"It's really not that bad."

"Not that bad? It looks like Katrina had a fling with the iceberg from Titanic and the result was this snowstorm."

Grant turned away from the window to look at Max, who had a disgusted look on his face. "That doesn't even make sense. Katrina, like the hurricane?"

"Yeah, what else would I mean?"


Max shrugged and walked over to the couch, flinging himself down onto it. He was bundled up in jeans, snow pants, snow boots, two sweaters, a knit hat that was probably one of the ugliest things he had ever worn, and gloves. Grant sighed and followed him, sitting carefully on the other end of the couch as Max grabbed a blanket from the floor.


"I'm afraid you'll crush me with all that padding," Grant replied, shaking his head. Max let out a disappointed noise and pulled the blanket over his body, burrowing into the pile of pillows around him.

"Suit yourself," came his muffled voice.

"Max, seriously? Are you that cold? It's just a little snow!"

"I'm sorry if I can't live up to your impossibly high standards of self-sustainability."

"You set the heater to 90 degrees. I could bake a cake outside of the oven."

"Cake?" Max perked up a little and Grant shook his head.

"No. I already turned it back down to 68."

"Aw, not—"

"No, not 69 degrees, Max."


Grant smiled and scooted across the couch, pulling the blanket a few inches away from Max's face. "Why don't we go to bed? I'm sure we can heat up in there, and we've got some time to kill until everyone comes over for dinner."

"They're not coming." Max sat up a little and situated himself. "Jane called earlier; Brad's having a panic attack over a flock of pigeons setting up camp on their porch. Dave and Alex were busy doing something stupid at her store when she called, something about the roof caving in, I wasn't really listening. And Penny…well, she texted me that she was snowed in and out of food, but I figure she can take care of herself."

"Shouldn't we go help one of them? Or, well, all of them?"

"What, and miss my chance to spend some quality time with my boo?" Max shook his head. "Whatever. You know I'd dump those losers in a heartbeat anytime."

"Boo?" Grant scrunched up his nose. "Yeah, don't ever say that again."

"But Jane and Brad say it all the time!"

"Are you black? Or an incredibly uptight, skinny blonde woman?"

Max looked down at himself and frowned. "No…"

"That's right. You're my Max, and you can call me anything you want but 'boo.'"


"Not that either."

"But you just said—"

Grant leaned forward and silenced Max with a kiss, grabbing both of his shoulders to steady himself over all the layers between them. Max pulled away and tilted his head, smiling.

"That was nice, baby."



"Yes, please."

Grant moved away as Max stood up, yanking off the hat and gloves to drop on the couch. He reached down and grabbed Grant's hand, pulling him towards the bedroom. A beep sounded from the table with a text message from Penny, begging for someone to bring her groceries, but it went unnoticed.