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You tilt your head back, smiling around your toothbrush up at the man behind you. He returns your look, raising his brow.
"What?" he asks, muffled from the toothbrush and foam in his own mouth.
With your free hand, you poke Sylus. He's not ticklish, you know that, but it still makes him chuckle. He shakes his head, amused, and drops his hand on top of your head to face you back to the mirror.
It's surreal, almost. Standing with him, in your bathroom, brushing your teeth together. How long had you only seen your reflection in that mirror? Alone, with bags under your eyes, exhaustion weighing down all your movements. Going through the motions. Surviving.
And now, he's there. Without asking, without hesitating, he just... joined in. Found a place behind you in the cramped space. Grabbed a spare toothbrush from the cabinet and loaded it with your own toothpaste. Staring right back at you in the mirror, like he's done this a million times before.
You wonder, how many times had he stared at himself in the mirror? Alone, in his base or safe house or penthouse, with bags under his eyes, exhaustion weighing down all his movements. Going through the motions. Surviving.
You don't even notice you've stopped actually brushing until his hand curls around your wrist and starts moving it for you.
You burst out into laughter at the gesture. For as sweet as it is, it just makes your inside bubbly and your heart giddy. He laughs, too, his eyes scrunching up at the corners with his smile.
You shake him off, still giggling, to spit the foam into the sink and rinse your brush off. He nudges you aside, making room for himself to do the same. The brushes sit side by side in the cup.
He grabs the hand towel from its ring and wipes his mouth, then grabs your chin, tilting your face up to wipe your own. You think you must be beaming up at him now. Absolutely glowing as love and affection bursts from your chest.
He sets the towel aside, but he doesn't release you. No, he can't resist leaning down to kiss you, sharing the minty freshness of your toothpaste, basking in your smile. When he pulls away, he's glowing, too. Eyes shining with adoration, shimmering like perfect rubies.
"I love you," you murmur into the quiet space between you both.
He brushes his thumb along your chin, then guides his hand to cradle the curve of your cheek in his palm. He holds you like it's all he was put on this earth to do. You lean into his touch like there's nowhere else you fit so perfectly. "I love you, too, sweetie," he whispers back. Another kiss, soft, barely there. "We should get you to bed."
You push yourself up to your tip-toes to steal another kiss. A proper kiss. One that welcomes a brush of your tongue along his lip. One that receives a sigh and meets you there, tasting the lingering mint in each other's mouths as he bends down to receive more, tilts his head to take more. One that says, loudly, without hesitating, without asking, "I want to see our reflections together like this every day."