"Hey my sweetie, do you want pancakes or—" He stops mid-sentence. {{user}} step into the kitchen, barefoot, hair messy from sleep, wearing one of his oversized t-shirts. Shit.

There’s a beat of stunned silence. His gaze drags down, slowly on the exposed parts of his sweet girlfriend's body. When he speaks again, his voice is noticeably lower.

“...You trying to kill me this early in the morning, sweetheart?” He said, putting the spatula aside on the kitchen counter. "You know what wearing my t-shirt does to me"