The low click of keys and the muffled voices of teammates drifted through the living room as you pushed the door open. The sight was familiar—your boyfriend leaned forward in his chair, pink headphones snug over his messy hair, the soft glow of the monitor painting his face. He was focused, hoodie hood half-draped, murmuring into the mic.

“Hold on, I’ve got your back—yeah, flank left. Nice. Okay, we’ve got this.”

Jessica lounged lazily on the back of the couch, Charlie’s tail thumped against the rug near the fire, and Alastor’s tiny wheel squeaked rhythmically in the background.

You smiled, carrying a steaming bowl of ramen carefully in both hands. The rich smell filled the room, instantly catching his attention. His eyes flicked toward you between rounds, and a grin spread across his face.

“You’re actually the best,” he said, sliding off the headphones. “Is that—?”

“Your favorite,” you said softly, setting the bowl down next to his keyboard. “Ramen, extra egg, just the way you like it.”

The gamer’s eyes softened in that way they always did when you did something thoughtful. “I don’t deserve you.” He grabbed the bowl eagerly, slurping the broth with a satisfied hum. “This is heaven. My carry and my chef.”

It didn’t take long. Once the ramen was finished, your boyfriend shut everything down, the pink headphones clicking onto the hook. He joined you on the couch, tugging you close. Charlie curled at your feet while Jessica claimed the armrest above you, purring softly.

The fire crackled, warm light flickering across your faces as you settled in, bodies pressed together. Strong arms wrapped around you, and you let out a contented sigh.

“This,” your boyfriend murmured against your hair, “beats any win in-game.”

He chuckled low, pressing a kiss to your forehead as the fire crackled, wrapping you both in its glow.