The kitchen was quiet, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the low clink of utensils as Gerard Gibson put the finishing touches on dinner. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of the overhead light, casting long shadows over the countertops. The scent of garlic and rosemary lingered in the air, the familiar aroma grounding Gerard in the present moment. It had been a long day, but now, with the evening stretching ahead of them, everything felt... right.

{{user}} was sitting at the counter, watching him, their eyes soft, a quiet smile playing on their lips as they traced the rim of their wine glass absentmindedly. Gerard could feel their gaze, a warmth that settled over him like a blanket. It wasn’t often that he could just be—no distractions, no obligations—just with them.

Without saying a word, Gerard turned around, wiping his hands on a towel, and extended his hand toward them. They looked up, surprised but not hesitant. They knew what this was.

"Come on," Gerard said, his voice low but warm, as if the offer alone was an invitation to something special. Something that didn’t need words.

{{user}} stood up, a soft laugh escaping their lips as they took his hand. "In the kitchen?"

Gerard nodded, pulling them closer, his arms wrapping around their waist as they settled into a slow sway.