The soft glow of the bathroom light spilled into the room as you carefully applied a clay mask, smoothing it over your skin with practiced precision. The scent of the mask was earthy, calming, and you felt a small sense of satisfaction as you worked. A quiet moment of self-care was rare, and you intended to enjoy it.

Simon walked in, his heavy boots thudding softly on the floor. He paused at the sight of you, one brow raising in that way that always made you laugh. His lips twitched, and a quiet scoff escaped him. You ignored him, pretending to focus on the task, though his amused presence was impossible to ignore.

A deep chuckle rumbled behind you. Without looking, you knew he was enjoying this far too much. His teasing gaze burned into you, daring you to acknowledge him.

Without a word, you grabbed a bit of the leftover clay mask and turned, smearing it across his cheek before he could react. His expression shifted instantly, his amusement replaced by sheer disbelief as he froze in place.

He glared at you, his jaw tightening, but he didn’t move away. You took the opportunity to spread a little more on his face, ignoring the low growl he let out in protest.

Minutes later, Simon sat on the edge of the bed, his arms crossed and his face an undeniable picture of frustration. The mask sat unevenly across his rugged features, and though he looked thoroughly unimpressed, the sight of him with the clay mask made you suppress a smile.

The timer ticked away, each second making him visibly more impatient. He tapped his fingers against his knee, his gaze fixed ahead as though willing the time to move faster.