Jim awoke before the sunrise the next morning to find himself blanketed with the warm, naked body of his bedmate. The intimate contact stirred his libido to life, and he groaned as he felt himself hardening. If he didn't do something about it soon, he knew what would happen, and it would mean a significant delay to their day. Blair wanted a Christmas tree, hand-selected and cut in the mountains surrounding Cascade. They needed to get an early start.
He shoved against the compact body, but Blair wasn't moving. Squirming, Jim worked his way out from under his human comforter and trotted down the stairs to take a quick shower. When he had finished, he climbed back up to the loft to wake Blair.
The anthropologist groaned and rolled over when Jim shook him. "Blair. . . . Come on, Babe. You've gotta wake up. We're going Christmas tree hunting, remember?" More protests rose from beneath the pile of blankets. Finally, Jim tossed the blankets back, exposing the bare skin of his lover to the morning chill. Blue eyes snapped open in surprise.
"Jim!" Blair grabbed the blankets and pulled them up under his chin. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Up and at 'em, Paul Bunyan. Grab your ax; we have a tree to kill."
"It's 0-dark thirty in the damn morning, Jim!" Blair protested. "I'm going back to sleep."
"Like hell you are," Jim growled. "Get that comely ass of yours out of bed. It's a long drive into the mountains. If we're getting a tree, we have to get an early start. Besides," he said, softening his approach, "isn't that why we left Laurene with Flo last night? So that we could get an early start?"
Blair moaned once more, but sat up. "Could you hand me my robe, please? It's cold this morning." Jim tossed him the wrap and Blair slipped it on, finally standing and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"I've already showered," Jim informed him. "The bathroom's all yours."
"Thanks," Blair mumbled, shuffling down the stairs, still only half awake.
While his lover showered, Jim started cooking a hearty breakfast of pancakes, eggs and bacon. They ate in relative silence, Jim reading the paper, Blair still trying to wake up. When he had finished eating, Blair made his way into the nursery, settling into the comfortable glider-rocker and picking up the breast pump that sat on the table next to him.
Jim poked his head through the French doors, pausing to admire the scene before him. "Blair." He got the younger man's attention. "I'm going to pack the gear into the truck. We can get going as soon as you're ready."
"Give me another ten minutes, 'kay?"
"Sure, Chief. Take your time. . . , but hurry up!" He laughed at Blair's disgruntled look as he backed out of the doorway and went to gather up the needed equipment.
When he got back to the apartment, Blair was dressed, in multiple layers of flannel, and ready to go. "I'll just drop this off on our way by," he said, holding up the bottle of expressed breast milk.
Jim noted the pump securely stuffed into a pocket of his partner's heavy coat. He nodded. "Let's get a move on, then," he said, holding the door open and ushering Blair through.
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