It's a poky little room, the bathroom.

It's functional, and there's an unexpected presence of frills he didn't quite imagine she'd have. Miniature bottles of toiletries assemble neatly on the chipped oak windowsill, ordered by colour which he feels is oddly satisfying. Mismatched ornaments help the room to give a vintage, yet loved feel. Nesting plastic rubber ducks also sit there, almost in their own right. It's interesting, it's unlike her.

Steadily, she lowers herself into the water. He watches, and she knows this, a shiver creeping up her spine.

'Are you going to just stand there?' She asks, not doing much to disguise the self consciousness in her voice.

He doesn't know, but he imagines she's blushing. Her back is facing him, perfectly structured, perfectly her. Her dark hair is scraped messily up, perched on the top of her head in a knot. Still, it's straggly, and a few strands manage to escape, hanging by the nape of her neck. He knew she would have concerns of her own. After all, the light is bright and sterile in there. Imperfections would shine like a beacon, and without clothes, there would be nowhere to hide.

The heat of the water permeates his skin, droplet by droplet, until he's fully cocooned in warmth. The contrast of the water temperature against his cool skin is something he feels is welcome.

She sits aside him, separate yet together.

He clears his throat, more to make a point than anything else.

'So...' He mumbles, swishing his hand about in the water to mix the temperature.

'Have you warmed up yet?'

She giggles, though it sounds more nervous than amused. 'Yes, a bit.' She turns to look at him, it's only polite. He knows this is the reasoning behind her response, and also the reason why she turns to face him, cheeks aglow.

As their eyes lock, he tries to swallow the lump that begins to form in the base of his throat.

'Well, it is... it's cold outside, isn't it?' He says, struggling to find the words out.

'It is.' She replies, eyelids fluttering. Iain wonders if she means it or if it's accidentally flirty. 'I'm not going to trust you to run a bath again though.'

'Why's that?' He chuckles.

'Too many bubbles!' She moans, but she gives him a smile anyway.

'You can never have too many bubbles. I once looked after my sister for the weekend. I was probably about seventeen, she was tiny - still in nappies. We'd run out of things to do, so I ran her a bath and emptied a good three quarters of the bottle in. It was great.' Iain reminisces with a small smile. The corners of Lily's mouth twitch as she fights both a smile and a frown.

'Her poor skin, the concentration of chemicals in there-' She doesn't go on for long before he interrupts her.

'She loved it! Splashing about for hours, she was. You never ever lighten up, do you?'

'Not true.' She replies, picking up some of the bubbles on a finger. 'You just sound like a dreadful babysitter.'

'How would you know? You weren't even there.' He sighs. 'Luckily.'

'Hey, I heard that!' She jabs at his shoulder, but he skilfully dodges and spins around, even managing not to slip whilst doing so.

'You were meant to.' Quickly looking over his shoulder, his grin widens at the outrage plastered on her face. 'At the time, it was near Christmas. Gemma was only little and she was a bit scared of Santa. So, we tried our best to rid her of that fear. No amount of silly decorations, costumes or grotto visits quite did it. Then I had a brainwave, I suppose you could call it.' He explains, scooping up some of the bubbles and in doing so breaking down the wall between the pair (that was actually quite welcome).

Lily still appears vacant, yet somewhat more curious. She watches with intrigue as he cranes his neck to see himself in the reflection of the tap. When he rises back up, she lets out a chuckle.

'Beards...' She recognises, half amused and half apprehensive.

'That's right, Chuckles. Bubble beards.'

He - with a degree of almost expertness - scoops up some more and sticks it on her face.

Her face contorts, about to squeal. A hand automatically flies up, ready to destroy.

'No, no, don't be doing that.' He smirks and takes her wrist and moves it back into the water. 'We're identical now.'

'Just what I always wanted.' She retorts, with a little eye roll.

'Don't you think it's fun though?'

'Well...' She begins.

'You love it really, it would make a cracking selfie.' He tells her, gaze flickering from her mouth to her eyes.

'Would it?' She replies with a wry smile. She knows it would.

'I wonder whose beard is longer.' He pretends to muse. He dares close his eyes for a second while she processes a response, hoping it to be the one he imagined.

Suddenly feeling provoked, Lily sits forwards. 'Mine.'

He chuckles at the predictability, feeling a warmth spread across his chest. He somehow feels a sense of pride for being able to lighten the mood and rid them of awkwardness.

As she desperately tries to elongate the bubble beard, he can't help but splutter. She is ridiculously competitive, to the point where it's cute.

'I win.' She emerges from the water smugly.

'Do you though?' With a quick movement, he wipes away the end of hers and sticks it under his own chin.

Her face transforms. 'But you said not to...'

'I said not to destroy, borrowing is different.'

They both giggle at each other, and Iain reaches for his phone.

'You can't take a photo! She slips under the water.

'Why not? I'm not putting it anywhere.' He replies. She tuts and rises back up with a smile. 'Now a silly one.' He instructs. She obliges, and he puts his phone back down.

'Can you do a moustache though? That's the question.' He perfects his own while raising an eyebrow at her.

'Of course I can...' She quickly replicates the one he's designed.

Being silly, Iain decides to smash Lily's beard, doing the very thing he told her not to do.

'Are you kidding?' She looks hurt by his actions - a part of her did feel her stomach sink. Her face hardens, and he knows what's coming. She attempts to cover his entire face in bubbles, throwing them at him. Bubbles don't throw very well, yet she manages to coat him anyway.

'Thank you.' She whispers, making ripples in the water.

'What do you mean? He laughs, taking a mountain of bubble out his hair.

'For making things less awkward.' He drops his own eyes as her cheeks tinge pink.

He laughs. 'You wanted to do this together.'

'I know. What I'm trying to say is, it's been fun.'

Not being able to think of a suitable response, he gently pulls her in to him. She responds with alarm, but he soothes this quickly with his lips to hers. Both incredibly close, they begin to feel the heat more. That and the need for each other determines their next actions. The planned twenty minute bath ends up taking a little longer than first anticipated.