Fuck the doors quite honestly. John was tired of their perpetual bullshit and this? This was much nicer. The kitchen was cozy, magic warmed, and he'd gone out of his way to light a few candles because that was romantic as hell, and his two, they deserved a little of that.
He'd warded the place too, just like he'd promised.
Which was good because Claire was something bloody else tonight, walking in with no pants like that was just something people regularly did. And Peter showing up beside her with a knowing smile? John didn't usually feel lucky, but maybe tonight he'd manage it.
"Cheers," he agreed, lifting his mug up to take a drink of wine that was clearly expensive, even if he didn't know the stuff well enough to know why. He offered Claire another appreciative look and then winked at Pete, leaning in for a peck on the lips. "You cook enough. Stay out of it for once. I can make the picture prettier, if you like, loose an item or two. But it's about done anyway."
Because with their wildly expensive wine, John was making pancakes.