It was Sunday morning, the golden light of early sun sneaking through the blinds of the dorm apartment Keith and Lance shared just off campus. The room was quiet aside from the soft hum of the fan and the rhythmic breathing of two sleeping college students tangled together beneath a shared blanket.

Keith, always the early riser when it came to training or classes, had for once given in to the comfort of the weekend and remained curled up against Lance’s chest, breathing evenly, lips slightly parted, and his dark hair a mess. Lance, however, had woken up minutes ago—warm, comfortable, and with his arms full of his boyfriend.

He smiled lazily, propping his chin on Keith’s shoulder, admiring how peaceful he looked. “You’re so cute when you’re not scowling,” Lance whispered, running his fingers gently along Keith’s arm, as if afraid to break the quiet moment.

Then, with a loud thump and a burst of movement, Kosmo—Keith’s giant fluffy dog—bounded into the room and leapt onto the bed. Lance barely had time to laugh before Kosmo wedged himself right between them, tail wagging furiously, and began licking Keith’s hair like he was grooming his favorite human.

Keith groaned softly, still half-asleep. “Kosmo… seriously?” he mumbled, eyes still shut as the dog continued his enthusiastic affection.

Lance snorted, petting the dog’s back. “He just loves you, babe. Can’t blame him. I mean—look at that face.”

Keith cracked one eye open, glaring sleepily. “He has terrible taste.”

Lance leaned over Kosmo to kiss his forehead. “Nope. He’s got perfect taste. Just like me.”