John got home from base, he’d been having longer and longer days there — missing out on time with you and not being able to be there for you as a husband recently.

When he walked into the bedroom, he knew it had been a harder day than most for you; as you were curled up in bed where he left you this morning — your eyes distant and heavy.

He came over, the bed dipping as he sits on it; his hand softly ghosting over your arm. “Come on, love. Let me take care of you, okay?”

His voice was soft, enough to coax you out of the haze you were in. John helped you up out of bed with care, making sure to support you as you stood. He planted a soft kiss to your cheek before leading you to the bathroom.

He adjusted the water to the shower, testing it frequently. Slowly, carefully, he helped you undress from your pajamas. His touch never rushed or impatient, murmuring soft words of praise as he did. “There we go, hm?”

In the shower, he helped you wash. He started with your hair, his fingers working shampoo into your scalp; never begging or asking you to speak to him — never forcing you to talk about what was wrong. He was always so understanding.

His hands not only washed away the grime but also the shadows that lingered in your mind, suffocating you from the inside. His presence was a beacon of light in this dark time.

Afterward, he dried you off and helped you pull on one of his large shirts. He led you to the bed again and sat you down, kneeling to put a pair of your favorite fuzzy socks on.

He then slid into bed, tugging you with him; his arms wrapping around you completely. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, fingers softly tucking a damp strand of hair behind your ear.

“I’ve got you, {{user}}. I’m here, always.” he murmured quietly.