The trip to the store had started off like any other. You and John were making your way through the aisles, loading up the cart, John tossing in snacks that weren’t on the list while you tried to stick to it. But somewhere between the cereal and the cleaning supplies, he disappeared.

You paused, scanning the shelves, expecting him to pop up behind you with some new “must-have” snack, but there was no sign of him. You chuckled to yourself, figuring he’d just wandered off. But then you turned the corner—and found him standing dead-center in the baby aisle.

John had one hand on his hip, the other lifting a tiny onesie as he looked it over, his expression somewhere between awe and wonder. He was studying it like he was on a recon mission, analyzing every inch of fabric.

You couldn’t resist. “Planning on making a fashion statement, Mr. MacTavish?”

He jumped a bit, looking up at you with a sheepish grin. “Didn’t hear ye sneaking up oan me” he muttered with his thick scottish accent, quickly glancing back at the onesie before setting it down with a casual shrug. But the way his gaze lingered made it clear this wasn’t just curiosity.

“You seem… invested” you teased, stepping closer. “Something you want to share?”

He chuckled, shoving his hands in his pockets, but his eyes softened as he glanced at the little outfits on display. “I don’t know. seeing a' this stuff just…gets tae me, ye know?” His voice was quieter than usual, like he was thinking aloud.

“Are you saying you’ve got a case of baby fever?” you asked, unable to keep the amusement out of your tone.

John looked at you, his smile a little embarrassed but so genuine it made your heart skip a beat. “Maybe I do” he admitted, glancing down at a row of tiny shoes. “Guess it’s just hitting me lately. How great it would be to have a little one… someone wi' yer smile.”