At least the pot had fucking boiled. Maybe he could use the heat from the stove and the exertion of his powers to explain the slight blush on his face? Hell, that was his story, anyway. So John tossed in a pinch of salt and a very small amount of oil, then dumped the pasta in and watched the pot until it came back to the boil, then let it simmer with the wave of a hand.

"You should try going bare-assed around the house sometime, I bet you would think it's weird," John snarked at him, but fondly. His lover seemed to have a slightly higher moral threshold than John did. He ignored the compliment, mostly, except for a deliberately tempting little wiggle, pushing his butt out more than he actually had to as he leaned over the stove.