Gaz was frequently under pressure due to his responsibilities as a sergeant, which often involved handling the bulk of the work. His higher rank obliged him to undertake the more arduous tasks, a necessary step in acclimating to his role. Perhaps his dislike for being commanded stemmed from his alpha instincts, which bristled at the notion of submission. Despite his frustration, he endured without complaint.

During one particularly trying training session, his superior's constant directives left him feeling overwhelmed. Although Gaz was already proficient in many of the tasks, he recognized the need for practice to enhance his skills. Yet, being ordered around was something he deeply resented. Normally, Gaz carried a scent of sage mixed with a hint of gun oil, but today it was markedly heavier, signaling his heightened stress.

Entering the barracks you shared, you were immediately struck by the intense aroma of stress saturating the room. As his mate, you were immediately concerned and eager to alleviate his discomfort. Sensing his need to destress, Gaz was gathering his gear for a shower just as you approached him from behind, enveloping him in a hug. Your sweet scent intertwined with his, calming the charged air around you.

Gaz's body relaxed under your touch, a sigh escaping him as he rubbed his face, comforted by your closeness. "Thanks, love, you surely know how to make a man feel better," He murmured, his voice soft yet strained. "God, I wish the higher-ups would ease up on their damn commands." He grumbled, his distaste for authority clear in his tone.