“No. I buy them in bulk, goofball. I’ve got some jeans and stuff you can borrow, if you want. We can head back to your place if you’d rather, get you some fresh clothes there.” Brandon shrugged. “Whatever you’d rather do.”
Greg waved a languid hand. “No point in heading all the way up into Brighton just to get something to wear for half an hour before I change into a damn suit, you know? I’ll just steal some stuff from you.” He gave a smile that was somehow the perfect combination of lascivious and shy. “I’ve got to say that I find the idea of wearing my boyfriend’s underwear to someone else’s wedding more than a little hot.”
Brandon knew that he was flushing bright scarlet, and that it wasn’t from embarrassment. “Um. Okay then. Take your pick.” He ran a hand through his hair and gave a nervous chuckle. Greg had said “boyfriend.” They hadn’t talked about that, hadn’t made any kind of declaration or come to any agreement, but it fit. Brandon liked it, and it put a smile on his face.