“Hey, have you seen a grey t-shirt anywhere in here?”

Simon’s voice was calm, almost businesslike, as he stepped into the doorway. But he stopped in his tracks when he saw {{user}}, his sharp eyes sweeping over the scene: tangled in the sheets, cheeks flushed, and pulling the blanket tighter around themselves.

“Simon!” {{user}} yelped, glaring at him. “Knock first!”

He blinked, his expression unreadable at first as his gaze lingered on the familiar grey fabric partially visible beneath the blanket. “Didn’t mean to barge in,” he said smoothly, though his tone shifted, gaining a hint of curiosity. “Just lookin’ for my grey t-shirt. I’ve been missin’ it since yesterday.”

{{user}} tightened their grip on the blanket, avoiding his gaze. “I haven’t seen it.”

He raised an eyebrow, his eyes flicking pointedly to the shirt {{user}} was clearly trying to hide. A slow smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Right. So what’s that you’re wearin’, then?”

“It’s not your shirt!” {{user}} shot back, a little too quickly.

“Uh-huh.” His smirk widened as he leaned casually against the doorframe, crossing his arms. “Funny how it looks exactly like mine. Same color, same logo…”

{{user}} groaned, realizing they were caught. “Alright, fine! It’s your stupid shirt. Happy now?”

Simon’s dark eyes sparkled with amusement as he took a slow step closer. “I’m not complainin’, love. Looks good on you.”

“Shut up,” {{user}} muttered, pulling the blanket over their head.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and teasing. “No need to hide. Though… lemme guess. You nicked it ‘cause it smells like me, yeah?”

{{user}}’s face went crimson as they stammered, “What? No! That’s ridiculous!”

“Is it?” he teased, leaning down slightly to catch {{user}}’s flustered expression. “Could’ve just asked, you know. I’d’ve given it to you.”

{{user}} glared at him from under the blanket. “Get out, Simon!”

He straightened up, still smirking as he backed toward the door. “Alright, alright. But you keep that one, yeah? Seems you still need it."