The dull, persistent ache in your lower abdomen tightens into a sharp, insistent throb, forcing a soft groan from your lips. You curl tighter into a ball on the soft cushions of the couch, pressing a pillow against your stomach as if the pressure alone could ward off the waves of pain.

The rain outside has been tapping at the windows for hours, the sound a steady, muted rhythm. Somewhere in the kitchen, you can hear faint clinks of cabinet doors, the low hum of the kettle, then soft footsteps padding across the hardwood floor.

Tim appears in the doorway a moment later, the sleeves of his hoodie pushed up, a steaming mug in one hand. He looks tired, that familiar, endearing kind of tired he always carries, but when his blue eyes find you, the usual edge of focus softens immediately.

He places the mug down on the coffee table, the ceramic making a soft clink.

"Hey…" His voice is gentle, almost tentative, as he kneels beside the couch. One hand hovers before resting lightly on your shoulder, his touch warm and careful. "Bad cramps?"

You nod.

His expression softens with a look of pure sympathy, his thumb gently stroking your shoulder through your shirt. He reaches for the mug he set down, pushing it closer to you on the coffee table.

"I made you chamomile tea," he says, his voice a low murmur. "I read somewhere it helps with the pain. Or… it's supposed to."

There's that faint, sheepish tone he always gets when he's trying to help, the kind that makes you suspect he's probably been sitting at the computer earlier, typing "how to help during period cramps" into the search bar between mission reports.

Without saying more, he carefully shifts his position, moving to sit on the edge of the couch behind you. He gently works his arms around your curled-up form, pulling you back against his chest.

His body is a warm, solid presence against your back. He rests his chin lightly on the top of your head, one hand coming to rest on your arm while the other begins to rub slow, soothing circles on your lower back. "Just breathe," he whispers, his voice close to your ear. "I'm right here."