It had started on a whim really, way back when they had first started dating. Elizabeth rounded the corner too quickly and caught her knee on the door frame and snagged her pantyhose. "Dammit," she muttered under her breath.
Henry came flying around the corner from the bedroom, "Are you okay?"
"Oh, I'm fine. I just hit my knee and put a run in my hose. I'm way more annoyed about the hose than I am my knee. I just bought these."
"I bet I can take your mind off of it," he said with a glint in his eye.
Elizabeth looked at him with a confused expression. He smirked and dropped to his knees in front of her. Sticking his finger in the small snag he ripped it all the way up to her hip, shredding the hose. He repeated the action down to the floor. Planting kisses on her thigh, she fell against the doorframe, desire pooling low in her belly.
Nearly 30 years later, it was no longer something that just happened, it was a conquest. Time had passed and fashion had evolved from pantyhose to tights, some with spandex (more challenging to rip, but Henry was always up for a challenge). He loved anything that clung to his wife's gorgeous legs, but he loved ripping them off of her even more.
Henry almost always was up and out of the bedroom before Elizabeth got dressed, so she never worried too much in the morning, but if an effort to try and wear her tights more than once, at some point she had started removing the more expensive pairs before she came home at night. Having her DS agents drive her everywhere was especially helpful when she needed to shimmy out of her tights and shove them in her briefcase before entering her house. It had been much more challenging when she was a professor and she and Henry carpooled frequently.
Today, though, had been particularly stressful and she honestly forgot what she was wearing. It was well after 11 when she walked through the door, unceremoniously dropping her coat and briefcase where she stood, and kicking off her heels all in one motion.
"Hey babe, rough day?" Henry asked as he rounded his desk to take her in his arms. Elizabeth melted into her husband's embrace.
"It was just long," she said as their lips met. He smiled against her and she felt him start to pull her skirt up. It took a moment for her to realize what he was about to do. The second it hit her, she pushed him backwards and kept her arms out trying to keep him at bay. "N-n-n-no Henry you can't, not these."
"Exactly why not?" he questioned, circling like a vulture, ready to pounce.
"Because. These are expensive. Like cashmere and silk expensive."
"I would only say that maybe you should have thought about what would happen to them when you made that purchase."
"We need a line item in our budget for tights, Henry."
"I'll add it in with entertainment," he teased.
"You are impossible," she said, suddenly making a mad dash for the stairs, hoping to beat him to the bedroom.
Henry saw it coming and caught her by the waist. He hauled her to the couch and threw her down. He crawled up her taking the hem of her skirt with him. As she heard the all too familiar sound of ripping and felt his kisses on her hip bone, she was 19 again, falling against the doorframe.