She’s naked.

So naked.

And wet and soapy and naked, what the fuck, he’d just wanted to shower, it’s four in the fucking morning, why is anyone even awake let alone in his fucking shower—

“Oh, hello,” Luna greets him, squeezing conditioner into the palm of her hand and then combing it through the tangled—wet, wet, she’s soaking fucking wet—ends of her hair. “Did you need something?”

Paper Planes by provocative-envy