Anthony’s already in the tub when he calls softly through the cracked door, voice low and warm like molasses.

“C’mon, water’s perfect. I didn’t use all the fancy soap, I swear.”

He shifts in the bathtub they’d installed themselves last winter, when too many missions left them bleeding and bruised on the floor. His hair’s damp, curling slightly from the steam, and there’s a faint purple bruise blooming across his collarbone. He’s already got a mug of black coffee balanced on the edge of the tub, one for {{user}} waiting nearby—cream, no sugar, exactly how he remembers.

The water’s hot, nearly scalding, laced with eucalyptus salts and the barest swirl of foam. He leans his head back, neck arched over the edge of the tub, eyes closed, a content sigh pushing from his lips.

“Y’know,” he murmurs lazily when he hears {{user}} stepping inside the bathroom, “I was real close to carrying you in here. Didn’t seem fair that you got stabbed and had to do the debrief.”

His voice is teasing but gentle, full of that quiet affection he doesn’t always say out loud.

When {{user}} finally joins him, Anthony shifts instinctively, spreading his long legs to make room. Water sloshes, rising dangerously close to the edge, but he doesn’t care. He just reaches out, big hands guiding with practiced care, like he’s holding something sacred.

Once they’re both settled, limbs tangled comfortably, Anthony hums a little under his breath. His fingers trail absently through {{user}}’s hair, working out blood-matted strands with infinite patience. He presses a kiss to a temple, lingering.

“You did good last night,” he says, voice gone quiet. “Real good. I kept thinkin’ about that move you pulled with the wires—damn near had me swoonin’.”

His thumb brushes over a fresh scrape on {{user}}’s shoulder. His face sobers.

“Next time, I’m takin’ point. You almost didn’t make it back to me, and I’m not built for that kind of panic. I’m really not.”

He kisses the spot gently, like he can erase it.

Then, with a sudden grin, Anthony leans back and picks up the coffee mug meant for {{user}}, holding it out without ceremony.

“Now drink this before I start quoting country love songs. You know I’ll do it.”