Author's Note: Just a little something requested by Catherine_Medici. Uncharacteristically fluffy. Any association with Fifty Shades of Grey is an insult. You've been warned.

She had been uncomfortable all day. It showed. She was hunched, and there was something about the way she walked - her feet were struggling to follow her mind's lead. And he noticed, naturally. He'd been desperate to find out what was bothering her, whether it was a physical issue or a whole different kind of turmoil. But she wouldn't share. "I'm fine," she'd say every time he asked her. "Let's just get through the day and meet up after we're done around here," she suggested, a palm on the side of her face. He'd learnt how to choose his battles. He'd lost this one.

"Should I ask you again?" he tried a few hours later when he found her limp and miserable on the sofa at his latest safe house.

"Drop it, Red, please. I just need a shower and a warm bed," she managed to let out, all in one sigh.

"Tell me," and he meant business.

"I got my period today and I am miserable. Now, can we please, for the love of God, let this go?" she begged and let her fists hit the sofa, just like a toddler who'd just discovered the power of a good tantrum.

As luck would have it, he was good at handling tantrums. And hormonal women. Her, especially. He smiled. She'd caught him by surprise. He considered telling her a story about how he'd learnt to be of help in situations like these but decided not aggravate her. How jealousy and hormones combined in her head was anybody's guess and for once, he wasn't feeling adventurous.

He walked towards her and extended a helpful hand in her direction. "Up," he ordered. A simple yank, and up she was.

He had to tug a little but she did follow. She didn't even ask him what was he was up to and that alone delighted him. She'd trusted him enough to forgo her desire to be in the know.

He opened the bathroom door and realization hit her shortly after.

"Whatever you're thinking about, forget it. I'm in pain and moody," she warned. "Moodier than usual, that is," she attempted a joke. Hope was not lost to cramps and mood swings.

"Even I am more altruistic than that, Lizzie," he smiled at her, heading to the bathtub. Taking no offense, the peculiar human that he was.

It took him 10 minutes to prepare a bath for her. And it was a good bath; one that featured aromatherapy oils and the kind of warmth that made one yearn for sleep and spooning, with the smell of male cologne on soft pillows.

He undressed her quickly, postponing all erotica for better times. And they would come.

She made him turn around when she realized she needed to dispose of her tampon. Not that he would be disgusted. She liked to think nothing about her could be off-putting to him.

"Ease into the tub. Lie down. Rest your head right here," he instructed, not trusting her own common sense. She decided to let him believe he knew best whenever she was concerned.

"Thank you," she smiled up at him and kissed his palm as a form of sincere gratitude.

She moved it to rest on her left breast and held it there.

He kneeled next to the tub. And hummed.