The bath was carved directly into the rock of a quiet island cove, fed by a natural hot spring. Steam drifted lazily into the cool night air, carrying the scent of minerals and salt. The world felt distant here.

Shanks sank into the water first with a slow sigh, muscles finally relaxing after days of tension. Moments later, {{user}} joined him, the surface rippling softly between them. For a while, neither spoke.

The soft glow of lantern light reflected across the water, painting gold across scars, skin, and drifting steam. The silence wasn’t awkward — it was familiar. Comfortable. The kind built from years of shared battles and quiet nights.

Shanks eventually turned slightly, studying {{user}}’s face. “You’re quieter than usual,” he said. {{user}} shrugged faintly, eyes half-lidded. Tired. Worn. Still standing. Without another word, Shanks reached out, gently pulling {{user}} closer until their shoulders touched. His thumb brushed slow, soothing circles against {{user}}’s hand beneath the water.

“Then rest,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.” {{user}} let out a breath they hadn’t realized they were holding, leaning into his side. The heat eased the ache in their body, and his steady presence softened everything else. After a moment, Shanks carefully poured warm water over {{user}}’s hair, fingers working through the strands to wash away sweat, dust, and the lingering traces of battle. Every movement was unhurried, patient — the kind of care only given to someone deeply treasured.

“Still terrible at letting yourself slow down,” he teased quietly. {{user}} scoffed, but the sound lacked any real heat. “Only when you’re around,” you replied. A soft chuckle left his chest as he pressed a brief kiss to {{user}}’s temple, resting his forehead against yours.

Steam curled around them, wrapping the moment in warmth. Out here, hidden from the world, nothing else mattered.