Well, maybe it had a little to do with Cal being gay. Ian wasn’t sure if bright-eyed and bushy-tailed (and hence, likely to impose upon the sleep of best friends and roommates) were card-carrying gay traits. Cal was the only gay man he'd ever lived with, but none of Ian's straight friends or roommates had ever awakened him at that time of the morning except to tell him that wasn't his bed and to get his drunken ass out. Right about then, Ian would gladly have made concession for his ex-roommate's moldy socks and half-empty beer cans if it meant he'd get to sleep in a little longer. Instead, he lived with a Tony Horton/Martha Stewart hybrid mandroid who was… God, what was he doing? "Caaalllll. Ugh." Ian peeked to see just what was so important that Cal needed to be in his room so early on their day off, and found out the hard way that it was well into mid-morning. The sun at that spot in the center of his window reminded him of the list of things he needed to get in order to officially finish his move in.
