Pyjamas for him was usually either nothing at all, or boxers at most. The slight chill in the air didn't quite permit that, however. So he was in a t-shirt, sweats, and a pair of socks. His long legs stretched out, feet resting on the coffee table in front of the couch.
Sometimes his wife had some strange whims, but he was happy to indulge them just because he loved her smile so damn much. And when he'd offered, the smile had been just about blinding. He had to laugh when she skidded in to the room. "Sure I'm sure," he told her as she flopped herself down beside him, slipping his arm around her.