They walk through the aisles of the grocery store, Warren scooping up boxes of cookies while Max settles on popcorn. Her dorm is seriously lacking in snacks lately. She's almost positive that he devours everything after she passes out as he's prone to midnight snacks. He's prone to a lot of things, she thinks, as he laughs a little too loudly at the cartoon on one of the boxes. But an affectionate smile tugs at her lips and she pushes the cart into him to grab his attention.

"How old are you again? Because sometimes I feel like I'm babysitting a seven-year-old. A seven-year-old who eats way too much." She rolls her eyes for added measure.

"You're just jealous of my amazing metabolism," he tells her, dumping at least five boxes into the cart.

"Yeah, because you burnt off so many calories when you passed out on the PS4 last night."

"Are you suggesting another way to burn calories?" He tilts his head, grinning, and she jabs the cart into him again.

"Can it, horn dog. We're on a mission," She pushes the cart around him and into the next aisle, trying to hide the flush on her face.

His laughter follows her. "You can't run away from me. Unless, you've got a craving for canned vegetables."

She considers chucking a can of peas at him but just keeps moving instead. She doesn't even hear him sneak up on her, his arm curling around her waist. He tugs gently at the waistband of her pants, pulling her to him.

"Warren," she hisses, smacking his hand away. She hates public displays of affection and seeing people kiss and cuddle in front of her makes her squirm. She treasures her personal space too much and in a sea of people, there is only so much space she can claim for herself. To have another person invading that is just too much. Warren is all about making his affection known. She can't count the number of times he has dropped an arm around her while she's chatting with friends, and she puts up with it. But in the back of a crowd, when he nuzzles against her neck or sneaks kisses against the shell of her ear, it is too much. He backs off when she tells him but the boundary between what is appropriate or not blurs more and more each day.

"One kiss," he begs, holding his hands up in surrender. When she scowls at him, he steals one anyway, quick and chaste against her warning growl.

"We're in a store," she reminds them, and again he is bewildered by her reasoning.

"I'm done. I'm sorry. I promise not to try to strip you and throw you against a wall of canned carrots, unless-"

"No." She whirls away from him again, heading towards the bread aisle now, just for the distance between them.

"I was going to behave," he calls after her and a woman examining a package of hot dog buns pauses to look up at them.

Max's cheeks flush furiously once again. "Shut up," she warns, picking up a loaf of wheat bread and pointing it dangerously towards him. This is exactly why she hates public affection and now they're gaining an audience.

"Max, wait. I'm sorry." He runs to catch up with her. She whacks him on the head with the bread as soon as he's in range. He blinks and gently takes the bread from her, returning it to the shelf. "Are you ashamed of me?" he asks. "Is that it?"

His words surprise her. "What?" she counters.

"You're always pushing me away whenever there's anyone around. You act like you don't want to be around me and right now you kind of look like you want to rip out my spleen."

She bites her lip and looks around, noticing that the hot dog bun lady has moved to a different aisle. They're alone again.

"No, you dolt, I'm not ashamed of you. I just need my space out in public. It doesn't have anything to do with you." She crosses her arms, feeling more uncomfortable by the moment.

"Are you sure?" He shuffles his feet as he examines her expression. "Because, you know, I'm always the first to kiss you and sometimes I feel like you're just going along for the ride. Like one day you're going to wake up and tell me to buzz off or something."

"That's not true," she argues, "well, not exactly true." She thinks of all the times she's kissed him on the forehead, snuggled against him, and the few times she'd booped him on the nose. She thinks those should count, indefinitely.

"Max, just tell me. Are you having second thoughts? Not into this? Am I going to fast? Too far?"

She finds that a little hard to answer considering they've had sex at least ten times. She raises a hand to her temple and leans against the wall of white bread. She can't believe they are having this argument in the bread aisle of a freaking grocery store. Her bubble is so compromised that it's nonexistent by this point.

But when he takes her face in his hands, eyes gazing down at her in a passion so blatantly obvious, she doesn't feel the wall anymore. She sighs and his fingers brush across her cheek. "I love you, you goofhead. I don't need to kiss you next to a stop sign to show you that. I would rather have you all to myself and show you that way. I'm just not a very outwardly emotional person."

His fingers have frozen at the corners of her mouth, eyes wide. "You what?" he asks and she realizes, far too late, the words she'd just said.

"I love you," she repeats hesitantly. The words feel too heavy in her mouth, but they are real just the same. There is no one she feels more comfortable with; he knows her completely.

He exhales suddenly, his breath shuddering against her lips before he kisses her, slowly, deeply, and more intimate than is probably appropriate in the store. When they both pull away, breathless, he leans his forehead against hers. "I love you, too." The words linger, staining the air like ink. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm such a jerk. I won't pressure you into doing anything you're not comfortable with. I promise I will never assault you in a grocery store again, unless-"

"Shut up," she whispers and kisses him again because she is willing to ignore her surroundings for one moment if he will kiss her hard enough to make her forget her name. Just this once.