requested! thank you.
content: fluff, aftercare, gentle touch, sleepy joe, domestic intimacy
the bathroom door clicks open and the first thing you notice is the steam.
the second thing is joe standing there in nothing but an oversized hoodie and damp hair, curls darker from the water, ends dripping onto the fabric. his skin is still pink from the heat of the shower, shoulders relaxed in a way they weren’t before. he looks… boneless. in the best way.
“hi,” he says quietly, like he doesn’t want to break the moment.
“hi,” you smile. “feel better?”
he nods once, slow. then, softer: “yeah. can you… help me?”
you don’t even have to ask how. he sits on the edge of the bed between your legs, automatically leaning back into you the second you lift the towel. his shoulders sink the moment your fingers touch his hair, careful, gentle, squeezing out the excess water.
you work slowly. deliberately. like you’re soothing something fragile.
joe exhales, long and deep, head tipping back against your chest.
“mmh,” he hums. “perfect. don’t stop.”
your fingers comb through his curls, towel scrunching softly, then your hands take over—scratching lightly at his scalp, nails barely there. his eyes flutter shut immediately.
he melts. like fully melts. his spine relaxes, weight settling into you, arms dropping loose at his sides. his head lolls just a little, trusting you completely to hold him up.
“you always do this so gentle,” he murmurs, voice sleepy already. “feels like my brain turns off.”
you smile to yourself, press a kiss to his temple. “good. you need rest.”
“need you,” he corrects softly.
your chest tightens in that warm, quiet way.
he reaches back blindly until his hand finds your thigh, fingers curling there like an anchor. thumb rubs absent little circles, slow and affectionate, not even trying to be anything else.
you finish drying his hair but keep your hands there, fingers threading through curls, massaging gently. joe sighs again, deeper this time, shoulders rising and falling against you.
he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. just breathes with you, heavy and calm, like the world finally got quiet enough for him.
eventually, his head slips to the side, cheek pressing against you. you feel the warmth of him, the steady rhythm of his breathing evening out.
you laugh under your breath, adjust the hoodie around his shoulders, wrap your arms around him properly this time. he instinctively leans closer, body curling into yours like it’s muscle memory.
his hand tightens on your thigh.
you rest your chin on his head, breathing him in — clean skin, soft soap, comfort. this is your favorite version of him.
not on stage. not performing. not loud. just joe. tired. safe. held.
and you stay like that, letting him sleep, knowing he’ll wake up later and mumble something embarrassed and sweet like “did i fall asleep on you again?”
✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work.
© lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.
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