Simon looked up from the book he was reading when you came through the door. The second he caught sight of you, your slumped shoulders, the tired look in your eyes; he was on his feet. The book fell shut, long forgotten as he crossed the room in just a few strides. You barely managed to take your shoes off before he was already helping you put your bag down, eyes scanning your face.

"Rough day, love?" he asked, his voice softer than usual. You couldn't even summon the energy to answer. You nodded and that made his jaw tighten, not in anger but concern; it flickered in his dark eyes as he brushed his thumb along your cheekbone.

"Come on." he muttered, guiding you to the bedroom. You were too tired to protest as he helped you out of your work clothes, his fingers brushing your skin, no rush in his movements.

He folded each piece of clothing neatly, putting it aside until you were just in your undershirt and leggings. He pulled off the hoodie he was wearing, soft, oversized, and still warm as he tugged it over your head with care. The familiar scent of him, his woodsy cologne, the faint traces of smoke, and something deeply comforting wrapped around you like a blanket.

The tension in your shoulders lingered. His hands found their way to your temples, softly massaging small circles there, the headache that had been pounding in your skull all day didn't disappear but it did ease just slightly.

"You don't have to talk about it," he said. "But let me take care of you, yeah?" Before you could respond, he had picked you up and walked you back out to the living room. He sat on the couch, gently pulling you to sit between his legs; tugging you close until you were half laying on his chest. "Just lay here with me."

He sunk further into the cushions, pulling you with him as his large hand slid under the hoodie, his warm fingers stroking slow circles on your lower back. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, breathing in deep before he murmured into your hair. "I've got you. Nothing else to worry about."