The steady hum of the blow dryer filled the room, soft and warm, a comforting background to the quiet between you. You stood in front of the mirror, your eyes meeting your own reflection, but your focus wasn’t really on yourself. It was on him — standing right behind you, carefully running his fingers through your hair as he gently dried it, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

His touch wasn’t rushed. He took his time, moving the dryer back and forth in long, even passes, occasionally pausing to shake out a damp section with his fingers before continuing. It was almost meditative, the way he did it — like he wanted this moment to last.

“You know,” Rafe said, voice low and a little amused, “you sure you wanna go out tonight?”

You met his eyes in the mirror, and the half-smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth made your heart skip a little.

He tugged gently at a strand of your hair as it curled slightly at the ends. “We could skip the whole night, stay in… I’ll make it worth your while.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile playing on your lips betrayed you. “We’ve had this plan all week.”

“Plans change,” he said easily. He clicked the dryer off and set it down, sliding both arms around your waist from behind. His chin rested lightly on your shoulder, his eyes still locked on yours in the mirror.

“Not saying I don’t want to take you out,” he added, kissing your temple softly. “Just saying… I like this. You. Right here.”

The room was quiet again, just the echo of his words lingering, wrapping around the both of you like a second skin. No rush. No pressure. Just him, being soft in a way that only you got to see.

“You look perfect,” he said, whisper-light. “We can have this date another day.”