Steve in a sunny kitchen humming to himself as he cooks or washes dishes or does whatever he's doing, and you, walking up behind him and wrapping your arms around him, head resting against his shoulder or his back. Swaying slightly in time to whatever song he's humming - The warmth and the peace of that moment, suspended for a short eternity - only interrupted by his soft chuckle when, instead of allowing him to move freely, you move with him over to the fridge, unwilling to peel yourself away from him.








