(tw: you know... period talk)

- Three out of four weeks of the month, touring with an all-male group is fine. Sure, there's some amount of challenge to hardly ever having another girl to talk to, but it's easy to get used to, after a while. You love your guys; most of the time, they're the next best thing. 

- Emphasis on the 'most of the time.

Because one week out of every four, it's a little bit harder to deal with them whilst your insides feel like they're exploding. And so you just sit there, trying to go about your business with a straight face. God forbid you mention it out loud, only for them to treat it like an excuse that you're making; or worse, a running joke. That, you think, might make you fully snap. 

- What you don't realize is that it isn't that hard to figure out; at least, not for one of them. 

Trent's pretty sure he has it figured out. It's kind of obvious, really; he's been around women. He knows what it means  when you both pop ibuprofen and snap at him periodically. And now, when you're curled up on the couch after soundcheck, not even trying to hide the grimace on your face.

Yeah. It's pretty damn obvious. 

- Still, he tries to be delicate about it. He really doesn't want to embarrass you; and, even if everyone else is out, looking for food or foreign chicks, he's still not sure if you would snap at him for mentioning it. 

So he just sits down next to you, remaining quiet for a moment before nonchalantly asking: "are you sick or something?"

- You try to huff out something that sounds like a laugh, despite the fact that you hardly feel like it. "Not quite. Why do you ask?"

- He shrugs. "No reason in particular. Just seems like you don't feel well." He hesitates just a bit before elaborating, noting how you're already glaring at him with something that is either genuine curiosity or amusement. He can't really tell which.

"You know... not talking. Kinda pale. Sorta moody. Not lifting any heavy equipment."

- You roll your eyes before dryly offering your response.

"I'm not knocked up."

- Seemingly shocked, Trent goes slightly pink. "Jesus... I wasn't insinuating... I mean, we never..." 

- "Of course we haven't, you idiot," you snap. "Bold of you to assume it would be yours, though." 

You feel a little guilty, looking at his slightly awestruck expression. Just a little. 

You grin bitterly before continuing. "I'm not knocked up," you repeat. "That's the problem. Cramps, sluggishness, bitchiness... all my punishment."

- He continues to stare at you blankly. Blinks a few times. 

Your stomach sinks. Of course. He's doing the guy thing: a girl mentions her period, and you'd think she just formally announced Armageddon. 

You don't expect what comes out of his mouth next. Not that you're any less thankful. 

"I could just... you know... sit on you, if you'd like."

- You can't help but burst out laughing. An actual genuine laugh, despite the pain tearing through your lower abdomen, that only makes your stomach cramp up just a little bit more. 

"Oh my God," you say, clutching your stomach. "Trent, what the hell?"

- He shrugs. "If you put pressure on something, it can make it stop hurting, right?" he asks. Jesus, he's so earnest about it. "Like, I could see if someone could pick up a hot water bottle for you or something, but that would take a while, and I can do this right now..."

- "Oh. My. God," you repeat. "Just... shut up, okay? You're making this awkward. Now..." 

You sigh before going on with that last part, still amazed by the absurdity of this entire situation. "If you're gonna do it, just... c'mere."

- And so he does. And man, is it awkward. Given, he's a rather compact individual, but it's still weird. Like having a kitten or something. 

You sigh, leaning against him in a rather dejected manner. "You know," you say, "it's really gonna raise questions if somebody walks in on you sitting on my lap."

- "Nah," he replies. "Everybody's probably seen me do weirder. Are you feeling any better, anyhow?"

- "A little bit, actually," you admit, tightening your arms around his waist. "Can't say I prefer this to a good old-fashioned heating pad, but..." You sigh, cheek pressed against the soft material of his T-shirt. Stray strands of his long hair tickle your face, just slightly. 

"At least it's something."

- He laughs. "Well, gee. Some thanks I get for helping you out. I've apparently been upstaged by some flammable thing you plug in the wall..."

 "No, I appreciate it. Really." You chuckle. "I bet you there are millions of women all over the world right now who would kill to be in my position. With or without the cramps."

- He goes pink again at that, even though you can't see his face. Your eyes are still closed when you suddenly feel him move away from you, causing you to whine ever-so-slightly. 

"Shhh," he says. "I'm not really going anywhere. You just didn't want me to be in your lap when the guys got back, remember?"

- You puff at him, crossing your arms. "Careful, Reznor," you say. "I wouldn't be an ass, if I were you."

"I'm not being an ass," he replies. Before you can beg to differ, he so endearingly holds his arms out to you. "Now come here, you irritable little thing."

- It should piss you off. But it doesn't really, if it means he wraps his arms around your waist so lovingly, not seeming to be bothered by the fact that anyone could show up. Much better than it was a few months ago, you think as you curl into him. You're not talking about the cramps anymore, either.

Your heart all but melts as he gently kisses you. "Now," he says. "I'm totally gonna go somewhere where I can get you a heating pad and chocolate sometime soon. But until then..."

You giggle. "You'll sit on me?"

"...or something else, if you want."

You roll your eyes. "Down, boy," you tease. "And you looked so scared when I mentioned being knocked up earlier."

He shrugs. "Hey," he says. "You said it was bold of me to assume." True to his nature, he grins smugly. "Figure I oughta fix that."

You laugh, shaking your head. "Just chocolate, for now."