by Amy Lane
“We just want to play together,” Xander said roughly, leaning forward on his knees. It seemed to be the only way his body would fold. “Im not any good on the court without him.”
“Oh, honey, Ive seen the tape, and thats a lie youre gonna have to live with, okay?”
Xander glared at him, and Leo held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, okay, down, Cave Man—”
And now Chris was the one standing up and growling, his chair tipped over in front of him. “Call him that again and Ill fucking end you!” he rasped, and Leo nodded, the last vestige of atti-dude seeping out the guys spine and into the mattress underneath his thousand-dollar suit.
“I get it,” he said, sounding sad and a little bit older, like an uncle. “I get it. The two of you cock-docked for life, I got it. You sign with me, and I swear Ill do everything I can to make sure that stays true, okay?” He started to perk up then, recouped from the fury on Chriss face, and the understanding of just what he was up against.
“Itll be a challenge. Biggest one of my career. At the end, you guys come out, write the multimillioncopy bestseller, and Ill be your agent for that too.Itll be fucking awesome. Ill branch out, schedule press tours, you can talk to every schmuck from Bryant Gumble to Barbawa Wawa, and Ill start looking into getting you onto 30 for 30 or whatever the fuck theyre doing when this blows up in our face. Just—” And again, his entire snot-slick-Harvey-the-crooked-leprechaun shtick melted away.“Just be careful, you two. That Amaechi guy, he got lucky—he outed himself after retirement. Everybody could love him then.You guys… youve got five, ten, hell, fifteen years of playing to go, since SuperXan here seems to be injury proof.” And now he turned to Xander in supplication.
“Ill do everything you want, Xander, but you gotta do something for me, okay?” At Xanders tentative nod, he said, “How about you not take this… this gift from the gods you got going in that obscenely tall body of yours and piss it away, right?”
“Chris has the same gift,” Xander said stubbornly, and Leo waved him away.
“Of course he does, sweetheart—the NBA does not scout hangeronners just because theyre cute.” Leo tried a leer then.“And boy howdy, are you cute!”
Chris returned with a stony-faced glare, and Leo held out his hands in peace again.“Okay okay okay okay… I get it. No flirting.” Chriss expression eased up, and Leo took a look around Xanders austere, no- frills room.There were pennants from games theyd won and the Most Outstanding Player trophy Xander had gotten when UNC had taken the NCAA championship, and one picture of him and Chris, taken by Penny right after theyd gone hang gliding off of Nags Head and were standing companionably with their arms around each other and easy, triumphant grins on their faces.
“You know, my darling boys, its probably a good thing you two are going to be in the closet for the rest of your lives. The only thing gay about the two of you seems to be each other.”
Xander hadnt had any idea what the guy was talking about, and neither had Chris, so theyd let him hold their hands through the draft pick, and hoped for the best.
It was worth it. The buying of the expensive, specially tailored suits, the custom shoes, the countless meals with different teams (because, according to Leo, they did not raise their lubricated assholes for anyone in the NBA unless they expected to become best friends with a power drill), the asking Pennys friends to stand in as escorts, in the end, all of that effort, that role playing, that pretending to be men who were as ruthless off the court as they were on it, all of that was worth it.
Because in the end, the best was the best. The best was Sacramento, on a“building” year, when the two of them as rookies were the most exciting thing the old cow town had seen since Vlade, Peja, CWebb, and Bibby had lit it up together on the court eight years before. The best was a mansion in Folsom, bought together with their signing bonuses and “pimped out” (Leos word) to look like two cocky kids trying to stay frat boys past their prime.
“What were going to do is market Xander as the quiet one and Chris as the party boy. So the east wing of the house is going to be all nice, understated shit, austere, that kind of thing—you know, sort of like, say, that godawful dorm room, except youre going to let me hire the decorator—okay,boys?”
The two of them stood in the doorway of the big-assed two-story house that did, indeed, have an east wing and a west wing, clenching hands in both awe and horror.
They were going to live here?
“And whats the other wing going to look like?” Chris asked dubiously, and he and Xander both looked at each other and grimaced. God only knew what the little man could come up with to make them look straight. A room full of synthetic breasts, maybe? A harem? A harem in the titty room, with an estrogen hookah? What would it take to make the two of them look like they werent fucking each other? (A thing theyd done a lot of that summer, as theyd road-tripped their way back home on every road but the ones that had brought them there. They were careful—if anyone recognized them, they got two rooms, one with a king-sized bed—but they slept together every night, and reveled in the feeling of their bodies as they fell into the other with a sigh of completion.)
Leo looked up from what appeared to be grandiose dreams of ultratasteful home décor, and said, “Wha?”
“How. Do. We. Decorate. My. Side,” Chris enunciated, and Leo looked surprised.
“However the hell you want. Youre the one with personality, Chris.Cave M… um, Xander here is the one whos going to live in the essential man cave.Youre going to live in the nice, warm, homey gaytopia—with Xander, I assume. One side for show, the other side for you. I mean, Im right, right? You two?If it wasnt for the gay thing, youd be an agents wet dream. No drugs, no whores, youre quietly married and happy to stay out of the limelight. I figure you guys will make it look disgustingly chirpy and homey, and then when the press needs to come in, we air out the sheets, throw a few pictures up on the walls, and voila! Xander lives here.So what do you think?”
Chris was looking around with real appreciation now, and Xander tried to look at the place through the eyes of someone who knew what a home should look like. He could see potential. There was a room where their weights and stuff could go (and their skis and their softball equipment and their Frisbees and the scuba gear theyd bought right after the draft when theyd gone to Hawaii for three days as a reward for Chris not totally losing it when Bob Costas had called Xander the Cave Man, and for Xander not decking the reporter who had totally grabbed Chriss ass.) The master suite was big, big enough for a special-order bed so his feet didnt hang over the edge, and so Christian wouldnt get shoved off on the diagonal, like he did on the hotel beds. The kitchen looked like it could house enough food for a month, and there was a patio out back where Xander thought they might put in a hot tub, because in spite of Leo calling him “Super-Xan,” the facts were his knees still ached after a series of away games and there was a knot in between his shoulder blades that it took Chris forever to get out if he had to work on it alone.
He looked at Chris and saw that his dark eyes were wide, and his pouty lips were slightly parted, and there was a small smile on his face, and he wondered if Chris was already selecting furniture, and thinking in colors and shapes and sizes. Would there be a reading room? Would there be a music room? Would there be a really big plasma screen with the latest video games and some really good comedy movies? (Xander was rooting for that one). What would Chris do to this side of the house to make it a home?
That decided him.
“Well take it,” he said, and Chris turned to him in exasperation.
“Xander! Dammit, we didnt even see any of the others!”
“You like this one,” Xander said mildly. “I can sleep anywhere. You want to make this a home.”
Chris smiled shyly, and blushed.“We can make this half of the place a real home, Xander.Youll see. Itll be all ours, you know? Dressers that are made to survive earthquakes and shit, and, like, bombproof furniture!” (Xander had broken three desk chairs at Chap
el Hill, just from sitting on them. Apparently that was a lot of weight to drop on a piece of furniture from nearly seven feet off the ground.)
“Youll be here,” Xander said, trying not to get maudlin. He shrugged, so that it would come off casual, when, in fact, he was about as proud of this house as he had been about taking Most Outstanding Player of the NCAA tournament.“Youre here, itll be home. Thats all I want.”
Chris smiled that shy smile again, and Xander thought it would be a good time to do an over-the-back hug and ear nuzzle, because he knew Chris liked it when he got all “Cave Man” on his massively bulked-out body, when Leo spoke up.
“Okay, guys.Im gonna draw up some privacy agreements so we can start hiring staff, okay?Youll have to take a look at them, Chris, and let me know if you approve.”
“Why me?” Chris asked, at the same time Xander said, “Privacy agreements?”
“Youve got the business degree, genius. Im gonna be running a lot of shit by you. I could barely get Xander to focus through his franchise contract;you think Im going to let him okay anything important?”
“There were a lot of flashbulbs,” Xander mumbled, because there were.
“And hes not—” Chris started hotly, but Leo had anticipated the argument.
“Stupid. I know hes not, Christian.” Leo had gotten into the habit of addressing the two of them like—in Chriss words—a beloved older uncle.Xander had replied that hed never had an uncle, and he wasnt sure about the beloved part, either, but the fact could not be denied that Leo chose to handle the two of them in a particularly familial way. Times like now, that could be reassuring.“Hes not stupid, but he doesnt think like that.Xander doesnt see the small shit and you do, and Im going to need your help with that, okay?”
“Why do we need staff?” Xander asked, still back at that.“I mean… were not messy, right?”
Chris sighed, and Leo gestured at him so he could field this one. “Were gonna need staff, Xan. Weve been living mostly out of the commissary for four years. We can make ourselves some grilled cheese and shit, but neither of us can cook, and you saw all those clauses.Were going to be spending one day a week doing charity, and three days on the road, and the rest of our time during the season working out.Were going to need someone to keep up on the cooking and vacuum once in a while so were not up to our eyeballs in dust buffaloes, right?”
“I thought they were dust bunnies,” Leo said dryly, and Chris returned, “When youre his size, the bunnies grow,” without missing a beat. But while Xander smiled appreciatively, Chris only twisted his mouth into a wry line.
“Thats what the privacy agreements are for, okay, Xan?Its so we can hire people who wont tell about us for fear of losing their jobs. We can be employers of the year, if you like, but we gotta have us some staff.”
Xander nodded in understanding, and then his face sort of fell.
“What?”
He shrugged, because it was stupid, but it had been something sort of growing on him since Leo had talked about buying them a home.
Chris grabbed his hands and peered into his face, smiling that infectious grin, and Xander had to smile back.“I want a dog,” he blurted, and Chriss grin got even wider.
“Awesome. See—staff.Staff will take care of puppy while were gone, so hes not lonely, right?”
“Im not five, Chris!”
“Its not going to be a puppy?”
Xander had to laugh, and he and Chris pressed their foreheads together while Leo ran off cackling to call the real estate broker and start pulling up contract models on his laptop. For a moment Xander just stood there, happy, and then the reality of it set in.
“Were going to be lying to the whole world,” he said in sort of a horrified wonder.“I mean, most guys, they stay in the closet, theyre only lying to the people around them.Were gonna be… you know… this place.Only part of its going to be our home. The other part is like… you know. A movie set.Thats awful. Thats like… like our lives. And its going to be like… like our lives have fake tits or something, Chris!”
Chris didnt laugh, and an awful sort of grimace crossed his face. “Xan… look, dont kill me, but, um, I dont think a house with fake tits is going to be theworst thing were going to have to do.”
Xan looked at him, waiting, and when Chris was done talking, he ran to the pristine bathroom with the real estate brokers vanilla candle and pretty soaps, and threw up.
Chris was right.It wasnt the worst thing theyd do by a long shot.
Taint
Five Years Later XANDER came awake with a start, shaking, sweating, desperate to catch his breath.Next to him, Chris did what hed been doing for the past five years—rolled over, threw his arm around Xanders waist, and murmured softly to him.
“S okay, Xan.You and me, were good.” The first few times hed done this , during their first road trip to UNC, when theyd vacationed together during the summers afterward, or over Christmases, when they stayed with Chriss folks, Chris had
thought that it just happened whenever Xander changed rooms, or beds, or situations, and Xander had let him think that. It wasnt until theyd moved into the big monstrosity overlooking Folsom Lake that Chris had realized that the dreams were a heartpounding, body-shaking, head-exploding reality for Xander every single day of his life.
One morning, about three months into their first season with the Kings, after Chris had crooned over Xanders sweating shoulders, and Xander had finally calmed down, hed finally asked the hard question.
“What do you dream about, Xan?”
“Being alone in a box.”
And Chris had breathed in and out deeply, and kissed his temple. “I forget,” he murmured. “I forget that your life didnt just start when you moved in with us.I forget that you had a long time to be afraid.”
“I should be past this ,” Xander had confessed, still struggling to breathe, and Chris had soothed him until the shakes had faded.
“Youll never be past it,” he said, when Xander had finally groaned and turned into his warmth. Chris skated his hands over the breadth of Xanders shoulders, and because Chris was so broad himself, Xander felt protected, and almost delicate.“I mean, they may fade, Xander, but… you….” He exhaled softly.“You went through a lot of pain, baby. You… you were starving that first night, you know? I didnt realize it then, you were just the best new friend Id ever had. But I think about it now, and….” Chriss voice grew fragile.“Your hands were shaking. You were trying not to just wolf chicken at our dinner table, and your hands were shaking as you fed yourself.”
Xander had struggled to sit up, because it sounded as though Chris were the one who needed comfort now, but Chris was firm, and kept Xanders face pressed into his middle, and kept up that sweet, steady stroking of Xanders strong back.
“I wondered sometimes, where your drive comes, why you press yourself down the court like you were running from something that was going to gobble you up, and then—” Something had plopped, hot and wet, onto Xanders sweat-cooling shoulders.“Then,” Chris continued, trying to firm his voice up, “you kept having these dreams, and I realized youd always had them. You must have woken up in the dorms with them and calmed yourself down because I was on the other side of the room, or next door, or not there.” Another hot, wet plop, and Xander sat up then and faced Chris, his short, curly blond hair awry and sleep still in his eyes.Chris shook his head and framed Xanders face with his hands.
“I will always be here, okay? If I have any choice in the matter at all, I will always be here.”
And this morning, nearly five years later, he still was.
Xander turned into that strong, sturdy body, bulkier now that hed passed twenty-five, but also more finely honed, and started touching the sleek muscles, the smooth, golden skin.
Well, not golden everywhere.Theyd both gotten tattoos, heavy ones, spanning from their necks and over their shoulders and to their upper biceps. The tats were matching, a series of interconnecting rings, all done in black, which looked dramatic against Xa
nders Slavic-white skin, and worked into the rings, theyd had the others name written in Cyrillic.Xander didnt have any particular attachment to the language, but it blended in so seamlessly with the rest of the tat that not even the news cameras had picked up on the fact that the two of them had practically carved marriage vows into their skin and worn them for the world to see, if only it cared to look.
Chris arched, sleek and powerful as a racehorse under Xanders firm and gentle touch, and burrowed deeper into the blankets. “Better?” he asked sleepily.
“Uh-hm.” Chris always made him better.
“Then leave me alone, you sadist. Were in the middle of conditioning; do you think I want to go running around the lake with you today?”
“Youre gonna get faa-aaat,” Xander taunted, the singsong of his voice masking the fact that he was still not quite recovered from his morning terror.Chris wasnt fooled. He snagged Xanders hand and kissed the back of it.
“Youll love me anyway,” he said softly.
Xander bumped temples with him and said, “Damned straight,” before rolling out of bed and into his morning routine. In less than five minutes, hed brushed his teeth, thrown on his old, holey college sweats, washed down 800 milligrams of ibuprofen with a Pepto-Bismol chaser, put on his god-bless-me special-made, fully endorsed arch-supporting running shoes, and gotten his tall bag of bones on the road.
They hadnt really looked when theyd moved in, but Leo really had chosen well for them. The entrance to the house was nearly a mile of thinly paved private road, which bled into a trail that lined one of the high hills that overlooked Folsom Lake in the foothills. Xander (and very often Chris, in spite of his grumbling) would go running in the morning. In the summer it was excruciating. Much of the time, the temperatures reached the high eighties before eight in the morning, and the underbrush was dry and brittle. Burrs and stickers would worm their way into the boys sweat socks and scratch their legs as they ran, and tan-colored dust would puff up at every footfall.