Magnus felt a flash of something at that simple little comment: Peter makes crappy things bearable. Not quite jealousy, not quite fondness. No part of him begrudged Jason and Peter their young love, but... maybe he missed it, those rose-colored glasses that had made him feel sick years ago.

"So I've learned," Magnus drawled. "Tonight. Up to this point, he's only moaned about the Hot Pocket situation."

He paused to wrinkle his nose at Jason. "Really, though. Hot Pockets?"