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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.

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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.

“We"ll take it,” he said, and Chris turned to him in exasperation.

“Xander! Dammit, we didn"t 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. You"ll see. It"ll 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 Chapel

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.)

“You"ll 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

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