light shower

clothes swapping

Needless to say, your shirts are not fit for Miles's physique. Bliss. Warm, comfortable bliss is what your mind immediately conjures up as you snuggle into one of Miles's sweatshirts.

The two of you got a little sidetracked from your after-school study session, and you prolonged your stay just a little longer when it started to drizzle outside. But with your shoes kicked off and jacket hung up in the front closet, your t-shirt wasn't cutting it and you wanted to be comfortable.

Truly comfortable. "Why is it," Miles laughs as he enters his room, "that every time I leave you alone for a minute, I come back to you wearing my clothes?" You grin. "Because it's comfortable." Miles steps towards you, still smiling and pulls you into a spur-of-the-moment hug before pecking your forehead and resting his chin atop your head.

"And don't pretend you don't like seeing me wearing your clothes," you say as your wrap your arms around his middle. "I know you boys get off on it," you say with a smirk.

"Hmm," he hums. "You do look rather good in my clothes." You feel his lips press against your temple, traveling towards your ear so you can feel them brush against you as he says, "Especially when it's my spidey suit you steal and are wearing nothing but panties underneath."

You squeak when he nips your ear, him laughing outright when you pinch the small of his back in retaliation. "Jerk," you mumble, though your biting your bottom lip to keep from giggling.

Miles takes one last look at you before glancing at your own discarded long sleeve. "I still don't see what the deal is. Your shirt doesn't look that bad." And before you can utter a word, Miles is pulling his shirt over the back of his head and you stop to ogle the rippling muscles.

He smirks at you, but the view is too good to be ashamed at being caught staring. You can see the fabric of your shirt already straining, and that's because he's only got his arms into the sleeves, and he grunts when he finally pulls the material over his head and down his torso.

"Huh. It's actually not that bad." You can't help but snort at the sight Miles makes in a shirt way too tight for him and it takes exactly six seconds before he starts to get uncomfortable. "Well it is itchy," he mumbles while fidgeting with the hem of the shirt.

"And now I'm starting to feel like I can't breathe. Yeah. No. I can't do this. I see why you like my clothes now." You laugh as he immediately goes to remove the shirt and then laugh even harder when the shirt gets stuck at his armpits. "Love. It's stuck."

"W-what?" You huff a laugh. "It's stuck!" He tries to maneuver one arm out of the shirt, but a stitch rips and he freezes. "Y/N, stop laughing. It's not funny."

"It really is." You step back until the back of your knees hit his bed and take a seat. Watching Miles struggle out of the purple shirt is quite entertaining and the pout he's now sporting just makes it all even better.

Footsteps sound just outside Miles' room and his eyes widen. "Miles, what-" Ms. Rio freezes in his doorway, blinking owlishly at her son before looking at you.

You dissolve into harder laughter and Miles sighs. "Do I want to know?" She asks. Since you're too busy trying to calm yourself, Miles takes it upon himself to explain to his mother how you're constantly borrowing his shirts because you claim they're more comfortable than your own.

Your cheeks hurt from smiling when she agrees that men's clothing is more comfortable and then Miles tells her how he wanted to see what the big deal was with your shirt, so he tried it on only for it to get stuck.

"Serves you right," she tells her son. Then glancing at you, she smiles. "Y/N, will you be staying for dinner, sweetheart?" Sobering up, you shrug. "Sure. If it's okay, that is?" you ask unsure even though you've been dating Miles since you were freshman.

"Of course, it is."

"Thank you. Do you need help with dinner prep?" You then ask. "I'm free to help. We're already done with our studying."

"I'd love some help. Thank you, Y/N," she genuinely smiles. Then glancing at her son, she gestures to you. "She's a keeper. See to it you don't ruin this relationship." As you laugh, Miles rolls his eyes. Ms. Rio takes her leave, telling you she'd be waiting in the kitchen whenever you're ready.

"Your mom totally adores me," you say once you're sure she's out of earshot. "Mhm." He mumbles distractedly. Sighing when yet another stitch rips, he gives up and pouts at you. "Will you help me? I'm going to end up ripping your shirt just to get it off and if you go home in my clothing your mother is going to want an explanation."

"And..?" You drawl. "And your mom's scary!" You bite your lip to keep from laughing outright and wave him over as he fidgets uncomfortably. "Get over here, hot stuff, and hold your arms straight up. I'll pull the shirt up while you sink down and you better hope my shirt comes out of this still intact."

You pull shirt off his head with ease and you watch his face as it marvels in confusion as to how you pulled it off him so easy.

"How- what the hell?"

"It's a T-shirt Miles you were thinking way too much into that small task." you say with sass he simply rolls his eyes and tucks his arms under his armpits in embarrassment.

"Whatever."

"You're so cute."

"SHUT UP NO I'M NOT!"