[ the road to the compound is long, bumpy, dirty. it's a trail, more like, the tires of the patrol suv bouncing as gator drives over uproots and rocks. when he makes the turn onto the main road leading up to it, the drive is smoother, the grass taking the wheels with a spring. the two armed guards at the entrance nod, and gator nods back, the gate opening. gator drives through, suv leading up to the main house. he glances over at billy - still shivering, probably still drunk - and smirks broad. teeth flash as he parks near his father's truck, killing the engine. he leans back, pulling out his vape, before he takes a long, strawberry-scented drag. he knows that it's fucked up to bring billy here - especially with his dad around - but he feels as if this was always the next step.
he leans, hand in billy's hair, brushing it behind his ear. soft, slow. he grins, wicked, before he lowers his palm onto billy's knee. he lets out a deep shh, hush to comfort billy, though he knows it's probably doing the opposite. that's what gets gator off - the fear. the pure, unadulterated version of it. if he could bottle billy's scared tendencies, he'd drink every drop, hard in his pants. he isn't now, no, not yet. he takes his hand away, then opens the driver's side door, slipping out. he walks around the front of the suv, slow, before he opens billy's door. he nods for him to get out, the air chilly and with a breeze. he knows it'll freeze billy beyond stinging, so he smiles. that's what he deserves. ]
C'mon out, now. You're gonna meet the sheriff.
[ it's then that roy walks out, cigar in hand, staring both of them down with steel and grit. he flicks ashes, then puts the cigar between his teeth. he knows that gator has... proclivites that he likes to indulge in, but as roy looks billy over, his lips purse around the end of the cigar. he takes in a mouthful of smoke, then blows it in billy's direction. what is he, a dog? one brow jumps on roy's head, under the brim of his hat.
gator nods, pulling billy from the suv and presenting him as if he's a wet dog he's dragged in to keep. he holds him by the back of the neck, the collar of his shirt. gator grins, and roy spits. gator's smile never falters, though there's a flash in his eyes that roy won't approve. roy nods toward the house, tapping ashes again. clean him up.
gator then leans in, mouth close to billy's ear: ]
Well, go on, shithead. You're takin' a shower. You stink like liquor.
[ Billy's really fucked up this time, and he knows it. Him and his clumsy fucking fingers, sending the wrong text to Gator, getting stupid and needy for him anyway. Sending him his fucking location. Gator's made him fear for his life more than once now, but this? This is some full on horror movie shit.
He hadn't dressed warm enough as is, but enough time outside has left him shivering long after getting into the SUV. Being this drunk and this afraid is a wholly unpleasant experience, too, and Billy feels like each bump in the road is rattling his brain. He's grateful, at least, to have a strong stomach after years of binge drinking and partying, but it doesn't make him feel any less like he's going to puke or piss himself or both.
The compound. What kind of a name is that? But it makes sense now, seeing the armed guards, the gates. This isn't a home, it's a fucking institution.
Billy closes his eyes as Gator's fingers brush his hair back, taking a shaky breath. Gator doesn't do soft and sweet, not for long. This is just part of the fun for him. His hand is warm against his knee, at least, but it's not there long. ]
'kay.
[ The air is cold, painfully so when he's already chilled to the bone. Billy's unsteady on his feet as Gator pulls out of the SUV, bracing himself against the side of it and taking another deep breath as he finds himself staring up at Roy Tillman.
He's bigger in real life than on TV. Not just in stature, but in presence. Big man, big hat, big fucking cigar and nothing but complete and utter disdain on his face as he looks Billy over. ]
Nice t'meet you, s-sir.
[ It's a struggle to even string that sentence together. Billy feels his face flush, thankful for the dark. Roy spits, unimpressed, and Billy just wishes he could disappear. Gator's voice is quiet in his ear, and he finds himself shivering in a completely different way.
He nearly trips over his feet as Gator guides him into the house, hand still gripping his neck. Billy's grateful for the warmth if nothing else, his eyes unfocused as he tries to take in his surroundings as they go by.
Then it's into the bathroom, Billy stumbling, the bright lights making him squint. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he braces himself against the wall with one hand, red-faced, eyelids heavy, slack-jawed. ]
[ gator pushes billy's back, leading him into the house. it's warm, more so than outside, but that's only in temperature. everything is coldly placed, clean, and everyone knows damn well to be out of sight and unheard. when they reach the bathroom, gator lowers the seat on the toilet and sits down, peering up at billy from under the brim of his ballcap. his eyes narrow, dark and dangerous, shards of glass broken. he tongues the inside of his mouth, over his back teeth. he then sucks them and spits in the sink.
billy shouldn't be here - gator knows it, billy knows it. the compound isn't the nicest place to be, but it's safe - safer than anywhere in north dakota, save for the governor's mansion. tillman law officers stand at the gates, guns ready, and everyone walks around with one on their hip. billy won't get one, that's too fucking stupid of a thought as it is, and gator thinks billy knows that. there won't be weapons available to him, no matter the circumstances. gator doesn't want a glock down his throat at three am some night. he's a little smarter than that. he understands what he's done to billy, what he's doing to him - but violence from billy's direction? the punishment would be swift, and despite everything - gator doesn't want billy's life to end. not really.
he kicks billy's foot with the toe of his boot, not too hard, but enough to get him moving. he then stands, pulling back the shower curtain and exposing the large tub. it's enough for two or three people to bathe in, so gator strips off his hat, then his bulletproof vest. ]
You don't fuckin' need your shit. I'll give you some clothes. Move.
[ gator starts the water, hot, the tub filling. he steps out, then walks to his room, pulling out a pair of night clothes for him and billy both, and underwear for him. billy doesn't need it, not now. especially with what gator has in mind. slipping back into the bathroom and locking the door, gator presses the clothes against billy's chest. he looks him in the eye, staring, jaw tense. before billy can blink again, gator kisses him, deep, slow, needy. he sucks on his bottom lip, then pulls back. ]
[ Billy wants to protest, but the words don't come to him. What can he do? Demand Gator drive him back out to his apartment at this hour? If that would've worked, he'd be there right now, probably on the verge of passing out in his own bathroom if he didn't just go straight to bed. Billy's not a sleepover kind of guy at the best of times - he's far too restless, wakes too easily. And this is definitely not the best of times.
So instead he steps out of the way, watching Gator turn on the tap and plug the drain before he leaves the room. Billy finds himself staring at nothing in particular, wondering when the last time he had an actual bath was. Probably when he was a little kid. Neil got on his case about spending too much time in the bathroom as it was, and the bathroom in his apartment can barely fit the small shower shoved in its corner.
It's not until Gator returns that Billy realizes he's just been standing there shivering in his boots, though he is starting to warm up a little. He clutches at the soft fabric of the clothes Gator brought for him, staring back at him. Is he mad? He could be - it doesn't take much, and Billy's a mess right now. In front of the sheriff, too. Embarrassing.
But he kisses him instead, and Billy lets out a quiet groan, lips parting to let Gator in. They don't kiss much, and especially not like this. So when Gator pulls back, Billy's smiling, dazed.
God, he's hopeless. ]
Right - yeah. Yeah.
[ Billy kicks his way out of his boots, standing them up against the wall, tucking his socks inside them. His denim jacket is next, then the flannel he'd worn under it and his undershirt. Despite the warmth filling the room from the steaming bath water, he's still chilled to the bone, covered in goosebumps as he strips out of his jeans and underwear.
He keeps one hand on the edge of the tub as he gingerly takes one step into the water, almost too hot - but too drunk and tired to care. The other foot follows, and he slowly sinks down until he's sitting in the running water, looking up at Gator. ]
[ gator strips, t-shirt first, before his uniform is a pile on the floor of the bathroom. he lowers himself into the water, the temperature perfect for him, the bottom of the tub solid, warm. his legs engulf billy's, both of them in bows. gator then pulls down a clean washcloth from the pile near the tub, wetting it, then picking up his bottle of soap. he squirts it inside, then soaps it up, the bubbles dripping into the bathwater. he leans forward, using the washcloth against billy's chest. he's gentle, washing over his sternum, before his eyes meet billy's. he watches him, careful, his attention returns to his ministrations. ]
You gettin' warm?
[ his voice is soft, kind. he's capable of it, but the moments are few and far between. the washcloth works up to billy's neck, then his shoulder, gator scooting closer. he observes billy, head tilting to make sure he's watching where he's washing. he then picks up billy's hand from under the water, palming the washcloth into his palm. ]
I can't reach everywhere, now, c'mon.
[ he understands - but only to a degree. billy is taking a bath with him in some unknown place, but the water is good for him. the steam, so billy doesn't get a cold. gator, still holding billy's hand, nods with his chin. he then backs away, plucking a washcloth for himself. he soaps it up, then scrubs his arms down, eyes still on billy. ]
[ Billy watches him strip down, his gaze roaming lazily over Gator's body. They don't usually both get naked, not all the way. It's a shame, really, because Billy likes to look. The water rises as Gator sinks into the bathtub opposite him, legs against his, and it strikes him that nobody's ever really treated him like this. And of all the men in the world to do it first, he didn't expect Gator to be the one.
Gator brings the washcloth to his chest, gentle in a way Billy rarely sees but always cherishes. He nods, relaxing into his touch as he continues to wash him, the cold that's chilled him down to his bones finally melting away. He's still not happy to be out here, this strange and terrifying place Gator calls home, but he's happy for this, at least. ]
Okay, okay, I got it.
[ Billy smiles lazily, taking the washcloth once Gator pulls back to scrub himself down. He does the same, albeit slower, scrubbing under his arms, down the rest of his torso. ]
I won't. M'just not built for this weather. This is like -- January, back home. [ He chuckles, smiling at him. ] Gonna have to bundle me up one of those big snow suits.
[ gator eyes billy as he washes himself, and gator does the same. he scrubs his shoulder, listening as billy speaks - there's a soft laugh in there, and gator's eyes hit billy's. there's no danger - they're soft, a slow smile spreading his mouth as he lowers the cloth into the water, letting it gather. he then washes his torso, damp chesthair and wet nipple piercing. snow suits. that makes gator laugh, a sweet, lovely sound. it rings like a bell, eyes crinkling as he leans back against the side of the tub. ]
We got them around here. I generally just layer up. That'll teach you to run around in them open shirts.
[ gator lifts his leg, placing it on the side of the tub near billy. he's comfortable, head leaned to the side, and he watches billy with something stirring deep within. he swallows, adam's apple bobbing with it, and he nods at billy's washcloth. ]
My turn.
[ it isn't normal - far from it. kidnapping, holding a hostage, bathing with him. none of it makes sense, but billy's laughing and smiling and it fits into gator's mind like the last piece of a puzzle. this was always supposed to happen. he was supposed to bring him here, to make him his. as selfish as it is - gator hasn't been taught any different. from roy, from the rest of the men at the compound. this is love, isn't it? gator leans his head back, but he doesn't close his eyes. they shine, something gentle in them, his toes playing at billy's bicep. ]
[ Gator is cute like this, which is a thought that's new to Billy. He's always found him attractive, and now is no exception - muscles gleaming in the light, all that hair wet against his chest, his legs. But there's something carefree, soft in a way that doesn't feel like there's any looming threat behind it. Maybe that's naive, it probably is, but it's moments like these that make him forget the pain, the fear. He laughs again, shaking his head. ]
You like me in them open shirts. Well - now on, forget it. Gonna get me a big-ass parka and never take it off.
[ He watches, eyebrow raised, as Gator lifts one leg out of the water, a smirk curling over his lips as his foot rests against his bicep. Billy dunks his washcloth under the water, squeezing some of it out before bringing it up to wash over the top of Gator's foot, up his calf, slow and careful. When he can't reach any further from where he's sitting, Billy shifts, tucking one leg in toward himself while he scoots forward, bringing the cloth up along Gator's thigh, blue eyes meeting his again. ]
[ you gonna keep me warm all winter? gator smiles, shifting to meet billy as he runs the washcloth along his leg, his thigh. he nods, slow, hand reaching down to guide billy's hand to his other thigh. not yet. his fingertips brush against billy's wrist, teasing, before he lifts his hand back from under. he licks his bottom lip. ]
I'll keep you warm, now. Don'tcha think I'm warm?
[ his hand reaches up, still wet, running through the strands of his hair, gel releases here and there. strands fall, his body moving a bit as he gets comfortable against billy. he leans up, kissing him, mouthing at his lips, opening his own. they kiss for what seems like hours - gator's hand guiding billy again, only to his abdomen. not yet. he nips at his bottom lip, soft, eyes on eyes. ]
Real warm.
[ like the tease he is, gator nestles against the back of the tub again. he watches billy, licking a remnant of his saliva off of his lips. he doesn't think anything carnal should happen, not now, anyway. he merely leans his head back, closing his eyes. the steam rises from the water, the windows and mirror fogged up. ]
[ Billy lets Gator lead his hand, squeezing his thigh as he drags the washcloth along it, eyes still on his. Maybe he can handle this, he thinks, one little sleepover, a hot bath before sleeping away his hangover in Gator's bed. Despite running past countless red flags, he likes Gator a lot, maybe even loves him, in their own fucked up way. Everything Billy fears in him, he learns to justify. ]
Mmhmm. Got me warmin' up real nice, daddy.
[ Billy's always weak for his kisses, opens up eagerly to him as his hands linger on Gator's inner thighs. He's in no hurry to rush things along, warm and lazy now, content to languish in this strangely intimate, strangely domestic moment. Gator guides his hand again, this time to his abdomen, and Billy smiles against his mouth, running the washcloth over the firm muscles there. ]
Warmer than warm. Think there might be a word for that, maybe.
[ Gator leans back again, and Billy decides to tease, too. He dunks the washcloth in the water again and starts to wash Gator's other leg, starting at the foot, working his way up and flashing him a grin. ]
[ gator smiles, slow and lazy, eyes still closed. he lets out a groan of approval as billy washes his leg, his knee. his head tilts, and he opens his eyes, watching billy and his prettiness - those eyes, his tanned skin. he's practically an adonis, and he's all gator's. if roy can have his stable, then why can't gator? he watches billy with hungry eyes, but he takes in a breath. not yet. his hand lifts from the water to take billy's in his own, leading it over his nipple piercing, right over his heart. ]
You'll be happy here, baby.
[ and you'll be mine. gator releases billy's hand, staring at him lovingly, as if praise would fall from his tongue again. he doesn't understand that what he's done is wrong. kidnapping is what it is, but that's the tillman way, isn't it? take what you want, don't apologize. do what you please, because there are no consequences. ]
Bowman'll probably bring your stuff tomorrow. You gotta get used to the bedroom, still.
[ Billy hums at the back of his throat as Gator takes his hand again, his thumb brushing over his pierced nipple as he rests it against his chest. Gator speaks, and it strikes him as an odd thing to say - you'll be happy here, like this isn't just one ill-advised night among many in Billy's life. God knows bringing him here isn't the dumbest thing he's let Gator do.
But then he keeps talking, and Billy knits his brows together, wondering if maybe he's just still too drunk to follow his train of thought. His intuition says otherwise, though, and his heart is sinking fast as he struggles to put words together. ]
What're you talking about?
[ His voice feels too small for his body, like if he were any further from Gator he wouldn't be able to hear him. ]
I don't want Bowman -- you said - I-I don't need my stuff. It's one night.
[ His fingers are still pressed to Gator's pec, his eyes suddenly wide, fearful as they study Gator's. ]
[ gator watches billy's expression change - slow to dawn, the liquor in his system tredging things down. gator takes a hint of pleasure from it, sitting up to look billy in the eye. he places his hand over billy's, still on his chest, tilting his head. he knows that billy doesn't understand - who would? being kidnapped and dragged to the tillman compound is one thing, but spending forever here? gator's used to it, it's his home, and now he wants to make it billy's, too. ]
Now, baby, that's where you don't get it.
[ he clicks his tongue, mouth pulling down in mock frown. he rests his hand on billy's shoulder now, thumb rubbing the muscle at the dip of his neck. he frowns again, but it's more pouty than anything else, as if batting his eyelashes will somehow get him his way. no one has told him this is wrong, but some part of him suffocates it until its no longer breathing. there is nothing here but rules, the law of what's right and what's wrong - gator knows this is right.
he tips his head back and forth, wincing a bit, but dangerously. he leans back against the tub again, both legs on top of billy's knees. he sighs, head on his fist as he supports it. he smiles. ]
[ Billy wants to back away as Gator sits up, but there's really nowhere to go. Even if he did, it's still just him against Gator, and that's never ended well even on his own turf. His apartment's a shithole and Gator tells him as much almost every time he's there, but it's his home. His. It's the first and only place he's had in his entire life where the only person who makes the rules is him, where he can come and go as he pleases, do as he pleases. He's barely had the chance to enjoy his freedom, only to go running straight into another trap.
He withdraws his hand, shaking his head, like telling Gator no has ever gotten him what he wanted. Hell, the one time it did, he came running back anyway, begging for a second chance. But this - Billy hates every part of the idea of it. Being trapped here, with no space of his own, no freedom, under the roof of a man he doesn't know and doesn't want to know. Even the idea of Bowman going through his stuff makes his stomach churn. ]
I - I can't just - I've got a lease, a job... And -- what about your family? They don't want someone like me here.
[ He's sobering up fast now, chest rising and falling as each breath comes more quickly than the last. Even if he weren't drunk and tired, Billy has no idea how he could talk himself out of this. It's his own fault. It always is. ]
[ when billy panics, gator's jaw sets. gone is the amusement, gone is the idea of their little lovenest, right here on the compound in gator's room. he tilts his head in the opposite direction, staring at billy as if he's fucked up big time. his eyes widen slightly, and that's when his hand rips itself from the water. it splashes, right over the side of the tub, as gator wraps his fingers around billy's throat. ]
You don't get it, do you?
[ it's hissed through teeth, said with such angry disdain. his voice is still soft, and he does not want to alarm anyone in the house, especially his father. his grip tightens, billy's face turning a sweet shade of red. gator knows what he wants, and he aims to get it. that's billy, here, in this house for the rest of their lives. his best girl, his only girl, his wife. he lets go of billy, shoving him back against the other side of the tub. gator then climbs out, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist. he stares down at billy, and the gun is within gator's reach. ]
Remember when I said I'd kill you?
[ a slow smile, one that's menacing, cruel, and downright mean in the way it taunts. he lowers himself onto his haunches, fingers dipping below the water shallowly to flick some on billy's face. this is illegal, this is wrong, but so is denying gator anything that he wants. his eyes hit billy's, and he licks his bottom lip. ]
I'll kill you if you run. If I don't get the chance, hell -
[ he shrugs his shoulders, looking back down at the water for a moment, giving a firm nod. he then sidelines billy with his gaze, head tilted a bit. he stares at billy, strong, hard - ]
[ Billy freezes up in Gator's grip, forever the rabbit, forever his prey. Whatever idea he had in his head of this being a fun little sleepover, just a once-in-a-while indulgence he'd give to him, all of his soft, stupid feelings he'd felt just because he'd warmed him up, washed him - they're all gone now. His lips quiver as he stares back at Gator, eyes welling up with tears, knowing full well he'll only get more angry if he closes them or looks away.
Then he's thrown back, narrowly missing hitting his head hard on the edge of the tub. He gasps, clutching at his throat as Gator gets out of the bath, and he feels so damn small. Like a kid again, being told - this is the way things are, whether you like it or not. ]
I remember. I remember.
[ Billy covers his mouth to stifle a sob, tears streaking his face as Gator lowers himself, getting in close. If he wanted him dead, right now, it'd be so easy. Drag him outside, into the dark, no one around to witness it who wouldn't be glad to see him go. There's nowhere to run, and no one to miss him if he were to disappear. He swipes at his eyes with wet hands, suddenly feeling cold again. ]
I won't run. I promise I won't run, daddy, I swear. [ It's hard to keep his voice down when it keeps breaking. ] J-Just take me to get my stuff tomorrow, please. My car - I don't wanna leave my car. I can go with Bowman if you can't, just - please.
[ There's a few other mementos he's held onto, but they're in his car too. Things of his mom's, few and far between. Neil destroyed the rest - best to forget she ever existed, erase her from memory. ]
[ run, rabbit! run! gator means it when he says that his father would do it. there's no running from roy tillman, and gator knows it. billy should by this point, too, but there's no accounting for brains between his eyes. gator figures that if he put a gun in his mouth, dust would blow out. his lips purse, eyes dangerous as they gaze at billy, watching him panic and cry. such a fucking pussy. gator clicks his tongue, eyes still very focused, lethal.
he reaches out, two fingers under billy's chin. a smirk forms, but it doesn't meet his gaze. his eyes are dark and cold - just as his father's stare gets. it's cyclic, each of them hard where they should be soft. his heart doesn't pound, it doesn't flutter, it beats calmly. nothing is pumping between ventricles that would indicate kindness. he turns billy's head to meet his eyes, and he finally speaks after billy's blubbering questions and requests. ]
I'll go with you. You can have your fuckin' car.
[ standing again, he releases billy's chin. he picks up his uniform, then snatches the glock from its holster. he flips the safety off, then back on. he points it at billy, one eye closed. ]
Bang.
[ he lowers it, grinning. billy has to learn - he has to be broken into pieces. gator's on his way to that, knowing that it only takes a tip of the scales. being afraid of him isn't enough - billy has to be obsessed, had to be pliable. gator wants that, wants billy utterly dependent. that's what the compound is - no escape. conform or turn to compost. ]
[ His mind is racing, struggling to truly take in everything this means. Billy's never so much as seen the compound in the daylight, doesn't know how big it is, what's there, who's there. He's been in one goddamn room. But it doesn't matter if he wants to be there or not - he can be there, or he can be in the ground. Plain and simple. It's crushing, and he feels paralyzed by it as Gator stares him down, fingers under his chin.
It's stupid, he knows it is, being sentimental about his belongings. There isn't much, at this point. He'd already left a lot behind with Neil and sold most of the rest. But they're his, even when nothing else is. The idea of a stranger going through them, determining what's worth something and what isn't, throwing it all together - it makes him sick. If nothing else, can't he have that one small dignity? ]
Thanks.
[ Billy flinches when Gator raises his gun, and for that split second he envisions his skull shattering, his brains a spray against the tile. He disappears, and no one misses him. He's shut out his family, never connected on a deeper level with anyone else after moving here. Friendships were superficial, disappeared along with team sports and bush parties. So now he has Gator, just Gator.
This is why he's Gator's bitch. It's not just because he acts like a bitch, crying and pleading and feeling his stupid fucking feelings. It's the obsession, the craving for his attention and praise. It's because feels like no one else will ever give it, not the way he does, and that's just another reason why Billy deserves to be treated this way. He brought it upon himself, didn't he? Playing with fire, again and again, after being burned so many times.
He wraps his arms around himself, shuddering, blinking away his last few tears. It's been a long night, and though his body is exhausted, his thoughts are still frantic. There's nothing else he can do about this tonight, save for maybe get back on Gator's good side, if he can. ]
[ the way billy folds in on himself, broken, but not enough - not yet. he's yet to become completely and utterly subservient, to become completely and utterly dependent. he wants to be billy's god, his lover, his man. gator lowers the gun completely, then nods at the stack of towels near the bathtub. all placed nicely, put there by roy's wife of the week. he smiles at billy. broad, almost sweet. ]
Get out, babygirl.
[ gator then towels off, drying his hair, it sticking up in all directions as he begins to dry his body. he figures that once billy gets comfortable in gator's bed, that it might help. it should. he doesn't see this as kidnapping, but making a place for them to be happy. freedom lies in the arms of the compound, and if billy wants his precious belongings, he'll play along in gator's fantasy. plain, cut-and-dried. gator towels the back of his neck, turning to billy with both brows raised. ]
You really are scared, aren'tcha?
[ a simple question, one that rides gator's tongue with curiosity. he purses his lips, a faux frown. he knows that billy might be upset, but this is what his future looks like. he and gator, one entwined with the other. he doesn't see that as a problem - he thought billy would be happy. what an ungrateful little cunt. he's beginning to feel irritation, so he focuses his attention on the mirror, wiping it down. ]
[ Billy pulls the plug from the drain before he stands, still unsteady on his feet, more from nerves than the liquor. A part of him wonders if he'll ever grow used to Gator pointing a gun his way, if there will come a time where it's not enough to make him submit. Another part knows that's insane, but the goalposts keep moving, inch by inch. What he'll accept keeps shifting, and it brought him all the way here. Captive.
He dries off as much as he can before stepping out of the tub, the large bathroom feeling so small now, suffocating. Gator turns to him again, asks, you really are scared, aren'tcha? Billy swallows as he considers the question, bringing the towel up to his head to squeeze water out of his curls.
Scared feels too simple a word, just one facet of what he feels for Gator. He wishes he could pluck away the small things, the good things: being held in his arms, warmed by his bathwater, fingers in his hair, shh, baby, you're my girl. Take them, build a man out of them who could love him. Men like that aren't real, Billy knows, and if they were, they wouldn't love him. He wouldn't love them either, too sick, always craving self-destruction.
He presses his lips together into a flat line, desperate to stop any more tears from flowing as he answers. ]
Isn't that what you wanted?
[ His breath hitches in his throat as he holds the towel to his chest. He has to consider his words carefully. Would he understand more if he told Gator about the way he grew up, what he's already run from? Or would it only be fuel for the fire? ]
It's not everything I feel for you. You know that, right?
[ gator watches billy in the mirror, both arms on the sides of the porcelain. he watches him dry, pulling the towel up to his hair, the red-rimmed lines around his eyes attempting to hold back more tears. it's pathetic to gator, seeing billy cry all the time, watching him wallow in his own misery like a selfish little pussy, when gator's done all he can to be accommodating. this is roy's house, true, but gator's influence still runs through the compound. roy's allowing this, so gator figures that billy should be grateful he didn't get a bullet to the brain within five minutes of meeting roy. he swallows, lowering his head, jaw tense as he tries to lower the tension in his body. his urge is to slap billy, to hurt him, to throw him to the ground.
be happy. love me. do as i say.
he understands, for the most part, that people can't be controlled - but that's unfair. he wants to control billy, wants to be his only thing, wants to be his obsession - it's only right, as gator's thoughts are nothing but billy running through, smiling, glad that gator has given him his precious attention. he didn't have to go after billy, didn't have to become infatuated, as if gator had any choice. he saw those big, bright eyes - and it was over. billy is his favorite toy, but he won't listen. he never listens. he's like a bad animal, and gator has to keep at it until billy understands. will he ever? gator hopes so, or this will all have been for nothing as he buries billy's body outside of the compound.
it's almost as if billy wants that.
gator pushes himself off of the sink, turning, leaning on it by his naked body. he folds his arms over his chest, head tilted as he hears those last words: it's not everything i feel for you. lies, probably, billy's attitude needing an adjustment. gator's eyes narrow, and he rolls his tongue over his molars, irritated. angry. not full of rage, but more frustrated - why can't billy just become pliable on his own? why doesn't he live for gator? why doesn't he bend the knee and love him? ]
You're a fuckin' liar.
[ turning back to the mirror, gator pulls his toothbrush from its holder. he squeezes toothpaste onto it, then turns on the sink, wetting. he begins to brush his teeth, nonchalant, but that's always the first sign that something's wrong. he takes his time, brushing his teeth in a way that's calm. ordinary. as if this is domestic, normal. as if this is all right. billy will understand one day, or gator will kill him. or roy will. or someone else. he's bound to a ditch, rotting, but gator doesn't want that to happen. ]
Goddamn fuckin' liar.
[ he spits the toothpaste, washing it down the drain. he wipes his mouth with the towel, then gazes at billy over his shoulder. his eyes narrow again, and he places his toothbrush back. he has to work harder, it seems, to get billy to see things his way. ]
[ You're a fuckin' liar. The words burn his eyes as they hang in the air between them, and Billy clenches his jaw as he sits on the edge of the bathtub. Is this their new normal? Heart pounding in his chest as Gator fumes with rage, trying to find some way to bring him back down?
He says he'll kill Billy if he runs, but he's not convinced that it'll even take that much. There have been too many close calls already, brought on by the smallest things, and those weren't on Tillman property. Sure, they reign over this whole county, but there's a difference between doing it out there in the real world and here, on what could be acres upon acres of land guarded by men ordered to shoot on sight.
He'd thought it sounded like a prison long before he came here. Now he knows he was right. ]
I'm not lying.
[ His word is never enough. Gator demands devotion, sacrifice, obedience, and he'll break Billy down until he gets it exactly on his terms. And if not? Then he finally pulls the trigger, and Gator finds someone else who'll break more neatly. Someone better.
The question stuns him, lips parted. He's thought it what feels like a million times, that whatever this is, it must be some kind of love, dark and twisted. Nothing else could make someone so crazy, make someone as willing to hurt as he is for Gator. Even now, fearful for his life, his whole world shaken as his new life is dictated to him - Billy wants to love him, to be loved in return. ]
Gator...
[ Billy almost never calls him by name. Even before daddy became his go-to for him, it just didn't feel quite right in his mouth. Too casual, maybe, in their roles as master and servant. Man and girl. Billy is property, not a lover. And yet he wants so badly to prove his worthiness to him. ]
I love you. Like I've never loved anybody, ever. That scares me. I'm scared of not making you happy. I'm scared of this place. None of that means I don't love you. [ He sniffles, staring up at him. ] Why don't you believe me?
[ i'm not lying. gator spits again, then turns his full attention to billy. his arms are by his side, supporting his lean on the sink. he tilts his head, dark eyes devouring billy with mean, angry doubt. billy doesn't love him, as far as gator is concerned. in his mind, this is a safe place. warm, somewhere he can make for he and billy. there's nowhere safer, nowhere else that has this level of not to be fucked with, and that is a blanket over billy now. to do as he pleases, but under gator's control. that's the rub, the puppet strings tied not on billy's limbs, but by his throat.
gator hears billy's words, head lowered, tongue trailing over his top teeth. he doesn't look at him, not yet, nodding along, pretending that all of this is normal - as if this is communication. when billy says he's scared of this place, gator's head snaps up. his eyes are wild, as if he's been accused of something. why don't you believe me? gator's fingers twitch, aching to give billy a strong backhand. he doesn't, however, settled against the sink as if he's been kicked in the gut. billy says a lot of things - and most of it is bullshit. you're sick, leave me alone then i shouldn't have told you to leave. what is it, really? which one? the pendulum swings between love and hate, and gator doesn't get that. ]
You're gonna have to prove that.
[ again, gator considers the words about the compound scaring billy, and that's when gator's lips purse, his brow knitting. he begins to dress completely, silent as he pulls himself into his pajama pants last. he's tense, too tense, this conversation not going as he'd planned or hoped. billy's terrified, and he's supposed to feel comfort. this is gator's generosity. this is the tillman promise to let billy into the fold. that takes trust - especially on gator's part. he brought billy here to live, not shrivel up and cry. when he's dressed, gator's eyes hit billy's again. ]
This -
[ he points between them, finger curling this way and that. ]
You ain't supposed to be scared of here. This is supposed to be good. You're ruinin' it.
[ you ruin everything. gator nods toward billy's pajamas, then steps toward the door. he presses his hand to the center of the wood, but he doesn't unlock the door. not yet. not when billy's sitting there naked as all hell. gator lowers his head once more, and he wants to punch something. he wants to rip and tear. this isn't what he wants and he hates that. more than anything.
[ Gator doesn't look at him for a long while, and that only adds to the dread building in Billy's guts. He's not sure if he fears him more when he's quiet, thinking, or when he snaps to anger. When their eyes do meet, he freezes up again, expecting Gator to cross the small distance between them and hit him, choke him, something.
Of course he'll have to prove it. Billy can never be trusted, but he's supposed to trust Gator implicitly.
He's still hugging the towel to his chest, the silence like ice in his veins. He finally moves to get dressed as Gator speaks, tugging a t-shirt over his head, stepping into warm, well worn flannel. ]
I don't wanna be scared. But I've never even been here before, Gator.
[ You fit here. I don't. It goes without saying, really. And now Billy wonders if he'll ever get to leave. If they'll even go to his apartment tomorrow to get his things. It feels like he never left home now, trapped in his bedroom, banging on the locked door. His nostrils flare as he breathes, still trying his best to hold back tears. He's such a fucking pussy. No wonder he's here. ]
That stupid shithole apartment - that's the first place I ever lived where I wasn't scared shitless of coming home. My whole fuckin' life. Ain't even been there six months.
[ Gator's not going to care, and it's definitely not going to sway him. This is just another thing he can leverage against him, proof that he's a bitch and always has been. Billy's little taste of freedom, and he'd squandered it.
You'll never fucking understand. He lets out a breath, slow and shaky. ]
[ gator doesn't care about billy's stupid fucking apartment, and while he wants to voice that, he allows billy to finish his words. gator is still against the door, fingers curling into a fist. he's not going to hit billy - he's not, but the urge is strong in his veins, his tense muscles. they were fine a few minutes ago - so why did that have to change? billy, happy, warm, being bathed and taken care of. gator's eyes well up, and he hates that more than he can process.
he thumps his fist against the door softly, eyes still focused on the floor. roy let him in, roy gave him to gator to watch. that's responsibility, that's care. it's as if billy's a pet, a dog, something for gator to run around with. he wants billy wrapped around his finger, totally broken, but this isn't a step he thought would end like this. he doesn't understand, and that makes him feel broken in places he doesn't like to think about. goddamn billy fucking hargrove. if gator could take all of this back, he would. billy's ungrateful. that's where to put the rage, that's where to put the years of spent anger. he sniffles, then presses his head to the door. ]
It don't matter. You want that instead of me.
[ sulking, gator unlocks the door. he turns back to his uniform and picks it up, gun heavy in his hand. he stares at billy, and it's clear, two tears falling, that he's in pain. he's fucked this up, just like he does everything else. roy won't like this, he knows it, but billy hasn't seen anything. he knows, of course he knows, but so does the rest of town. gator isn't to be trifled with even on a good day, his mood constantly sour by the taste of billy hargrove on his tongue. he wipes his eyes, then sniffles one last time. ]
Bowman'll take you back to your shithole tomorrow. You good with that, you fuckin' crybaby? You're gettin' your way again. That's what you want, isn't it?
[ his jaw sets, eyes narrowed. he could hit billy now, and it would be a release. he doesn't, however, still true to his thought that this is safe. billy's just a fucking idiot, he can't see, he doesn't understand. gator despises that down to his core, every inch of his body wanting to reach forward and beat billy until he's unconscious, but he... can't. instead, he lowers his chin again, then heads toward the door. ]
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he leans, hand in billy's hair, brushing it behind his ear. soft, slow. he grins, wicked, before he lowers his palm onto billy's knee. he lets out a deep shh, hush to comfort billy, though he knows it's probably doing the opposite. that's what gets gator off - the fear. the pure, unadulterated version of it. if he could bottle billy's scared tendencies, he'd drink every drop, hard in his pants. he isn't now, no, not yet. he takes his hand away, then opens the driver's side door, slipping out. he walks around the front of the suv, slow, before he opens billy's door. he nods for him to get out, the air chilly and with a breeze. he knows it'll freeze billy beyond stinging, so he smiles. that's what he deserves. ]
C'mon out, now. You're gonna meet the sheriff.
[ it's then that roy walks out, cigar in hand, staring both of them down with steel and grit. he flicks ashes, then puts the cigar between his teeth. he knows that gator has... proclivites that he likes to indulge in, but as roy looks billy over, his lips purse around the end of the cigar. he takes in a mouthful of smoke, then blows it in billy's direction. what is he, a dog? one brow jumps on roy's head, under the brim of his hat.
gator nods, pulling billy from the suv and presenting him as if he's a wet dog he's dragged in to keep. he holds him by the back of the neck, the collar of his shirt. gator grins, and roy spits. gator's smile never falters, though there's a flash in his eyes that roy won't approve. roy nods toward the house, tapping ashes again. clean him up.
gator then leans in, mouth close to billy's ear: ]
Well, go on, shithead. You're takin' a shower. You stink like liquor.
no subject
He hadn't dressed warm enough as is, but enough time outside has left him shivering long after getting into the SUV. Being this drunk and this afraid is a wholly unpleasant experience, too, and Billy feels like each bump in the road is rattling his brain. He's grateful, at least, to have a strong stomach after years of binge drinking and partying, but it doesn't make him feel any less like he's going to puke or piss himself or both.
The compound. What kind of a name is that? But it makes sense now, seeing the armed guards, the gates. This isn't a home, it's a fucking institution.
Billy closes his eyes as Gator's fingers brush his hair back, taking a shaky breath. Gator doesn't do soft and sweet, not for long. This is just part of the fun for him. His hand is warm against his knee, at least, but it's not there long. ]
'kay.
[ The air is cold, painfully so when he's already chilled to the bone. Billy's unsteady on his feet as Gator pulls out of the SUV, bracing himself against the side of it and taking another deep breath as he finds himself staring up at Roy Tillman.
He's bigger in real life than on TV. Not just in stature, but in presence. Big man, big hat, big fucking cigar and nothing but complete and utter disdain on his face as he looks Billy over. ]
Nice t'meet you, s-sir.
[ It's a struggle to even string that sentence together. Billy feels his face flush, thankful for the dark. Roy spits, unimpressed, and Billy just wishes he could disappear. Gator's voice is quiet in his ear, and he finds himself shivering in a completely different way.
He nearly trips over his feet as Gator guides him into the house, hand still gripping his neck. Billy's grateful for the warmth if nothing else, his eyes unfocused as he tries to take in his surroundings as they go by.
Then it's into the bathroom, Billy stumbling, the bright lights making him squint. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he braces himself against the wall with one hand, red-faced, eyelids heavy, slack-jawed. ]
We didn't - we didn't go get my stuff.
no subject
billy shouldn't be here - gator knows it, billy knows it. the compound isn't the nicest place to be, but it's safe - safer than anywhere in north dakota, save for the governor's mansion. tillman law officers stand at the gates, guns ready, and everyone walks around with one on their hip. billy won't get one, that's too fucking stupid of a thought as it is, and gator thinks billy knows that. there won't be weapons available to him, no matter the circumstances. gator doesn't want a glock down his throat at three am some night. he's a little smarter than that. he understands what he's done to billy, what he's doing to him - but violence from billy's direction? the punishment would be swift, and despite everything - gator doesn't want billy's life to end. not really.
he kicks billy's foot with the toe of his boot, not too hard, but enough to get him moving. he then stands, pulling back the shower curtain and exposing the large tub. it's enough for two or three people to bathe in, so gator strips off his hat, then his bulletproof vest. ]
You don't fuckin' need your shit. I'll give you some clothes. Move.
[ gator starts the water, hot, the tub filling. he steps out, then walks to his room, pulling out a pair of night clothes for him and billy both, and underwear for him. billy doesn't need it, not now. especially with what gator has in mind. slipping back into the bathroom and locking the door, gator presses the clothes against billy's chest. he looks him in the eye, staring, jaw tense. before billy can blink again, gator kisses him, deep, slow, needy. he sucks on his bottom lip, then pulls back. ]
We're gonna take a bath. Go on, strip.
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So instead he steps out of the way, watching Gator turn on the tap and plug the drain before he leaves the room. Billy finds himself staring at nothing in particular, wondering when the last time he had an actual bath was. Probably when he was a little kid. Neil got on his case about spending too much time in the bathroom as it was, and the bathroom in his apartment can barely fit the small shower shoved in its corner.
It's not until Gator returns that Billy realizes he's just been standing there shivering in his boots, though he is starting to warm up a little. He clutches at the soft fabric of the clothes Gator brought for him, staring back at him. Is he mad? He could be - it doesn't take much, and Billy's a mess right now. In front of the sheriff, too. Embarrassing.
But he kisses him instead, and Billy lets out a quiet groan, lips parting to let Gator in. They don't kiss much, and especially not like this. So when Gator pulls back, Billy's smiling, dazed.
God, he's hopeless. ]
Right - yeah. Yeah.
[ Billy kicks his way out of his boots, standing them up against the wall, tucking his socks inside them. His denim jacket is next, then the flannel he'd worn under it and his undershirt. Despite the warmth filling the room from the steaming bath water, he's still chilled to the bone, covered in goosebumps as he strips out of his jeans and underwear.
He keeps one hand on the edge of the tub as he gingerly takes one step into the water, almost too hot - but too drunk and tired to care. The other foot follows, and he slowly sinks down until he's sitting in the running water, looking up at Gator. ]
no subject
You gettin' warm?
[ his voice is soft, kind. he's capable of it, but the moments are few and far between. the washcloth works up to billy's neck, then his shoulder, gator scooting closer. he observes billy, head tilting to make sure he's watching where he's washing. he then picks up billy's hand from under the water, palming the washcloth into his palm. ]
I can't reach everywhere, now, c'mon.
[ he understands - but only to a degree. billy is taking a bath with him in some unknown place, but the water is good for him. the steam, so billy doesn't get a cold. gator, still holding billy's hand, nods with his chin. he then backs away, plucking a washcloth for himself. he soaps it up, then scrubs his arms down, eyes still on billy. ]
You can't get sick.
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Gator brings the washcloth to his chest, gentle in a way Billy rarely sees but always cherishes. He nods, relaxing into his touch as he continues to wash him, the cold that's chilled him down to his bones finally melting away. He's still not happy to be out here, this strange and terrifying place Gator calls home, but he's happy for this, at least. ]
Okay, okay, I got it.
[ Billy smiles lazily, taking the washcloth once Gator pulls back to scrub himself down. He does the same, albeit slower, scrubbing under his arms, down the rest of his torso. ]
I won't. M'just not built for this weather. This is like -- January, back home. [ He chuckles, smiling at him. ] Gonna have to bundle me up one of those big snow suits.
no subject
We got them around here. I generally just layer up. That'll teach you to run around in them open shirts.
[ gator lifts his leg, placing it on the side of the tub near billy. he's comfortable, head leaned to the side, and he watches billy with something stirring deep within. he swallows, adam's apple bobbing with it, and he nods at billy's washcloth. ]
My turn.
[ it isn't normal - far from it. kidnapping, holding a hostage, bathing with him. none of it makes sense, but billy's laughing and smiling and it fits into gator's mind like the last piece of a puzzle. this was always supposed to happen. he was supposed to bring him here, to make him his. as selfish as it is - gator hasn't been taught any different. from roy, from the rest of the men at the compound. this is love, isn't it? gator leans his head back, but he doesn't close his eyes. they shine, something gentle in them, his toes playing at billy's bicep. ]
Wash me.
no subject
You like me in them open shirts. Well - now on, forget it. Gonna get me a big-ass parka and never take it off.
[ He watches, eyebrow raised, as Gator lifts one leg out of the water, a smirk curling over his lips as his foot rests against his bicep. Billy dunks his washcloth under the water, squeezing some of it out before bringing it up to wash over the top of Gator's foot, up his calf, slow and careful. When he can't reach any further from where he's sitting, Billy shifts, tucking one leg in toward himself while he scoots forward, bringing the cloth up along Gator's thigh, blue eyes meeting his again. ]
You gonna keep me warm all winter?
no subject
I'll keep you warm, now. Don'tcha think I'm warm?
[ his hand reaches up, still wet, running through the strands of his hair, gel releases here and there. strands fall, his body moving a bit as he gets comfortable against billy. he leans up, kissing him, mouthing at his lips, opening his own. they kiss for what seems like hours - gator's hand guiding billy again, only to his abdomen. not yet. he nips at his bottom lip, soft, eyes on eyes. ]
Real warm.
[ like the tease he is, gator nestles against the back of the tub again. he watches billy, licking a remnant of his saliva off of his lips. he doesn't think anything carnal should happen, not now, anyway. he merely leans his head back, closing his eyes. the steam rises from the water, the windows and mirror fogged up. ]
no subject
Mmhmm. Got me warmin' up real nice, daddy.
[ Billy's always weak for his kisses, opens up eagerly to him as his hands linger on Gator's inner thighs. He's in no hurry to rush things along, warm and lazy now, content to languish in this strangely intimate, strangely domestic moment. Gator guides his hand again, this time to his abdomen, and Billy smiles against his mouth, running the washcloth over the firm muscles there. ]
Warmer than warm. Think there might be a word for that, maybe.
[ Gator leans back again, and Billy decides to tease, too. He dunks the washcloth in the water again and starts to wash Gator's other leg, starting at the foot, working his way up and flashing him a grin. ]
no subject
You'll be happy here, baby.
[ and you'll be mine. gator releases billy's hand, staring at him lovingly, as if praise would fall from his tongue again. he doesn't understand that what he's done is wrong. kidnapping is what it is, but that's the tillman way, isn't it? take what you want, don't apologize. do what you please, because there are no consequences. ]
Bowman'll probably bring your stuff tomorrow. You gotta get used to the bedroom, still.
no subject
But then he keeps talking, and Billy knits his brows together, wondering if maybe he's just still too drunk to follow his train of thought. His intuition says otherwise, though, and his heart is sinking fast as he struggles to put words together. ]
What're you talking about?
[ His voice feels too small for his body, like if he were any further from Gator he wouldn't be able to hear him. ]
I don't want Bowman -- you said - I-I don't need my stuff. It's one night.
[ His fingers are still pressed to Gator's pec, his eyes suddenly wide, fearful as they study Gator's. ]
Right?
oop.
Now, baby, that's where you don't get it.
[ he clicks his tongue, mouth pulling down in mock frown. he rests his hand on billy's shoulder now, thumb rubbing the muscle at the dip of his neck. he frowns again, but it's more pouty than anything else, as if batting his eyelashes will somehow get him his way. no one has told him this is wrong, but some part of him suffocates it until its no longer breathing. there is nothing here but rules, the law of what's right and what's wrong - gator knows this is right.
he tips his head back and forth, wincing a bit, but dangerously. he leans back against the tub again, both legs on top of billy's knees. he sighs, head on his fist as he supports it. he smiles. ]
You're gonna be here with me.
oops! all kidnapping β₯
He withdraws his hand, shaking his head, like telling Gator no has ever gotten him what he wanted. Hell, the one time it did, he came running back anyway, begging for a second chance. But this - Billy hates every part of the idea of it. Being trapped here, with no space of his own, no freedom, under the roof of a man he doesn't know and doesn't want to know. Even the idea of Bowman going through his stuff makes his stomach churn. ]
I - I can't just - I've got a lease, a job... And -- what about your family? They don't want someone like me here.
[ He's sobering up fast now, chest rising and falling as each breath comes more quickly than the last. Even if he weren't drunk and tired, Billy has no idea how he could talk himself out of this. It's his own fault. It always is. ]
Can't we talk about this?
no subject
You don't get it, do you?
[ it's hissed through teeth, said with such angry disdain. his voice is still soft, and he does not want to alarm anyone in the house, especially his father. his grip tightens, billy's face turning a sweet shade of red. gator knows what he wants, and he aims to get it. that's billy, here, in this house for the rest of their lives. his best girl, his only girl, his wife. he lets go of billy, shoving him back against the other side of the tub. gator then climbs out, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist. he stares down at billy, and the gun is within gator's reach. ]
Remember when I said I'd kill you?
[ a slow smile, one that's menacing, cruel, and downright mean in the way it taunts. he lowers himself onto his haunches, fingers dipping below the water shallowly to flick some on billy's face. this is illegal, this is wrong, but so is denying gator anything that he wants. his eyes hit billy's, and he licks his bottom lip. ]
I'll kill you if you run. If I don't get the chance, hell -
[ he shrugs his shoulders, looking back down at the water for a moment, giving a firm nod. he then sidelines billy with his gaze, head tilted a bit. he stares at billy, strong, hard - ]
My dad will.
no subject
Then he's thrown back, narrowly missing hitting his head hard on the edge of the tub. He gasps, clutching at his throat as Gator gets out of the bath, and he feels so damn small. Like a kid again, being told - this is the way things are, whether you like it or not. ]
I remember. I remember.
[ Billy covers his mouth to stifle a sob, tears streaking his face as Gator lowers himself, getting in close. If he wanted him dead, right now, it'd be so easy. Drag him outside, into the dark, no one around to witness it who wouldn't be glad to see him go. There's nowhere to run, and no one to miss him if he were to disappear. He swipes at his eyes with wet hands, suddenly feeling cold again. ]
I won't run. I promise I won't run, daddy, I swear. [ It's hard to keep his voice down when it keeps breaking. ] J-Just take me to get my stuff tomorrow, please. My car - I don't wanna leave my car. I can go with Bowman if you can't, just - please.
[ There's a few other mementos he's held onto, but they're in his car too. Things of his mom's, few and far between. Neil destroyed the rest - best to forget she ever existed, erase her from memory. ]
no subject
he reaches out, two fingers under billy's chin. a smirk forms, but it doesn't meet his gaze. his eyes are dark and cold - just as his father's stare gets. it's cyclic, each of them hard where they should be soft. his heart doesn't pound, it doesn't flutter, it beats calmly. nothing is pumping between ventricles that would indicate kindness. he turns billy's head to meet his eyes, and he finally speaks after billy's blubbering questions and requests. ]
I'll go with you. You can have your fuckin' car.
[ standing again, he releases billy's chin. he picks up his uniform, then snatches the glock from its holster. he flips the safety off, then back on. he points it at billy, one eye closed. ]
Bang.
[ he lowers it, grinning. billy has to learn - he has to be broken into pieces. gator's on his way to that, knowing that it only takes a tip of the scales. being afraid of him isn't enough - billy has to be obsessed, had to be pliable. gator wants that, wants billy utterly dependent. that's what the compound is - no escape. conform or turn to compost. ]
no subject
It's stupid, he knows it is, being sentimental about his belongings. There isn't much, at this point. He'd already left a lot behind with Neil and sold most of the rest. But they're his, even when nothing else is. The idea of a stranger going through them, determining what's worth something and what isn't, throwing it all together - it makes him sick. If nothing else, can't he have that one small dignity? ]
Thanks.
[ Billy flinches when Gator raises his gun, and for that split second he envisions his skull shattering, his brains a spray against the tile. He disappears, and no one misses him. He's shut out his family, never connected on a deeper level with anyone else after moving here. Friendships were superficial, disappeared along with team sports and bush parties. So now he has Gator, just Gator.
This is why he's Gator's bitch. It's not just because he acts like a bitch, crying and pleading and feeling his stupid fucking feelings. It's the obsession, the craving for his attention and praise. It's because feels like no one else will ever give it, not the way he does, and that's just another reason why Billy deserves to be treated this way. He brought it upon himself, didn't he? Playing with fire, again and again, after being burned so many times.
He wraps his arms around himself, shuddering, blinking away his last few tears. It's been a long night, and though his body is exhausted, his thoughts are still frantic. There's nothing else he can do about this tonight, save for maybe get back on Gator's good side, if he can. ]
Should I get out now?
no subject
Get out, babygirl.
[ gator then towels off, drying his hair, it sticking up in all directions as he begins to dry his body. he figures that once billy gets comfortable in gator's bed, that it might help. it should. he doesn't see this as kidnapping, but making a place for them to be happy. freedom lies in the arms of the compound, and if billy wants his precious belongings, he'll play along in gator's fantasy. plain, cut-and-dried. gator towels the back of his neck, turning to billy with both brows raised. ]
You really are scared, aren'tcha?
[ a simple question, one that rides gator's tongue with curiosity. he purses his lips, a faux frown. he knows that billy might be upset, but this is what his future looks like. he and gator, one entwined with the other. he doesn't see that as a problem - he thought billy would be happy. what an ungrateful little cunt. he's beginning to feel irritation, so he focuses his attention on the mirror, wiping it down. ]
You're scared of me.
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He dries off as much as he can before stepping out of the tub, the large bathroom feeling so small now, suffocating. Gator turns to him again, asks, you really are scared, aren'tcha? Billy swallows as he considers the question, bringing the towel up to his head to squeeze water out of his curls.
Scared feels too simple a word, just one facet of what he feels for Gator. He wishes he could pluck away the small things, the good things: being held in his arms, warmed by his bathwater, fingers in his hair, shh, baby, you're my girl. Take them, build a man out of them who could love him. Men like that aren't real, Billy knows, and if they were, they wouldn't love him. He wouldn't love them either, too sick, always craving self-destruction.
He presses his lips together into a flat line, desperate to stop any more tears from flowing as he answers. ]
Isn't that what you wanted?
[ His breath hitches in his throat as he holds the towel to his chest. He has to consider his words carefully. Would he understand more if he told Gator about the way he grew up, what he's already run from? Or would it only be fuel for the fire? ]
It's not everything I feel for you. You know that, right?
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be happy. love me. do as i say.
he understands, for the most part, that people can't be controlled - but that's unfair. he wants to control billy, wants to be his only thing, wants to be his obsession - it's only right, as gator's thoughts are nothing but billy running through, smiling, glad that gator has given him his precious attention. he didn't have to go after billy, didn't have to become infatuated, as if gator had any choice. he saw those big, bright eyes - and it was over. billy is his favorite toy, but he won't listen. he never listens. he's like a bad animal, and gator has to keep at it until billy understands. will he ever? gator hopes so, or this will all have been for nothing as he buries billy's body outside of the compound.
it's almost as if billy wants that.
gator pushes himself off of the sink, turning, leaning on it by his naked body. he folds his arms over his chest, head tilted as he hears those last words: it's not everything i feel for you. lies, probably, billy's attitude needing an adjustment. gator's eyes narrow, and he rolls his tongue over his molars, irritated. angry. not full of rage, but more frustrated - why can't billy just become pliable on his own? why doesn't he live for gator? why doesn't he bend the knee and love him? ]
You're a fuckin' liar.
[ turning back to the mirror, gator pulls his toothbrush from its holder. he squeezes toothpaste onto it, then turns on the sink, wetting. he begins to brush his teeth, nonchalant, but that's always the first sign that something's wrong. he takes his time, brushing his teeth in a way that's calm. ordinary. as if this is domestic, normal. as if this is all right. billy will understand one day, or gator will kill him. or roy will. or someone else. he's bound to a ditch, rotting, but gator doesn't want that to happen. ]
Goddamn fuckin' liar.
[ he spits the toothpaste, washing it down the drain. he wipes his mouth with the towel, then gazes at billy over his shoulder. his eyes narrow again, and he places his toothbrush back. he has to work harder, it seems, to get billy to see things his way. ]
Why don't you love me?
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He says he'll kill Billy if he runs, but he's not convinced that it'll even take that much. There have been too many close calls already, brought on by the smallest things, and those weren't on Tillman property. Sure, they reign over this whole county, but there's a difference between doing it out there in the real world and here, on what could be acres upon acres of land guarded by men ordered to shoot on sight.
He'd thought it sounded like a prison long before he came here. Now he knows he was right. ]
I'm not lying.
[ His word is never enough. Gator demands devotion, sacrifice, obedience, and he'll break Billy down until he gets it exactly on his terms. And if not? Then he finally pulls the trigger, and Gator finds someone else who'll break more neatly. Someone better.
The question stuns him, lips parted. He's thought it what feels like a million times, that whatever this is, it must be some kind of love, dark and twisted. Nothing else could make someone so crazy, make someone as willing to hurt as he is for Gator. Even now, fearful for his life, his whole world shaken as his new life is dictated to him - Billy wants to love him, to be loved in return. ]
Gator...
[ Billy almost never calls him by name. Even before daddy became his go-to for him, it just didn't feel quite right in his mouth. Too casual, maybe, in their roles as master and servant. Man and girl. Billy is property, not a lover. And yet he wants so badly to prove his worthiness to him. ]
I love you. Like I've never loved anybody, ever. That scares me. I'm scared of not making you happy. I'm scared of this place. None of that means I don't love you. [ He sniffles, staring up at him. ] Why don't you believe me?
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gator hears billy's words, head lowered, tongue trailing over his top teeth. he doesn't look at him, not yet, nodding along, pretending that all of this is normal - as if this is communication. when billy says he's scared of this place, gator's head snaps up. his eyes are wild, as if he's been accused of something. why don't you believe me? gator's fingers twitch, aching to give billy a strong backhand. he doesn't, however, settled against the sink as if he's been kicked in the gut. billy says a lot of things - and most of it is bullshit. you're sick, leave me alone then i shouldn't have told you to leave. what is it, really? which one? the pendulum swings between love and hate, and gator doesn't get that. ]
You're gonna have to prove that.
[ again, gator considers the words about the compound scaring billy, and that's when gator's lips purse, his brow knitting. he begins to dress completely, silent as he pulls himself into his pajama pants last. he's tense, too tense, this conversation not going as he'd planned or hoped. billy's terrified, and he's supposed to feel comfort. this is gator's generosity. this is the tillman promise to let billy into the fold. that takes trust - especially on gator's part. he brought billy here to live, not shrivel up and cry. when he's dressed, gator's eyes hit billy's again. ]
This -
[ he points between them, finger curling this way and that. ]
You ain't supposed to be scared of here. This is supposed to be good. You're ruinin' it.
[ you ruin everything. gator nods toward billy's pajamas, then steps toward the door. he presses his hand to the center of the wood, but he doesn't unlock the door. not yet. not when billy's sitting there naked as all hell. gator lowers his head once more, and he wants to punch something. he wants to rip and tear. this isn't what he wants and he hates that. more than anything.
and it's billy doing it. ]
You were supposed to be fuckin' happy.
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Of course he'll have to prove it. Billy can never be trusted, but he's supposed to trust Gator implicitly.
He's still hugging the towel to his chest, the silence like ice in his veins. He finally moves to get dressed as Gator speaks, tugging a t-shirt over his head, stepping into warm, well worn flannel. ]
I don't wanna be scared. But I've never even been here before, Gator.
[ You fit here. I don't. It goes without saying, really. And now Billy wonders if he'll ever get to leave. If they'll even go to his apartment tomorrow to get his things. It feels like he never left home now, trapped in his bedroom, banging on the locked door. His nostrils flare as he breathes, still trying his best to hold back tears. He's such a fucking pussy. No wonder he's here. ]
That stupid shithole apartment - that's the first place I ever lived where I wasn't scared shitless of coming home. My whole fuckin' life. Ain't even been there six months.
[ Gator's not going to care, and it's definitely not going to sway him. This is just another thing he can leverage against him, proof that he's a bitch and always has been. Billy's little taste of freedom, and he'd squandered it.
You'll never fucking understand. He lets out a breath, slow and shaky. ]
'm sorry I ruined it.
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he thumps his fist against the door softly, eyes still focused on the floor. roy let him in, roy gave him to gator to watch. that's responsibility, that's care. it's as if billy's a pet, a dog, something for gator to run around with. he wants billy wrapped around his finger, totally broken, but this isn't a step he thought would end like this. he doesn't understand, and that makes him feel broken in places he doesn't like to think about. goddamn billy fucking hargrove. if gator could take all of this back, he would. billy's ungrateful. that's where to put the rage, that's where to put the years of spent anger. he sniffles, then presses his head to the door. ]
It don't matter. You want that instead of me.
[ sulking, gator unlocks the door. he turns back to his uniform and picks it up, gun heavy in his hand. he stares at billy, and it's clear, two tears falling, that he's in pain. he's fucked this up, just like he does everything else. roy won't like this, he knows it, but billy hasn't seen anything. he knows, of course he knows, but so does the rest of town. gator isn't to be trifled with even on a good day, his mood constantly sour by the taste of billy hargrove on his tongue. he wipes his eyes, then sniffles one last time. ]
Bowman'll take you back to your shithole tomorrow. You good with that, you fuckin' crybaby? You're gettin' your way again. That's what you want, isn't it?
[ his jaw sets, eyes narrowed. he could hit billy now, and it would be a release. he doesn't, however, still true to his thought that this is safe. billy's just a fucking idiot, he can't see, he doesn't understand. gator despises that down to his core, every inch of his body wanting to reach forward and beat billy until he's unconscious, but he... can't. instead, he lowers his chin again, then heads toward the door. ]
Yeah, well, seems like you mean it this time.
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