While Tobey sat in the car with 777, soaking in the flood of spy lore and dad lore, the scene inside the supermarket unfolded with far more dramatic tension—of the domestic kind.
Shalit(mother) had one hand locked around Rick's(father) wrist like a determined teen dragging her awkward prom date into a flash sale.
Rick, getting pulled like a five-year-old resisting nap time
"Okay—what happened? Why am I being dragged like a suspicious couponer?"
Shalit, looking over her shoulder with a grin sharp enough to slice through denim
"Dummy. You really can't figure it out? You're always five steps ahead—but I swear, sometimes, you trip over your own ego."
Rick, unbothered, adjusting his sleeves like a model prepping for battle
"Ohhh, I get it. You brought the smartest person in the building to help you pick between 'mystic teal' and 'stormy ocean blue'—again."
Shalit, mock-offended as they entered the ladies' section, hands flying up dramatically
"Excuse me, Mr. I-wear-the-same-three-black-shirts-on-rotation.
I wouldn't trust your fashion advice if we were escaping a fashion bomb."
Rick, calm, casual, deadly
"And yet… here you are. Dragging me to your battlefield.
You don't need help shopping—you need moral support for your indecision."
Shalit, grabbing a random skirt off a rack and slapping it against Rick's chest like a sword
"And you need a reminder that sarcasm is not a valid personality type."
Rick, raising an eyebrow
"Says the woman who treats Target clearance tags like a boss fight."
They both paused—smirking.
For a moment, the chaos of old secrets, old missions, and a dangerously curious five-year-old faded behind the soft murmur of store intercoms and the scent of new fabric.
Shalit, teasing but softening
"Besides… it's been a while since we walked through a store without disaster."
Rick, eyes gentle under the humor
"Give it five minutes. You kidnapped me from my post. That counts as sabotage."
Shalit, grinning wider now
"Totally worth it."
Shalit, slowing her pace as they reach a quieter aisle, fingers still loosely wrapped around Rick's wrist
"You know… I really did just want to spend time with you."
Rick, surprised but covering it with a crooked smirk
"And here I thought I was just a pack mule with sharp opinions."
Shalit, softly, still facing forward
"Maybe I like having a sharp-tongued mule around. Keeps the world less boring."
There was a pause.
The fluorescent lights above flickered once—not in the annoying way, but gently, like they were dimming the world around them. The racks of clothes faded into a soft blur. The chatter of the crowd seemed to drift away.
It was just the two of them.
Rick, voice lower now, more careful
"You've been smiling more lately."
Shalit, still holding onto his wrist, finally turned to face him. Her eyes shimmered—whether from the lights or something else, he couldn't tell.
"Maybe I'm remembering how."
He didn't answer right away.
Instead, Rick reached out—fingers brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. The moment lingered.
"Remind me to let you drag me more often."
Shalit, heart pounding a little faster, leaned in just slightly—enough to feel his breath but not enough to cross the line.
"I'll take that as permission…" whispering
And just as their eyes locked—
Just as the space between them thinned like a bubble waiting to burst—
a shopping cart crashed somewhere behind them.
Sharp metallic clatter. Followed by a child yelling about cereal.
They flinched.
Rick, sighing, deadpan
"God really said 'not today.'"
Shalit, laughing as she leaned her forehead briefly against his chest
"He does that a lot with us."
Rick, holding her close for half a second longer than necessary before pulling back
"Come on. Let's pretend we're shopping before 777 blows up the parking lot."
Rick, still trailing after Shalit as she grazes through hangers of dresses, scarves, and clothes he can't categorize
Rick, muttering under his breath
"I was trained to track fugitives across continents. Not find the difference between 'midnight berry' and 'royal plum'."
Shalit, over her shoulder, smirking
"Which is exactly why you're here. Keeps your genius in check."
She plucks a dress from the rack—flowy, deep red, clearly not her usual style—and holds it against herself, tilting her head.
Shalit, softly
"…What do you think?"
Rick, watching her, the noise of the store fading like static
"Dangerous."
Shalit, blinking
"Hm?"
Rick, not blinking
"You, in that, would be dangerous."
She pauses—eyes still on him, the fabric still in her hands.
Then—
With zero warning, she grabs his wrist again.
Rick, startled
"Wait, where are we—?"
The door to the trial room swings open.
Then shuts behind them.
Click.
The world outside becomes muffled, like they just stepped into a secret dimension made of soft lights, hanging fabrics, and that faint scent of store perfume mixed with detergent.
Rick, trying to lean coolly against the wall but missing the hook and bumping it slightly
"You know, this is usually where they keep suspicious behavior in check, not encourage it."
Shalit, pulling the curtain fully closed, now standing much closer than before
"Guess I've always had a thing for bending rules."
Her voice dipped—low, smooth, that little thread of playfulness laced with something warmer.
There was barely any space between them now.
Rick, softly, teasing
"You gonna model the dress or mug me in here?"
Shalit, mock shrugging, stepping even closer
"Both's still on the table."
He laughed—but it faltered, just slightly, when her fingers brushed the collar of his shirt.
His breath caught.
Her hand lingered at his chest.
Their eyes met—and it was no longer playful.
It was still.
Faint rustling of hangers outside. A distant store announcement. The hum of fluorescent lights.
But none of it touched them here.
Not in this bubble.
Shalit, whispering now
"You've been carrying the world again. Even when I say not to."
Rick, a bit quieter than usual
"I don't know how not to."
Shalit, touching his cheek
"Then let me remind you."
And for the first time in what felt like forever—
There were no missions. No code words. No surveillance. No hidden threat.
Just her.
Just him.
Just one stolen, perfect moment between the trial room curtains.
Trial Room – Soft Lights & Silhouettes
The curtain swayed gently, then settled.
No staff interruptions. No rushing.
Just the hush of clothes on hangers and two people in a bubble carved from the ordinary.
Rick, voice low, almost reverent
"...You sure we're not breaking protocol here?"
Shalit, eyes steady
"Oh, we're definitely breaking something."
(She leaned closer.)
"Just not anything I'm going to regret."
Her fingertips traced a faint line across his chest—feather-light, like she was memorizing him again.
Not the spy.
Not the strategist.
Just him.
Rick, swallowing slightly, smile faltering into something more real
"…You're dangerous."
Shalit, voice softer than before, heart somewhere between her throat and the stars
"And you're still trying to resist me?"
No more words.
Just space closing.
Just breath shared between two hearts that hadn't beat in sync like this in too long.
And then—
They kissed.
Not the rushed kind.
Not stolen or hurried.
But slow. Deep. Familiar.
It was a kiss between two people who had fought monsters—both in the world and within themselves—and still found each other.
A kiss that didn't ask permission.
It just was.
His hand found the small of her back.
Hers curled up into the fabric of his shirt like she didn't plan to let go for a while.
And the world?
It paused.
The clothes stopped swaying.
The fluorescent lights stopped buzzing.
Even time, for just a second, seemed to hold its breath.
They finally broke apart, eyes still closed, foreheads pressed together.
Rick, voice warm and worn with something more than love—something like peace
"I needed that."
Shalit, quietly teasing but too full of emotion to hide it
"Of course you did. You're exhausting."
They both laughed softly, breath mixing like echoes.
And when they stepped out of the trial room a moment later—
The world had returned.
But they hadn't quite.
Their hands brushed as they walked.
And for once, Rick didn't mind being five steps behind.
"Now let's check out the clothes you liked and go home and have dinner."
"Yes, darling." Shalit tilt her face
As they strolled forward, Rick glanced at her from the corner of his eye.
Her curly hair bounced with every step—carefree and untamed, like her spirit.
The way she carried herself, that light sway, the warmth in her voice—it still caught him off guard sometimes.
He'd been around spies, soldiers, scientists, people who could disarm bombs blindfolded.
But none of them could undo him like she could—just by laughing too hard or brushing his hand.
Rick, in his mind
"She's chaos in curls. A hurricane in heels.
And somehow, she makes the world quieter."
He didn't say any of it aloud.
Didn't need to.
She always knew.
And beside her, walking into the quiet hum of the checkout lane—he wasn't a spy, a strategist, or a name in someone's secret files.
He was just… hers.