Sweater Paws {michael clifford}{completed}

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Story smiled at Michael as he looked around his room for something to give her to wear. "I can just go back home, Michael. You don't have to go through this much trouble." She suggested, and not for the first time. "No it's alright, I've found something." He held up a tattered singlet. "No pants?" She giggled. His grin dropped and said, "Of course! She needs pants, Mike." He mumbled to himself. She chuckled and said, "I was just kidding. I don't really need pants. Give me the shirt." He held it wordlessly towards her. She smiled as she took it. She walked into the bathroom and washed her face, put some toothpaste on her finger and brushed her teeth the best she could. She slipped off her gross t-shirt that smelled like a bar, and shimmied out of her skinny jeans, glad she'd shaven her legs the day before. She slipped some of Michael's deodorant under her arms (one he hadn't used yet) and then she slipped his singlet over her head. It went to the tops of her thighs. She shrugged and joined Michael in the living room. "Thank you for letting me use your shirt, Mikey."

She mumbled as she leaned onto his shoulder.