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“Haz? Have you seen me old Marine trackies? Ain’t seen em for days.” Eggsy shouted from their closet, frustration slowly growing.
The young agent had been stuck in the closet for what had seemed to be ages, but had really only been about fifteen minutes. He had plans to go to the gym that morning, before heading into work, but that plan might be tossed out of the window.
The current pile seemed to be a lost cause, so he gave up on it and moved on to a different section.
“I’ll find these damn sweatpants, even if I gotta tear down this damn closet. Christ, how many fuckin button-ups can one man have of one fuckin color?!” Eggsy exclaimed.
The last few days, he had made do with wearing his shorts to the gym, but the weather outside was making a turn for the worst, and he needed his trackies. He had plenty, yes, but his Marine ones were his favorite. While he had never made it into the service, he had been proud of what he had managed to do.
Plus they were fuckin’ comfy, they were.
Eggsy waited for a response while he searched through the closet, but none came. He frowned, and stopped searching. He knew Harry was home, and awake. He could smell the bacon cooking downstairs.
“Harry?” He called again. No reply.
Eggsy huffed and left the decimated closet in search for his husband of now one year. He made his way downstairs, clad only in his pants. As he approached the kitchen, he could hear the soft tune of music playing. That had been why Harry hadn’t answered, then.
He turned the corner into the kitchen and came to a stop. His face spread into a wide grin and he felt his frustration dissipate. He leaned against the wall, crossed his arms, and watched his husband.
Harry Hart stood with his back facing Eggsy, flipping the bacon whilst swaying his hips to the music, or at least trying. Harry had no sense of tempo to save his life, even if he was a proper posh gent.
His chest was bare, his hair was a wild mess of curls, and he just so happened to be wearing Eggsy’s trackies. They were too small for him, though, and clung to his legs. And, Eggsy noticed with a smirk, they really hugged Harry’s ass.
Eggsy stood up and walked over to Harry, wrapping his arms around him from behind and setting his head on Harry’s back.
“Mornin, Harry...Noticed you got into me clothes, then. Been searchin for those for ages, now. Closet’s a bit of a mess.” He pressed a soft kiss to the middle of Harry’s back.
“Ah, yes.” Harry cleared his throat and finished flipping the last of the bacon. He put aside the tongs and shifted in Eggsy’s hold so that their chests were pressed together.
Looking down at Eggsy like this, he could see each and everyone of the boy’s freckles. He could see the brown specks in his green eyes and see the lines the pillow sheets had drawn into his face. Harry fell just a bit more in love with him.
“About that.” His cheeks turned red and there was a sudden sheepish air about him. He shifted his feet and held Eggsy a bit tighter.
Eggsy lifted an eyebrow and nodded, urging his lover to continue.
“My own sweatpants died, I’m afraid. The ratty ones that you and Merlin both have been telling me to throw out? Well. A thread snagged in the washer and it was a right mess, so I...I got rid of them.” He explained. “So, well. I found yours, and they were in good enough shape, a bit tight on me, but they worked. Plus...Plus they were yours.”
Harry felt the blush spread up his ears and down the back of his neck, but the admission only served to make Eggsy grin.
“So you took me joggers… Cause ya like me.” Eggsy winked, and slid his hands over Harry’s lower back, thumb playing with the rim of said joggers.
Harry frowned and looked Eggsy in confusion.
“Of course I like you, darling boy. Trackies or no tra-”
He was cut off by the sudden press of soft lips against his own. The rest of the sentence died in his throat as his brain short-circuited. Harry’s hands came to rest on Eggsy’s hips as the lad kissed him.
Eggsy pulled away after a few moments and sniffed the air with a frown.
“Haz, somethin’s burnin, ain’t it?”
“Oh, tits. The bacon!”
Harry all but pushed Eggsy away as he turned to collect the bacon from the frying pan, leaving Eggsy to clutch at his sides as he laughed at his husband, all thoughts of trackies gone, never to be brought back up again.