doesn't end with him looking at your red and blotchy face. 

Your whole body is hiccuping, trying so hard to swallow the sobs that you end up breathing deeper and deeper– making it hard to take a full steady breath. His thumbs try to brush away any tears but they only fall faster at the gentle motion. 

“Breathe baby, in and out I wanna see it.” He whispers doing a small version of it himself, guiding you to start. 

The frown on his face almost makes you feel even, he looks so distraught and scared. Regardless of your body clinging to him it looks like he knows this isn't some easy fix, that by the end of this he can't just take you to bed and kiss you goodnight. Although you listen to his words and copy him, trying to get a handle on your breaths and fanning yourself to get cooler. Gator pulls your shirt off from your sweaty back and fans it letting air hit you. 

It takes a bit but you manage to get a hold of yourself. Cooling down and being able to get out a stable sentence. He’s still fanning you but pressing small kisses to your forehead after you take a good deep breath. Your hands scratched at your face, trying to get rid of any leftover tears coming out from his words. This time they were quieter, any energy long gone. 

“‘M really sorry baby.” You feel a kiss from your forehead to your cheek. “I’m so so sorry.” Pressing another kiss to your cheek before moving to your other cheek. 

“You were s-so mean.” Maybe not as stable as you thought but it actually hurts Gator even more so for now it’s okay. 

“I was awful, you're right doll. I shouldn’t have done any o’that. Need to be better for you. ‘M not just saying it to say it either. Mean it, okay?” 

“How do I know that you won't do that again?”  

“You can trust me, know it don’t seem like it but ya can. Gonna prove it to ya.”

All you can do is nod, letting him know you’re hearing him out. Watching him as he lets a sigh out, tension in his shoulders slightly releasing. Showing you that this was a lot for him just as it was for you. 

“I’m sorry you had such a bad day.” Your hands are back on his shoulders, but this time softly rubbing at his knotted muscles. 

“I’m sorry that I took it out on you.” His lips graze a part of your arm that's closest to his face, laying kisses.

Taking his apology to heart you move your hands from his shoulder to his jaw, giving him a kiss that he reciprocates with ease. Probably the first thing all night that's come naturally to him. But he doesn't take it any further, leaving it at a kiss that in itself means he’s sorry. 

“How bad does your face hurt?” You gesture to his bruises that are coming in. They’re more so under his eye spreading to his nose than anything. 

“Hurting like a bitch.” A smile comes out as he says it, relieved to be back to somewhat a normal conversation. 

“I’ll get meds if you wanna get ice?” 

“Smart girl.” He gives you another quick kiss before helping you lift your legs from his sides. One leg moving off the couch as your hands use him to stay stable, getting your other leg out. You can feel the fuzzy feeling of them falling asleep but the quick walk to the bathroom to get meds should wake them up.