Alone in the tub, he saw, legs stretched out as far as the porcelain wood let them, arms resting on the sides, waiting.

Waiting for her was like waiting for a bomb to drop. You're on high alert in mere anticipation, and you weren't prepared, you were completely destroyed in her wake (though, he'd argue, in a good way, seeing as how their shared brand of fallout tended to overflow with passion).

He let the steam from the water press on his skin like a thick fog over the earth, and felt her scent seep into his bones. She was a part of him.

"Finally," he said, a half-smile adorning his lips. He didn't have to open his eyes – she had arrived. She had stepped out of her clothes and lowered one slender leg into the water.

And as he had a hundred times before, he moved his legs, bending at the knees, raising them up to accommodate her weight. The water level changed as he felt her scoot back into his frame. She lay against his naked form, completely content. He knew she was smiling.

"I missed you today," he said conversationally. "Thought I saw you round the corner at Command while I was out back with the Sixes."

"Mmmmm," he felt, more than heard, her response as she settled against him more fully. "This is my favorite place to be, you know," he heard her say as she twisted her long hair into a bun.

"I know," he responded. "It's become mine, too." And it had. Every few days, he'd come home and start boiling pots of water, preparing for their bath, preparing for their shared time.

"I still can't believe you didn't take baths before we were together."

He chuckled. "You say it like I never bathed before."

"Some days, I questioned that very idea."

"Hey, you're the one who dragged me around the sewers all the live-long day."

"What can I say? I love baths."

He smiled again. He remembered the way her devilish smirk proved that she could be naughty as easily as he could, and take advantage of just how much he loved her to get something she wanted. Like a hot, drawn bath with him in it.

"And I love you."

Some water displaced as he felt her drag her fingertips up his legs and stop at his knees. "I love you, too, Max," he said. "Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, reaching for you."

"But I'm right here," he heard her respond.

And as he brought his arms down to encircle her, and opened his eyes, all he could see was his own hands, grasping desperately at the ghost-like steam.