FSE

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In addition to a big bag of Christmas decorations and a fragrant little fir tree, Jesse and I managed to drag two bags of new clothes, a bag of groceries, and a new comforter up the stairs and into the apartment. Both of us stood panting in the doorway, for a minute not bothered by the cold.

"Furnace still isn't working," he said, breathing out a cloud of white vapor. "Brrr!"

"I'll go down and complain to the manager once we get the groceries put away," I tell him, though we probably don't need to bother. It's at least as cold in the living room as it is in the fridge.

"Or, we could try out this new comforter," Jesse says, unzipping the heavy plastic bag it was in and pulling the down-filled blanket out. I let him pick it, so of course it's purple. He wraps the blanket around himself and flops down on the couch. One of the springs makes a loud _sproing_sound. Throwing back one side of the queen-sized comforter, he beckons to me. "C'mon, Carson, let's cuddle," he says with a giggle.

For a moment, I'm tempted. It's cold, but I don't want things to get weird again. "I gotta get this stuff put away," I say, gesturing with the bag of clothes hanging over my arm. "And then we should think about fixing dinner and heading to our meeting."

"Or we could eat at the bar."

"No. I want to be able to leave if it doesn't feel right or if he isn't willing to wait a few days." I head into the bedroom and drop the bag on the bed. I take each article of clothing out of the bag, bite through the plastic sales tag, and place each item into a drawer. Some of them, like Jesse's stuff, I try to fold, but the end result doesn't look that much different from the clothes that I just tossed in, so I quit trying.

After a few minutes, Jesse wanders in, the comforter gathered in his arms, and sets it on the end of the bed. "Is everything okay?" he asks.

"Of course," I reply, but I don't look at him. "Except for the furnace being out again. Let me go talk to the manager--" He grabs my hand as I walk past him and pulls me back into the room.

"You're acting a little weird," he says. "Ever since I-- Ever since we were messing around on the sofa. You know I didn't mean anything, right? I was just goofing around."

"Oh, I know," I say, but I have to ask, "Was it all just goofing around?"

"Well, yeah," he says, but I can see a bit of a blush pinking his white fur. "I mean, none of it was serious, just having some fun. I can't even remember the last time I just had fun, you know?" I do; life has been so hard the last few years. "Would it really be so bad if we just messed around once in a while? No strings, of course," he adds quickly. "We don't need to make things complicated. I mean, we can do that, right?"

I know deep down in my soul that we can't, that I already like him too much, but I can't resist what he's offering. For a lonely fox with a fear of getting his heart broken, casual, no-strings-attached sex is almost too good to be true. I lick dry lips and nod. "Sure, we can do that," I say and he smiles, like a beam of sunshine on this cold, snowy day. "But the business comes first, right?"

"Absolutely," he says, still smiling. "So, where do you want the tree?"

"Hmm...You decide," I say. "Just don't block the TV or the furnace vents, just in case it ever comes back on."

"Sure thing," Jesse says and skips out of the room, his purple-dyed tail flirting back and forth beneath the bottom edge of his puffy purple coat. I lick my dry lips and turn back to the half-full bag of new clothes, taking a calming breath before reaching into the bag. I pull out a new pair of purple boxers and quickly toss them into Jesse's drawer. This is such a bad idea.

But it doesn't have to be. We're both mature adults. We can make responsible decisions. Unfortunately, I think the responsible thing to do would be to keep our relationship professional. Then I remember how good it felt to wake up with Jesse in my arms, both of us naked, and to have him smile at me for something I could barely remember doing. No, we can make this work. We both know what's at stake, and what's really important.

"Come tell me if this is a good spot," Jesse calls. "I think it looks really good under the bright light, next to all the white porcelain, and we won't have to worry about forgetting to water it!"

I frown, my ears swiveling between upright and flat as I turn and head for the bedroom door. "What? Porcelain? Where did you-- Did you put it in the toilet?" I rush into the hall and look into the bathroom, but it's empty. Out in the living room, Jesse laughs hysterically.

"Got you," he giggles, and you step out to see him holding up the Christmas tree in the empty spot between the two windows. "How does this look?"

"Fine," I say, ignoring his joke. For now.

"Okay, then help me set up this goofy tree stand."

Goofy is right. I don't know why we bought the thing, except that, as a kid, I would see the red and green metal tree stands in peoples' yard sales, and I would wish my family had one. My father always used a bucket with rocks piled in around the tree trunk to hold it upright. I thought it was because we didn't have the money for a tree stand. Now, I know it's because my father wasn't an idiot. It takes Jesse and me nearly a half hour to get the tree to stop toppling over every time one of us lets go.

"Now the lights!" he says, diving into the bag of decorations and pulling out a box of tiny LED lights shaped like little blue icicles.

"We really ought to get started on dinner," I say, but he gives me big, pleading green eyes.

"Oh, come on, Carson. Just the lights, I promise." I sigh. So this is how it's going to be, with me wrapped around his little finger. Could be worse, I suppose. After the lights are up, he wants to see how the tinsel will look, just a few strands, but two empty boxes later, we're hanging the ornaments - not the cheap plastic or silk ones, but real glass, in frosted pinks and purples and blues. Plastic wrappers litter the living room when we finally step back and admire our handiwork.

"That's the most beautiful Christmas tree I've ever seen," I say. Standing beside me, Jesse reaches over and takes my hand.

"Thank you, Carson," he says, and there's so much gratitude in his voice, I can't help but shift my feet in embarrassment.

"What are you thanking me for?" I ask. "You picked the ornaments."

"No, I mean for...making this possible. If it wasn't for you, I...I would be..." Still working for the rhino, or maybe even dead. He turns toward me, leans toward me, and everything is about to get royally complicated, until he suddenly jerks back and lets go of my hand. "Oh, crap! It's after seven!"

"What?" I turn and stare at the clock on the wall behind me. It's ten minutes past. "Shit."

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," Jesse says, dashing into the kitchen. "Is there anything quick we can eat?"

"Don't worry about it; we'll eat at the bar," I tell him, heading into the bedroom to change into something more professional looking than a sweaty T-shirt and jeans. Even with the furnace out, setting up that tree stand had worked up a sweat.

"I thought you didn't want to do that," he says, following me.

"Things changed," I say, picking out one of my new shirts and a pair of slacks. Slacks. I don't think I've _ever_worn slacks before. Maybe to a funeral when I was nine. "We'll deal with Joseph, and then eat. It'll be fine."

"Should I wear the thong or boxers?" Jesse asks, a pair in each hand.

"Whatever's comfortable," I tell him. "You're not available tonight, so it doesn't matter."

"I'm not as sore as I was this morning," Jesse says, still considering his underwear. "I could probably--"

"No," I say firmly. "You get at least three days off between clients. If anyone doesn't like that, they can kiss my ass."

Jesse giggles as he drops his pants to change into his boxers. "You mean, my angry, donkey ex-boyfriend who owes you money?"

"Oh, shut up," I say, giving him a playful shove that sends him sprawling on the bed, his jeans tangled around his ankles. "Now quit playing around. We've got an appointment."