The Locker Room

by Amy Lane

  Penny grabbed his hand as she negotiated the Denver traffic. She was so confident driving, he thought miserably. Chris was too. He was going to be in charge of the driving now, when they didnt have Tim do it. He sucked. He went too slow, went too fast, got confused at intersections. Oh my God. He was going to have to adopt Tim so they could go anywhere outside of Folsom.

  “Stop it,” Penny said softly. “I was teasing. I can see your head gears getting all stuck.Youre thinking you dont look good enough, youre not good enough to take care of him, to do what you need to do. Youre thinking like that kid who couldnt be a grown-up when he was fifteen.Youre going to do fine, and I think he pulled through all that surgery just for you, so just… just calm down. Youve got a playoff in two days; now stop living up in your head like that. Tell me to piss off or something, but dont do that to yourself.”

  “Youve got all this confidence,” Xander grumbled, almost to himself.“Where do the two of you get all this confidence? The only place I know what Im doing is when Im on the court.”

  “I cant answer that,” Penny told him, turning into the hospital parking lot.“Or I can, but I think thats something you need to hear from my brother. I know you held us all together in the last four days—and I dont know why you cant see it. Now, here. Get out and tell Mandy and my folks to come down.Im going to take them home for a while, and you get him all to yourself.”

  “Mandy and your folks? Which one of them are you putting on the roof?” he asked, unfolding himself from the front seat.

  Penny grimaced at him.“Mandy—but were putting her stick- skinny ass in the trunk.Now move!”

  Xander did, laughing a little, and he was bright and cheery as he kissed Chris and Pennys folks and gave Mandy a one-armed hug before sending them on their way.

  “Hows he been?” he asked Mandy quietly. Chris would hide stuff from his folks that he might let slip to Mandy.

  “Depressed as hell,” Mandy muttered. “I took him internet shopping for fancy wheelchairs—the doctors say hell be in one for almost a year, you know? We went for aluminum and Kings purple, and a little power pack and shit… and then the doc came and said that was all well and good, but we needed to be able to put his feet up in the first one—he gots to ride around like that for, like, months. That made him sad again.”

  She sighed, and leaned her head on Xanders arm as Xander watched him kiss his mom a quick goodbye.

  “You know, the only thing that makes him happy is knowing you get to play next week.Hes got, like, little parties planned and shit. I never seen anything like it, you know?”

  Xander smiled at her, shoving all of his butterflies down into his feet, so maybe they could give him wings.“Well, sweetheart, Id better be ready to give our boy a show, right?”

  “You do that, papi—Ill be on the sidelines dancing for you, right?”

  Xander dropped a kiss in her hair and said goodbye to Jed and Andi, and then, finally, he had some time alone with the love of his life.

  God, he was nervous as hell.

  “Youre looking better,” he said, hunching his shoulders like he did when he wished he was shorter.

  Chris had color and animation in his battered face, but his eyes were cloudy with painkillers, and his lips were tight with pain.

  “Shut up and come here.”

  Xander did, pulling up a chair and sitting close to the head of the bed. Chris grabbed his hand tight, and Xander felt the tension in his arms as he clasped the hand tight and shuddered the tension out of it.

  “Im sorry,” Chris slurred, and Xander was pretty sure he was exhausted, just from spending the morning awake.

  “No worries.”

  “Shut up, asshole. Im sorry about crashing the car, and drinking too much, and fucking up basketball for you—”

  Xander couldnt stand it. “You didnt,” he said, kissing that taut, bony hand.“You didnt ruin anything for me. You made it beautiful all our lives, Chris, howre you going to ruin it for me?”

  “Just let me apologize, dammit!” Chris was really distressed—his little life-support monitor started beeping faster, and Xander subsided, kissing his hand again.“I… I was never as strong as you, Xander. I wasnt. And now our whole lives—”

  “Are ahead of us,” Xander told him, meaning it. “Theyre ahead of us.You get better, Ill knock out a couple of games, and… God, Chris. Theres nothing we cant do, right? Start a foundation? Breed champion puppies? You name it. Youve got the brains, Ive got the muscle… were a team. Just not on the court, right?”

  Chris nodded, and tears—of weakness, of exhaustion, of pain, Xander could only imagine—slid down his cheeks, and Xander leaned forward and took over, because now he knew he could.

  “Listen to me,” he said softly. “You cant play anymore. You know it, and Im not going to lie to you, baby. Its going to suck. Its going to hurt. But you know what?Ill go out and play for you, okay? Ill take you onto the court in every game, and you can sit back, and get better, and you can know every shots for you, alright? My whole life, all I wanted was basketball and you.Now, its all you.Ill play the game, but its all about you, okay?”

  Chris nodded, closing his eyes really tight and keeping back a little choking sound.“God, Xander,” he rasped. “I really wanted you to go out and play for yourself.”

  “Well, Ill do that too,” Xander said, as though it made perfect sense.“But afterward… even if I sign another contract, even if I keep playing, theres going to be more for us, you hear? Were going to go out to restaurants and hold hands.Were going on road trips and staying in any hotel room we want.Were going to have something beyond basketball, and well love it, because well both be doing it, okay?”

  Chris shook his head, and it was clear that he didnt have any idea what Xander was talking about—but he would. Xander would make it clear to him.

  “Dont worry, baby. Just get some sleep now.Ive got you.”

  “I love you, Xan.”

  “Love you, Chris.”

  CHRISS eyes closed, and Xander started making plans for post-pro-ball.

  Leaving him to go face down Boston for the playoffs was easier than he thought. Maybe it was because Chris was doing better, but in small increments, and Xander was starting to feel useless and cooped up in the hospital, watching his lover sleep, but that wasnt the main reason. The main reason was that at most, it would be an eight-day separation, and Xander would be right back at his side.

  Penny and Mandy went back to Sacramento with him, because they both had jobs, now that Chris was out of the woods, and because Mandy needed to rehearse with the dancers so she could perform. Xander spent the plane ride thinking about the game.

  He was starting to think that maybe, just like Chriss rookie, he had nothing to fear, and nothing to lose.

  Thats just how he played, for all four games.

  The papers had been predicting a tense showdown, and maybe a seven-game series, but Xander hauled the team down the court relentlessly. They actually got “bleeped” on television, because their mantra, “Get the fucking ball down the fucking court and into the fucking net!” was loud enough, concerted enough, to make it on the mike. The whole team was fined—and no one cared.

  The Sacramento Kings had made it into the playoffs twice in the past ten years, but only because Karcek and Edwards had taken the floor. They hadnt made it through the first series in nearly fifty—and that had been when they were at Kansas City and not even in Sacramento, so it didnt count. The press said they were on fire. Leo practically wept at every game because, he said, it was so beautiful. Xander simply launched himself into the air like he didnt have anything to lose when he came down.

  How could he have anything to lose? Chris would live, and he was playing basketball—everything was in the now.

  When the fourth game was done, (it was played in Boston) and the team was leaving the locker room to go celebrate, Burkins and Aames double-teamed him.

  “Get your ass off the fucking phone and get in the limo, Karcek!” Burkins snapped.
“We dont want to have to tie you up and haul you out for a victory drink!”

  Xander smiled, the next few words coming out of his mouth easily. “Thanks guys, but really, I was just trying to book a flight to Colorado so I could go check on Chris, okay?”

  Aames and Burkins looked at each other sideways. Then they both got out of the limo, followed by Wilson and Pollack, and before Xander knew it, Aames had snatched his phone, and the other three (cheered on by an injured Oswald from inside the limo), literally picked Xander up and threw him in the car.

  For a minute, he thought about being legitimately angry, but then he looked at them, without the buffer of Chris by his side, without the intensity of the game in his glare, and realized that they were… grateful. The team was doing well, and he was a part of that, and they were grateful for him. They wanted to see him have a good time.

  “I guess one beer couldnt hurt,” he muttered good-naturedly. “Now let me call my driver—tell us where were going, and he can come in and have some dinner.”

  The team cheered, even the second string (because some of them were in the limo too) and at the end of it, Xander had a nice time.

  While he was thinking warm and fuzzy thoughts (not brought on by the beer—he only had one), Burkins came up to him, working on his third or sixth beer, and tried to have a“private” conversation in a loud and boozy voice.

  “Youre a good guy, Xan,” he said. “You n Edwards, youre good guys.You keeping tabs on Edwards?”

  “Yeah,” Xander said with a faint smile. He had, in fact, been texting with Chris, so he could explain why he wasnt going to be there that night.“Hes recovering.”

  Burkins nodded gravely, a bit of a sheen on his mahogany skin in the dim light of the bar.“See, thas the thing. You and Edwards.Youre not just buddies, you feel me?”

  Once, the words would have panicked Xander, but not now. He was unafraid.He literally had nothing to lose that he wouldnt give up voluntarily, and he didnt care who knew it.

  “Im well aware,” he said drily, and Aames sidled up, his light- brown features not nearly as slack nor as sweaty as Burkinss.

  “Dont talk like that,” he hissed at Burkins. “Man, Coach gets wind of that… now shut it.”

  Burkins shrugged.“You know it,” he slurred. “I know it. Doesnt make no difference, my brother.” Xander was the recipient of a very drunk hug, and he had to smile a little. He was pretty sure Burkins had no idea what he was talking about.

  But then Aames opened his mouth and proved that they both did.

  “Man, Burkins, you are the dumbest motherfucker on the face of the fucking planet. Do not talk about that in front of the rest of the world. That was our conversation, and we both agreed we didnt give a fuck, now leave Xander alone so he can politely finish his beer and go off and see Edwards like hes dying to do, okay?”

  Xander looked up, suddenly alert.“You dont give a fuck about what?” he asked, his voice dangerously quiet.

  Aames glared at his drunken teammate, swallowed hard, and said, just as quietly.“Look, man. Its okay, okay? You guys… we get it. We get it.Hes not your buddy, hes not your brother, hes more than that. Look, Xander—we didnt have to watch very hard to watch you breaking your heart over the guy.”

  Xander swallowed and raised his eyebrows.“And?”

  Aames shrugged.“Man, you are taking us through the playoffs like a parent takes their kid through the zoo.I dont care what you got to do or who you got to do on your off-hours, but you keep doing that, right? Im not going to worry about it.”

  Aames held up his beer bottle in the time-honored gesture of fellowship, and Xander grinned appreciatively.“Then heres to no worries,” he said for Aamess ears only, and together, they clinked their bottles in understanding.

  And that was Xanders cue. He texted his driver, and since he was already packed and ready to go, they headed for the airport. CHRIS hadnt been kidding about the party. The next morning, there were purple streamers and plastic bottles of soda on ice for him, and the nurses, at least, put their disappointment in Denvers series loss to New York aside and congratulated Xander heartily.

  Xander smiled shyly and drank a round of diet soda with Chris to celebrate, and then he got on to more important news.

  “Your parents talked to your doc—can you wait two more weeks to get out of here?”

  Two more weeks—and one more victorious playoff series. It took two more weeks for Xander to prep the downstairs so Chris could spend most of his time in a hospital bed down there. It took two more weeks for Xander (with the girls supervising when he couldnt be there) to have the entire place remodeled, with a chair lift to Chriss upstairs bedroom, and a special shower so Chris could sit down when he bathed. It took two more weeks so Chris could heal enough to be moved.

  Two more weeks. It wasnt long—theyd lived without for longer, and the prospect of there being a light at the end of the tunnel was like permanent intoxication for Xander. It was the speed in Xanders veins, the thing that got him down the court, and the shining star that watched Xander in his sleep.

  Chris was coming home.

  Star to Steer By

  NEVERbefore had basketball felt so… liberating. Xander did exactly as he always did —except now, he did it without fear. Aames and Burkins knew. Hell, maybe the whole team knew. But they wanted him out for a beer, and they were proud to play ball with him, and in spite of what the coach screamed down the court as he ran, that sort of thing gave a man confidence.

  Plus, there was the fact that he was on the court for Chris. Being on the court for Chris had made all the difference during the second series. Chriss bones were healing, and physical therapy was still months away, but as Xander watched the doctors change the bandages,

  as he saw his lovers blood seep from still -oozing wounds, as he saw the places in the flesh where bones had ripped through muscle and skin, Xander had two options.

  One was to run from the room, sobbing and retching because, oh, God… oh God. Chris. Chris whose body had been so beautiful, who had been so bright and buoyant, so vital, even in sleep… oh God. Oh baby. All that pain….

  But do ing that wasnt an option. Chris looked down at his ruined body and cracked grim jokes:“Ohmigod! I could be a villain in an AustinPowers movie!”

  “I thought you were already Goldmember.” (Xander had managed a smile with that one—hed never say how much the smile had cost him.)

  “Dude! Compliments will get you anywhere you want!But this?” He gestured to the leg that was being rewrapped in gauze as they sat. “This is epic. This is like Patchwork Man or the Human Quilt.”

  Xander had grimaced. “Worst. Supervillain.Ever.”

  Chris turned his head (hopefully so he didnt look at the damage) and stuck out his tongue.Theyd given him some painkillers before the procedure, so his movements were a little bit dreamy, but Xander had no doubt he was aware, painfully aware, of his terrible loss with every breath.“No, that would be The Whizzer—you remember him?”

  Xander snorted.“He was a superhero, genius, and I still say your names suck.”

  “You got a better name, Karcek, then spit it out!”

  “Crazylegs,” Xander said with a smirk, and Chris let out a guffaw. It was cut short by a wince, and Xanders hand—tightly laced with Chriss during the procedure—took Chriss clench of pain in silence.

  So running out of the room like a child was not an option. But Xander told Chris as hed left that day, as he told Chris every time he had to leave for the court, “Im playing for you. Im running for you, jumping, shooting—its your heart in my body, you hear?”

  It was the only time Chris ever let his pain show through. His eyes would grow bright, and hed swallow hard, and say, “Win, asshole. Youre going to play for me, youd better wipe the floor with the competition, right?”

  “Of course!”

  Chriss returned kiss, his cheery, unforced smile—even lined with pain, it was always a whole-hearted smile—the squeeze of his hand in Xanders, these were the
things that got Xander across the court like he had wings. These were what made playing into his joy. More than one sportscaster said you could practically see the glow of perfection off of Karceks movements. And every press conference, Xander said the same thing.

  “This ones for Edwards, right.”

  He would look at Coach Wallick as he said it, and he got grim satisfaction in watching the man flinch away.

  SO THE house was ready, and more importantly, Chris was ready, by the end of the break after the second round. (This one took six games—but Xander hadnt worried, even during the two losses.) During the weeklong break, when the other teams were playing their series games, Chris came home.

  Hed been h eavily sedated during the transport in the private plane, and had woken up the next day in the bed in the front room, looking out the big wraparound window at the lake in the place he and Xander had made their home.

  Xander had slept on the couch next to him, and woke up in time to see the realization dawn in his eyes that he was home, and that he never had to leave.

  “Dayum,” Chris murmured softly. “Thats some view, right?” Folsom Lake was not the prettiest place on the planet, although it was one of the few large bodies of water in this part of the state.“Its perfect,” Xander said sincerely.

  Chris turned his head a little and said, “Youre not even looking at the view, Xan.”

  “Im looking at all I need to.”

  Chris looked down at his legs, bulky under the inflatable casts and the blankets. His feet had been left relatively unscathed—the physics of injury were sometimes the strangest and most twisted magics—and he wiggled his bare pink toes at the foot of the bed.

  “Me too,” he answered, looking back at Xander.

  “You know, right?” Xander said apprehensively.

  “Know what?”

  “Id be here even if they didnt work. If youd never walk again, or couldnt feel a thing. You know Id still be here. Im glad—so… you just dont even know how grateful I am, that you will walk again. But all I used to need was you and basketball.Now, its only you. Any shape youre in, thats all I want. You know that, right?”