I won’t keep you in suspense … This week’s episode is, thankfully, a vast improvement over the past several, in no small part because it finally illustrates that Scotty and Kevin are in a loving, if at times tense relationship. In other words, they’re truly married, and their marriage is no different than any straight couple’s. Plus, the wunderkind twins are deactivated, Robert and Tommy barely register, and Saul finally gets his gay back. It’s all good.

We open, like last week, on a close-up shot of naked flesh. And even though the chest we see is flat, it’s not Rebecca for once. Instead, the torso belongs to Kevin, asleep (in boxers, natch) in his bedroom. Given this is a room we haven’t seen since the Reverend McAbby days, I take this as an encouraging sign things are finally looking up for Kevin-Scotty visibility. Especially since we next see Scotty enter doing that “tiptoe lightly to overcompensate for being stumbling-down drunk” maneuver. Kudos for an episode that not only has Scotty show up but for finally having the balls to indicate he and Kevin share a bedroom (and, gasp!, a bed) together.

As quiet as he’s trying to be, Scotty wakes up Kevin when a bunch of loud clangy stuff falls out of his bag (silverware stolen from work?), and he apologizes by saying that as careful as he was being, there’s not enough room inside to “swing a cat.” When Kevin simply stares at him, Scotty clarifies that where he comes from, “cats sometimes swing.” Where did he grow up, anyway? A jazz club?

Kevin announces he’s got something special for Scotty and starts pulling off the blanket from around his waist, and I thought how typical of Kevin to unveil Kevin Jr. like it’s some great gift he’s got for the world. But he actually produces a real gift, in wrapping paper and all. It turns out it’s a gift congratulating Scotty on being a “top,” something nobody told me they give out gifts for, or I might have made some very different choices in my life. In this case, though, it’s for being named one of the “top, up and coming chefs in L.A.,” and the gift is a framed cover of the magazine that named Scotty one of these elite.

Scotty says they’ve got something even better to celebrate, that he’s being named “head chef.” Insert your own crude, “Why does Scotty need kneepads in the kitchen?” joke here. And wait, did I somehow miss Scotty’s entire career? Because last time I checked, wasn’t he in cooking school and merely interning at that restaurant where he was always gutting fish? It seems like he’s had a super-speedy rise to culinary acclaim. I guess you can accomplish a lot in the four episodes where you’re not around.

Kevin says that the promotion means the dinner Sarah’s hosting honoring Scotty as a “top” can now be switched to honoring him for “head.” Scotty gets all mushy about how he can’t get over how nice Kevin’s family is to him, and I think he should really stop being so grateful to them for showing the modicum of respect and civility any family member is entitled to. It’s hardly like throwing a single dinner for him and giving them another excuse for rampant alcohol consumption is such a sacrifice, but he’s carrying on like they did something super-humanly generous like donate organs or help him move.