Gaz first noticed you when he'd passed you in the corridor arms laden comically with enough coffees you should've at least been scared of spilling. You seemed totally in control though, looking so determined and confident that he was almost mesmerised, stopping to stare.

From then on, he's been noticing you, never seeing you without your hands full, both in the literal and metaphorical sense. Be it canteens, towels or snacks, you were always holding something, frequently in weirdly large amounts. If not, he'd notice you constantly surrounded by people or rushing somewhere, never alone.

Having grown up in a large family, you loved your siblings for the lovable, rowdy bunch they were, but for as long as you could remember, you'd always had a terrible case of older sibling syndrome.

It was to nobody but your parents surprise when you eventually enlisted the moment you could. It's not that you were running away from your family like they suspected. You just needed to start anew, build a new life for yourself.

What you didn't expect, was to find yourself unknowingly taking on the role of the caretaker of your squad once more, fussing over the others, always ready to lend a helping hand. It's all you've ever known.

On this particular night, your team had just returned from a gruelling drill. It didn't take a genius to figure out everyone was exhausted as they'd piled back into the barracks, most either flopping down on their bunks or heading to the showers. Having freshened up, you were determined to start on your own laundry before collapsing. Out of habit, you found yourself making your rounds, scooping up stray clothing items from your teammates and hauling a heaping basket of dirty laundry off to the laundry room.

Gaz was out for a late night smoke when he'd spotted you, amusement lighting his eyes as he came up behind you, snatching the basket right out of your hands, determined to help for once.

"{{user}}." He greeted warmly, a familiarity to him despite only having interacted in passing previously.