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Keith paced the living room with the kind of restless energy that screamed this is fine, everything’s fine, except nothing about him looked remotely fine. He was wearing a black hoodie that had been tugged so many times it was practically slipping off one shoulder, and his socked feet slid back and forth on the hardwood floors as he kept circling the coffee table like a man possessed.
In the kitchen, someone dropped a spoon. Keith flinched so hard you’d think it was a bomb.
“Keith,” Adam said gently from the couch, legs crossed and tea in hand like he hadn’t just watched the boy do a nervous marathon. “Breathe.”
“I am breathing,” Keith snapped, a little too sharp. “You’re the one who told me to stop pacing last time and I did, and now you’re telling me to breathe—”
“He’s malfunctioning,” Matt said from where he was sprawled upside-down in the recliner, long legs dangling off one armrest. “Should we try turning him off and on again?”
Pidge cackled from the floor, where she was sitting cross-legged with a controller in hand, halfway through a Mario Kart race. “You say that like he wasn’t already running on unstable software.”
Keith shot her a glare. “You’re not helping.”
“I never claimed to help,” she grinned, thumbs flying across the buttons. “I’m here for the drama.”
“Exactly why I didn’t tell you guys earlier,” Keith muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “God. I knew this was gonna happen.”
Shiro, standing in the doorway with a bowl of popcorn he’d made just for the show, tilted his head and gave his brother a teasing smile. “We’re just excited, Keith. It’s not every day you let someone into your emotionally reinforced bunker of solitude.”
“Two months of dating and we’re just now meeting the guy,” Matt said, throwing his arms up dramatically. “Are you dating him or hiding him from a government conspiracy?”
“Honestly,” Pidge said, not looking up, “I thought he was imaginary. Like an emotional support boyfriend.”
Keith groaned and collapsed onto the couch beside Adam, burying his face in his hands. “I hate you all.”
“No you don’t,” Adam said calmly, patting his thigh.
“You especially,” Keith muttered into his palms. “You were supposed to help keep them under control.”
“I am helping,” Adam said serenely. “You should’ve seen what they wanted to do. There were printed shirts involved.”
Matt perked up. “It’s not too late! I still have the ‘Keith’s Boyfriend is Real and Hot, Ask Me How!’ shirt in my backpack.”
Pidge gasped. “Wait, you brought it?! You said you wouldn’t—”
“I lied,” Matt said proudly.
Shiro chuckled, mouth full of popcorn. “I like him already and I haven’t even met him yet. If he survives tonight, he’s a keeper.”
Keith groaned again and slumped down further into the couch, as if it might swallow him whole. “This is literally my nightmare.”
“No,” Pidge said with a wicked grin. “Your nightmare is us showing him baby pictures.”
Matt pulled out his phone. “Oh my god—”
“No,” Keith barked, lurching forward. “I swear, if anyone shows him anything—”
“Too late,” Shiro said, holding up his own phone. “I already made a slideshow.”
“Why do you hate me,” Keith mumbled into the throw pillow.
Adam chuckled quietly, then reached over to gently smooth down Keith’s hair, the only one in the room offering him something close to sanity. “They’re just teasing because they love you. And because you’ve been ridiculously secretive about this guy.”
“Because you’re like this,” Keith gestured to the chaos around him. “Exactly like this.”
Matt grinned. “And yet, here we are. He’s coming over. We get to meet him. We’re invested now.”
“Like emotionally attached to this storyline,” Pidge added. “I want lore. I want backstory. I want a DLC.”
Keith scowled. “He’s not a game, Pidge.”
Shiro threw a piece of popcorn at him. “He’s dating a Kogane. He deserves to be interrogated.”
Just then, the doorbell rang.
The entire room fell silent.
Keith froze like a deer in headlights, eyes wide, heart lurching up into his throat. His stomach did a full backflip, and he very seriously considered running out the back door.
Adam put a hand on his knee. “Keith.”
“Yeah?”
“Breathe.”
Keith inhaled shakily, exhaled through his nose, and stood.
Pidge whispered loudly, “Five bucks says he’s hotter than Keith.”
Matt grinned. “Ten bucks says Keith turns into a clingy puppy the second he walks in.”
“Twenty says they’re already matching outfits and Keith didn’t even notice.”
“I hate all of you,” Keith said again, but there was no heat to it now.
He crossed the room, paused at the door, and took one last breath.
Then he opened it—and smiled.
The door creaked open.
Keith stood there, a little rigid, a little pale, but—smiling. Softly. Genuinely. That in itself was enough to make the room lean forward in anticipation.
Then Lance stepped inside.
And everything stopped.
He was effortlessly, unfairly pretty—like walked-out-of-a-magazine pretty, all golden-brown skin and warm eyes and a killer smile that lit up the entire room. His short curls were styled in a way that made it look like he didn’t try (he definitely tried), and he was wearing this half-unbuttoned cream shirt tucked into tailored jeans, paired with delicate jewelry, rings, and a pair of dangly earrings that shimmered when he moved.
“Hi!” he said cheerfully, waving with a bright grin. “I’m Lance. I’ve heard so much about you guys!”
There was a full three seconds of stunned silence.
Then—
“I’m sorry,” Pidge said, sitting bolt upright like she’d just been electrocuted. “You’re the boyfriend?!”
Lance blinked, smile never wavering. “Uh. Yeah?”
Matt stood slowly from the recliner like he couldn’t trust his legs. “You’re dating Keith?”
Lance laughed, a light, melodic sound. “Yup! Two months. I know, he makes it sound like a federal secret.”
Shiro turned and just stared at Keith. “You said he was nice. You didn’t say he looked like a pop star.”
“I tried,” Keith muttered, flushing bright red.
“Did he pay you?” Pidge asked Lance, eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Like, actually. Are you a hired actor?”
Lance snorted. “No, but that’s flattering.”
“Blink twice if you’re in danger,” Matt added, fully serious.
Lance blinked. “What if I just blink regularly—”
“That’s what someone in danger would say,” Pidge cut in, pointing an accusing finger.
“Guys,” Keith warned, stepping in front of Lance like a very stressed guard dog. “Stop.”
“No no, I love this,” Lance said with a grin, poking Keith’s side. “They’re fun.”
“He’s too calm,” Matt said suspiciously. “Why is he calm? You’re you.”
Keith made a noise like he was going to melt into the floor.
Adam finally cleared his throat and stood up, walking over to Lance with a kind smile. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Lance. I’m Adam. Sorry about the… um. Everything.”
“No worries at all,” Lance said brightly, shaking his hand. “Honestly, it’s cute. I love how much they all care about Keith. He’s been stressing about this for, like, weeks.”
Keith visibly died inside.
“WEEKS?” Pidge hollered. “You had this man on standby while you refused to tell us anything?”
Lance nodded. “He’s shy about this stuff.”
“I’m not shy,” Keith mumbled.
“He is,” Lance said, wrapping an arm around his waist and smiling innocently. “Like a little crab. All tough shell, soft insides.”
Pidge howled. Matt high-fived her. Shiro just shook his head like he was watching his life choices flash before his eyes.
“I like him,” Matt said decisively. “He roasts Keith. We’re keeping him.”
“No one’s keeping anyone,” Keith grumbled.
“Does he even know what he’s dating?” Shiro asked, leaning on the back of the couch. “Like. Does he know?”
Lance looked at Keith, all soft affection. “Yeah,” he said. “I do.”
That shut everyone up for a moment.
Keith blinked at him, startled. Lance just winked.
Pidge made a loud gagging sound. “Okay but real question: How?! Like. Keith, buddy. You’re not even a little bit smooth.”
“I am very smooth,” Keith snapped, which made Lance burst out laughing.
“You tripped into a recycling bin on our first date.”
“It was raining and the floor was slippery—”
“And then he tried to play it off like he meant to be in there,” Lance said to the group, who were now crying with laughter. “Said it was a ‘tactical roll.’”
“I hate this. I’m leaving,” Keith muttered, turning toward the door.
Lance caught his hoodie sleeve and tugged him back. “Nooo, stay. You’re cute when you suffer.”
Adam clapped his hands once. “Okay, let’s all be nice to Keith for five minutes. Food’s almost ready.”
“Can’t promise anything,” Matt muttered, still eyeing Lance like he was trying to solve an equation.
As the chaos slowly moved back into a functional dinner party, Keith dropped onto the couch and covered his face with a pillow.
Lance plopped down beside him and leaned in close, whispering, “I think they like me.”
Keith groaned. “Unfortunately.”
Dinner was pasta—Adam’s doing. Keith had apparently stressed himself out too much to cook anything edible, and Lance had spent most of the afternoon coaching him through outfit options, only for Keith to end up in his usual black hoodie anyway. Classic.
The dining table was cluttered with bowls of garlic bread, salad no one touched, and too many soda cans. Everyone was seated, forks clinking and conversation buzzing, but there was an undercurrent to the atmosphere. Something almost reverent.
Because Keith—stoic, brooding, emotionally constipated Keith—was sitting at the table with heart eyes.
Like. Actually.
He didn’t say much, which wasn’t unusual, but what was unusual was the way he kept watching Lance.
Not in a creepy way. More like… like his brain was a little fuzzy around the edges whenever Lance spoke. Like he was trying not to smile every time Lance made a joke but failing miserably. His usual sharp, guarded edges were gone, replaced with this soft, open expression that none of them had ever seen before. And, worst of all, the dude kept leaning.
Every time Lance spoke—even if it wasn’t to him—Keith leaned in just a little. Close enough that their shoulders touched, close enough that his knee was pressed against Lance’s thigh under the table and he hadn’t moved it once.
Matt couldn’t take it anymore.
“I’m sorry,” he said, setting his fork down with the kind of dramatic finality that said he’d reached his limit. “Who are you and what have you done with Keith?”
Keith blinked, looking up from where he’d been wordlessly handing Lance the parmesan before Lance even asked for it. “What?”
“That,” Matt said, gesturing wildly. “This. The eye contact. The constant hovering. The weird boyfriend telepathy. You just knew he wanted cheese. Do you have some kind of romantic sixth sense now?”
“I didn’t hover,” Keith muttered, shifting slightly away from Lance.
“You hovered,” Pidge said, stuffing garlic bread in her mouth. “You’ve been hovering since he got here.”
“You’re literally orbiting him like he’s your sun,” Matt added. “It’s like watching a golden retriever in love. I didn’t even know you had this setting.”
Keith flushed all the way to his ears.
“I’m not a golden retriever,” he mumbled, stabbing his pasta with unnecessary aggression.
“Dude, you’ve been smiling at him like he’s made of warm cookies,” Pidge said. “It’s disturbing.”
Lance laughed softly. “You guys act like he doesn’t have emotions.”
“Because he doesn’t,” Matt said. “Or didn’t. I’ve known Keith for years. The last time I saw him show affection was when he gave me a broken pencil in eighth grade and said ‘here, I guess.’”
“That was a gift,” Keith snapped.
“It was literally broken.”
“You needed a pencil.”
Pidge leaned across the table. “So what did you do, Lance? Like, what black magic got this version of Keith unlocked?”
Lance smiled, kind of smug but mostly amused. “I dunno. I told him he was cute, he glitched a little, and then we kissed behind the library. It was very rom-com.”
“The library?!” Shiro repeated, turning to Keith in utter disbelief. “You said you had a study group.”
“I did,” Keith said defensively. “We studied.”
Lance snorted into his drink.
“You’re killing me,” Pidge said, wiping fake tears from her eyes. “This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“You guys are so dramatic,” Keith muttered, but he didn’t stop Lance from resting his hand on his knee under the table.
“Okay, but can we talk about how Keith has been watching you like you hung the stars?” Matt asked, pointing his fork at Lance. “Like. Dude. I saw him look at you during the garlic bread like you were divine.”
Lance laughed again, clearly enjoying himself. “Yeah, he does that.”
“I do not,” Keith said, clearly mortified.
“You do,” Adam said gently. “It’s actually kind of sweet.”
Everyone paused and looked at Adam.
“…You’re not gonna tease him?” Matt asked, scandalized.
“No,” Adam said, smiling. “He’s happy.”
Keith looked down quickly, cheeks pink, and Lance bumped his shoulder against his.
“See? This is what I mean,” Matt said, pointing between them. “You two are like some walking YA novel. This is insane. This is adorable. I hate it.”
“You’re just mad Keith didn’t fall in love with you,” Pidge said sweetly.
Matt gasped. “That is slanderous and true.”
“I think it’s cute,” Lance said, giving Keith’s hand a little squeeze under the table. “He’s really sweet when he’s not pretending to be emotionally dead inside.”
“Not helping,” Keith hissed, though he didn’t pull his hand away.
“Oh, but it’s so helping,” Shiro said with a smirk. “We’ve been waiting years to see you like this. You were always so guarded. It’s… good, seeing you with someone who makes you relax.”
Keith looked like he wanted to crawl under the table, but also—maybe just a little—like he was grateful. Even if his next words came out gruff.
“Yeah, well. He’s… kind of everything.”
The table went silent.
Then:
“AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW—”
Keith buried his face in his hands as Pidge and Matt made exaggerated kissy noises, Shiro tried to hide his grin, and Adam just looked on with soft pride like a parent watching his kid graduate.
Lance leaned over and kissed Keith on the cheek, whispering, “They’re only like this because you never let them see your gooey center before.”
Keith groaned into his palms. “You have to stop calling it that.”
“Nope,” Lance said, grinning. “I live for this.”
After dinner, they migrated to the living room in a chaotic herd, someone yelling “dibs” on the couch, someone else tripping over Pidge’s shoes, and Adam already trying to set up the projector with his usual patient sighs. The usual routine—except now, Keith had a boyfriend.
And that meant everything was… different.
The living room lights dimmed as the projector flicked on, casting the opening credits in a warm glow across the wall. Everyone was sprawled across the furniture in the kind of comfortable, chaotic arrangement only a group of close friends could manage. Pidge and Matt were camped out on the floor with a giant shared blanket and enough snacks to feed a small country. Shiro and Adam had claimed the loveseat, curled up with matching mugs of tea.
Keith stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, watching as Lance—his boyfriend—settled himself on the far end of the couch. Not next to Keith. Not touching Keith. Just… sitting like a normal person.
Keith blinked. Once. Twice.
Then he slowly turned his head toward the rest of the room like he was processing the very concept of betrayal for the first time.
No one noticed.
He shifted on his feet.
Still no one noticed.
Lance looked up at him finally, smiling, patting the empty space beside him. “You coming?”
Keith didn’t move.
Lance blinked. “...Keith?”
Keith tilted his head, still not moving. His brows drew slightly together, mouth pulling into a tiny frown. His arms were crossed. He looked like a broody cartoon character whose favorite toy had been stolen.
And then, finally—quietly, but clearly—he mumbled:
“You’re supposed to sit on me.”
Lance froze. “What.”
“You’re not supposed to sit next to me,” Keith said, like it was obvious. “You’re supposed to sit in my lap.”
The room went silent.
Matt very slowly turned his head, mouth already open.
“Oh my god—”
Before anyone could make another sound, Keith moved. In one smooth motion, he walked over to the couch, grabbed Lance by the waist with zero warning, and lifted him off the cushions like a damn prize he just won.
“KEITH—!”
Lance let out a half-laugh, half-squawk of surprise as Keith sat down exactly where Lance had been, then repositioned Lance firmly into his lap like a piece of treasured cargo. One arm wrapped securely around Lance’s middle, the other pulling a blanket over them both.
Lance sat there stunned, blinking. “Did you just… pick me up… like a cat?”
“You weren’t where you were supposed to be,” Keith muttered, completely unapologetic. “Now you are.”
“I’m going to scream,” Pidge whispered from the floor, popcorn halfway to her mouth.
Matt looked like he was witnessing an alien abduction. “Did I just watch Keith ‘I Don’t Do Emotions’ Kogane yoink his boyfriend into his lap because he got pouty?”
Shiro was covering his mouth, shoulders shaking with laughter. “This is unreal. He used to flinch when people stood too close. What is this timeline?”
Adam just smiled. “Let him have this.”
Meanwhile, Lance had recovered enough to lean back and let his head rest on Keith’s shoulder, chuckling quietly. “You really couldn’t survive one movie without holding me, huh?”
Keith, unapologetically snuggled, rested his chin on Lance’s shoulder and said into his ear, “I missed you.”
“I was literally five inches away.”
“Too far.”
Lance rolled his eyes fondly and laced their fingers together over the blanket. “You’re unbelievable.”
Keith didn’t respond. Just tightened his hold and kept his cheek pressed to Lance’s like he was trying to merge into one being.
“You’re witnessing peak cling,” Pidge whispered. “This is the final boss level.”
Matt held up a hand solemnly. “If I ever start dating someone and they don’t manhandle me onto their lap like this, I’m gonna know it’s not real.”
“I’m crying,” Shiro said. “I actually never thought I’d live to see Keith being physically affectionate in front of people. And yet—”
“And yet,” Adam echoed.
Keith ignored them all. His focus was entirely on Lance, who was now warm in his lap, fingers interlaced with his, head tilted against his own.
He leaned in and whispered, “Better.”
Lance tried to act annoyed, but his grin gave him away. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
“I know,” Keith said smugly—and kissed his cheek.
Pidge made a wheeze noise.
Matt dramatically collapsed onto the carpet. “I can’t watch this. I’m too single for this kind of emotional violence.”
Adam just turned up the volume. “Okay, everyone hush. Movie’s starting. Let the lovebirds smother each other in peace.”
And so they did. Keith didn’t let go for the entire film—not even when he dozed off halfway through, chin still nestled into the crook of Lance’s shoulder, holding onto him like a lifeline.
And no one dared move them.
The movie dragged on with all the typical clichés—explosions, dramatic betrayals, someone yelling “go on without me!” as the building collapsed. But none of that really registered with Keith.
Because he had Lance. Warm, soft, laughing-when-he-shouldn’t Lance. Curled in his lap like he belonged there, fingers lazily playing with the hem of Keith’s hoodie. Occasionally, he’d twist just enough to press a kiss to Keith’s jaw or lean in to murmur something only Keith could hear—and Keith would melt, every time, without fail.
He was so comfortable. Too comfortable.
Which was why when Lance’s phone buzzed on the coffee table and he leaned forward to grab it, Keith’s arms instinctively tightened.
“Hold on, babe,” Lance said gently, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Just checking something.”
Keith loosened his grip with a reluctant sigh, letting Lance lean forward enough to read the message. His eyes scanned it, then his shoulders slumped.
“Damn,” he mumbled.
Keith blinked. “What?”
Lance turned his phone so Keith could read it.
[Mom]: outside when you’re ready, mi amor. don’t make me come in there and embarrass you in front of your little friends. ❤️
Keith’s heart sank.
“Oh,” he said softly.
From the floor, Pidge sat up dramatically. “What do you mean ‘oh’?! Is the movie over or did someone just die?!”
“Lance has to go,” Keith muttered like it was a personal tragedy.
Lance turned to everyone else with a half-apologetic smile. “My mom’s here to pick me up.”
“Aww,” Adam said. “Tell her we said hi.”
“Will do.”
Keith, still not moving, just stared at him.
Lance looked down at him, amused. “Babe. You gonna let me up?”
Keith didn’t answer.
“Keith,” Lance tried again, gently pulling at his arm.
Still no answer. Keith was holding him tighter now, arms wrapped around his waist like a seatbelt locked on max security. His cheek pressed back into Lance’s shoulder.
“Keith.”
“I don’t want you to go,” he muttered, muffled.
Lance paused. Then turned fully in his lap so he could see his face—and oh no. Keith had gone full sad puppy mode. Big eyes. Droopy mouth. Holding on like Lance was about to vanish into the night and never return.
“Oh my god,” Matt whispered. “I’ve never seen this look on him before. It’s like… like he just got told Santa isn’t real.”
“He’s so soft now,” Pidge added. “I’m terrified.”
Keith didn’t respond to any of them. He was laser-focused on Lance, arms refusing to budge.
“Keith,” Lance said gently, running a hand through his hair. “You’ll see me tomorrow.”
“Not the same,” Keith mumbled.
“I’ll call you on the way home.”
“Still not the same.”
“I’ll come over after class.”
Keith grumbled into his hoodie.
“Keith—”
“I like it when you’re here,” he admitted, voice low and honestly a little pouty. “When you’re here and warm and I can hold you.”
Lance stared down at him, his heart doing Olympic-level gymnastics. “Jesus, you’re so clingy.”
Keith just blinked up at him, clearly unashamed. “Yeah. So stay.”
“God, you’re lucky I like you,” Lance whispered, leaning down to kiss him slow and sweet, right in front of everyone.
Pidge made a strangled noise. “Okay, I’m looking away. This is too much.”
Matt threw a pillow over his face. “Please! My single heart is shattering!”
Keith finally let go—grudgingly—as Lance stood up. But the moment Lance turned toward the door, Keith followed. Like a shadow. Or a big sad guard dog who’d just watched his favorite toy walk out the door.
Lance stopped in the hallway to slip on his shoes, and Keith stood right next to him, looking like he was trying not to physically drag him back in.
Lance glanced over with a soft smile. “Keith.”
Keith looked at him like he was saying goodbye forever.
“I’ll text you the second I’m in the car.”
Keith nodded solemnly.
“I’ll send you a picture.”
Another slow nod.
“And I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Not soon enough.”
Lance grinned and reached out to cup his face, brushing his thumbs across Keith’s cheeks. “You’re being dramatic.”
“I’m in love,” Keith said, tone perfectly serious.
Lance melted.
He pulled Keith into one last hug, kissed him once more, and whispered, “You’re such a sap.”
“I know.”
Lance gave one last wave to the others. “Bye, nerds!”
“BYE, KEITH’S BOYFRIEND!” Pidge yelled dramatically from the living room.
The front door clicked shut behind him.
Keith stood there for a moment, staring at the door like it had personally wronged him.
Shiro came up behind him and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You okay, champ?”
Keith sighed.
“I can still smell his shampoo.”
Matt wheezed.
Pidge whispered, “This is so much worse than I thought.”
Adam just smiled softly. “He’s in love.”
And Keith?
He didn’t even deny it.
**BONUS SCENE**
The front door had been closed for barely ten seconds when Keith trudged back into the living room.
And instantly, it was like someone turned off the lights.
Gone was the soft-eyed, clingy, love-drunk version of Keith who’d just spent the last two hours acting like Lance was the only oxygen in the room. This Keith had his arms crossed again, his jaw tight, his entire aura screaming do not perceive me. He flopped down into the spot on the couch Lance had been occupying, glaring at the TV like it had personally stolen his boyfriend.
Silence.
Pidge blinked. “Oh. He’s back.”
Matt let out a sigh of relief, flopping backward onto the floor. “Praise be. That was getting dangerously fluffy.”
“Keith 2.0 has powered down,” Shiro said, sipping his tea with a smirk.
Adam chuckled. “You really do have modes, huh?”
Keith didn’t respond. Just grabbed the nearest throw pillow and hugged it like it owed him emotional compensation. His foot started bouncing—impatient, restless.
Matt looked over. “You good, buddy? You look like someone just told you hugging is illegal.”
Keith gave him a look. A classic deadpan stare. Eyes half-lidded, unimpressed, full of "do not start with me."
Matt raised his hands. “Yep. There he is. Our local porcupine.”
Pidge leaned forward. “So… does the boyfriend-shaped hole in your lap feel cold yet or—?”
“Pidge.”
She cackled.
Shiro nudged him lightly with his foot. “You gonna survive one night without him?”
Keith didn’t answer right away. He just sighed heavily and muttered:
“Barely.”
The room exploded.
Matt was wheezing. Pidge dropped her drink from laughing too hard. Shiro was choking on his tea.
Adam leaned over and gently patted Keith’s shoulder. “You’ll make it, heartthrob.”
Keith groaned and flopped fully sideways on the couch like a starfish in mourning.
Pidge grinned. “He was so soft. I didn’t know whether to tease him or file a report to NASA.”
“Don’t make me regret introducing him to you,” Keith muttered into the pillow.
Matt smirked. “Buddy, you already did. But thanks for the show.”
Keith narrowed his eyes. “I hate all of you.”
“Liar,” Shiro said.
And Keith, grumbling and pink-eared, couldn’t deny it.
But god, he missed Lance already.