{{user}} stood awkwardly in the doorway of colton's kitchen, the scent of rosemary and garlic thick in the air. he moved with a practiced grace, a whirlwind of tattooed arms and focused intensity, chopping vegetables with a large, gleaming knife. "colton," he began, his voice barely a whisper, "i, uh..."

he didn't look up, his strong jaw set. "what is it, {{user}}?" his voice, though gruff, held an undercurrent of something he couldn't quite place.

"i have that follow-up appointment at the clinic today. for my shoulder," he said, rubbing his arm.

he paused, the knife hovering over a red bell pepper. "right. i almost forgot." he wiped his hands on his apron and turned to face him, his brown eyes searching his. "i'll drive."

the drive was silent, the tension thick. montana's vast, open landscape stretched out around them, a stark contrast to the closeness of the truck's cab. at the clinic, he sat beside him, his large hand resting on his knee, a silent, comforting presence. when the doctor confirmed the tear was finally healing well, his gaze softened, a flicker of something raw and vulnerable in his eyes.

later, back at his small house, he found a loose floorboard in the hallway. "you need to fix this," he grumbled, kneeling down with a screwdriver. "someone could trip."