A/N: These are not meant to be completely tidied or proofread works, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes that slip by me. These are meant to get me back in the groove of writing, because the road to good literature is constant practice!

"You've made a mess."

Pidge surveyed the war zone of a kitchen: the stacked array of pots and pans, the dusting of flour layered across the countertop, and practically their entire supply of utensils spread about like Easter eggs.

In the middle of the mess sulked a flour-dusted Lance, staring into a bread pan that held his miserable concoction, a pastry that was half-burnt and rising out of its container as if planning to conquer the world. Lance refused to look up, continuing to pout down at his failed creation. "No, I didn't."

"I am not cleaning this up," Pidge insisted, but immediately contradicted herself by picking up a stack of bowls and moving it to the sink.

Truthfully, she'd played a part in the situation. Her night prior was spent in Lance's room, glasses of dollar store Snapple in their hands, surrounded by boxes Lance had still procrastinated on unpacking. Pidge complained of how long it'd been since she had fresh bread. How something so simple and abundant evaded her and infuriated her simultaneously, and it didn't help knowing fresh food would only be an option when Hunk had no night classes. The crew had stuffed the pantry full of ramen and potatoes and cans of soup as if a famine loomed around the corner.

"I'd make it myself, if I had the time," Pidge had muttered, sinking in Lance's office chair and spilling Snapple on her jean leg.

"I could make it!" Lance had offered, puppy-like eyes turned towards her instantly. "My mama always said I was a good baker. Cinnamon rolls were like, my pride and joy."

"No, Lance." Pidge had avoided his glance, knowing full well what kind of power they held in persuasion. Frankly, it intimidated her a bit. "It's too much trouble. Besides, you're in engineering; you've gotta take that seriously."

"Electrical engineering." Lance had emphasized. "At least it's not mechanical, like you. Or, god forbid, mechatronics. Hunk is a fool."

"A fool, but a smart and capable fool." Lance's gaze had remained steady and Pidge reluctantly met it. "And don't go being just a regular fool. Baking me anything can wait until our break. God forbid you set the house on fire."

And thankfully, Pidge hadn't come home to their shining new apartment set ablaze. Instead, it was a kitchen in shambles, and her roommate dejected and forlorn on their kitchen floor. Frankly, she wasn't sure which was worse.

"Alright." Pidge knelt beside him, eyeing his bright blue apron and cherry-printed oven mitts. "Lance."

Sad blue eyes turned in her direction, and any annoyance Pidge felt melted away. She hated the power of his gaze, but a majority of contempt sprouted from envy.

"I really appreciate you trying this for me," she said. Lance looked unconvinced, glancing back at the bread. "...it doesn't even look good," he muttered.

"It's gorgeous," Pidge assured half-sarcastically, quirking Lance a smile as she picked up a stray spoon off the floor. "But really Lance. I should be mad that you went directly against my wishes, but it's really sweet of you to try anyway. I appreciate it, I really do, but next time heed my words or I will unleash hell upon your soul."

"Feisty." Lance's frown morphed into the slightest smirk, and he hefted the bread pan in his hands. "I left physics early for this."

"You're an idiot." Pidge held out her hands and a few moments passed before Lance dejectedly handed the bread over. "Come with me."

Lance shot her a quizzical look, but complied. The two brushed past Keith and Hunk just as they arrived, heading up to the second floor of the apartment compound.

"What are you doing?" Keith called as Hunk immediately began to trace their tracks. The resulting answer came a minute later, as Pidge chucked the bread, pan and all, into the parking lot.

Its contents exploded over the asphalt, blackened pieces spraying across the lot and nearly reaching the sidewalk. Keith watched with a deadpan expression as Hunk immediately erupted in a string of admonishments and worriments of the jeopardy of their apartment lease.

"Feel better?" Pidge questioned, looking up at Lance, freckled face lit up by the autumn sun.

Lance grinned widely, something warm spreading in his chest that he couldn't quite name yet. "Yup."