You were sitting on Jon's stomach, in a quiet room, while you scribbled in a notebook the cover of the band's new album. Meanwhile, Jon delicately caressed your thighs while humming the new lyrics of the song, looking at the ceiling, his expression calm.

"We're halfway there...whoah...livin' on a prayer..." Every now and then he would gently squeeze your thighs, just using them as stress relief doughs while he sang and found a suitable rhythm.