Disclaimer: I don't own anyone.
Rated: M
Warning(s): Slash, Dom/sub

Phil rolled over in the bed and cuddled further into Randy's side. Not that he would ever admit it out loud, but sometimes, he loved to feel comforted by someone else. It made him feel safe. "Randy…"

"What is it, Punk?" Randy leaned over and kissed Phil's forehead, before his eyes traveled down to the decently sized shiner on Phil's cheek. "That little bastard… I'll be back in a second with some water and Tylenol, okay?"

Phil nodded tiredly. He could barely force his eyes to remain focused on Randy's blurry form. He couldn't remember the last time that he had slept – it was a product of being too terrified to close his eyes. "Okay."

Randy slid out of bed and walked over to the bathroom, naked as the day he was born. He had thrown his stuff on the floor near the bathroom when they had first entered the hotel room. After a few minutes of searching, he came back with the bottle of Tylenol and a little Dixie cup filled with water. Randy set these on the bedside table as he helped Phil to sit up (it must have been quite a difficult feat in his half-conscious state).

Randy handed over the medication and Phil took it without complaint. While Randy and Phil hadn't always liked each other, there had come to be a mutual trust and even love between them. They trusted each other above all else… well, aside from their former master. And they couldn't even trust him anymore. It seemed as if life as they knew it had crashed down around them and all they were left with was dust and rubble.

"You better now?" Randy asked him. He was obviously concerned for Phil, but the only place where he allowed that concern to show was in his eyes.

Phil studied him for a minute, before he said, "It's 'Are you better now', not 'You better now'." Phil explained matter-of-factly. Randy couldn't help but chuckle. Sleep-deprived or not, he would always be the same old Phil Brooks.

"Sorry, Professor Brooks. How many times should I write that out on the blackboard for you?" Randy joked.

Phil rolled his eyes and smacked him on the arm playfully. "Don't be a smartass."

But then, dejectedly, Randy looked at the clock on the far wall. "We should really head back to the other hotel. I'm sure that they've already started to wonder where we are."

Phil shook his head. "No. I don't want to leave you."

"We don't really have all that much of a choice." Randy said sadly. "Since Chris -,"

"Don't say his name!" Phil exclaimed loudly, much louder than he had intended to anyway.

Randy studied Phil for several minutes. The older superstar had tried to be strong for so long. He could see the lines of exhaustion from around his eyes and it was obvious that he hadn't been to the gym in a few days. Randy knew first-hand how much Phil had loved Chris. It was just like the love of any submissive for their master. The amount of love that it took for someone to submit fully to another person just couldn't be described in words.

And for someone like Phil Brooks, someone as cocky and confident as the Straight-Edge Superstar? Well, that was an entirely new mountain to climb. Being a submissive caused a new world to open up within you. It allowed you to be able to step back and let someone else take care of you, to let someone else save you from yourself. It was hard work, but Phil had done it. And once you had fallen into that routine, it was difficult to break out of it.

Carefully, Randy leaned forward and brushed away the few tears that had leaked out of Phil's eyes and had started to trail down his pale cheeks. He was careful to avoid the dark bruise on Phil's cheek. Phil leaned into the touch and closed his eyes, and soon after, the flow of tears ceased entirely. He even offered the other submissive a shaky smile. Randy returned it and patted his cheek softly.

"Now, it's already six. What do you say that we head down to the hotel gym and work-out for a little while? Then, if you want, we can head out and find goat-face and Wade." Randy told him.

Phil looked at him innocently, but there was a not-so-innocent flicker in his eyes. "And what if I don't want to?"

"Well, then, if that is the case…" Randy's eyes flickered and filled with lust. "Then we can come back upstairs for a little repeat performance."

Phil smirked and immediately revealed his true intentions. "I like the sound of option two."

Phil had done it. His heart hammered madly in his chest as AJ raised his hand in victory, before his title belt was handed back to him. He had fought tooth-and-nail to defend that title and he had shown everyone in that arena who the 'Best in the World' truly was. And now, Daniel Bryan had to honor their deal. Phil had beaten him, fair and square, with a psychotic referee who had a vendetta with both of them. He had earned his win, damn it!

And, for the first time since he had known him, Daniel did do the honorable thing. He broke off their master/submissive relationship with no ties, before he wandered toward the back to find another victim. Phil was ecstatic. No, that word didn't even begin to describe what he felt. He almost felt like skipping to the back in a post-match celebration, but that would expend too much energy – energy that he didn't actually have.

But what nobody was aware of was that the next match, the match between Show and John Cena, would determine a lot more than if John Laureinitis would be fired or not. Their future safety sat in the hands of one man, John Cena. All of the masters sat back, watching anxiously as the two men went out to the steel cage. Cena had been having a rocky road over the past few months, after all. Could he really pull off the victory with such high stakes?