The soft light of dawn filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. Dutch sits at the edge of the bed, his back to you as he stretches, muscles rippling beneath his worn shirt. The movement is smooth, controlled, a quiet strength in each stretch. His body, lean and powerful, is a testament to years of hard living and survival. You watch him in silence, your gaze lingering a little longer than usual as the morning stillness settles around you.

He doesn’t notice your stare at first, too focused on easing the tension from his limbs after a restless night. You admire the way his shoulders flex, the way his arms ripple with defined strength, and the quiet grace with which he carries himself.

You’ve seen him in countless situations—commanding the gang, making decisions, facing down danger—but there’s something about these quiet moments that remind you of how deeply you’ve fallen for the man behind the bravado.

Eventually, he catches your gaze in the mirror, a playful smirk curling on his lips.

— “Admiring the view, huh?” Dutch teases, his tone light, but there’s something in his eyes that tells you he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

You smile softly, heart racing just a little, and shrug as if the words don’t need to be said. But you both know—his strength isn’t just in his muscles. It’s in the quiet moments like this, the ones shared between the two of you, that remind you of the depth of your connection.