Chapter: 10: Damned if I Do Ya (Damned if I Don't)

Author's Note: So I have had complication after complication trying to get the chapters after this one finished. I've even wound up having to get a new laptop in the process. So, if the next few chapters are a liiiittle slower than usual, just bear with me, haha. They will get finished and posted! I've also got a new project in the works and if it gets close to being completed, I'll start posting some of it, too. It's kind of out of left field though, haha. On another note, the scene that opens this chapter is a huge part of why I even wanted to write this story. That being said, enjoy. =)

For the life of him, Justin can't figure out what his tell is, but Heath somehow knows something's up the second he approaches his young friend in the locker room.

"Oh my God, you let Alex fuck you."

Justin cringes at the volume, shuffling in closer as quickly as he can. It's bad enough the way everyone had been staring at him when he'd walked in, definitely the last person to arrive. The last thing he needs is everyone knowing why he was late.

"Jesus, Heath! Lower your voice!" he hisses, glaring at the redhead. "And for your information, no, he did not fuck me."

"If you say you guys made love, I'm gonna puke." Heath replies, his voice lowered, but blank.

The high flyer rolls his eyes.

"No, Heath. Neither of us is under any such delusions about the sex being anything other than stress relief. We're not stupid." Justin explains, unzipping his bag and beginning to chance.

It takes Heath a moment to process fully what the older has said, but once his has, his eyes are open wide. Unfortunately, so is his mouth.

"OH MY GOD, YOU FUCKED ALEX RILEY."

It's Justin's turn to grow wide eyed, slapping a hand over his friend's mouth.

"What the fuck, Heath! The whole locker room doesn't need to know!" he snaps, his voice low still. He hears quiet whispers that he only notices from the time spent in the original Nexus spreading throughout the room anyway, though, and rolls his eyes, removing his hand. He finishes changing as he continues speaking. "Oh, what's the use? I guess it's too late now. Yes, I slept with him, fucked him, whatever the hell you want to call it. And now, it's become everyone's business. Are you happy now?"

Heath is still staring on in shock. Justin figures there was really no point in keeping the younger's mouth covered anyway. It seems as if he can't form words. He opens his mouth as if to say something a few times, but no sound comes out. Then, he closes his mouth alltogether, lowering his head. Justin looks at him curiously, brow furrowing a bit.

"Heath?" he questions.

The redhead shakes his head like he's clearing it out and stands suddenly, pushing his bag into his locker and slamming it shut. He turns and swiftly exits the locker room without so much as another word. Justin watches him leave with wide eyes. He pulls on his armpads as quickly as he can, storing his own bag before rushing out the door, rushing to catch up with his companion. Heath doesn't even stop at the sound of his name, so Justin speeds up, grabbing his friend by the shoulder and spinning him around. When he meets the younger's eyes, they're full of hurt, and it takes him aback.

"Heath, what's wrong?" he asks, genuinely confused.

Heath seems unable to stop himself, just blurts it out, "It was a fucking joke! I wasn't serious, Justin! I didn't actually think that you would have...dammit!"

"What?"

"I mean, I tell you I don't like the guy, and not only do you move him into our house, now you're fucking him, too?" Heath demands.

Justin's eyes narrow.

"Excuse me?"

But the younger plows on as if he didn't even hear Justin, "What, are you two, like, together now?"

The waver in his voice makes the high flyer pause. He catches the way Heath sniffles a bit when he catches his breath.

"What? No, Heath, it's nothing like that, really." Justin tries to reassure his friend, crowding in closer to him. "I just, we'd been drinking, and he was really upset, and it seemed like a really good idea at the time..."

"So it only happened once?" Heath asks.

And Justin should know better, but, "Well, no, but..."

He cringes at Heath's frown.

"Shit. I didn't mean that. Heath, it really didn't mean anything. I swear. He's still so in love with Mike it's ridiculous and I'm...I don't have feelings for him like that." the older explains slowly. He looks at Heath as solidly as he can.

"You promise?" the redhead finally replies, his voice small.

Justin nods. "I swear to you, Heath. It was just sex."

Heath seems to really ponder the response for a minute. Justin holds his breath. The younger still seems skeptical, however. Justin steps in closer to his friend,. He swears he feels Heath's breath catch.

"You have to believe me. I wouldn't lie to you about this." he says, his voice low.

The younger swallows. "I know, Justin, it's just...You fucked him."

"And that's all it was."

Heath finally relents, nodding slowly. With the movement, Justin realizes just how close they really are, Heath's red locks just barely tickling his forehead. Apparently, his face shows his discovery, for Heath's cheeks are suddenly tinged pink.

"Uhm." Justin stammers.

He watches as the younger's eyes dart between his lips and his own eyes, especially as tries to catch his breath, and he thinks, no way. But sure enough, Heath is leaning in just the slightest bit. The slam of a door down the hall breaks the spell, however, and Heath is back-pedaling as quickly as he'd leaned in.

"Shit. Shit." he mutters, running a hand through his hair roughly. "I, I have to uhm. I have to go. Talk to Wade or. Or something. I'll see you later, J."

And then he's gone, disappearing off down the hallway, still nervously fooling with his hair and mumbling to himself under his breath. Justin watches for a long moment before he lets out a sigh, leaning against the wall and staring at the ceiling. He can't believe it. Heath had nearly kissed him. Heath was actually jealous. Why in the hell hadn't he thought of this sooner?

III

The next few days are full of a hovering Heath Slater. It seems as if everywhere Justin or Alex turns in the house, they're greeted with an eyefull of red hair. If they go out to eat, Heath makes Alex sit across from him and Justin. If they watch a movie on the couch, Heath is between them. If they're riding in the car, Heath is always up front, whether it be driving or shotgun. Justin can't even find it in him to get mad simply because of the hilarity of it all (he only feels like a dick about laughing at the whole damn thing until he catches Alex snickering behind Heath's back as the redhead is inviting himself to practice with them bright and early one morning. Heath doesn't even do mornings).

To Justin's surprise, everything's going great. Despite that his best friend seems to have become a human helicoptor, Heath seems to at least be getting along with Alex. It appears as though the redhead has accepted what Justin had told him about it just being sex, and Alex being no real threat. Alex, on the other hand, seems to finally be loosening up a bit, getting back into the swing of things. He's smiling, and laughing, and joking, and it all seems genuine. The high flyer is so relieved he can't properly put it into words.

And then Alex gets a text from John Cena. This fact in itself isn't really the strange part of it, since John hasn't exactly been the quietest about his advances since Alex turned up single. What makes it significant is what the text says:

Hey, did u really make it w Gabriel?

Alex instantly pales, nearly dropping his phone. Justin turns to look at him worriedly. The younger swallows thickly before he speaks, his voice low.

"Cena knows." he manages.

Justin feels his heart drop. This is all his fault. The second he opens his mouth to apologize, however, Heath is speaking up from his spot across the table.

"So what?" the redhead asks, biting into another french fry.

"So, if Cena knows, then Mike has to know." Alex mumbles letting out a sad sigh.

"Alex, I'm so sorry. This is-" the high flyer tries again, but once more, Heath is cutting him off.

"And? What difference does it make if Mike knows?" Heath objects. "Didn't he dump you?"

Justin shoots him a look, and the redhead ducks his head down just a bit, taking a drink from his glass as a distraction.

"Maybe because it wasn't everyone's business, Heath." Justin says, staring him down solidly.

Heath almost cringes.

"No, Heath's right. It shouldn't matter, r-right? I mean, I'm single, I can do what I want." Alex tries, grinning a bit. Then, lower, "He was making out with Jericho..."

The redhead's eyes widen just a bit. Justin's decidedly calm. Revenge fuck, he thinks.

What he says aloud, however, is, "You probably won't even have to see him!" then remembers, "Except...for...your scene."

Instantly, he wants to put his feet in his mouth. Alex groans, dropping his face into his hands.

"Oh my God. I think I'm gonna be sick. I, I can't..." he mutters, shaking his head. "How in the hell am I supposed to go to Raw now? I can't face him, Justin."

"Yes you can, Alex. You'll be fine. I'll even go with you again if you want." Justin offers, feeling almost pathetic that it's all the help he can really extend.

Alex's look of distress turns to the slightest of smiles, and Justin breathes a little easier.

"Are you sure you don't mind? Mike is probably gonna be really pissed, man." Alex tries to explain to the older.

Justin just nods. "I'm positive. It's not a problem."

He nearly falls out of his chair, however, when Heath pipes up from across the table, "I'll come, too. Just in case Mike's too mad."

Alex's eyes are open wide as well. He seems speechless. He probably is, because it takes him a few tries before he can accurately stammer out a response.

"Yea. Yea, th-that'd, uh. That'd be fine. If you really want."

"Yea, man. Anything to help." Heath replies with a rather large smile.

Justin just turns back to his food. Every once in a while, Alex tries to meet his eyes. Justin's well aware that they're thinking the same thing: they're both counting the ways this trip is going to go horribly wrong.

XXXXX

"Two weeks! Two weeks, and the little asshole is out fucking someone else! No, wait, I'm sorry, he's out getting fucked by someone else! And Justin Gabriel, of all the goddamned people!" Mike rants into the phone, pacing back and forth in the locker room.

"Not to defend him, but you came onto me last week, too, Mikey." Chris reminds him from where he sits once again in the corner, feet propped on the table before him.

"I was drunk!" Mike snaps, turning away from the phone momentarily.

"Maybe he was drunk, too." the older tries.

Mike just growls in frustration.

"Nobody fucking asked you!" he argues, turning back to his previous conversation. "Dammit, John, stop laughing! None of this is funny! I'm having an emotional crisis here, and you're going to sit there and laugh at me? Some fucking friend you are!"

"My bad, man. It's just, I've never seen you this particular about locker room gossip before." John explains, trying to stifle his giggles.

"My ex boyfriend wasn't fucking Justin Gabriel before." Mike informs him. "I mean, downgrading? What the actual fuck?"

"Hey, now. You were in a mid-card tag team once, too." John argues. "Don't hate."

"News flash, John. Everyone thought you were downgrading, too. And we were on the same team!" Mike counters angrily. "And besides, we're not talking about me, we're talking about the fact that Alex is out letting Justin Gabriel dominate him in the sack less than a month after we broke up!"

"Man, you have really been thinking about this, haven't you?" Chris chimes in once more.

Mike groans. "Shut up, Chris!"

"He has a point." John agrees, though. "Why does this bother you so much? I mean, if you're really this upset about it, why don't you go tell him how you really feel?"

He hates that his friend is this distraught over his young ex. This breakup is hurting them both worse than Creative ever did. He just wishes Mike could see it.

"Y'know what? You're absolutely right, John. I'm gonna go give that ungrateful, insolent little shit a piece of my mind." Mike suddenly announces.

"Michael, that's not what I meant and you know it!" John tries desperately to stop his friend, but it's too late. Mike hangs up the phone, slipping it into his pocket.

Immediately, Chris is on his feet, following Mike like a flash. He tries to block the door, keep Mike in the room. He knows it's no use from the start, but he figures it's at least worth a shot.

"Mike, seriously. I don't think that's what John wanted you to do. Why don't you calm down and think about this rationally for a second, huh?" Chris says desperately.

It's like talking to a wall. Mike simply shoves past him, suddenly on the warpath and out for blood. There's nothing Chris can even do now but chase after the younger, hoping he can at least prevent the oncoming tragedy a little bit. He spends the entire walk to Alex's new dressing room trying to talk some form of sense into the ex-champ. Unfortunately, it's not enough, and before Chris knows what's even happening, Mike has slammed through the locker room door and is storming in. Chris takes a deep breath before shuffling along behind him. He hears Mike's voice before he sees him.

"What in the fuck do you have to say for yourself? Huh?" the younger screeches.

He sounds even angrier than before. When Chris finally catches up to him, he can see why. Of course, Alex is there, glaring at the tongue lashing he's receiving from his ex. What equally shocks Chris and scares him to the core is the fact that Justin Gabriel and Heath Slater are there as well. When Chris turns to look at his friend's ex, Alex opens his mouth to speak. Chris feels his breath catch when Justin beats him to it, stepping towards Mike with almost sympathetic eyes.

"Mike, hey, look, I-"

And really, Mike doesn't mean to do it. Honestly. He'd only even sought out the younger in order to let his ex know how hurt he is that Alex seems to be over him already. He can't really help that the second he'd lain eyes on the South African, he'd seen fucking red, wanted nothing more than to jump on the young up-and-comer and kick the hell out of him. He knows it's stupid, and petty, and not Justin's fault at all that he'd even been dragged into this whole stupid mess, so, really and truly, he doesn't intend to. But suddenly, with a loud cry of, "You stay the fuck out of this!", Mike lashes out, catching Justin hard right in the jaw with a mean right hook. The room goes silent when the high flyer drops.