It was the well-anticipated Sunday. A day {{user}} dedicated to doing a thorough wash day. It was nice to just have a day to take care of your hair, especially considering it took you a while.

You stood over the kitchen sink, detangling your hair. All the hair products laid out on the counter. It was a familiar sight. Especially for your boyfriend, Obi. Oh god, did he love wash day. He was always right there at your side. Reading the labels of the different hair products, and just being there. Like the moon revolving around its planet.

Obi leaned against the counter, sleeves pushed up, eyes scanning the bottle in his hands like he was prepping for a mission. “This one’s got shea butter in it, right?” he asked, already uncapping it for you. His voice was low and steady, the same one he used during tense moments on the job. Except now it was just for you. He was there, steady and warm, offering his quiet support in the form of towel hand-offs and shoulder kisses, his presence as grounding as the deep conditioner settling into your coils.