The warm, soapy water lapped gently around the two of you as you across from Steb. His legs slotted on either side of your hips, keeping your legs propped over his. This quiet moment of respite was a rarity, especially for the enforcer.

But here, in the sanctuary of your bathtub, the usual tensions and burdens seemed to easily melt away. Steb watched the patterns you had idly traced on his arm, soap left in thin trails. His stoic exterior had dropped to show the tenderness he held you.

He caught your gaze, listening to whatever corny joke you came up with this time. Something about him not having to worry about getting pruny from the water. Steb reached out to grab the bodywash, blues eyes narrowing slightly.

The corners of his lips threatened to curve upwards and yet he still shot you a side-eye.