11:30

One --Greg

I'd almost changed my mind. I'd gone back upstairs while Christopher and the realtor stood in the kitchen writing up his offer. I'd wanted to stay but also hadn't and had let Christopher decide. He'd seemed to want to do it himself and I didn't have any brain space to argue or decide if I should.

I'd known immediately which room I would paint in. It was the larger of the remaining two rooms and its' windows faced south. It was, by far, the largest space I'd ever had to paint in and I immediately started planning where the cabinet would go, the main easel. I could finally bring the second desk in and use it for its' intended purpose.

But I almost gave it up. I wanted to storm downstairs and put a stop to the madness. I felt rushed and I hated it. I'd been well trained to think things through, to not assume that my gut reaction was right. But Christopher seemed so happy...

I held my tongue.

And spent the next day hoping the deal might fall through.

It didn't, they accepted his offer. Christopher had seemed oddly calm until he heard back and although I was glad he wasn't worrying, it still struck me. Even though he was getting much better about giving up some control, this was a bit further than I expected him to be at this point, especially about something he deemed so important. I'd asked him how he'd stayed so relaxed. "I offered them 50K over asking price Sir" he'd responded. Well yes, that would probably do it. I'd accepted the inevitable and started working on our contract, or 'agreement' as I had decided to call it, in Sheldon's honor.

I gave Dr. Stevens my acceptance, and then everything with the house came to an abrupt halt.

The inspection fell through. There was damage to the foundation and the entire back of the house had to be reinforced and leveled. The deck came off, then got replaced. Huge cracks formed in the kitchen wall and in my bedroom, and many of the doors needed rehung. The electric wasn't up to code and everything on Christopher's level needed rewired. To add to the delay, Christopher was travelling at a breakneck pace and was gone more than he was in California.

I had to work. In LA. Christopher had given up his apartment a month too early we realized belatedly and after commuting daily and then a week in a hotel, I was forced to stay with Kevin and Ollie for three weeks, commuting to San Diego on the weekends. It was chaos.

I was miserable.

But almost seven weeks after signing papers, we were finally in the house. Sort of. I had a key and had moved some of my things from my LA storage bin and some of my painting supplies into my rooms. I was sleeping on an air mattress and the main floor was bare except for the new fridge that was delivered on Tuesday. It was uncomfortable and awkward and I hated being there.

And then Christopher flew in.

I heard the garage open and close but didn't go down, I would respect his privacy. I don't think he'd had time to do anything more than drop a suitcase off in his room before he skipped up the stairs. "Hello Sir!"

"Hello Pet."

He put his arms straight out in inspection position and twirled. "It's finally ours!" I didn't say anything; what is there to say to a boy who's spinning? "You haven't found any other problems, have you?" he asked, coming to a rather wobbly stop.

Was my face not quite happy enough? "No Pet, everything seems to be in working order and level."

"Then why is it empty? Problems with your movers?"

Problems? No, I hadn't hired any.  With everything else going on I hadn't had time to formulate a plan or run one by him.  He'd seemed more than capable and happy to handle the issues with the house and moving.  "I wasn't sure how you would want to handle that."

His face was blank. "Sir? I have handled MORE than I want to. I have one night here and then I won't be back for over a week. I would really, really appreciate if you could wave your magic Dom wand, wait, NOT that one. I mean, yes that one, lets wave it pronto, but not at the movers. Anyway, it would be nice if there was a couch here by then."

"Here?" I asked. Right in front of the stairs? Who wanted to stare at a hallway and part of the kitchen? A wand? He made no sense.

His eyes widened, then narrowed. "Wherever you want it, Sir. I just assumed you'd bring your couch, unless you're using it upstairs?"

"No, the living room would be fine if you'd like to use my couch. You seemed rather fixated on who brought what so I didn't want to overstep." I hated this. I HATED it. The power shift was making me a bit crazy. Okay, more than a bit. I felt like I was at my parents. "Speaking of overstepping, I've finished our relationship agreement. I assume you'll have time to read and amend it while you're away?" Maybe some things would finally get settled.

"Yes Sir, I'm sure I will. Thanks for letting my guys in, I have no idea when I'll get to the boxes but at least I have a bed to sleep in."

His guys? Oh, the movers. Even context clues seemed hard. Why did this boy still make my head spin so much? He was still smiling a lot. "Why are you still smiling so much?"

"Would you like me to stop?" he asked, smiling even bigger. "I'm home, finally. Here, in this house which seemed like it would never happen. And, I get a contract again."

"It's an agreement" I clarified.

"Potato, pataaato, contract, agreement. Did you get everything set up how you want it upstairs? OH, and there should have been a big box today!" He was looking at the ground and shuffling his feet, obviously looking for something.  It couldn't have been the box, that had been clearly labeled.

He'd asked if it had arrived. "Yes, it arrived today. Your box was labeled 'Chris Stevenson DEN' so I put it in the Den. It's heavy so I will move it if you wish."

"Nope, that's where it goes. As long as you decide it's okay and that you approve and like it, obviously. The details are up to you. It's just a little present to help you set up the Den. PLEASE tell me the Den is ready? Have you seen Wyatt, Sir?"

"Are you on something? Too much B-12? Did the flight attendant give you something to help with your nerves on the plane and if so, what was it and don't take it again." How many questions did he think I could answer at once?  "I have only been here 3 days and I was working, as you know. Nothing is set up although as you're aware, your things have arrived and I have brought a few things up for the kitchen and procured some groceries." Oh, I'd almost forgotten to answer his question about the cat. "I fed your cat this morning and saw him briefly when I took the box downstairs. He seems to like perching on your boxes. Now, is there anything else, Curious George?"

"Just one thing Sir" he practically cooed.  "Any chance you'd like to wave that wand of yours?  I'm a rather needy boy and it's been too long.  I hate being gone so much." 

He slipped down into waiting and I released half a breath I didn't know I'd been holding.  Finally I understood the 'wand' comment; it was a euphemism.  Even though I felt completely overwhelmed, this I could do.  I knew these rules.  I knew what was expected of me.  And he was right, it was more than time to bend him over the counter.  Everything else could wait.