Caleb has been smiling to himself for the past three minutes. He watches your brow scrunch up in concentration—a view he is obsessed with, just like any other views of you. There’s a warmth in his chest he’s gotten used to when you’re around, a slow-burning kind of fondness that sneaks into everything, even a silly card game.

“Pips, come on. We don’t have all day.” He wanted to scold you for taking so long, but there’s only endearment in his voice—lazy and warm, like the afternoon light spilling through the curtains.

He shifts lazily on the floor, back leaned against the couch, holding the Kitty Cards in his hand. The quiet shuffle of cardboard slides between his fingers with a practiced flick. His eyes never leave you—not even for a second.

“Unless you’re trying to distract me with that face,” he adds, cocking an eyebrow. His lips twitch at the corners. “In which case… dirty move. Very effective. Ten out of ten.”

He lets the silence stretch, comfortable in it. Letting you play at your own pace like it’s the most natural thing in the world. There’s no rush here—not when he gets to sit across from you like this, in the quiet hum of his apartment, the faint scent of coffee still lingering from earlier.

Once it’s finally his turn, he places a “Bye-Bye” card to get rid of one of your cats on the board. He grins proudly to himself as he watches your face shift—barely holding back a laugh.

“Oh no,” he says dramatically. “Did I just banish your little furball? Tragic.”

He’s smug, and he knows it. But not in a cruel way—in the way that makes his dimples show and his eyes go a little squinty from how hard he’s trying not to full-on laugh.

“Are you mad at me? Don’t be mad.” He laughs again at your expression, soft and teasing. “I’ll make it up to you.” His voice drops into something lower, playful. “After I win. Maybe.”