"Keeeeith. This is the cutest shit I've ever seen, dude."
Lance smiled adoringly at the tiny green t-shirt he held — on the front was a gator with a word bubble that read 'Later' — before he turned it around to show Keith.
"Lance," — the laughter was clear in Keith's voice — "I bought that shirt, I know what it looks like. Besides, how long have we been folding this little boy's clothes? And you still manage to pick out at least three items that are the cutest shit you've ever seen every laundry night."
"The. Cutest. Shit. I've. Ever. Seen." Each word was clipped, and Lance was doing his best not to smile as he pseudo-glared at his husband over the mound of laundry piled on their bed.
Keith refused to meet his gaze, and instead picked a new item out of the pile to fold. Lance watched him pause as he gazed down at the orange shirt. Even though Lance couldn't see the front of it, he knew it belonged to their daughter, and that it was adorned with a sequence-covered cat face.
Keith's eyes lifted slowly to meet his as a slow smirk pulled at his lips. "Do you think the clothes ever stop being cute?"
He was trying to tease, but Lance wasn't fooled. He knew Keith thought these clothes were adorable as well. Maybe even more so, given how upset Keith got whenever the kids outgrew a size and they had to pack away the clothes that no longer fit.
"Absolutely never."
"Not even when they become smelly teenagers?"
"Won't happen with us around, babe."
Keith chuckled at that, likely thinking of the plethora of soaps and skin care products Lance kept stocked in their bathrooms. With all the kids' clothes folded, Lance scooped up all the little socks — they never bothered pairing them — and tossed them back into the laundry basket before moving it onto a nearby chair. Then he beelined for Keith and tumbled with his unsuspecting husband onto their bed.
"Have I told you how much I love you today?" he whispered into Keith's hair, which was currently pulled up into a messy bun, a look that Lance particularly enjoyed.
Keith ducked his face into Lance's neck and pressed a kiss there. "I brought you flowers earlier and as thanks I only got a quick kiss on my nose. What is it about me folding laundry with you that always gets you all sappy?"
"Is sappy the right word?" Lance asked, eyes hooded and grin turned sinful as he slid a hand into the waistband of the back of Keith's pants.
He was rewarded with an equally playful grin and a soft growl from Keith as Keith rolled the two of them so that he could settle himself on top of Lance before lowering his head to meet Lance's lips in a kiss.
"I do love my flowers," Lance whispered. "I'm sorry you didn't think I —"
Keith kissed him again, cutting off his apology before saying, "I'm just teasing you, Lance. I could tell that you loved them. Plus, I know I sprung them on you when you were in the middle of cooking dinner."
Lance laughed as he said, "Cooking dinner and trying to figure out fourth grade social studies homework."
Keith smiled in return. "Better you than me."
"No, babe, listen — I'm pretty sure I'm failing a history project meant for a nine year old."
"I told you to let her figure it out herself."
"She gives me those puppy dog eyes, Keith. Puppy dog eyes. You've seen them!" He did his best to give Keith his own puppy dog eyes, but the jerk only laughed harder and shook his head — immune to the puppy dog eyes of everyone in the house after so many years of exposure to Lance's.
