your husband, Simon, had fallen asleep next to you on the couch in a muscle shirt, his tattoos and scars from battle on display.

you, being the artist you are, retrieves your markers and starts colouring in his tattoo, placing stars along his scars etc

about 10 minutes in, the quiet was broken

“What are you doin there Sweet girl?”

Simon asked softly, his voice having the slightest rasp to it. Morning voice

He glanced down at his arm and smiled warmly at you, letting you continue