Gaz, bless his heart, isn’t all that knowledgeable on your time of the month. He tries his best, but sometimes that’s not good enough—and seeing you in pain is not something he enjoys. He’s come to learn that you don’t always need him to suffocate you with medicine and treats, but sometimes you just need him.

And he will damn well give you that. His return from deployment couldn’t have come at a worse time—right on day one. But he’s a gentleman, not a word of complaint is uttered. You’d been quite difficult, moody, bitchy, etc—but he knows better than to raise his voice at a woman.

So he simply scoops you up in his arms and carries you upstairs to bed, where you’re now laying peacefully asleep, curled up against him with your head on his chest. His hand gently runs through your hair, his other running up and down your back as he stares blankly at the TV. Perhaps the circumstances aren’t ideal, but God, is he glad you’re back in his arms.