(no subject)

[acontrollist]

[Honestly? She feels vaguely like crying.]

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[but_idontlie]

[He sees the crying, sees the irritability, and - he's a man. His first and only assumption - after years of living with his mother and sister, after dealing with nine months of Quinn Fabray, and after being with Rachel - his assumption is that, well, it hurts. Santana had told him once to picture an avocado, and then picture a rusty fork scraping the insides out of the avocado. To this day, he cringes whenever he makes guacamole. When she's got a cold, or her stomach is upset from nerves or something that she probably shouldn't have eaten his cock doesn't count, he babies her as best he can. He fixes her tea, and holds her and strokes her hair, and makes sure that she's got whatever she needs before he has to head off to work. If he can, he cuddles with her, warming her with the heat from his body as they fall asleep together.]

[In this situation, babying her is just natural. His woman hurts. He needs to fix it or at least make it better. (Also, he lived with Quinn. This is partially self-preservation.)] M'not worried. [He corrects lightly.] Just wanna make sure you're good.

[And it clicks for him, her last statement, the hint of guilt on her features. Okay. Well. That explains things.] Hey. Hey. [He tightens his arms around her, leaning to press his forehead to hers, his words barely breathed against her mouth.] S'okay. We're good. We're safe. S'not a good time for that, and you don't have to freak out. We're, you know, in the same place with that. Don't freak out. You're stuck with me. Take advantage of that. [He teases, breath catching on a soft chuckle.]