A/N: A huge thank you to anyone who has shown an interest in this story, or anyone who is taking the time to read it at all, it truly means a lot to me. Hopefully it stays enjoyable and interesting enough to keep everyone's attention :)
Silence filled the space between the two men. Dean felt like his tongue had swollen and was sticking to the roof of his mouth, leaving him incapable of speech. A small part of him was thankful for that because it gave him a tangible reason to blame for him not responding. The real reason, Dean hated to admit, was simply that he couldn't. He had no clue how to respond to that.
"What that fuck was all that earlier?" Randy demanded.
All he could do for the seconds following the question was slowly blink, like he was clueless about what Randy was talking about. There was no way that he didn't know of course, it was impossible. That kiss would remain permanently etched in his memory for many years to come.
Just when he saw the lines around Randy's eyes and mouth deepen in apparent frustration, Dean took a deep breath and looked away from the stare down the two men had been unconsciously having. "It was a mistake." He finally forced out, the words tasting bitter in his mouth.
"What?" Randy asked, and for a moment, Dean thought he heard some hurt filling the words.
"That was a mistake, it should have never happened." Dean told him, more forceful this time. "I don't need anything like that." And he didn't, he didn't need to sleep his way onto the roster, he was talented, hell he was one of the best up and coming guys around, he could do this all on his own.
"What are you talking about, anything like that, like what?" Randy asked. Dean's pride was still smarting some from his earlier weakness, and every second spent in the Viper's presence was twisting the knife a little deeper. Why was the man purposely ignoring the facts put in front of him? Dean had made it obvious that he wouldn't sleep with him to further his career, but Randy still refused to leave, hell he refused to even acknowledge that was what he was proposing.
"Like all of that, what you obviously seem to want." Dean watched as Randy's jaw stiffened with each word he spoke.
Dean would have to be blind to not notice the instant tension and anger pouring off of Randy. "Oh really, well why don't you tell me what that is, what exactly it is that I want Ambrose." He demanded, his voice firming and cooling rapidly.
"I don't have time for this shit. Get the fuck out of my room." Dean demanded shortly. He wasn't sure how much longer he could hold himself together and he didn't want Randy anywhere near him when it all finally fell apart.
"No, I don't think so. I'm not going anywhere until you give me some fucking answers. You clung to my ass and drove your tongue down my throat like you couldn't let me go for anything. Then in the next second, you're pushing me away, hitting me," Orton's deep voice seemed to drop even more as it sent shots of unwanted need through Dean, "and then storming off like some little kid throwing a tantrum. Then, when I come to find you and I get slugged in the jaw another time. I don't like playing games and that all you seem to be fucking doing." Randy finished and Dean was able to easily see how much he was working to contain himself. But he was working pretty hard himself to keep from breaking down, and Randy's anger only seemed to fuel his own.
"If you don't like how I'm acting then why the fuck are you here?" Dean shouted at him. Why couldn't the man just leave him alone so he could pull together his wounded pride? Dean took a deep, calming breath and let his eyes drift shut. He could feel the situation starting to get out of control, if it wasn't already, and that was the last thing he wanted. He didn't have the greatest track record of keeping his calm and everything he knew about Randy pointed to him not being able to handle that kind of situation well either. He slowly opened his eyes to look into the stunning blues of the taller man. He was obviously not going to get him out of here without telling him exactly why he needed to leave and he loathed to even thinking about doing that. But it appeared to be the only option. Dean tried to take a steadying breath, but it ended up being rather stuttered. He just hoped that if he was going to have to do this, it would only be this one time he had to lay it all on the line.
"Look, I'm not going to be one of those sluts who fucks the bigger names in the business to guarantee his pushes or to make sure he keeps getting title shots. I've made it this far without your so called help and I don't need it to start now." Dean could feel his anger and dismay at the situation overtaking him. He just wanted this all to be behind him and for the man to leave him alone. Maybe then he could finally be finished with his feelings for the guy. One could hope anyway.
"So, you think I'm here because I want you to bend over for me in return for a push to the top? You honestly think the only way I can get a man is if I dangle some kind of incentive in front of him?" It was all Dean could do not to flinch away from the anger lacing the words Orton was spitting out at him. Dean's own brow furrowed in confusion when he took in the tic of Randy's jaw and the slanted eyes glaring at him with disdain. That was not the same face of the man who had been propositioning him all night.
"You know what, I'm done with this. You don't need to worry about me trying to buy my way into your pants anymore." Randy told him, his voice eerily quiet and cold, as he pushed past him and left the room, the door slamming in his wake. Somehow, even though it all appeared to be over, Dean wasn't as happy with the outcome as he thought he should be.
"So are you still pissed at me?" John asked, peaking his head around the doorframe of Randy's locker room. Randy lifted his head from where he was stretching on the floor to stare at the other man before shaking his head and lowering his gaze back to the floor, not saying anything.
"Look, it's not like I knew that you were making out with the guy in the street. I was just following my friend after he stormed out of a bar, making sure he was okay. When you think about it, I'm kind of the hero of this story."
This finally pulled Randy out of his well-practiced routine, his jaw actually dropped when he looked up at the now sitting man, lounging back on one of the chairs in the room, perfectly at ease with a smartass grin on his face.
"You're right Cena, thank you so much for saving me with your quick action." Randy told him, rolling his eyes and tempering his real emotions.
"So I'm guessing this attitude of yours means you didn't get lucky after making a fool of yourself by chasing the man through the streets and forcing your way into his hotel room? Shocking." Randy heaved an exasperated sigh when a new voice joined the conversation. He stared up at his best friend when the man's boyfriend made his entrance into the room with a snarky comment. He'd shared his plan with John before heading towards the hotel last night, he didn't know why he hadn't expected John to tell Punk all about it, or why he hadn't expected Punk to judge him in his own trademark way.
The smaller man making his way into the room to drop himself into Cena's lap without so much as one word from the larger man didn't do anything to help his mood either.
"You had to have been expecting it from him." Cena simply told him, his tolerance with the younger man apparently never ending. John moved his eyes over to Randy as he started running one of his hands up and down Punk's ribs. Randy watched the hand closely, his eyes almost entranced by the subtle movement. He knew he friend was watching him, aware that there was something on Randy's chest he wanted to share but knowing him well enough not to try to force it out of him. Maybe there was something to be said for being friends with someone for over a decade.
"When I got there and demanded to know what was happening he accused me of trying to buy his ass with a good word in the ear of someone who controlled his career." Randy told them both, never pulling his eyes away until the moving hand stilled.
"What?" John asked him as Randy made eye contact for the first time since he admitted what had occurred the night before.
"Basically, he told me that he had no intentions of sleeping with me, no matter what I offered to do for his career."
"You offered to get him a bigger push if he fucked you?" Cena asked, his voice tainted with disbelief.
Randy stared at his friend for a few seconds, his jaw ticking with annoyance. "Of course I didn't," he snapped, "he just assumed that was what I was doing. Like he couldn't believe that anyone would sleep with me without that offer." Even Randy couldn't pretend like there wasn't bitterness in his voice.
Punk on the other hand, found the whole situation hilarious for some reason, which did nothing to improve Randy's mood. "Why are the two of you here? Don't you have your own locker room where you can annoy each other and leave me alone?"
"Look I'm sorry, but that is fucking hilarious." Punk told him, flicking his tongue against his famous lip ring, "Your ego can't be taking this well." Randy's eyes narrowed further as he pulled himself up to his full height.
"What's really pissing me off," he said, purposely ignoring Punk's last comment, "is that he had no reason to say any of that, hell to even think any of that."
"Seriously? Orton come on, it's not like it's never happened before. Everyone knows there are a few certain people who made it into the business that way. And you're one of the big guys now, please help us, so it's only natural that he's suspicious."
"This is still bullshit. Even if all of that is true, I've never once given him reason to believe that's what I wanted to do or him to do."
"That doesn't really matter, it's what everyone else thinks about the situation. It's what he's heard happening so he expects it to happen. Hell, some people in the back still give me dirty looks because they think that's how I made it big, because of John."
"What the hell? Why would they say that?" Cena's indignant tone filled the small room. "We weren't even together until a year after you got the title."
"Yes, we both know that." Punk responded slowly, like he was talking to a small child. "But they don't. There's a lot of jealousy in the back, you know that. All they know is that one day I'm nothing, the next I'm the biggest name in wrestling. Then they see me with you and they don't really know how long we've been together. Haters are gonna hate, you just got to deal with it."
"Guys, focus on me again, remember, the main reason you're even in this room?" Randy practically shouted, his frustration getting the best of him. "I don't give a damn what everyone else is doing or saying, the fact that he doesn't think I can get anyone without throwing around my name and the behind the scenes power everyone seems to think I have, is the end of it. He thinks so little of me then I don't want any of it."
"Told you his ego couldn't take it." Punk stage whispered to John, who tried his best to bite back a grin, but wasn't entirely successful.
"Good, that means this is all over." John's voice boomed, entirely too cheerfully for the situation, "You know I never supported this from the beginning. You need to get over this stupid crush, all it's done is bring you down. This might be the worst way for it all to end, but at least it is an end."
"Right." Randy said, still not wanting to fully acknowledge to full situation.
"Come on Punk, let's go grab something to eat." John told him, nudging his lover off his lap and leading him to the door. Before crossing the threshold, he turned around to face Randy once more. "I really think this is all for the best Randy."
Randy simply nodded to show he had heard the other man, never taking his eyes off the monitor hanging on the wall. Once he heard the door quietly click shut, Randy lowered himself to the floor once more to resume his stretching. But instead, he just sat there, staring at the monitor, wishing he felt the same way about this ending as Cena did.