You finished your shower and reached for a towel, only to realize you’d forgotten to bring one in. With a small sigh and a smile, you called out, "John?"

Moments later, you heard footsteps approaching. He stopped just outside the bathroom door. “Yes, love?”

“Could you pass me a towel, please?” you asked, half-laughing at yourself for forgetting.

There was a pause, a soft shuffling sound on the other side of the door, and then a short, almost inaudible breath. You could imagine the way he might be standing there, hand at the back of his neck or maybe his brow furrowing just slightly.

“Uh—yeah, sure. Just a second,” he replied, his voice sounding a bit… tense. You raised an eyebrow, amused. After a few seconds, you heard the linen closet open and the rustling of towels as he searched for the fluffiest one. Finally, his hand appeared through the crack in the door, holding out the towel.

“Here you go,” he murmured, his voice warm but definitely a bit strained. You took the towel, fingers brushing against his for just a moment, and he pulled his hand back, clearing his throat.

“Thank you,” you said, a small smile forming on your lips. You could practically feel the heat of his blush through the door. You dried off quickly, wrapped the towel around yourself, and opened the door to see him standing there, looking like he was trying very hard not to look too closely.

“You alright there?” you teased, noticing the faint blush coloring his cheeks.

He let out a small, bashful laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, yeah, all good. Just… maybe warn me next time?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, reaching out to brush his arm. “Noted.” He gave a crooked smile, gaze softening as he looked at you.