When you and John made plans to go pick up your Christmas tree the weather forecast vaguely mentioned possible snowfall. It sounded innocent enough, just a little fluffy drizzle. But well… when you woke up that morning you barely recognized the view from your bedroom window.

The whole neighbourhood was covered with a thick, pristine layer of snow. Rooftops, driveways, cars… everything was buried under the frosty blanket. Tree branches bent under heavy snow, it was piled up on your window-sills, and new snowflakes still kept falling.

“Bloody hell…” John huffed, stepping behind you and peeking out of the window himself. “Even if I could shovel my way to the car, I doubt it would even start. I guess we will have to pick that tree up some other day…”

You let out a sigh, a little disappointed, but your pout didn’t last long. When you turned to face John, you couldn’t help but smirk. He stood there, in nothing but his boxers, scratching his hairy stomach. He was still warm with sleep, and that was a lovely contrast to how cold and unwelcoming the outside looked.

“Yep, looks like we’re trapped in the house today…” You nodded, barely able to conceal the giddy look on your face.

“Something tells me you don’t really mind being snowed-in.” John chuckled, voice a low, sleep-tinged rumble.

“Not when it’s with you.” You smirked, tugging at the waistband of his boxers. “No leaving the house means… no pants required. That’s an order.”

John gave you a playful salute, and then scooped you up in his arms. You squealed happily when he carried you back to bed. The warmth of blankets and his body kept you nice and cozy, as more snow kept piling up outside.