“You can always just put on something of mine until your stuff turns up,” he offered without missing a beat, tucking into the eggs pushed toward him. It would be a waste not to, and he could always eat. “I don’t mind.” 

More than not minding, he thought he might just like it if she did. His clothes would be absolutely enormous on her much smaller frame, but it there was something in the idea of a part of him wrapped around her that pulled at the right things in him. 

Which wasn’t surprising. He’d been affectionate toward her, protective of her in ways that he’d never act on, knew she didn’t actually need protecting. It seemed only natural to want her in his space and in his things.