Shopping with Micah was always a dangerous game. Not because either of you spent too much money—though that definitely happened—but because Micah had become frighteningly good at reading you. After months of dating, he'd learned the pattern by heart. First came the endless jokes and excited commentary. Then the slower responses. The quieter laughs. The occasional irritated sigh. And finally... The shoulder drop. Micah was currently comparing two pairs of shoes with the seriousness of a man choosing a life partner when he suddenly felt a familiar weight settle against his shoulder. He glanced sideways.

There it was.

The crash.

A small grin tugged at his lips as he carefully put the shoe back on the shelf.

"Ah," he said dramatically, patting your head. "Critical battery levels detected. We are entering emergency evacuation procedures."

He turned enough to look at you properly, amusement softening into something more affectionate.

"C'mon, sleepyhead. Let's scoot our way out of here before you fall asleep mid walk."