Logan laughed behind them.
Tommy rinsed him carefully, guiding Chase’s head under the spray with surprising authority for someone half his size.
“Okay, turn,” Tommy said.
Chase obeyed automatically.
When Tommy finished, Chase hesitated, then reached for the bottle himself.
“Uh,” he started, suddenly unsure. “Can I…?”
Tommy blinked at him. “Can you what?”
Chase glanced toward Logan, who was leaning back against the tile, water running over his shoulders.
“Wash him?” Chase finished, sounding faintly embarrassed by the question.
Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.
“You asking permission?”
Chase shrugged awkwardly. “Feels polite.”
Logan considered him for a second, then stepped forward without another word, ducking his head slightly.
“Go ahead.”
Chase poured shampoo into his hand, trying very hard to act normal about it. Logan’s hair was thicker than Tommy’s, darker when wet, and Chase found himself concentrating more than necessary as he worked the soap through.
Logan closed his eyes almost immediately.
A quiet sound escaped him, not dramatic, just content.
Chase’s movements slowed instinctively, more careful now, fingers pressing lightly as he rinsed the soap away.
For a moment, none of them spoke.
The only sound was water and breathing.
Tommy watched them, expression softening into something fond.
“Well,” he said finally, breaking the quiet, “this is new.”
Logan opened one eye. “Jealous?”
Tommy grinned. “No. Honestly I’m impressed. Logan usually showers like he’s mad at water.”
“That is not true,” Logan protested.
“It absolutely is,” Tommy said. “You stand there for thirty seconds, declare yourself clean, and leave.”
“I am efficient.”
“You are suspiciously fast,” Tommy corrected.
Chase laughed, the tension dissolving completely now.
Tommy reached forward, smoothing water down Logan’s shoulder like he was inspecting the work. “Wow,” he added dramatically. “He’s actually clean. We should mark the calendar.”
