DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING. ONLY THE PLOT. EVERYTHING ELSE BELONGS TO VINNY MAC/HHH/WWE. Enjoy!

"Hey Cass! Cass wait up!"

"What is it Zo?"

"Okay" He stops to take a quick breath, before flashing me that cute grin of his. The kind that's got mischievous written all over it. "So hear me out"

I roll my eyes. I already know where this is going. Anytime Zo says "so hear me out" I find myself getting into some crazy situation with him, and we both end up in the slammer or walking with ice packs strapped to our bodies.

"Stop rolling ya eyes, Cass." He says with those wide blue eyes of his peering right into mine with a false of wisdom behind them. "You'll go blind."

"That's not how ya go blind, Zo" Kills the baseless statement, and allows me to move on to the part where I get suckered into some other kind o' trouble with Zo. "What did'ya wanna say?"

"So hear me out" He repeats

"I'm hearing ya, Zo. Speak."

"Okay, okay." His smile widens. "So I was doin' some thinkin' last night, you know, after we saved John Cena."

I can feel my face scrunching together as my mind bends to the sound of the name rolling off Zo's tongue. I know he means nothing by it, but the way Zo says John Cena just sounds…ah whatever. It just don't sit well with me, and every time I hear it, my double vision starts actin' up.

"Tha Club had it comin'." I begin to turn away – so sure the conversation is over, and looking for a way to clear up this double vision problem. Zo's hand grabbing my shoulder stops me.

"That they did, but listen" His hand falls back after he's sure he's gotten my full attention again. "I was thinkin' that John can't handle soccer mom and her boys all by himself every night. It's gotta be wearin' him down."

There it is again. Double vision, and now my head's starting to pound like its got a sub-woofer embedded in it.

"And we're like the new G's here right?" He questions me, but he doesn't let me answer. "So, if we help out John Cena with this 'ere problem," He dips into his Godfather voice, "we can make a good connection with him, and make it known that we're more than just a couple-ah bonafide studs. It'd also…"

I'm not the score keeping type unless there's a money bet on the table. But, if I were, then this makes the third time in less than five minutes that I've heard John Cena's name bust outta Zo's mouth. This ain't helpin' my double vision, and it ain't helpin' my headache. It's makin' it worse, and all I can think of are two things. One, shut Zo up before my head splits in two, or just agree with whatever he's spittin' and go grab some fresh air to cool my head.

"Then, when we beat Tha Club for the titles at WrestleMania we—"

"Alright Zo." I rest my hands on his shoulders. His mouth seals shut, and he's facing me with the kinda face you give when you're just standin' around and waiting for another instruction. "We'll do it your way."

I don't what he was yappin' about, but agreeing with him put that goofy smile back on his face, and in two seconds he's huggin' me. Naturally, I return the favor. Zo's hugs are always welcome.

"Thanks Cass." He says right before he throws me a short smooch on the lips. "You ain't gonna regret this."

Fucking liar.

That's all I can think about the more I play that scene in my mind. Double vision blaring, migraine going at top gear, and now I'm seeing red. I ain't gonna regret this? Beating up those fuckin' steampunk posers named Vaunder-somethin' I didn't regret. Visiting Zo in the hospital after that bump he took, and being the first face he saw when he woke up is nowhere near my list of regrets.

Winning a match thanks to Cena, and then watchin' my Zo jump right into Cena's arms to celebrate classifies as a big fucking regret.

And I'm seeing red. Red like blood in a Bloody Mary. Red like the Red Sea back in those ancient times. Red like the damn highlights of Zo's leopard print arm bands. And that red just got redder when John held onto Zo like he was his.

It's the longest six seconds of my life. Them two, all huggin' and pattin' each other. I just wanna beat up John Cena right now. I just wanna lay 'im to waste like he did soccer mom, and scream right into his ears "Don't fucking touch my Zo!"

And then it's ova. Zo's suddenly hugging me, and my vision starts to clear up. Now I can see John, and I see him right as he mouths "Sorry". We just won, so he ain't apologizin' for that. He ain't do nothin' to me physically, and he was pretty a'ight in the match. So he ain't apologizin' for that neither. I didn't get it until I realized that my mouth was hangin' open.

After the match is ova, we head backstage. Zo walks ahead o me, swaying in his little dance every now and again as we tread over to the locker room. By the time the door opens and Zo clears it, someone grabs my arm and pulls me away to a nearby corner. I turn around fully expecting dem two from Tha Club, an' it turns out to be Cena at the end of that arm.

"Hey John" I play it cool, thinkin' back on the possibility that I might've said somethin' to 'im in the ring.

He smiles for a second "The person I love works here too." I don't get where this is headin' and he sees it on my face. "It's hard watching her be around other guys. It's even harder when she talks about them with a smile on her face." His arm pulls away from me when he recognizes that I ain't leavin' until he explains. "She's the very core of my universe, and I'm sure I'm hers as well. But, when she's talking to or about the co-workers around us, I feel like I'm losing her, and that feeling makes me want to do things. Things like staring the guy down with daggers for eyeballs, and telling him 'don't fucking touch my Nikki'."

Realization hits me, and I feel a little gut-wrenched over how I acted. "Sorry" I say in a murmur. "I don't know what came ova me. I mean, I know he loves me, and I know he wouldn't do nothin' like betray me, but…" My eyes fall to the floor, while a deep frown caves over my forehead. I can see Enzo in the tile. His bright smile, blue eyes, bad hair-cuts, and those gaudy outfits. I can even hear him talkin' in that rough, scratchy voice of his that doesn't match his body size. Everything about him is laughable. Everything about him is so damn loveable. After scoffing to the vision, I look back at Cena. He's already smiling like he's just witnessed the same thing.

"It's alright to get jealous, Cass. Hell, I still do every now and again." His hand lands on my shoulder to lead on into his speech. "But, you gotta make sure you tell him that you do, and why you do so that he doesn't keep doing things that trigger it. If he respects you, and I'm sure he does, he'll compromise. And you can compromise by keeping your cool when he ends up in an unavoidable situation like tonight."

"Thanks John." I smile slightly, "I'll take that advice tah heart."

"Good." He pats my shoulder. "Because I like the both of yous."

I laugh a little at the broken accent, while John kicks back and heads towards his own locker room. The talk helps clear my mind, and has me deciding to do Zo better from now on. I turn around to enter the locker room, only to find Zo standing right behind me with an angry face, and a fierce glare in his eyes.

"What were you and John talkin' about?"

I blink a few times – wonderin' whose voice just crawled outta Zo's mouth – before replying, "You." I smile at him sweetly, "Were you spyin' on me?"

"N-No" His face lights up bright red, and his direct gaze shifts away, "I was jus' makin' sure you had back-up in case things got heated between the twos of you."

I can't hide my suspicion, and end up chuckling to his 'serious tone'. His face goes redder, and he punches me hard in the shoulder.

"Ow!" I look at him confused, as he turns his back to me – showing off that sexy waist, and then killing my would-be boner when my eyes fall on the poop emoji hanging around his backside.

"Don't go runnin' off with strange men, Cass." He mumbles in another person's voice – the kinda person who's just had his heart-broken.

"You're the only strange man I'm running off with." When he doesn't respond, I put my arms around him and rest my face in the cup of his shoulder. "Don't let anyone else touch you, Zo. Only me."

He nods stiffly, while grabbing my forearms and giving me a little peck on my wrist. "Get us outta here in ten and you can touch me all you want, big guy."

I laugh a little to his confidence, knowing that it'll be gone by the time we get into a hotel room, and kiss him on the cheek before walking to the locker room – thinking all the while how Zo was right. I wasn't gonna regret this.