Author's Note: Thanks goes out to Redsandman99 for help with the end of this chapter. If you don't know who she is, or haven't read any of her work... then what is wrong with you?

Going through four classes, plus lunch, was torture. Every time he overheard a passing comment about the alarm, John became more and more certain that his best friend (John couldn't use the word 'lover' as long as Trish was around.) on this trip was gone.

"It's a big ship, man." Matt tried to console him at lunch. "Maybe Tommy fell asleep in one of the lounges or an empty room."

It didn't help. Even so, John was too much of a nice guy to say so. Instead, he nodded and returned to his food. He also skipped his usual after-class workout… he was of no mind to sweat. He just needed to be alone. In his room, he wasn't. To his shock, amazement, and relief, Tom had returned.

"Tommy?! Wha' happened to you?"

Tom looked over, a very weak smile on his face. That was when John realized that his friend looked like shit.

"Food poisoning." Tom sighed, his forehead wet with a line of perspiration. "I was puking most of the night."

"Uck. I hate puking." John nodded

"I must've passed out. One second I'm doing the porcelain tango and the next thing I remember is being in the infirmary getting IV fluids pumped into me." Tom smiled again, and then closed his eyes.

John watched his for a moment. Tom was lying, he was almost positive. But why? John couldn't finish the thought and frankly, he didn't want to.

…

Tom spent the next three days in bed. Either he was really sick or one hell of a good actor. When he finally went back to class, no one questioned his story. John still had his doubts. Cena remembered dinner on that night and it was shepherd's pie. He also remembered having two huge portions of it. If something had been wrong with the meat, the John figured he should've been twice as sick.

But maybe Tom was right or maybe it was a mild allergic reaction or maybe… No!

John bit his lower lip, hating himself. After the intimacies they'd shared over the past weeks, just the thought that Tom was deliberately hiding something was making both his head and his stomach hurt. He fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow that night.

Across the room, Tom opened his eyes. He watched Cena's chest rise and fall for a good five minutes before he was satisfied that John was out for the night. He crept out of the room, closing the door as quietly as possible before he slipped into his sneakers and vanished down the corridor.

"This time, watch the fuckin' clock." He muttered softly. "Money says John won't buy another excuse and the "food poisoning" already cost you three days." His journey took him deep into the ship, into an area normally off-limits to students. He worked as long as he could, with one eye on the clock and one eye out for anyone finding him. Screwing up either way would probably get him kicked off the ship.

Fortunately, he did remember to watch his time and made it back to bed before anyone came to check on him.

…

The following evening brought a festive air to the ship. It was the last day before making land in Capetown and everyone was relaxing. Even Dr. Farrelly had relaxed and there were no tests scheduled. But the rumor mill was still working; flowing faster than the bilge pumps about the general alarm of several days earlier. Everything from a bomb to man overboard passed among the students and staff. When it was finally officially explained as a mere short-circuit, the reaction was less of relief and more of annoyance.

"If that was it, why'd they wait so damn long to tell us?" That was the general reply, cleaned up for virgin ears. That discussion soon turned to the more pleasant topic of their next layover. It was the longest stop of the trip; a whole two-and-a-half weeks to immerse oneself in the culture of South Africa.

Miz and Morrison were sketching out plans for a card game. Not just any card game, though: 72 hours of straight poker. This was all done in low voices since the table to the left was occupied by the MTV crew. They were having a "frank" discussion about South African history; particularly Apartheid. John kept one ear on them and the other on his own table. To him, any conversation that involved the "Road Rules" crew seemed scripted and he'd had a couple of them.

"…joining?"

"Huh?" John snapped back to his own table.

"Can we count you in?"

"I d'no. I don't think I c'n stay awake that long." John shrugged

Morrison rolled his eyes. "We don't expect anyone to. It's come and go when you want."

John shrugged again. "I'll see. I got plans."

Jeff whistled. "Sounds like someone's gonna get some."

John rubbed his temples.

"Leave it to you to turn something nice into something smutty." Adam smirked "Typical Jeffrey."

Jeff stuck his tongue out and blew a raspberry.

"Real mature." Matt smirked "Count me in. Amy isn't meeting me this time."

"Awww… poor Matty." Jeff taunted "Just you and…"

"Finish that sentence and you're taking a swim fully clothed." Matt threatened him. "Don't think I won't."

"How's Tom doing?" Jay changed the subject again.

"Sleeps a lot." John replied, his mouth full. He swallowed, and then continued. "He says it was food poisoning, but I dunno."

"I'll agree with you there, Johnny-boy. I think the medical staff was trained by Dr. Seuss."

"Glad to see yer up. Matty 'n me were gonna start planning yer funeral." Jeff smirked again.

"You're just full of wit today." Matt frowned

"Or something that rhymes with it." Miz muttered "Feelin' better, I assume?"

Tom sighed. "More like I am not going to be stuck on this ship for two-plus weeks while everyone else gets to have fun."

"I hear ya." John was counting down the time to some fun with Trish.

Miz brought up the subject of the three-day poker game again.

"Sounds like fun. If we're back from the walking tour of Capetown, I'll clean y'all out again."

"We?" Morrison chuckled "Since when do you have a social life outside of this table?"

"Since I met a kid who knows the area." Tom answered

"You mean Justin?"

"Yeah." Tom grabbed an empty chair. "Nice guy, seems to know his stuff."

" 'N he's hot." Jeff giggled

"I hadn't noticed."

Just then, Justin walked by. "We still on?"

"As far as I know." Tom stated

Watching how at ease Tom and Justin were with each other, John felt something… was it actually jealousy? No f'in way, he reasoned. He was still into girls (the hand and blowjob aside), and had a girlfriend who he was going to see tomorrow. But then why was he feeling the way he did about Tom spending some time with Justin? Even if he was totally hot and, if Miz was right, swung off both sides of the plate?

Cena frowned. This is not good.

…

Less than three hours out of Capetown, the alarm went off again. This ship stopped dead for the second time in three days, sending all students to their rooms for a head count. This time it was one of the twins from hell was not among those present.

"If the alarm continues to fuck up, we might be docking longer in Capetown." Tom mused

"Or not dock at all, but I wouldn't mind." Cena peeked over his copy of Health and Fitness. "Where the hell do you go every night? You got some booty call you don't want me to know about?"

Tom looked over. He was ready to spin a story, but he stopped.

"Out of respect for our friendship, I ain't gonna lie to ya, but you gotta keep it quiet." Tom set his pen down.

"The plan?"

Tom nodded.

"That's cool." John immediately dropped the subject.

A furious banging on the cabin door jolted them.

"Get that Johnny? You're closer."

"Who was your frickin' slave last year?" John joked, but answered the door anyway. It was Adam, out of breath.

"'Sup?"

"Word's hit the fan. Brie Bella went overboard."

Cena's jaw hit the floor. Behind him, Tom chuckled. No great loss.

…

This was turning into a very eventful last semester at sea for Tom. Cena's arrest in Costa Rica, the issues with Jason, and now this. The official word came down from the grapevine that yes, one of the twins from hell was no longer on the ship. But if she was just hiding somewhere, the ship had already been searched once and plans had been made to go over it again while the students were on shore .

All the drama aside, there was the sex. This was not the first time Tom had found a lover on board, but it was the most satisfying. He smirked, remembering the look on Cena's face when he came.

He capped his pen. Beside him, Cena slept soundly. Their arrival had been delayed by one day, and most were using the time wisely or in John's case, to catch up on the rest he hadn't received the previous nights. Tom re-read the last few lines in his journal before putting the book away and getting back into his own bed. He dozed until the ship's horn announced their arrival in Capetown, South Africa.

"I hope you and Trish get shit straightened out." Those were Tom's parting words to Cena before he and Justin headed out on their walking tour.

"Aight." John answered "You back tonight?"

Tom grinned. "Don't worry. I've made plans. See ya at the poker game."

…

The day started out beautifully for John and Trish. They walked through Capetown, stopped at Two Oceans Aquarium and Table Mountain, then took a ferry to Robben Island and saw where Nelson Mandela had been incarcerated for all the many years. It was during dinner at an outdoor café where things got intense.

"Johnny, I don't want to ruin the rest of our time here, but we really need to sit down and talk some things over."

Cena nodded. He was expecting this, but a little surprised at how soon it happened. "Sure, babe. But not here."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want our love life becoming a part of a TV show." John glared at the MTV-ers who were nearby; apparently excited about the idea of living with South African families. "It's bad enough just having them in two of my classes."

"Where do you suggest we talk then?"

"Tom won't be back until at least tomorrow. My room?"

"I'd rather not." Trish huffed. "If you really want to talk in private, let's rent a room for the night."

Cena nodded. "Okay." He was all too happy to agree with that, though not necessarily for the reasons she was thinking. They did actually have things they needed to talk about. He knew that. But there was a sinking feeling in his stomach that there was just no way talking was going to end well. No, if he could let some actions do the talking instead it would be better. He could fix them that way. Or that's what he told himself anyway.

...

The hotel room they ended up in was like any standard one they could have gone to back in the States. Two queen size beds with a TV across from them, a table by the window, a little counter to keep the ice bucket and the coffee maker and a bathroom stocked with tiny soaps and shampoos. Cena wondered for a moment if he should have tried to find a nicer place but then decided it didn't really matter. The place had a bed and it didn't look like it was infested with anything gross, which made it good enough for him.

To her credit, Trish was actually looking to talk. She tried to speak the moment he had the door closed but he didn't let her get far. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her before she got more than a syllable out of her mouth. Her eyes widened in surprise. Her hands went to his chest and there was a brief moment where she tried to push him away. It wasn't a long-lasting one. She gave in, her arms going around his neck. In that moment it felt like nothing had changed. They were the way they were before the cruise. Before Tom. Tom, who was out somewhere with Justin right now. The jealousy he had denied before reared its ugly head. There were a lot of things Tom could have been doing with Justin this entire time. Things just like this. Things he could have been doing with Tom right now instead.

No. Damn it no. He had to stop thinking like this. He was into girls. He was into Trish. He tried to remember that fact. Their clothes were rapidly falling to the floor and her soft, dainty hands were all over him. One hand wrapped around his cock and started to stroke slowly. His body should have immediately responded. There was one time it would have been. But now he just stayed limp in her grasp. As hard as he tried to deny it, this wasn't the hand he wanted to touch him. Her handjobs were now nothing compared to Tom's.

"John?" His lack of a hard on was not going unnoticed by Trish. "What the hell?"

"Keep going." He wrapped his hand over hers and helped her jerk him off. The feeling of his hand at least allowed his mind to pretend it was Tom's instead and much better results were had. Sure it was weird thinking about a guy while he was with his girl but it sure beat not getting it up at all.

Trish moved back to the bed, laying back with her legs spread. Her eyes were watching his every move carefully. He elected to pretend he didn't notice. He snagged a condom out of his wallet and put it on before going over to the bed. He settled himself between her legs and pushed inside her slowly. His mind was still fixated on Tom. In his mind it was Tom who was under him. His nails digging into his back. Or maybe he would be the one laying on the bed, getting pounded and fucked through a mattress. Either sounded good to him quite frankly. He put his face in her neck, his imagination really running away from him now. Her scent was Tom's now. Her voice was Tom's. It was all Tom and he should have known to watch himself better than he was. But the closer he got to cumming the less control he had. And as he felt himself start to go, a single word escaping his lips.

"Tom!"

"WHAT?"

Cena froze. Oh fuck. He just fucked up. He just fucked up royally.