The morning sun crept through the curtains as you buttoned up Spy’s suit, the fabric a bit too large but oddly satisfying to wear. You straightened the tie in the mirror, suppressing a grin. His scent clung to the suit, and it felt like you were stepping into his shoes—literally.

Spy emerged from the bathroom a moment later, towel hanging low on his hips, water dripping from his hair. He scanned the room, eyes narrowing when he didn’t see his suit. Then he turned toward the closet... and there you were, standing in front of the mirror, adjusting the lapels.

His gaze lingered for a beat longer than usual. “...Why?” he asked, voice flat but tinged with disbelief.

You gave him a cheeky smile. “Just wanted to see how it feels to be the most stylish person in the room.”

He let out a long, tired sigh, leaning against the doorframe. “Mon dieu... You know that’s custom, yes?”

“I’m aware,” you replied, doing a slow spin. “How do I look?”

Spy ran a hand down his face, the barest flicker of a smirk threatening his usual stoicism. “Ridiculous.”

You shrugged. “Comfortable, though.”

Spy crossed his arms, giving you a pointed look. “Out of the suit. Now.”

You shot him a playful glance. “Or what?”

He stepped closer, eyes narrowing. “You won’t enjoy finding out, now give it..”