PART FOUR: the weekend,
Friday.

Your first night in the Tillman house was quiet to say the least. After picking up Jessica and Maude from their school, both of them clambering into Gator's truck (he had insisted on taking his own so that he could be the sole driver) with slight grumbles, they were used to their mom picking them up, and even Roy on special occasions, they perked up when they realized that their older brothers wife to be was in the passenger seat.
"Are you really going to marry him?" Maude, or maybe it was Jessica you weren't sure how to tell them apart just yet, asked with wide, curious eyes that glanced between you and her big brother. Gator turns half cocked in his seat to give a dirty look to the offending twin. "What? You're gross." She muttered, resigning to buckling her seatbelt.

You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up in your throat or the grin that spread across your lips. "She's not wrong," You giggle when he gives you an equally offended look. "I've seen your bedroom!"
Gator rolls his eyes at you but smiles anyway, asking the girls what they wanted for supper.

He had made supper while you helped the girls with their homework, it was an oddly domestic experience that you basked in, as was holding his hand while he said grace before everyone dug into the sloppy mess of what you quickly gathered was about the only thing he was capable of cooking, pasta.

He had left for work not too long after that, leaving with a hurried and wet kiss to your cheek and a stern look at his sisters to behave themselves, a reminder to lock the doors after he was gone, and to text him if he needed anything, to which you had called out to him that he would have to actually respond too. He simply flips you off as he walks down the steps of the porch.

The girls were an absolute joy, much like your own little sisters. You could tell that they were sweet but that they absolutely enjoyed getting under their older siblings skin whenever they could and you couldn't say you blamed them, he seemed like he could be a hard ass from time to time.

When they were off to bed you were left alone to your own devices, exploring what bit of the house you felt comfortable enough to while you were alone, cleaning up after you and the girls' evening and even cleaning up some of Gator's room, at least cleaning the mess off of the floor.

Eventually, it was late enough that your eyes felt heavy and you could barely hold your head up, you had busied yourself with wedding planning and looking at the photos that littered your fiance's room, questions racing through your mind about who the women were in them as you explored. You hadn't been paying attention to the time and were surprised to find that it was after three am, and that Gator had texted you around midnight.
GATOR: how's everything?
The girls go to bed okay?
Are you asleep?
Something about the string of messages, sent only a few minutes apart made you smile. And then you laughed when you realized that you were the one not responding now. Although in your defense, the messages had been sent when you had been downstairs putting a load of his laundry in the machine, having found a container of detergent on his closet floor, different from the kind that you noticed was downstairs. You hadn't thought to check the phone when you had come back up.

Now that you were in his bed, under his comforter and breathing in his scent that was all over the pillows and sheets, you felt oddly relaxed. Smirking, you open your phone and pull up your camera, giving a slightly sultry face as you snapped a clear pick of you in his bed, one of your pert nipples hardened and showing through the thing fabric of your sorry excuse for a tank top.
You attach the photo to a message and send it to him.
YOU: nice and cozy
You see him open the message, the little bubbles start moving like he's typing something to you, and then they stop and you laugh, tossing the phone onto the pillow next to you and rolling onto your side. You close your eyes and you're close to falling asleep when you hear it ping with a new message.
GATOR: the hell are you doin' up so late?
You pout. You expected a reaction to the photo you sent, at the very least an acknowledgement to it and you have to admit you're a little upset that he didn't. Were you over reading things? Did he not like you like that? You had thought that you were friendly enough to send flirty messages back and forth, especially given the way he had stared at your tits before he had even spoken to you, why wouldn't he give a response to the photo?

Deciding to brush it off, you roll your eyes and snap a picture of the floor off the side of his bed, it gave a clear shot of the rug in front of it that was previously messy.
YOU: keeping myself busy Deputy, your room was calling to me

You send it and you don't bother to wait and see if he opens it, closing your eyes to try and get some kind of sleep.

A couple hours later you wake to a God awful screeching in your ears, scaring you so badly you bit your head on the wall as you jump into a sitting position. It's coming from the nightstand next to the bed, closest to the pillow that smells the most like Gator. His fucking alarm clock bleating in your ears at goddamn six in the morning.

"Two fucking hours of sleep." You grumble, kicking your legs angrily as you try to get the comforter off of your body. "Jesus Gator, why's it so fucking cold in here?!" You whine outloud, arms folded over your chest as stomp your way to his closet, pulling his thick robe out and tying it around your waist. He's much bigger than you, it hangs to your feet and the cuffs fall over hands. You probably looked stupid but you didn't care, it was the warmest thing you could find.

You remember that it's Friday, and the girls have school so you open the door of his bedroom and shuffle across the hallway to the girls'. You peek your head in and one of them is just starting to stirr in their bed.

"Hey girls," You say, soft but loud as you walk between their beds. The one on the left is the one already stirring, Maude you think. She rubs her eyes as you sit down on the edge of Jessica's bed, giving the girl a soft shake. "time to get up and get ready for school okay? Don't want your mama and daddy getting upset with me because you're late.."
You would probably never hear the end of it from Karen. And you certainly wouldn't feel the end of it from Boyd if she ran her mouth to him about it.
Jessica comes to with a little more persistence on your end and you make sure they're actually up and shuffling to the bathroom to brush their hair and teeth before you leave them alone, headed downstairs to make breakfast.

You whip up a quick eggs and toast situation, and pour them some orange juice and wonder how the hell they're so perky when they come down the stairs and sit in their chairs.

"Where's Gator?" Jessica asks, taking a big gulp of her juice. "He's usually home by now, I wonder if he got to arrest someone..I wonder if he'll have a cool story for us!"

You shrug, sipping on your own juice. "I'm sure he's on his way, sweetie.." You say, keeping an eye on the time. You have just enough time to do the dishes and leave a plate out for Gator before you have to take them to school.

You drive in his robe, planning to go back to the house and sleep for a little longer, the sleepless nights at Boyd's finally catching up to you. You promise to pick them up in your Jeep this afternoon, and to make them something other than spaghetti for supper too and make the drive back to the ranch.
Gator's squad car is in the drive when you park, his plate of eggs eaten and sat neatly in the sink. You don't stop to wash it, too tired as you drag your feet up the staircase and into the upstairs hallway. His bedroom door is closed, and when you open it you find him sprawled on his stomach on the bed, nothing on but his boxer shorts. He's snoring lightly, and you know he must be exhausted to already be asleep as he couldn't have been home long.

"Ugh, boys." You grumble, tripping over his work boots that were laid in the middle of the floor, one stood up right and the other tossed unceremoniously on its side. His tactical vest is at least on the back of his desk chair, his thigh holster with the gun still inside of it placed on the desktop. You crouch and pick up his camouflage pants and his skin tight black shirt, tossing them in the empty laundry hamper in the closet before hanging the robe back up.
Without much more thought you crawl into the bed next to Gator, getting comfortable next to his warm body and falling asleep again within minutes.

Gator wakes a couple of hours later to warm breath in his face and weight across his chest. He's groggy and it takes him a moment to realize that it's you. Sometime between him coming home and going to bed, you had also come home and had crawled into bed with him, somehow winding up laying partially on top of him.

You look so peaceful when you sleep, your lips parted and your face so uncaring. You were laying on your back, one arm thrown over his chest. He can't help but to guiltily look down, eyes roaming over your chest. He kept it pretty cool in his room, and it was clear your body was reacting to it by the way your hardened nipples poked through your flimsy tank top that obviously barely covered your tits to begin with. He stifled a groan when he felt himself getting hard, same as he had last night when you'd sent him that goddamn photo. God, he had practically cum in his pants when he'd seen it, but he didn't think you could have possibly meant it in any other way than just to be playful in response to his text.

He had had to jerk off to it only a few hours ago, and now that he had you in his bed with him and he got to look at the real thing? Fuck, he couldn't get to the bathroom fast enough.

Gently moving out from under your arm, he sits up, his elbow brushing the fabric of your tank top as he stands. He glances back at you once he's on his feet, one hand clutched on the comforter as you squirm around, his eyes locking onto discolored flesh on the upper part of your rib cage peeking out from the bit of your shirt he had accidentally moved. It was a violent shade of green with a little tinge of purple.
Hard on long forgotten he reaches a steady hand out and gently pushes the top up father, exposing the bottom of your tit to his eyes, and the rest of a large, angry bruise that looked like it wrapped around your entire front.

"Jesus fuck.." His first thought was that his father had done something to you, hit you with his horse whip maybe when you were alone yesterday, but he knew he wouldn't. Not yet, not until your last name was legally Tillman and he felt entitled to you. The bruise was too old for that anyway, his next thought was maybe some sonofabitch from school. Anger welled up inside of him. He was angry that some dickhead had marked up his fiance, angry that his bride was walking around with these bruises and he had no idea who put them there. Angry that he wasn't there to stop it, to put that fucker in the back of his squad car, or better yet, twenty feet in the fucking ground out in some forgotten field on the fucking ranch.

With shaking, but gentle hands he shakes your shoulders. "Pearl," He whispers, you groan in response, kicking your feet as if trying to push him away. "Pearlie, hon, wake up..need'ta ask you somethin'"

You're groggy, eyesight swimming as you slowly open your eyes. "Mmm was'uh matter?" You ask, barely registering the shaking hands gripping your shoulders. You see a funny look on Gator's face, something between pain and sadness and rage and that's what wakes you up, wondering what had happened. "Gator? What's wrong?" You try to sit up but his strong hands keep you pinned down. "Ga-"

"Who hurt you?" His voice is strained, and you feel his fingers grip your shoulders tightly as he looks down at your..oh. He must have seen the bruises left over from Boyd's lashing. "Pearlie, honey, who fuckin' did this to you?" His voice is a whisper but it holds so many emotions in it, sadness and pain, and anger that for once in your life isn't directed at you.

Maybe it's because you're groggy still, or maybe because he's just so damn gentle in the way he asks it, the way he's holding your shoulders but you feel your lip start to quiver and before you know it, a sob is breaking from your chest.

Gator doesn't particularly know what to do when your entire body shakes with the force of your crying, his hands moving from your shoulders to let your sit up, your shirt riding down over the godforsaken bruise. It was your own fault, for wearing something so short, you realized. But it was also Boyd's fault for hitting you in the first place.

Sobs wracked your body as your mind started working, were you relieved? Scared? You had never had to tell anyone about what was going on at home before, you had always hidden it so well from everyone, including your own mother and now? You had to tell him, Gator wasn't going to take 'don't worry about it' as an answer, you may have only known him and been engaged for a week but you knew him enough to know that that wasn't his style. You were as much a Tillman now as you were an Augastine, you were his to protect, to keep safe.

For how long you cry, you're not sure, but at some point it gets bad enough that Gator sits down with you, strong arms wrapped around your body, pulling your head into his bare chest. You tears left a wet mess in the smattering of hair that lay between his pecs, his fingers rubbing small circles in your hair as he whispered soothing words into the top of your head. "It's okay, hon.." He would say, over and over again. "It won't ever happen again, Pearlie girl.." Occasionally thrown in, and from the way he spoke it, the way his body felt underneath of you when the words left his mouth, you knew he was telling the truth. "I promise you're safe with me..won't ever hurt you.." He had whispered a few times, and you swore he was crying too.

The tears stop after a while, and your heart stops racing, your body no longer shaking. He doesn't let you go though, and in all honesty, you don't want him to. "Boyd.." You say finally, giving a small sniffle after the word. Your voice was so small, cracked with emotion that you weren't sure he had heard it at first until you felt the way his arms tightened around you, almost to the point of being uncomfortable.

He breathes out of his nose, trying to calm the rage boiling inside of him at your words. He tries to focus on you in his arms, keeping you safe and comfortable while you tell him this. Your voice sounded pained and he couldn't say he blamed you. "For how long?" He asks, eyes squeezing closed as images of the man hitting you filled his mind. "How long has he been doing this to you?"

You sniffle again, bringing one of your hands up to squeeze his forearm, trying to comfort your comforter. "Ten years.." You say, breath catching as he lets out a pained sound. "Minus the four years i was at boarding school..except for when i would come home on breaks.."

Gator doesn't want to keep pushing you, pushing himself. He was really testing his own limits right now, everything in his body was telling him to go hunt that man down, give him a taste of his own medicine, but his mind was telling him not to. That you needed him. He breathes out a low sigh, breath shaky as he kisses the top of your head, breathing in the smell of your expensive ass shampoo.

"Okay..why don't you go take a hot shower," He says, feeling you nod against his chest. "We can talk more about this later, if you want.." He could tell you were thankful for his words as when you finally sit up from his embrace, you give him a long kiss on the cheek, both hands cupping his face as you climb over him, whispering a soft thank you.

The one bathroom in the Tillman house isn't luxurious like the one attached to your bedroom at Boyd's, but it has a beautiful clawfoot tub, and it feels nice and cozy, comfortable. The water is hot too, reddening your skin as it washes down your shoulders and chest, trailing down the bruise below your breasts. The contact made you flinch, the image of Boyd giving it to you flashing before your eyes before the pain turned into something more soothing, the sting reminding you that you're at Gator's house and for the time being, you're safe from him.

You take way longer than is probably polite when you're a guest in someone's home, and you're glad that Karen isn't here because you get the feeling that she would bitch about it, and it would somehow turn into you getting Gator in trouble without meaning to. You had forgotten to bring your shower gel from your bag in Gator's room, so you use what you deduce is his from the smell, lathering yourself in it for a while before letting it run off of you under the fall of the water from the showerhead.

When you feel like yourself again, and you've let cool water run down your face to where you're sure its no longer puffy, you make your way out of the bathroom and back across the hall to his room. He's nowhere to be found, but the bed is messily made and the closet door is open, you notice a pair of jeans missing off the first hanger, and the smell of coffee finally hits your nose.

You put your pajamas under the pillow on the left side of the bed, you had only packed one pair, before making your way down the stairs, the sound of something scraping against a pan and hushed cursing meeting your ears before you reach the last step. You peek into the kitchen and a smile spreads on your face at the sight of Gator running a hand through his hair, smoke rising in front of his face as he turns every which way, talking to himself as he tries to fix whatever he had messed up. "I think you're burning something, hon." You quip, chuckling when he jumps about a foot in the air at the sound of your voice.

"Jesus Christ, need'ta put a damn bell around your neck," He sighs, fighting back his own laugh. "I was trying to make a fuckin' grilled cheese.." He shows you the contents of the pan thats in front of him, and you laugh at the pathetic lump of burnt bread and cheese.

"Did you butter it?" You ask, and he mutters another curse before groaning. "Who taught you how to cook, Gator?"

"Literally no one." He says, tossing the burnt sandwich into the trash before moving out of your way.

You busy yourself making a sandwich for each of you, feeling hungry now that you're actually in the action. You hear him rustling around behind you, the fridge opening and glasses clinking. You're flipping both of the sandwiches in the large skillet when a full coffee mug is set next to you on the counter, clearly mixed with creamer.

"I stopped on my way home and bought some of that creamer stuff.." He says, you pretend not to notice how his cheeks flush as he says it. "I know it's not an iced coffee, but at least it's flavored."

You're not sure why you're so goddamned emotional but you swear your eyes water at the notion. "That's so sweet, you didn't have to," You say, going to give him another kiss on the cheek. You have to stand onto your tip toes this time, and he hums as you do. "Thank you, Gator."

"Want you to have the things you like." He shrugs, taking a big drink of his own mug of black coffee. He crinkles his nose, chasing after you with a small sniff that makes your cheeks flush. "Are you wearin' my body wash?"

You shrug and move back to the stove, suddenly remembering the conversation you had had with his sisters when you were dropping them off at school this morning. "I promised your sister's that i would make something for supper tonight," You begin plating the sandwiches, switching the gas to the stove off. "Not that your spaghetti wasn't good or anything, but i get the sense that cooking just isn't your thing."

You hand him his plate, he's looking at you with an unfamiliar emotion in those damn brown eyes. "Can you make cheeseburgers?" He asks, an almost childlike lilt to his voice. You nodded in agreement and you swear he would have done a happy dance if he hadn't spilled some of his hot coffee out of the mug and onto his hand. "Ah shit!"

It's one thirty when by the time you guys finish with lunch and coffee and you set your plates in the sink with the notion of washing them later, you notice that Gator had already washed the plate you left for him this morning. "I think we'll probably have to go to the supermarket on the way back from getting the girls.." You say, you had noticed earlier that there wasn't any fresh meat for burgers in the fridge, and if that was what he wanted then it needed to be bought.

"Okay." He says, checking his watch. You hear him sigh. "I got a few chores to do before we go to the school." He gets up and starts heading for the door, you start pouting as you watch his retreating back. You didn't want to be left alone in the house, it was boring without someone to annoy. "You comin'?"

You hum as you carry a bucket of feed to the chicken pen off yonder of the barn, it was heavier than you had told Gator, wanting him to think that you could do it on your own. He had already poked fun at you for never having done any real ranch chores outside of caring for your own horse before, you didn't want him teasing you for having to carry a bucket of slightly heavy feed because you were too soft for it.
He had stayed behind in the barn, a large shovel in hand as he had decided that you were much too pretty to do the easier although definitely stinkier job of shoveling horse shit from the stalls. He sent you off with a teasing jilt about how you grew up on that fancy ranch and never done farm chores, before he put his stark county sheriff deputy hat on your head (the sun was awfully bright, 'don't need you goin' blind' he had said).

You rolled your eyes at him once you had turned away, muttering under your breath in mocking tones the word he had teased you with, though you regretted it almost as soon as you were out of sight of the barn. The feed was heavy, your arms were sore and your hands burned from where the wire handle was digging into your palms and you didn't think it could have possibly gotten any worse, you didn't think that you could have wished any harder that you had stayed back in the house to clean up from breakfast and lunch, until you walked into the chicken pen and sat the bucket of chicken feed down by your feet so you could turn around and close the door behind you, not wanting any of the birds to get loose.

You heard the fluttering of all their wings first, and then the little noises they made as if greeting you. "Hey little dudes," You say, starting to turn around. "Who's hungr- OH MY GOD!" You flew back against the door, not expecting ten birds to be right behind you, one already sat in the bucket of feed. How did they move that fast? You were pretty sure that they weren't supposed to sit in the feed though, so gingerly and a little fearfully you tiptoed just the littlest bit closer to the feed bucket, your hands outstretched. "Hey little lady..let's just-HOLY FUCKING SHIT!" The bird had fluttered it's wings and snapped it's beak at you as you tried to move it away from the food that the other birds needed too, it's beady black eyes locked on yours. You swore it was looking into your soul and that was all you needed to get the fuck out of there with what was left of your life.

"GATOR, GATOR, GATOR!" His head snapped up in the direction that he heard your voice from, eyebrows furrowed. You sounded terrified. He stepped out of the horse stall he had started in, closest to the back exit just as you came barrelling into the barn, straight into him and his arms and damn near knocking him over in the process. You babbled as he steadied the two of you, his hands on your biceps as you looked up at him with big, watery eyes looking up at him and your lips puckered so deep in a frown that he just couldn't help but to smile at how fuckin' adorable it was.

"Slow down, Pearlie, can' understand what you're sayin' when you're babblin' like that.." He says, rubbing his hands up and down your biceps gently, trying his best to soothe you. He was new to this whole thing, but he had learned fairly quickly earlier that soothing words and touches and a calm tone seemed to be best with you. He watched you take a big, deep breath in and let it out, a small sniffle and your lips puckered just a little bit less.. "Start again, hon..what happened? What's got you so spooked, hm?"

"The birds, Gator!" You say, voice wavering. "They attacked me!" He immediately check's every inch of available skin for talon marks, anything that resembled an attack, but aside from the emotions on your face you were otherwise unscathed..his eyebrows furrow again. "Gator..they..they were waiting for me when i turned around and it..it was sitting in the feed bucket and i..i just..i went to move it and it yelled at me..it yelled at me, Gator and it fucking like..fluttered it's wings at me and it had friends!"

Here you were telling your fiance about the horror movie level ordeal you had been through, and what does he do? He laughs. Laughs! Head thrown back, shoulders shaking and gut hurting laughing at you. You smack his chest. "Stop laughing!" You say and you swear he only laughs harder at you, which pisses you off. "Gator Tillman you fuck head stop laughing at me!"

"Oh, Pearlie girl.." He sighs, wiping a tear from his eyes with the back of his hand as he finally stops laughing, hand rubbing his side as he shakes his head. "You afraid of the fuckin' chickens?" You pout and he starts laughing again until you start hitting his chest with the hat he had put on your head, which makes him hold his hands up in surrender before taking it gently from your hand. "They're just fuckin' birds, hon, just kick 'em they ain't gonna hurt you none.."

"Bullshit, Gator," You stomp your foot, arms crossing over your chest as you glare at him. "You didn't see the way they all looked at me!" He shakes his head at you, shoulders shaking in silent laughter. "They were talking! They were probably planning how they were gonna kill me and eat my body and feed my bones to the hogs!"

"Pearl, we don't even have hogs!" He exclaims, completely done with your buffoonery at this point, though he knows it's not buffoonery. He knows how real it is, can tell by the fear in your face and he knows that he shouldn't make fun of you for it but it just seems like something a husband would do to his wife. "Oh my god I know the Augastine ranch is ritzy but i figured he would've had you working with the ranch hands like my daddy did..this is fuckin' hilarious.."

"Gator!" You pout, stomping your foot once more and he only starts laughing once more, cackling once you push him in the chest on your way past him. "You go feed the damned demons then! I'll shovel horse shit, can't be any scarier!"

And shovel the shit you did until it was time to go and pick up his sisters from school, a car trip of which was filled with him poking more fun at you from the drivers seat of your own car! You were downright tempted to salt his macaroni and burn his burger tonight for supper, but you could never stand to mess up on purpose when it came to the kitchen.
The girls clambering into the Jeep at the school pick up took the attention off of your harrowing ordeal this afternoon, their chatterbox selves keeping Gator entertained as he drove through town on the way to the supermarket. Roy had enlisted the girls into he local christian academy, a private school and you made a mental note to ask Gator later tonight if he went to the same school too, if the highschool is where he got the trophies in his room from.

The supermarket was an ordeal in its self. The girls constantly asking Gator for something that he would exasperatedly say to put back where they found it, and it you swore that the amount of people you guys stopped to talk to, who were shocked that the rumor of Gator being engaged was true, caused what should have been a thirty-minute trip to turn into an almost two hour one. Each time a random couple or person whom you didn't know (but he clearly did) stopped the pair of you, his arm would be immediately around your shoulder or your waist, tucking you into his side tightly. You would find your own arm or hand across his broad back with such ease it was as if you had been doing it for years, as if you guys had had a conventional engagement rather than having signed on a dotted line for your parents. It was safe to say that by the time Gator had pulled up next to his police cruiser, you were both exhausted.

You spent the rest of the afternoon in the kitchen, listening as Gator helped his sisters with their homework so that they wouldn't have to do it over the weekend. "Look, i thought it was stupid too, but i promise you, my step-mama always told me it's better to do weekend homework on friday so that you have the whole weekend to play and do fun things.." He had said, trying to convince them to sit down and pay attention. You thought it was rather sweet to hear him with them, he always seemed so cold and distant when his father was around but hearing when he wasn't was another thing. You loved how warm and happy he was, how hands on he was. You knew that you were supposed to have a child of your own with him, it was part of the agreement, and you were a little more comfortable with that fact knowing that he was gentle.

By the time the sun had gone down and the four of you had sat down to eat, Gator praising and moaning into his plate the whole time, it was a meal filled with laughter and stories of how everyone's days had went, which was all fine and dandy until your fiance had decided to tell his younger twin sisters the story of your harrowing encounter with the murderous devil chickens just before coming to pick them up from school, to which they had laughed and laughed and in all fairness, you couldn't help but laugh a little too because now that you thought about it, it was a little silly the way that you had reacted.

Not more than an hour or so after that you were stood at the kitchen sink, the water running and your phone on the counter beside you just barely drowning out the noise of the piano being playing in the living room as you cleaned up the mess that had been made throughout the day. You hummed along to one of the songs, realizing that you needed to start working on a playlist for the wedding, as you scrubbed the dishes.

You didn't hear his footsteps approaching, but you felt his presence, felt his bicep brushing against your shoulder as he stepped up to the sink right next to you. You looked up at him with a small smile on your face when you noticed the dishtowel thrown over his shoulder, and the other in his hands as he picks up a dish from the clean side of the sink to start drying it.

"Supper was good," He says quietly, arm brushing against your own as you both worked. It made your skin buzz, that tingly feeling, you didn't mind it though, there was something quite soothing about it. "Thank you for cooking..and for putting up with the girls..and me too i suppose."

You chuckle, handing him a dish you had just finished washing when the song on your playlist changes, you pause it quickly recognizing the opening notes of it and turn to him. "Hey Gator?" You ask, and he hums, looking down at you as you turn off the faucet. "Dance with me?"

He was going to say no, to argue about how it wasn't very manly, but you already had your mouth open. "We're gonna have to have to dance at the wedding, and i want to make sure you're not gonna be stepping on my foot the whole night!"

Now he wouldn't come out straight and tell it to you, but he had taken a class or two during prom season back in highschool, for that girl he swore he was in love with. "Fine." He concedes, tossing the towel down onto the counter as you bounce with happiness.

You click your playlist back on as you feel one of his large hands on your hip, turning you against his chest as he takes one of your hands with his free one, your other hand going up to his shoulder, just below the nape of his neck. It was an oddly comfortable embrace, nothing awkward about it as he started moving the two of you gently around the kitchen.

'I'd love to know just what you're thinkin'
Every little river, runnin' through your mind
You give and you take
You come and you go
You leave me here wonderin' if I'll ever know
How much you care or how much you don't
Whatever you need, whatever you want'

"You're not so bad at this," You say, looking up into those damn brown eyes, those giant glassy eyes that hold so many emotions that you wish he would let you get to know. And maybe he will, somewhere down the line, but you know it won't be any time soon.

"You're not so bad yourself," He teases, a smirk crossing his lips as he looks down at you, humming along to the song as he leads you around the room. It wasn't any particular kind of dance, but it was a formal one nonetheless. "This what we gonna dance to at the weddin'?" He asks softly, a pink tinge to his cheeks as he thinks about dancing with you for the first time as his wife. You shrug in response, body pressing against him as he continues to lead you.

"Maybe.." You tease and he chuckles, his head tipping back just a bit before he plants his eyes right back on yours. "Haven't decided yet..i'm makin' a playlist.."

'I guess that all I'm tryin' to tell ya
Is a minute with you is better than two without
Oh, I won't be a fool but I can't play it cool
So I'm playin' safe and I'm breakin' the rules
I'm wishin' I had what I know that you got
So if you're comin' my way then please don't stop'

"And do i get a say about this playlist?" He asks and you throw your head back laughing. "The one part of the wedding planning that i might actually know what the hell i'm doing." You're both full on laughing now, still locked in the dancing embrace though you've stood still. It takes a minute for you guys to calm down as you keep teasing him about the ivory and white situation, but when you finally do he gives a gentle kiss to your forehead, chuckling as he tells you to help him finish the dishes.

The two of you continue to make each other laugh as you guys do the dishes together, Gator singing off key to the music he recognizes on whatever playlist you have going, you teasing him for it, both of you blissfully unaware that his two sisters had seen your whole dancing exchange and had run off to the living room to talk excitedly about how much they already adored having your in the family..

xxo