Randy slumped, gasping, over Evan's back as he waited for his heartbeat to return to normal. Finally, easing away, he reached around to take hold of Evan's shaft, only to have his hand batted away.

"It's okay," Evan mumbled.

"But you didn't… Let me –"

"No, really. It's okay," he said, rolling over and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

"You don't have to leave," Randy said, as Evan began to gather his clothes from the floor and dress.

"I already have a room paid for. I might as well use it."

It was on the tip of Randy's tongue to offer to pay for Evan's room himself, but, remembering the look of scorn he had directed at him the last time he suggested that, he kept his mouth shut. "Will I see you tomorrow?" he asked.

"Probably not, but maybe on Monday after Raw."

"Okay, um, sure."

"Then I'll see you around," Evan said as he finished dressing and left the room.

Randy stared at the closed door and sighed. Why was he doing this to himself, he wondered. Because you're an idiot, he answered himself. Because you drove him away with a stupid, thoughtless comment. The only thing that gave him any hope was a brief conversation he'd had with Josh Matthews.

He had been making his way through the arena backstage shortly before the first Raw telecast since they had been snowbound and Josh had stopped him and said, "I haven't seen Evan yet today. Did his cold get worse?"

Randy had stared at the smaller man, his brow furrowed. "What cold?"

"You know," he answered. "The other morning he was blowing his nose and his eyes were watering like crazy. I hope he didn't pass it on to you, since you were sharing a room," he finished smiling innocently at Randy.

Realising the significance of this comment, Randy's heart had leapt as he managed to answer Josh, "I'm sure he's fine now. He's probably running a little late. The airport was a madhouse today."

"Oh good. He really did look awful the other day."

Since the company had reassembled that Friday, his contact with Evan had been minimal. He had given him an impersonal smile a couple of times, but he always seemed to melt away before Randy had a chance to approach him. Determined not to let him escape again, Randy had waited outside the locker room and waylaid him as he made his way backstage after his match. Although he had hesitated, Evan had accepted his invitation to go for a burger after the show. They had ended out back in Randy's room, but Evan had calmly changed the subject when he attempted to discuss the comments he had made during the storm.

In the weeks since, they had met once or twice during each house-show loop. Evan had displayed none of the ferocity he had during their first night, seeming content to allow Randy to take the lead in their encounters, but there existed a barrier between them. Evan allowed Randy complete access to his body, but none to his soul. Even their easy friendship of earlier days had vanished.

This couldn't go on any longer, Randy decided. Somehow, he would make Evan listen to him; somehow, he would share what was in his heart or he would end it.

XXXXX

"Don't you think you've punished Randy long enough?" John asked.

"Excuse me," Evan replied coldly. John had been waiting for him backstage during the Raw broadcast and had pulled him into his dressing room.

"You know what I mean," he said. "Randy's eating his heart out these days. He made a stupid comment, but you won't even give him a chance."

"I don't see how it's any of your business," he sneered.

At the sight of Evan's insolent expression, John felt his control desert him. Grabbing him by his shirtfront, he pushed the smaller man against the wall. "Randy is my closest friend," he growled. "When I see him being hurt it becomes my business. Either hear him out or let him go. You don't want to make an enemy out of me."

"Are you threatening me?" Evan asked in mock surprise as he slithered from John's grasp. With surprising strength, he shoved John against the wall and, reaching up, wrapped his arm around his throat. "Planning to beat me up? It won't be as easy as you might think. Or" he hissed, tightening his hold, "are you just going to bury me? I'm not much more than a jobber already, so you don't scare me. It's about time people around here realised that I'm not some wide-eyed kid." Releasing him, he left the room.

John stared at the closed door, rubbing his neck ruefully. That hadn't gone at all as he had expected, but he found himself filled with reluctant admiration for Evan.

XXXXX

Almost the entire company had noticed the change in Evan. He was still friendly and good-natured; he treated the techs, ring crew and backstage personnel with his usual courtesy and greeted the fans with enthusiasm and a wide grin, but something was… different. There was a new, hard edge to his personality: an unwillingness to tolerate the teasing he had previously dismissed, a forced quality to his smile and a slight aloofness and cynicism that had never been seen before.

Riley and several others claimed that it was because he was spending too much time with Randy, but the first time someone had dared say it to his face, he had turned on him with a look of such withering contempt that it was never mentioned in his presence again. In the rare times he and Randy were seen together the tension between them was palpable.

"Normally I'd be saying that they should just fuck each other and get it over with," the Miz had tried to joke, "but they have and it just gets worse."

Neither made any attempt to hide their occasional meetings, but their grim intensity was such that it forbade all teasing and joking that would normally have followed. Finally, one of the road agents took Evan aside.

"I don't know what happened between you and Randy during the storm -," he had begun uncertainly.

"Bullshit!" Evan burst out. "Everyone knows what happened."

"All right," he said, trying to calm him down, "but you have to understand that, sometimes, in those situations, things happen. You have to be able to move on."

Evan turned on him, his voice shaking with rage. "Are you planning to have this conversation with Randy?" As the other man remained silent, he continued, "I didn't think so. After all, he's the star; he's the love-god. I'm just some cute little jobber, so, obviously, I'm the one who needs to be warned."

"Evan, please!" he exclaimed. "It's just that you and Randy used to be such good friends. This – this business, whatever it is, that's going on between you is making everyone else very uncomfortable."

"Too fucking bad!" he said bitterly, but at the agent's expression, he relented slightly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't take it out on you; you're just trying to do your job. I understand what you're trying to say."

"Good," he said in relief, "then you'll remember what I said?"

"Of course," Evan said blandly with a smile that did not quite reach his eyes.

XXXXX

Randy could feel the music vibrate through his entire body as he peered across the crowded dance floor of the club. From his vantage point, in the shadows, he could see the dancers while remaining hidden. What was he doing here, he wondered. He was tired and sore from his match that night; aching for a hot shower and bed. What insanity had brought him to a crowded, noisy club in the middle of the night? An overheard fragment of conversation in which Evan had confirmed that he would join a few of the others.

He had no idea what he expected to accomplish by seeking him out here, but, somehow, he felt compelled to follow him. And there, among the mass of bodies on the floor, he saw him: dressed in tight, black leather trousers and a black t-shirt that moulded itself to his compact frame, his head thrown back in abandon as he moved with the writhing sea of people; the cherub turned imp. He stepped out from behind the pillar and, suddenly, Evan became still. As their eyes met, Evan gave him a strange half-smile and began to dance again.

Helpless to resist, Randy made his way onto the dance floor, pushing past the other dancers until he reached Evan. He grabbed his arm and spun him around to face him, pulling him hard against his body. As Evan moved against him, his senses reeled from the pulsing throb of the music, the blinding flashes of the strobe lights and the heat and smell of the bodies around him. And something more: Evan's hip grinding into his crotch, Evan's groin riding his thigh and Evan's scent: an arousal so powerful it could not be denied.

And without releasing his iron grip on Evan's wrist, as the strobe flashed faster and faster and the music reached a screaming crescendo, he brought his mouth crashing down onto Evan's. His teeth scraped against Evan's lips as his tongue plundered the depths of his mouth. Evan responded eagerly, returning the kiss with a matching hunger as he pressed his body even closer against Randy's. Randy curled his hand around the back of Evan's neck as his mouth moved down his throat, his teeth grazing the tender flesh of his neck, oblivious to everything except the pounding music in his head and Evan's body moving against his own.

Suddenly, Evan broke free. Randy was sure he could hear his mocking laugh over the deafening music as he melted into the crowd. Blindly, he followed him across the floor, shoving through the sea of sweating bodies, through a passage to a fire-door, illegally propped open. He could hear Evan laughing softly in the darkness of the alley and, grasping the smaller man's shoulders, he shoved his chest against the wall. He reached down to open Evan's trousers, but his hand was pushed away as Evan opened them himself. Taking hold of him with one hand, he fumbled with his jeans with the other until he was able to open them.

"Is this what you want?" he whispered hoarsely, as Evan pushed his trousers down. "Is it?"

Evan's harsh panting and thrusting buttocks answered him without words as Randy spat in his hand and rubbed it on himself. He sank deep into Evan with a single brutal thrust that slammed him against the wall. He put his hand over Evan's mouth to muffle his cries of pain as he rammed into him over and over all the while pumping him mercilessly. In spite of his cries, Evan thrust backwards to meet him with every drive.

Randy could hear the blood roaring in his ears, the relentless beat of the music from inside the club and traffic passing on the nearby street as he pounded into Evan. "Take it," he muttered. "Take it all."

"Give it to me," Evan grunted as his muscles clenched around Randy and, with a low groan, he spurted over his hand.

Evan's spasms drove Randy over the brink and, as he sank his teeth into his shoulder, he burst forth, shuddering and gasping. They remained motionless for several minutes, shaking from the unexpected force of their coupling until, finally, Randy pulled gently away.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked, pulling up his jeans and fumbling in his pocket for a couple of tissues.

"Not really," he answered, taking one and attempting to clean himself before pulling up his trousers.

Randy nodded slightly and, taking firm hold of Evan's arm, led him through the alley to the street, where he hailed a passing cab.

Both were silent as they rode back to the hotel, where the cab, at Randy's direction, dropped them at a side door. Without words, they climbed the stairs to their floor, but, as soon as they entered the corridor, Randy grasped Evan's arm again and pulled him into his own room.

The door had barely shut behind them when Randy pinned Evan's wrists over his head and pushed him against the wall, but, just as he was about to lower his head, he caught sight of Evan's forearms and elbows, scraped raw and bleeding.

He caught his breath. "Christ Evan! Why didn't you say something?"

"I guess I had other things on my mind," he replied with a weak smile.

Grit and grime from the wall was embedded in the scrapes. "We'd better clean those up," said Randy, pulling him into the bathroom. In the harsh light, he was horrified to see abrasions caked with filth on one side of Evan's face. "You stupid ass," he muttered pushing him to sit on the closed toilet as he wet a facecloth with warm water. "How are you going to explain this?" he asked, gently dabbing the cloth on Evan's cheek.

"Rug burn?" he grinned.

"It's not funny, dammit!" Randy snapped.

"Relax! It's Monday. I've got a whole week before I have to be on TV. I'm sure the worst of it will have healed by then."

Shaking his head, Randy carefully cleaned Evan's arms and elbows, silencing his protests when he fetched a tube of antiseptic ointment and applied it to the scrapes.

"Take off your pants."

"Now?"

"I want to see your knees and legs."

Evan obeyed, to reveal knees as raw as his elbows. Randy sat on the edge of the tub to attend to them, finally lifting his head to look the other man in the eye. "Will you listen to me, please?" he asked quietly. Taking Evan's silence for assent, he continued, "That night, when we were having dinner, I never imagined that you would think I was warning you off. It never occurred to me that you would think something like that. Please, believe me," he begged.

"Could we continue this conversation somewhere other than the bathroom?"

Randy helped Evan stand and led him into the room. "You might as well get comfortable," he said. "You're not going anywhere tonight." He fixed such a fierce glare on the other man that he pulled off his shirt without a word and, clad only in his briefs, sat on the bed as Randy stripped down to his boxers sat leaning against the headboard.

"What was I supposed to think?" he asked. "You said yourself that most people understood that hook-ups in those situations were for that one night."

"I know I did," Randy said, resting his forearms on his drawn-up knees, "but don't you remember what I said to you earlier that day? I told you that I wanted to keep you as close to me as possible. That time we spent together was one of the best days I can remember."

"It was a terrific day, but it wasn't real. Like you said, it was a snow-day; we built a snowman for God's sake! And do you remember what I said to you? I don't want to be your little buddy."

"Then what do you want? Randy asked, his voice growing hard. "To be some sort of – of fuckrat? Because that's how you've been behaving and that's not you."

"How would you know?" Evan hissed. "How would you know what I am?"

"Do you remember the night we met?"

"Of course. It was my second show. You and your dad came around afterwards. I almost died from excitement. But Randy," he exclaimed, "I was seventeen years old! I'm not that kid anymore. I've been to college; I've travelled around the world; I've changed!"

"I know," he said quietly. "But do you know what I remember best about that night? How much I envied you."

"Envied me? How?"

"You were lit up from inside. You were glowing; you were happy; you were alive!" he exclaimed. "I was just out of the Marines," he said, his face darkening as he remembered that part of his life, "I felt dead inside. Empty. And that part of you hasn't changed. You give yourself entirely to whatever you're doing; something I almost never do."

"What do you mean?"

"You know what my dad is like; he was pretty tough on me. I probably deserved most of it, but it made me cautious, wary of just flinging myself into things. It seemed that something always happened when I did. That's what happened in the Marines and you've heard the stories about when I started in WWE; what I was like."

"I didn't believe most of them. They didn't sound like the person I know."

"Unfortunately, most of them are true. I learned to control my temper and watch myself, but at a cost."

"Cutting yourself off from other people," Evan stated softly. "Not letting anyone see the real you."

"Exactly. It's like watching the world from behind a pane of glass. Sometimes," he added, "I would feel part of things; occasionally in the ring, especially when I wrestle John or that day with you."

"It must be very lonely. It must be very hard work to maintain that image."

"It is, but I've never felt I had to do that around you. You're not afraid to be yourself. You never have been and that makes you one of the bravest people I have ever known. So don't think, even for a second, that I ever thought of you as a playmate or that I want you to be my little buddy, as you put it."

"Then what do you want from me?" Evan asked, staring at the floor.

"I want you to be my friend," he said, moving down the bed to sit next to Evan. "I want you to be my companion, my lover." As Evan finally raised his eyes to look directly at Randy, he continued, "I've been watching you for years; I've been waiting for you for years. Do you think we can start again?"

"I don't know."

XXXXX

If the company had been puzzled by Randy and Evan's relationship before, they were completely baffled by the way things stood between them now. Although they were seen to exchange an occasional word, usually they studiously avoided one another. One or two crowed at the sight of the proud Randy Orton brought low, but most scoffed at the notion that Randy's heart had been broken by Evan Bourne.

Matters were not helped any when Evan let himself into a deserted locker room one night after a show to receive a resounding punch to the jaw that knocked him to the floor.

"I warned you," John growled, looming over him.

"And I warned you," he snarled back, hooking his leg around John's, bringing the bigger man down. Lightning quick, taking advantage of the other man's surprise, Evan straddled his chest, pinning his arms to the ground with his knees. "Unless you want to explain how you got your nose broken by a squirt like me, I suggest you mind your own business from now on," he said, releasing him.

Naturally, word got out and both were heavily fined. John's status saved him from suspension, but his insistence that he had been the instigator had also saved Evan.

"Although why you insisted that I should stick my neck out for that little prick is totally beyond me," he grumbled to Randy.

"Because it really isn't any of your business. It wouldn't be fair if he was suspended when you weren't. I offered to pay his fine; I know he really can't afford it."

"And how did that work out?"

"He told me to shove it," Randy said, smiling ruefully.

"He really is a prickly little bastard. Who would have thought it?"

"I know," he sighed. "They've put him on jobber detail and I don't dare interfere. He'd never forgive me."

"You still want him!" John exclaimed, staring at his friend in shock.

"Yes," he said.

"I hope he's worth it."

"He is."

XXXXX

Evan was surprised when, a few weeks later, Josh Matthews approached him and invited him for a beer after the Raw broadcast. Since his standoff with Randy and the incident with John, most of the company left him severely alone; worried that association with someone who had antagonised two such high-profile members might harm their own careers.

Even Josh, it seemed, found it necessary to exercise a certain amount of caution, meeting him at a bar a short distance from the hotel. "Thanks for meeting me," he said, sliding into a seat opposite Evan.

"No problem," he replied, signalling to the waitress to bring them a couple of beers, "but what's up?"

Josh's blush was evident, even in the dimly lit bar. "You know, during the storm," he began.

"Don't worry," Evan interrupted, "I haven't said a word to anyone and I won't; I promise."

"That's just it," he replied. "I'm beginning to wish that you had blabbed it all over the place."

"You do? Why?"

He took several large swallows of his beer before answering. "We've met up a few times since and now it's turned into this huge secret. At first, we wanted to keep it quiet because… well, you know."

"Yeah," Evan sighed. "I know, but why are you telling me this?"

"Because you and Randy are the only ones who know. I had to talk about it with someone!" he said desperately. "And I need your help!"

Evan stared at him in surprise. "My help?"

"Yes! We're ready to let the rest of the guys know."

"Then do it. Start showing up together or leaving together. You don't need my help for that."

"It's not that simple," he said. "John says he doesn't care what people think, but I do. I can't stand the idea that people would be looking at us and wondering what he could possibly see in me when he could have almost anyone he wanted." He flushed again. "You know what I mean."

"Yes, I do," Evan said, "but I still don't see how I can help."

"If – if they had something else to talk about the first few times we were seen together, maybe we could slip under the radar."

"Like what?" Evan asked stonily.

"Like if you and Randy made up. Wait!" he exclaimed as Evan began to get up. "All you'd have to do is be seen together a couple of times. Maybe having dinner or drinks with John and me. And," he added, smiling innocently, "it wouldn't do you any harm to be seen back on good terms with both of them."

"That's the stupidest idea I ever heard," he said angrily. "Anyway, I'm not exactly John's favourite person right now. I don't see him agreeing to go out on some sort of – of double-date."

"John feels really bad about what happened. Honestly. He got your fine revoked, didn't he?"

"What about Randy?" he asked sullenly. "What makes you think he'll go for it?"

"John's going to talk to him. You know there's nothing he wouldn't do for John."

"True."

"So, will you?"

Evan remained silent for several long minutes. He didn't think it would work. John had never been linked with anyone before; people were bound to talk. But he knew Josh spoke the truth: it would be good for him to be seen as having resolved his differences with the two biggest names in the company and, more important, he liked Josh. It didn't seem right to refuse to help him. "All right," he said reluctantly. "Let me know when and where."

XXXXX

Josh looked up and down the hotel corridor before swiping the key card John had given him earlier in the door. Slipping into the room, he found John reclining on the bed wearing only his boxer shorts.

"How'd it go?"

"It took some persuading," he said, as he sat on the end of the bed, removing his shoes and socks, "but he agreed. What about Randy?"

"Same. I still think you're nuts," John said. "Do you really think forcing them into each other's company will fix things?"

"They could hardly get worse," he answered, stripping off his shirt and jeans and lying down next to John, his head propped by one hand. "You said Randy wants to start again. They started as friends; they both need to remember that. Anyway," he added, drawing a finger down John's chest, "you'll discover soon enough that I usually get what I want."

"I noticed," John laughed as he rolled the smaller man on top of him and pulled his head down to his own.

XXXXX

Just as Evan let himself into his room, his phone rang. Seeing Randy's name on the call display, he pushed the talk button and answered with an abrupt "Hi."

"Did Josh talk to you?"

"Yes. I guess John spoke with you. So, what happens now?"

"John suggested that we all go for drinks next Sunday evening after the pay-per-view."

"Okay," Evan answered as he cradled the phone under his chin while he undressed for bed. "We'll touch base later to finalise the details."

"Um – thanks for agreeing to do this."

"I like Josh," Evan replied, "and, in spite of recent events, I like John. I don't know how much help we're going to be, but I really couldn't say no."

"Me either."

Evan heard Randy take a deep breath and interrupted him before he could speak. "So, I'll see you later, then," he said, pushing the end button.

He dropped the phone onto the bed and sat, burying his head in his hands. Cutting himself off from Randy had been the hardest thing he had ever done, but Josh's words came back to him. "I can't stand the idea that people would be looking at us and wondering what he could possibly see in me when he could have almost anyone he wanted." Yes, he knew exactly what Josh meant. He knew many had watched him and Randy and wondered the same thing.

He remembered the night he met Randy. Until then he had been struggling to accept the truth about himself, but that night, he had taken one look at Randy and he had known. Once or twice over the years he had caught Randy's eyes on him and had allowed himself to hope, especially after he signed with WWE. Randy had never treated him with anything but kindness, but neither had he shown anything more than a brotherly affection towards him and, eventually, he had resigned himself to the idea that it would never happen.

Until their snow-bound interlude.

There was no mistaking Randy's intentions and he had responded to the invitation he had seen in Randy's eyes, but as the day progressed, it had become increasingly clear that Randy didn't know him, that in spite of his protests, he still thought of him as the wide-eyed kid he'd been when they met. Maybe he had misunderstood Randy's comments at dinner that night, but until Randy understood that he had seen his truest, innermost self that night and, again, in the alley behind the club, and until he was ready to accept that he would never be the sweetly accommodating companion he expected, there would be no starting over.

XXXXX

"I thought you said John and Josh would be joining us," Evan complained as he and Randy sat at a table in the crowded hotel bar.

"They will," Randy replied. "They're going to slip in one at a time after everyone has gotten a good look at us.

"How's this?" Evan asked, opening his eyes wide and giving Randy such an adoring smile that he felt his heart turn over.

"Perfect," he muttered, bending his head to look at him with eyes blazing with passionate intensity.

"So, do we sit here making goo-goo eyes at each other while we talk about the weather?"

"Something like that," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching as the absurdity of the situation hit him.

"How's your dad?" he asked, as he increased the wattage of his smile.

Randy moved closer to Evan, putting his arm across the back of his chair. "He's fine."

Evan couldn't resist it. He had seen the gleam in Randy's eyes. Tipping his head back, in a gesture of surrender, so that it lolled against Randy's arm, he murmured, "And your mom?"

"She's fine, too," he replied in a strangled voice.

"Your brother? Your sister?"

Randy could contain himself no longer and burst out laughing. Nor could Evan control himself as he began to sputter with laughter. More than a few heads turned to look at the pair as they shared their first comfortable moment in many weeks.

"You always did know how to make me laugh," he said as he recovered himself.

"You always take yourself way too seriously," Evan retorted. "It's fun to make you lose control." Their eyes met and an awkward silence fell between them. "But we did get everyone's attention," he added.

"That we did," Randy chuckled as people around them averted their eyes when he raked them with his gaze.

With a certain amount of relief, Evan spotted Josh making his way across the bar to their table.

"Thanks for doing this," he said as he took a seat and gestured to a waitress. "John will be along in a few minutes."

"No problem," Evan said blandly. "I was just catching up on Randy's family news."

"Yes," Randy said, his lip quivering slightly, "Evan was just asking after them all."

"You two have known each other a long time, haven't you?" Josh asked.

"Yes. About ten years," Randy said.

"Randy and his dad used to come to my shows sometimes."

"That must have been quite a thrill for you," Josh said.

"It was," Evan answered. He sipped his drink. "I couldn't believe that Cowboy Bob Orton would actually come to see me. He and Randy, both; they gave me so much encouragement at the beginning. I'll never forget that." His voice softened, "And I'll always be grateful for what they did for me."

Randy felt himself grow warm. "It's no more that what you did for me." At Evan's puzzled expression, he continued, "When we first met, he was seventeen and probably weighed 120 pounds, soaking wet. Whenever I got frustrated with the way things were going with my own career, I'd remember this skinny kid with glasses, who wouldn't give up."

"You mean if the ninety-eight pound nerd with glasses could be a wrestler, so could you?' Evan asked surprise evident in his voice.

"No," Randy said quietly. "I mean that you love this business so much that watching you makes me remember that I love it, too. Why do you think my dad likes you so much? He recognised that in you from the beginning. You love it the way guys like Flair and Funk and Harley Race do. You know my dad doesn't like too many of the younger guys today, but he likes you and, more important, he respects you."

"Wow!" Josh marvelled. "From what I've heard about Cowboy Bob, that puts you in a very small club."

Evan sat quietly, digesting this information, as John approached their table.

"Hey guys!" he said a trifle too loudly, "mind if I join you?"

"No problem," Randy answered, but as John took a seat, he continued, "I think you're overdoing it a bit."

"Sorry," he muttered, "but thanks, both of you, for going along with this. I told him that all this wasn't necessary, but he has some stupid bee in his bonnet," he added, his words belied by the affectionate glance he sent in Josh's direction.

They spent the next fifteen minutes chatting about trivial things as Evan leaned into Randy, his eyes fixed on his face with breathless intensity, giving him a heart-melting smile every time he made eye contact.

Randy, who was growing increasingly uncomfortable, finally shifted in his chair and said,"Jesus Evan! Turn it down a notch. Everyone in the room probably thinks you're planning to tear off my clothes right here."

"Isn't that what you wanted?" he asked, his voice dropping to a low, intimate whisper.

"Yes! No!" Randy sputtered. "You know what I mean!" he exclaimed, missing the conspiratorial looks John and Josh exchanged. He stood. "I think it's time we called it a night."

"Whatever you want," Evan murmured, getting to his feet and following Randy from the bar.

"You little prick," he whispered softly as they crossed the lobby to the elevator, his hand resting on the small of Evan's back. "You're enjoying this."

"Maybe," he said, smiling to show his eye-teeth. "But," he added, becoming serious as they rode the elevator, "I meant what I said earlier. Whatever else may have happened, I am grateful for everything you've done for me. I won't forget it. Ever."

"And I meant what I said, too. I've always admired you for your commitment and passion. I still do," he said quietly.

"Thanks," he said, swiping his key card. "That means a lot." He disappeared into his room.

XXXXX

John was sitting on his bed, pulling off his shoes and socks, when his phone rang. "Hey Randy," he said.

"I hope that went as you were expecting."

"Absolutely," he replied. "Are you alone?"

"Of course. What did you expect?"

"I don't know, but Evan looked like he wanted to eat you alive the whole time."

"Wasn't that what you and Josh wanted?"

"Yeah," he said, opening his shirt and shrugging it off, "but there's no way he's that good an actor."

"It seems that he is." Randy's sigh was evident, even over the phone. "How much longer do we have to keep this up?"

"Just a couple more times. Listen," he said, "I'm really grateful for this. He's got this hang-up that people will think I could do better. I've told him over and over that I couldn't, but he's scared, so I'll do whatever it takes to make him happy."

"Sounds like you're falling for him big-time," Randy chuckled.

"I am," he said, looking up to see Josh standing in the open door that connected their rooms. "And you might be alone, but I'm not," he said, ending the call. "How much did you hear?" he asked.

"Enough," Josh said, coming to kneel before John and open his flies.

An hour later, they lay replete, Josh's head pillowed on John's shoulder. "Do you really think this crazy scheme of yours is going to work?" John asked.

"You should have seen them. They were laughing together when I arrived and I got them talking about when they first met. A blind man could see how they feel about each other."

"They do need their heads knocked together, I'll agree," John said, brushing a kiss against Josh's hair. "But will you believe me when I say that I don't care what people might say about us? I could never do better than you and I'll flatten anyone who says so."

"Of course I believe you. I always have." He smiled impishly, "But someone had to get those two talking again."

"Why you little –" John exclaimed, rolling Josh over to pin him to the mattress. "I ought to spank you."

"I'd like to see you try," Josh laughed, winding his arms around John's neck.

XXXXX

Randy and Evan joined John and Josh in the hotel coffee shop for dinner the following night after the Raw broadcast. "I'll be glad when this business is done," Randy grumbled.

"Really?" Evan replied in mock surprise. "You mean you don't like gazing soulfully at each other while half the company watches?" He punctuated these words by wriggling closer to Randy while grinning up at him.

"That's enough," he hissed. "You keep this up and I'll put you over my knee."

"Promises, promises," he sighed languidly, but moved slightly away.

John, Randy and Evan ordered pasta and salad, staring enviously at Josh's fried chicken. "I guess that's one of the advantages of my job," he laughed, "I don't have to follow a no-fat, no-carb, no food diet." He spread a roll thickly with butter and wolfed it down.

"Hey Randy," John said, "Remember when you tried to follow that stupid macrobiotic diet? How long did that last? Two weeks?"

"I remember," he said, rolling his eyes. "Brown rice, brown rice and more brown rice. Bleah!"

"When I was in Japan, I ate a lot of fish," Evan said. "I probably still would if it were possible to find it on the road."

"Did you ever have that one, where there's only a tiny bit that's safe to eat?" Josh asked.

"Yeah. I didn't like it that much, but I suppose it's something to be able to say I tried it."

"Well, you're braver than me," John said, "or Randy. Whenever we're in Europe, we end out looking for a McDonalds because we're scared we'll end out ordering brains or something like that in a restaurant. We're not too adventurous that way."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Evan said, looking up at Randy with limpid eyes. "Randy's tongue can be very adventurous."

As John choked on his drink, Randy pushed his plate away. "I'm sorry guys," he said between gritted teeth, "I can't do this anymore." He pushed past Evan and strode out of the restaurant.

"You'd better go after him," Josh said, but Evan had already left the table.

He managed to slip into the elevator just as the door was closing. "Randy," he said. "I'm sorry. I went too far."

Randy stared fixedly at the floor indicator, the only sign of any emotion a muscle twitching in his cheek. "I don't understand you," he whispered hoarsely. "All these years, I've loved someone who doesn't exist. You were right. I don't know you. And," he said as the door opened, "I don't want to."

Evan could see Randy walk slowly down the corridor to his room, his shoulders slumped and his head bowed, as the elevator door closed. Fighting the urge to run after him, he rode to his own floor and let himself into his room where he flopped onto the bed and lay staring sightlessly at the ceiling.

He'd overplayed his hand, but he had been right. Randy had been attracted to some idealised version of the seventeen year-old he had been when they met. But knowing he was right was absolutely no comfort as the tears slipped down his face.