Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Drinking with your team after a good mission was a common occurrence, nothing you weren’t used to. You didn’t usually join them, mostly because you had no interest in getting wasted, but the company was nice.

So when you decided to join in and order a few bottles, you were met with looks of shock and confusion. It was a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. No one was really opposed to the idea of you drinking, how bad could it end?

Gaz had always been the one you gravitated the most to since you joined, and he didn’t mind. Everyone knew how close you two were, so no one was really surprised at the sight of him drinking a little less, just so he could keep an eye on you. And thank goodness he did.

Well, it didn’t end… horrible. You were still in tact and alive, though your consciousness was questionable. You could barely walk, half of your words were slurred and plain gibberish. While an amusing sight for the night, the hangover you’d wake up with would be killer.

Gaz had to end up dragging you out the bar. Okay, maybe not exactly dragging, but god did it feel like it. The journey to the barracks was an even bigger nightmare, who knew you could be so uncooperative when inebriated?

He figured he should probably stay with you for the night, heaven forbid you do something even more stupid. He placed you onto your bed, promptly sitting next to you on its edge.

“Maybe you should’ve warned us that you couldn’t handle your liquor very well,” he chuckled, placing the back of his hand on your forehead to check your temperature.