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"Y'know," she says, as you put the bottle of conditioner back down on the shower shelf, "I was thinking about cutting my hair before we got married."
You give her a quiet 'hm?', like a fond, disbelieving 'is that so?', and she 'mm's back an affirmative.
"This is the longest I've ever kept it." She tips her head back so you can press conditioner into her roots first, and her nose scrunches up when she shuts her eyes to keep the water and conditioner out.
You kiss her shoulder and keep petting it through. It takes a lot, because her hair is thick and almost to her waist when it's wet. Her father was already ordering extra shampoo and conditioner to stock at their store, and the two of you set aside farm money now to pay for it yourselves. The shampoo smells like lavender and strawberries and, somehow, fire, and if she doesn't condition it after, the scent will stick to your pillows and sheets and couch for days. The conditioner is scentless, just a gentle formula that the two of you water down anyway to make it last and make it easier to spread, and it mutes the smell of the shampoo enough that it seems like her natural scent.
She's told you before that taking care of her hair is much easier now that you'll both jump in the shower and you can help her with it, and more than once she's directed your hands elsewhere and had you help with other things. It's a nice part of your nightly routine together; you might spend all day in the desert or planting new crops for the upcoming season, but you'll both be in the kitchen for dinner, and you'll both change into your nightclothes together.
Even if your schedules shift and one of you is in bed before the other, one of you will snuggle in beside the other before it's too late at night.
Her lips are on yours suddenly, getting your attention. She knows you get distracted being sentimental.
You heavily suspect she's flattered by it.
She says she's always let the conditioner sit in her hair for a minute before she rinses it out, but you also heavily suspect that she's just found a convenient excuse to turn around and kiss you every time you shower together.
You don't mind at all. The wet friction between your chests is nice, and it's even better when she brings your hands, still slippery from conditioner, up to her breasts.
She doesn't intend for the two of you to get anywhere; you've tried shower sex, and it's nice in theory but difficult in practice. If you're both in the mood once her hair is rinsed and you've gotten a decent makeout session in, she'll lead you to bed and things will go from there, but you're usually both content with this.
Her hands are on your face, petting the rise of your cheekbones while she kisses you and pressing forward more and more. Her stomach feels so soft against yours.
When your hands settle at her waist, you feel conditioner sliding down off her wet hair over your fingers, and you smile against her mouth.
Her hands start moving lower, down your sides and to your hips, and then they slide between your legs, and you pull away still grinning.
You should rinse your hair first, you tell her, and the noise she makes is frustrated, but she still turns around and gets under the water again.
Once her hair is free of conditioner, laying stuck down her shoulders and back and chest, you pull some aside so you can give her neck one quick, gentle kiss.
Alright, you say, let's go.