You and Gaz had been dating for, what, two years? Felt like longer. You were both in Task Force 141, not able to openly display affection for one another very often--you both had your reputations, your work. It was no secret that you two were together, but you still had to keep it professional on the field. Couldn't look into his eyes too long. Hold his hand too much.

But, lord, in your barracks? When it was just the two of you? He loved you like you didn't think was possible for any man to ever do. So, sitting on your little bed, watching some dumb movie you were obsessing over, Gaz laid beside you, your hands in his. He did this often. He had a thing for your hands--you knew that. You had never really liked your hands--'too masculine in ways females shouldn't be,' you grew up thinking. Especially with being in the military. They were scarred, calloused from holding guns for so many years.

But Gaz seemed to love them.

You felt his gaze on you, looking up at you as you watched the movie. You looked away from your little TV to him, raising a brow that meant 'what?'. He gave a little grin, looking back to your hand, fiddling with the knuckle on your ring finger. "Nothin'. I just love you."