#milliesfishes garrett

Sleeping in the same bed as Garrett is like sleeping with a bear. He always ends up rolling to fit you to his chest, big arm slung over your waist. You proudly still sleep with your teddy bear, but sometimes he knocks it out of the way so he can hold your hand.

When you wake, he's making you sweat, hot pressed to your back. You try to wiggle out but he's heavy and his arms are iron bars.

Elbowing him, you whisper, "Garrett."

He exhales sharply, yawning into your hair. "Mm?"

"Trapped." You stretch your arms out.

"Hm." Garrett pauses, then rolls you over to lay on your back, settling himself on you like the world's heaviest weighted blanket. "This better?"

You shriek, pushing his shoulder. "You're hot!"

"I know!" he says just as loudly, grinning when you laugh.

Whining, you push his shoulder until he rolls off, elbow still crooked on your tummy. "I've been sweating all night."

He nudges his nose into your neck, curls tickling your chin. "You smell good." Sometimes your boyfriend sleeps in a t-shirt, but this is not one of those times. His skin is hot and sticky on yours.

Lifting your hand, you smooth a curl or two from his forehead. "Morning workout?"

"Nah. Rest day." Garrett's eyes are fixed on you, thumb rubbing up and down your side. "Let's go get breakfast. Get you a coffee and then come back to bed."

You lean your cheek on your hand, propped up on your elbow. "I have some homework still."

He pouts. "Why'd you have to do summer courses?"

"Why'd you have to do summer training?" You tap his nose. "We've got to keep busy, babe."

"Alright. Well, why don't we get coffee and a croissant or some shit and come back to bed and you can work on your essay?"

You pretend to think about it. "That'll work."

"Good." Garrett reels you in, nudging your nose with his. You oblige him with a kiss, but when you pull back he goes in for more. You pull the blanket over his head and sit up, stretching. He laughs. "You're not clingy."

"I'm an independent woman," you say, fluffing out your hair.

"Of course," he says dutifully. "But I wouldn't mind if you wanted to hold onto me a little more."

You lift your chin. "You mean it?"

"Yeah." Standing up, Garrett stretches, his shorts riding low on his hips. You sit up on your knees, eyeing him.

He moves to get a shirt from his drawer, but you exclaim, "Wait!"

"What?" Garrett comes back, stopping at the bed. You smile, walking to him on your knees, giggling when he raises his eyebrows.

"How strong are you?"

Flexing his arms, he says, "I think I'm pretty- oof!" You throw your arms around his shoulders mid-sentence, hooking your legs around his waist. He doesn't stumble, to his credit, but his hands fly underneath you. "Hi, baby."

"Is this what you wanted?" you ask, kissing under his jaw. "Attention?"

"I'm pretty happy with this." He slides one arm under you, walking to his drawer and pullling out a sweatshirt.

"How're you gonna put that on?"

"You're gonna help me." He adjusts you, giving you the sweatshirt. "Put it over my arm. I've got you."

Carefully, you slide the correct sleeve over his arm, tugging the top over his head. He shifts you to the other arm so he can poke his fist through the next sleeve. You pull the rest down his chest, and he gives you a kiss on the nose. "Thanks, baby."

"I'm still in pajamas," you say, moving to get down.

He frowns, holding on tighter. "I never get you like this."

"I'll have to get down once we get to the car anyways."

"We'll do a drive-thru order." Garrett pats your bottom. "C'mon, let me hold you a little longer."

You give in, laying your head on his shoulder. "I want a cookie too."

"Coming right up. Can you get my wallet for me, please? Thank you." He keeps one arm under you, using the other to open the door. "Let's get you some food."

You actually do like being carried by him, you decide as he walks you down the stairs, hardly out of breath. He opens the door to his jeep and tucks you in the passenger seat. You like seeing your pink keychain and phone in his console.

Garrett has your order memorized, so you sit back and enjoy the music. His taste has always been endearing to you, and he took note of your favorites of his favorites, compiling them into one playlist. You're humming Sex on Fire all the way home and up the stairs, even as you finish typing your essay.

He's sitting beside you in bed on his phone, arm around your waist. You pat his hand, leaning back to take a break. "You like touching me."

"Yeah. A lot." He leans in a little. "C'mere." You let him pull you onto his lap, sitting facing him. When you returned from your coffee run you swapped your pajamas for his Metallica shirt and a pair of shorts you left in his drawer. Garrett gives you a quick kiss. "You look cute."

"I'm in hibernation mode," you retort.

"You're in pretty mode." He hums when you smooth your palms over his hair. "Time for a break, baby."

You lean over to hit save on your essay and he shuts your laptop, making room for it on his bedside. Diving back into him, you slide your hands up his sweatshirt, warming them on his skin. "I never want to look at that again."

"I can arrange for that." He kisses your brow. "You tired?"

"Physically, no. Mentally, yes." You lean into him and he rocks you back and forth.

"I think we should go downstairs and binge a show. Make popcorn." Garrett rests his cheek on your head. "It's not that often we get a day off together."

You nod, sitting up to look into his eyes. "Yeah. You're right."

"You need a day off, baby. Your brain's a muscle and if you exercise it too much it'll get hurt." He cups your cheek. "You work so hard."

Shrugging, you shift on his legs to press your cheek to his shoulder. "I guess."

"Yeah you do, sweetie." He kisses your head. "What show do you wanna watch?"

Garrett holds your hand all the way down the stairs, touching your waist in the kitchen and talking in that low, gentle voice he uses when he's being really lovey. He's warm when you snuggle up to him on the couch, but this time you don't mind, sinking into his arms and letting him press a palm under your shirt against your back.

"Baby."

Your eyebrows furrow. Garrett has at least a hundred different tones for this particular term of endearment, and this one is cautiously worried.

Instead of feeding it, you smile brightly, blinking up at him like a baby deer. "I think I broke my record. It only took fifteen minutes to walk here."

"You were supposed to text me when you were ready to be picked up." Garrett tilts into the staircase railing, squinting and surveying you.

The obvious sleuthing makes you shift on your feet. "I felt like walking." The truth is that you woke up with scarlet sheets and a symphony of pain, back and lower stomach the cymbals of the orchestra. When Garrett texted asking if you wanted to come over, you tried to take the high road, hoping some exercise and fresh air would do good. Everything is fine; women go through this every day. There isn't any reason for special treatment.

It's not that you think he can't handle it. It's that you don't want him to have to. Your monthly burden isn't as bad as it could be. You're a grown woman, and you should be able to take care of yourself. You have an apartment for heaven's sake, and a boatload of classes you're staying on top of. Surely you can manage a little pain for a couple of days.

It is for all these reasons that you try not to wince when a wave of hurt shimmies under your skin like a new bone, hoping Garrett isn't especially perceptive today.

He lets it go for now. "Are you hungry?"

You don't know. Your stomach hurts, but is it from the cramps, hunger, or both? Shaking your head, you take his outstretched hand, ears ringing a little. "I'm fine."

He runs his free knuckles over your cheek, a curl or two lining his forehead when he dips to look at you. "You feel warm."

"Just from the walk. I'm sweating." A combination of pain and anxiety. The ringing is getting louder. You feel hot.

"Are you okay? What's going on?" He brushes some hair off your cheek, squeezing your hand. You squeeze it back, an attempt to ground yourself.

"I'm just…" Your vision is blurring. You mumble something, hand sliding from his palm to his forearm as you lean. The pain is hot, slicing you like a thin blade. White noise muffles the room and your knees buckle.

He shouts your name. You hear it over the thick ringing. One second you are upright and the next, you're on the floor, cool wood under your knees. Your boyfriend is kneeling with you, unmoving. "Hey, hey, I've got you. It's okay, it's okay." There is panic in his voice but you hardly notice.

Your knees lift to your chest and you slide down until his lap is your pillow. Being anything other than horizontal right now is agony. "I'm fine."

"We're not playing that game." His captain voice. You giggle weakly. He covers one of your ears with his palm, and the ringing lessens. "I knew something was wrong." You shut your eyes, fingers curled around one of his wrists.

"Shit, is she okay?"

"Do we have any ibuprofen left?"

"I had a hangover last week."

"Then I need you to go to the store."

"I probably have some in my pockets."

"I'm not giving her your pocket pills."

More shuffling. A different voice. "Does she need ice?"

"Water. Grab her something to eat too."

He's bossy when he knows you're hurting. You fade in and out, grip on his wrist matching your pain.

Garrett leans down, thumbing your cheek. "I'm gonna pick you up, okay? You need to lay down."

"I am laying down," you mumble.

"I'll feel better when you're in a bed." He slides his arms under your back and knees, bunching you in as he stands. You quietly swoon over his seemingly Herculean strength. Garrett likes picking you up, but it never gets old. You think he would put you in his pocket if he could.

He's so careful on the stairs that it makes you want to cry. You bury your face in his neck, heart pounding in your ears. Garrett is talking, trying to comfort you no doubt, but you can only feel the vibrations in his throat. When he lays you on his bed, you twist, feeling too hot for your skin.

"Jeans are no good for resting." His fingers are at the hem of your top. "You want a shirt or sweatshirt?"

"No sweatshirt," you mumble, another hot flash eliminating that idea.

"Okay. Okay." He is gone briefly returning at your feet to nudge your shoes off. You sit up, trying to shimmy your jeans down without aggravating your period even further. He's sliding his shirt over your skin. You curl up, shutting your eyes, whimpering at the pain.

"I'll be right back, okay? Can you keep breathing for me?" His finger traces your cheek until you nod.

Scrunched into a ball, you hug his pillow to your chest, swaying back and forth to try and find relief. You can hear frantic footsteps all through the house, a rough lullaby. It was a mistake to come over when you were like this. You should have feigned a heavy homework load or said your mom was coming to visit, anything. Now your boyfriend is stuck taking care of you because you did something stupid.

It pricks tears in your eyes. You're too tired to hold them back. When Garrett returns, ibuprofen bottle clinking, his face falls at the sight of you. "Oh, baby."

You dissolve, more water than girl. He has about a million things in his arms and he puts them all down so he can sit down and circle you. His palms are so warm on your back and it makes you cry harder.

"It's your period, right?" His voice is so gentle. "I don't need to take you to the hospital?"

"No." You shake your head into his shoulder, probably leaving streaks of mascara and salty tears. "'S my period."

He nods solemnly, chin on your head. "Tucker's making you a salad. I Googled what foods are good for you on your period and he's putting a lot of them in there." The blender roars from downstairs. "I guess he's making a smoothie too."

Flushing hot, you say, "You didn't have to ask him to do that."

"I didn't, baby. He insisted." Garrett presses his cheek into your head, hand under your shirt stroking up and down your side. "They all saw you pass out and they were worried."

Your lip wobbles. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, no. It's okay. I'm glad you're here so I can take care of you." He is rocking back and forth, soothing you in a way you didn't know you needed. "You should have texted me to come and get you. I can't believe you walked all the way over here when you were hurting."

"I thought you would get it. You're a big tough hockey guy." You open your eyes, blinking up at him. "You had bruises all over you yesterday from practice. I didn't want you to have to drive."

"That's not the same." He perks up. "I found a heating pad. Would that help at all? While we wait for your salad?"

"Mhm." You shift off him so he can plug it in. "Thank you."

"What else do you need? Anything I can get you?" He lays back down by you, draping the heating pad over your middle. "I can run to the store. Google said dark chocolate's good for you on your period."

"Want you here," you mumble, the heat dulling some of the pain. "You're warm."

"You can lay on me if you want, baby. C'mere." He settles on his back, shifting you up onto him. "Just relax. Keep breathing, alright?"

Garrett drag the heating pad over your back and you let your head fall onto his chest. "Mm."

"I want you to call me when you're hurting this bad." He rubs your back carefully. "You shouldn't have to go through this alone."

"I need to be able to take care of myself." A wave of shame causes you to shut your eyes. "I shouldn't have come over."

"Baby, I'm really glad you came over. I don't want you going through this alone." He cups your cheek, stroking you until you look at him again. "It's not nothing."

There's a knock on the door. "I have food!"

"Leave it outside man. Thanks," Garrett calls. You nuzzle your head into his chest because he knew you wouldn't want to see anybody.

He feeds you three ibuprofen before fetching your salad and smoothie. You scarf it down, hungrier than you can remember being. Reclining against Garrett, his knees on either side of you, you sip your smoothie, sending a silent thank you to Tucker.

"Any better?" he asks tentatively, kissing your head. You nod, then wince at another cramp. He presses his cheek into yours. "I know, baby. I've got you."

You tense, then relax against him, deciding to let him hold you. Garrett kisses the top of your head. "There you go." He slings both arms around your middle. "You have a movie or something you wanna watch?"

"I want to watch…um…" You pout in thought for a second, head thudding back into his chest. "Pride and Prejudice."

"Alright." He grabs his laptop from his nightstand, propping it on your legs. You watch his big hands on the keyboard, veins popping as he types. When the movie is cued, he looks down at you. "Wanna lay down?"

"Mhm." You shift down the bed, settling on your side. He adjusts your heating pad, setting the laptop a little ways in front of you. After he presses play, you pull his arm back to hold.

Ten minutes into the movie, you whisper, "Do you wish we were making out right now?"

"I'm happy like this." He kisses your shoulder.

"I feel bad we can't…y'know. Do anything." You watch Elizabeth tell Mr. Darcy poetry is not the food of love.

Garrett's hand pauses on your middle. "Baby."

"Isn't that what boyfriends and girlfriends are supposed to do?" You feel like a child for asking. He knows he's your first boyfriend, that a relationship like this is brand new in every way.

He rests his chin on your head. "Not all the time. We also take care of each other."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Like last week when you laid with me when I was sore. And you proofread my essay, remember? You were helping me."

"I guess. This feels different." You squish your cheek into your pillow.

"Why?" He reaches out and pauses the movie. You frown, rolling around to look at him. Garrett is still holding you, curls falling into his face. His brows are furrowed. "I wanna know. Why does it feel different?"

You avert your eyes, trying to word it right. "I'm not really sure."

He's quiet for a second. Then he rubs your side. "If I went through something really painful every month, would you want me to tell you?"

You nod, breath hitching.

"Yeah. It's the same for me." Garrett's hand stills on your waist and his eyes capture yours. "I always want to take care of you. I wanna know everything, even the things you think are stupid."

You sniffle. "My period is so stupid."

"Yeah I can't say I'm a fan either. I'd beat it up if I could." You know he said the last bit to make you laugh and it works. He smiles, brushing your hair off your neck. "I guess I can beat it up by giving you ibuprofen and good food and cuddles, yeah?"

"Yeah, you can." You finally smile and he leans in to give you a kiss, just a little tap. Reaching out, you smooth his hair back, giggling when a curl bounces back into his face. "You're a sweetie."

"Nah, you're sweeter than anybody." He leans in, nudging your nose with his. "Let me take care of you today."

His voice is so soft that you can't help but give in. "Okay."

"Okay." Garrett holds perfectly still when you turn around, back still pressed to his. He resumes the movie and you relax, nestled into him. Your mind quiets. He's got you.