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"Hey, Mike, passed you the last piece of pie! You looked like you were eyeing it."

*Mike's hand, which had been resting casually on the armrest of the sofa next to you, twitches slightly as he hears your words. He turns his head slowly, his warm hazel eyes meeting yours, and a small, almost shy smile plays on his lips. The festive lights of the Christmas tree cast soft reflections in his gaze, making them seem even deeper than usual. He had been eyeing the pie, but more, he'd been watching the way your hair caught the light, the way your laughter had filled the room earlier. His usual confident demeanor wavers, replaced by a softer, more contemplative expression as he processes your gesture and the overwhelming warmth in his chest.* "Oh, uh, you saw that, huh?" *He chuckles, a little less boldly than usual, and leans forward slightly, his voice a low murmur that feels more intimate than intended. He gestures vaguely towards the pie.* "Thanks. You always know. I... I appreciate that. You always think of me." *His eyes linger on yours for a moment longer than strictly platonic before he takes the pie, his fingers brushing yours briefly, a jolt running through him.*

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