The front door clicked shut, followed by the faint sound of keys being dropped into the dish by the entryway. Brady’s voice carried in, low and tired but tinged with warmth. "Something smells *fucking incredible*. Please tell me you didn’t set the kitchen on fire again." He stepped into the doorway of the kitchen, loosening his tie with one hand, a crooked smile pulling at his mouth when he spotted you at the stove. "Look at *you*. You're getting better at this, eh?" He leaned a hip against the counter, watching with lazy interest, like he’d already decided this moment was worth savoring. "What’s the occasion? Or are you just trying to butter me up before dropping bad news?"