Title: Two Stories

Author: Simply_Cath

Disclaimer: Don't own anyone involved, names are copyrighted to WWE and obviously, the guys own themselves. Not meant to imply anything about anyone involved. This story is just for entertainment, not making any money off it at all.

Distribution: Please get my permission before posting it anywhere.

Spoilers: None

Content: m/m slash, bad language

Rating: PG-13

Pairings: Miz/Randy, Heath/Wade, appearance by drunken John Cena.

Notes: For the 2011 Spring Slash Prompt

Summary: There's more than one kind of clueless.

Notes: I hope it was worth the wait!

Two Stories

Randy was not the kind of man who believed in fate or destiny... or even luck. He felt that a man made his own successes. If you worked hard enough, you achieved your goals, plain and simple. And yet, when he walked by the hotel bar and spotted Mike, seemingly spotlighted by one of the overhead light fixtures, Orton couldn't help but think that he was being given an opportunity. He straightened out his shirt and stepped into the darkened lounge.

There was some decent music playing, but Randy paid it no mind. He focused on his newest pursuit. Though they were on the same roster, it was often difficult to get a word in with Mike. Either he was doing an appearance, on the phone, or already talking with someone. He'd become surprisingly popular, particularly considering the treatment he'd gotten when he first debuted.

Since the man's attention is not on him, Randy took a moment to take in the view. Mike wore dark jeans and a simple grey shirt, perfectly chosen to blend in to the background. Randy could appreciate that. "Hey Mike," Orton drawled, ordering a beer from the bartender.

Mike glanced over, surprised by the familiar voice. He flashed the man a welcoming smile, then leaned over to whisper. "Check it out, Cena's totally trying to put the moves on Slater."

Randy glanced over discretely. With his bright white T-shirt and jean shorts, Cena, as always, was easy to find. He was both slumped and swaying in his seat, leaning in and speaking something to Heath Slater. Judging from the flushed look on the redhead's face and the way he kept glancing at the door, the attempts at flirtation were not particularly warranted. He spotted some motion out of the corner of his eye and shifted his gaze, surprised to see Wade Barrett was also at the table. The tall Brit was dressed mostly in black and he seemed pissed.

Miz's soft laugh brought Randy's attention back to the matter at hand. Orton ordered another beer before he'd finished the first, then another drink for Miz. "Yeah, John's not too good at figuring out when he's not wanted."

"Dude, he is double not wanted at that table."

Randy shrugged off the words, then leaned closer, so their forearms were touching. He glanced down at Mike's hand and smiled slowly. "So," he drawled. "What do you say we head up to my room?"

"Are you kidding me? I wanna see how this plays out."

"Excuse me?" Orton tried to think back to the last time he'd been rejected so quickly. He could still remember his eyes burning from the wine Trish had thrown in his face.

Mike turned in his seat, leaning against Randy so their shoulders brushed. His breath was boozy, but his eyes were clear as he tapped Randy's hand. "This is going to be so freaking hilarious."

"Why?" Randy cocked his head in confusion. He watched Cena's expansive gestures out of the corner of his eye, but most of his attention was focused on the crooked smile that adorned Mike's lips. He leaned in close, his breath ghosting against Mike's ear. "Looks like John's got his hands full tonight," Randy murmured. He looked around, saw that nobody was paying attention to them and rested his hand on the other man's thigh, his fingers slowly creeping upward. "You know, I wouldn't mind getting my hands full."

"Well if you want a pissed off Bond villain after you just hit on Slater."

Randy sat back, cocking his head like a dog asked to do long division. His hand, without anything to do, fell back to his side. For the life of him he could not figure out where that comment had come from. He leaned back against the bar, lost in thought.

"Awk—HEY!" The noise, while not particularly dignified, had a definite southern twang to it.

Drawn from his thoughts, Orton glanced over and saw Slater's face was so flushed it nearly matched his hair. And Cena had a look on his face like a man who'd just grabbed a handful of something he shouldn't have.

"Where the hell is-?"

Mike paused, blinking when he saw Barrett round the corner, holding something red and quite large. It was hard to make out what it was in the dim light. His eyes widened when he realized it was a fire extinguisher. Without thinking Miz threw a hundred down on the counter, grabbed Randy's hand and was halfway out the door before Wade blasted Cena full in the face.

Randy grunted as he was slammed up against the wall. He raised his hands, fully prepared to defend himself against the rush of people scrambling to clear out of the bar. He leaned back against a potted plant, watching as person after person was chased out by the barrage of chemical-filled air, including a smugly amused Barrett and an overjoyed Slater. He looked over at Miz, who was standing by the emergency exit, grinning like a fool. Randy felt completely out of place, like he'd walked in on a stranger's birthday party. "What In the fuck just happened?"

"Dude, weren't you paying attention?" Mike laughed. "Barrett and Slater have been going at it since before they debuted. "

"They have?" Randy echoed.

"Well yeah! How the hell could you miss that?"

Randy was not a man who believed in fate, but he believed in opportunities. He took in Mike again, eyeing him slowly from head to toe. That flushed face, those shining blue eyes and that big smile reminded him of what he'd wanted all along. He lunged forward, shoving Mike hard up against the wall.

Caught off guard, Miz only had time to bring his hands up in defence. His counter-attack was forgotten at the feel of soft lips against his, their mouths crushing together. The words he'd been about to say died in his mouth, smothered by onslaught of Randy's tongue. One hand slid around Randy's waist, pulling him closer.

Acutely aware that they were in a public place, Randy pulled back, planting one hand against the wall next to Mike's head. "Let's go up to my room." He murmured.

"Dude," Miz licked his lips, waiting a moment so he could get his breathing under control. "Why didn't you just say something?" He patted Randy's cheek, then made his way towards the stairs.

Randy frowned, shrugged, and followed.

THE END