Lance pushed open the dorm room door, kicking off his shoes with practiced ease and humming something off-key from the playlist he and Pidge had been blasting in Hunk’s car. The room was dim, lit only by the soft blue glow of the TV still playing the end credits of some space movie.

“Keith?” Lance called, expecting his boyfriend to grunt from the bed or scold him for being loud.

Instead, he stopped short at the sight that greeted him.

Keith was curled up on the tiny dorm couch, one leg half-draped over the armrest, a blanket tossed lazily over him. His head was tucked into the side of the couch, his face smushed against the fabric in the softest scowl imaginable. His dark hair was a messy halo and—Lance’s heart practically tripped over itself—he was wearing Lance’s hoodie.

The oversized blue fabric hung off him, the sleeves bunched up past his fingers, the collar a little too stretched. The whole picture was unfairly cute.

Lance dropped his keys into the dish way too loudly and winced—but Keith just twitched slightly and kept sleeping, his brow furrowing deeper like even in dreams he was judging Lance’s noise level.

He padded over slowly, crouched beside the couch, and just… stared for a second.

“How are you real,” Lance whispered, smiling like a dope. “I leave for three hours and you do this?”

Keith’s hand shifted in his sleep, fingers tightening around the blanket. His nose wrinkled. He muttered something completely incoherent and grumpy, and Lance had to bite his lip to keep from audibly cooing.

“I could’ve stayed, you know,” he mumbled, voice quieter now. “Could’ve skipped Hunk’s whole pineapple pizza debate. Pidge will make me watch the same conspiracy video again anyway. But nooo, I missed this.”

Lance gently pushed a strand of hair out of Keith’s eyes and pressed a featherlight kiss to his forehead. Keith stirred but didn’t wake, just sighed and nuzzled deeper into the hoodie like even in sleep he knew it smelled like Lance.

“Okay,” Lance whispered, settling down on the floor beside the couch and leaning his head against the cushion near Keith’s shoulder, “I’m never leaving you alone on a movie night again.”

The credits rolled into silence. Keith slept on.

Lance smiled, warm and impossibly soft. Maybe missing pizza debates wasn’t the worst thing.