"You’re wearing my shirt," Derek comments while Stiles’ dad fumbles with the phone.
"Have you seen our closet lately?" Stiles returns, making air quotes for closet with the hand that isn’t wrapped around Derek’s waist. “It looks like it belongs to a teenager. Which we’ll get enough of in a few years, by the way,” he adds with a nod towards their daughter in Derek’s arms. “Besides, I’m 99% sure that green one is mine.”
Derek frowns and looks down at himself, letting out a huff when realizing the shirt is indeed a little too tight, even by his standards. He can’t blame either of them though, because at least they are wearing shirts, which is something neither of them do much around the house these days.
I met my wife at a Star Trek convention. She was study abroad from France and spoke little English, and I didn’t know a lick of French. So, for the first few months of our relationship, we communicated by speaking Klingon.