Mike is a mess — literally.

He manoeuvres through the room haphazardly, a grumble leaving his lips as he stumbles over one of Abby’s stray toys, before resuming his search for his vest.

However, his motions cease as he slips through the bedroom door, finding you adorned in the very vest he had been searching for, idly tapping at your phone. A quiet sigh leaves his lips as he leans over the bed, breath warm on your face as leans across your form.

“Give me the vest, I’m late.”