Surprise! I used the "a bunch of rocks falling from the sky" comment!!

XD yeah, the weirder the suggestion, the more it gets my imagination going and the more it helps my writer's block go bye-bye.

My train of thought: "Hmm, rocks…I had a cliff earlier…maybe I should have another one…"

So thank you, Esca Madeline; you helped my writer's block! All of your suggestions were very helpful, though, for what the mood of the "climax" in the story should feel like. Thank you so much! I hope it was violent enough for you, a lot of you said you wanted a bunch of people to die…uh…and they didn't…sorry… -_-;

Here's the last chapter now! Bon voyage!

Check out my second fanfic "Afraid of the Dark" when I post it!

"Where the fuck were you last night?!" Shawn screamed: bags under his eyes.

Everyone meeting out in the motel hallway to walk to breakfast together had bags under their eyes, including Rey and Batista. They'd been out most of the night saving Rey's ass from the cliff.

Rey had fallen asleep in his clothes back in his room. He figured Shawn would find out in the morning that he'd been gone in the night one way or another so he might as well have made it obvious.

They snorted together.

"Well, we sure as hell didn't get eaten by badgers," Batista said through his laughter.

Rey exploded into hysterics and couldn't stop.

C.M. Punk raised his brow quizzically. "Can you guys keep it down? I have a headache. There were all these scary bugs right outside my room keeping me awake."

"Cicadas," Jeff Hardy commented. "Fucking huge ones, too, man. Not cool."

Apparently the two of them had shared a room and bonded somewhat because of their shared horror of nocturnal insect invasion.

"Sorry about that," Rey chuckled.

"Aw, you never get sleep, who are we kidding? You and your insomniac circles under your eyes," Jeff said, turning on Punk already. Their fighting was not over, after all.

Punk blushed. "I do not have insomnia. I just look like this. My dad has bags under his eyes, too. It's genetic. Like dimples or something."

"Dimples are overrated," Triple H commented. "Shawn has dimples only you'd never notice because you can't hear yourself think when he's around."

"I love you and your rapidly receding hairline, too, big guy," Shawn replied, grinning to display his dimples.

Randy rolled his eyes. "HBK snores super loudly. He kept waking us up."

"You and Triple H were rooming together again, Randy?" Rey asked, surprised.

"We decided to join forces against this monstrosity," Triple H confirmed.

"Keep talking ho bag, I won't send you sweet nothings anymore if you keep being so cruel to me," Shawn warned cheerily.

Rey sensed the girl-fighting was in full effect, but with no small boys around to protect from the carnage (aside from Randy Orton) he decided to sit and watch the fur fly.

"How you guys seriously managed to stay alive before Rey came along to solve all your problems is beyond me," Batista noted.

Rey sighed wordlessly.

"And I can't believe you just called him a ho bag," Batista added.

"You're talkative lately. What happened, did Rey-Rey give you a little somethin-somethin last night that made you feel better?" Cena asked.
Batista just blushed, but Rey's eyes flashed. "No, he did not."

Seconds later he smoothly hooked his foot under Cena's shin and the behemoth wrestler face-planted directly on the tile.

"Ooh, the floor is mucho slippery this morning. You better watch your feet," Rey said calmly and skipped over the bigger wrestler.
They all blinked and scrambled over him before he had time to sit up.

"Rey's back!!!" Jeff whispered excitedly to Shawn and he and Punk bumped fists out of sheer excitement.

Rey did in fact, look like himself. In fact, his steps were bouncy once more.

They arrived at the breakfast nook and everyone promptly freaked out. Wrestlers were notorious for being crazy obsessed with their fitness and muscle size and amount of weight they could bench press and what weight class they fell into, etc.

They were all raging health nuts.

What lay before them was positively the antithesis of a healthy breakfast.

"Tsk tsk," Shawn Michaels said, shaking his head.

Mounds of greasy greasy waffles and pancakes were stacked onto plates.

So were powdered donuts with about an inch-thick layer of powdered sugar coated onto their fat little circles.

The only cereal was Froot Loops and Count Chocula. There was no skim or low fat or soy milk, there was no decaf coffee, and there was no orange juice or water.

Flies were everywhere.

And this, keep in mind, was in the eyes of people who drank protein drinks and blended vegetables together and called it dessert.

Jeff Hardy was the only one fearless (and naïve) enough to approach the nasty excuse for food.

He was biting the back of his thumbnail and tentatively reached out his opposite index finger to poke at a donut. It exhaled powdered sugar onto him in a little cloud.

"Don't touch it, man, I think it's alive," Cena cautioned.

Shawn went and pulled Jeff back before the Hardy brother could stuff it in his mouth.

"I'd rather not get AIDs from my breakfast this morning," Punk said. "I can't believe this is somebody's definition of a continental breakfast."

"Where's the fresh fruit?" Cena whined. "I can't start my morning without some fruit!!!"

Triple H's eye twitched nervously and Randy Orton took out a calculator and manically started typing in an estimate on the calorie count of each food item before him.

"Tell me how much fat is in all that shit, you anorexic little weasel, I want to know," Chris Jericho demanded.

"That makes you anorexic too…" HBK sang.

"Nobody's calling anybody anorexic, you both look like a healthy weight to me, so drop it," Rey warned.

"Thank you, Rey," Jericho said happily, setting his hands on his hips and feeling light and beautiful.

Randy smiled up at Rey and then pouted. "It's like…thousands of calories."

They all shuddered. The horror.

Rey gagged. "Okay, okay, that's it. I'm going to go to a Seven Eleven to get some granola bars or something."

"With fruit in it?" Cena asked hopefully.

"If they sell ones with fruit, you can have one with fruit," Rey said patiently and walked out the door, covering his mouth to keep from smelling the mess on the tables.

None of them had their rental cars anymore. They'd turned them in. So they walked to the Seven Eleven.

Rey stood waiting there as all the others slowly filtered towards him. The skinnier, more hyper ones like Punk, Hardy, and Orton all arrived together. Then came HBK, Cena and Batista. Cryme Tyme, Big Show, Kane and Triple H all managed to show up.

Jericho wheezed his way to last place, totally ruining the image he was now trying to portray of being perfectly healthy.

"Jesus, Rey, stopping running so fast," he rasped.

Rey looked up at him. "Oh, I wasn't running. You haven't seen me run if you thought that was running."

He turned and went inside the building. They all agreed on a pack of Cliff bars that had a variety of flavors in it.

Rey set it on the counter and smiled sweetly at the woman at the desk.

She was an older lady and looked almost faint when she saw the handsome Latino figure before her.

"Good morning," Rey said cheerfully.

"That'll be…four fifty," she managed to get out.

(The label had said twenty dollars. It was a big pack and Cliff bars are expensive!!)

Rey put twenty-five dollars on the counter.

"Keep the change."

"Have a nice day!" the lady called as Rey turned to leave.

"You too!" Rey called back, smiling back over his shoulder at her one last time.

That lady, if you asked her, would remember him for years afterwards, even though she never saw him but the one time. She probably fantasized about him when she was bored.

"Rey, that lady was gonna let you slide with like-" Randy said and paused to type numbers into his calculator. "Eighty percent discount!"

Shawn caught Rey's eye. "You sly dog! Are you adapting to the cuteness effect already?"

"You mean you guys have to correct to like a certain margin of error?" Punk asked.

"Yes. Because our cuteness throws off people's common sense," Michaels explained proudly. "It's the gift that keeps on giving."

"I just read the price tag and it said twenty dollars and tax would make it a little more than that," Rey explained.

"But that still means you did give her some change," Randy calculated.

"Do you always tip people at Seven Eleven?" Cena inquired.

Rey shrugged. "I don't know. I doubt they ever get a lot of business there."

"I don't even know if this place would show up on Google Earth it's so remote," C.M. Punk commented, taking a sip of coffee that he'd bought in the store.

"Punk…man, what are you doing to yourself now? Does Straight Edge include the 'just say no to food' slogan somewhere?" Rey asked.

"No. But I can get by on coffee until lunch," Punk explained.

"But we don't know when we're getting lunch," Shawn reminded him. "We're flying home today."

"And they always forget to serve us food at lunchtime on airplanes," Jeff whined, jumping up and down and stomping his converse.

"That's because these two tanks here look like they could eat the airline out of house and home," Cena said, jabbing his thumb back at Kane and Big Show.

"No offense, you two."

"None taken," they said at the same time.

Rey took one more look at Punk's coffee. "No, man, eat some carbs before you keel over and die," Rey advised. "Here. Take one."

"Okay…" Punk caved and selected a bar.

They all sat down on the curb together, Rey in the middle with Punk and various others to his left, and Shawn and more wrestlers to his right.

They all grabbed a bar (except for Show and Kane, who each needed two) and gnawed away at the deliciousness.

"So, Rey, have you given any thought to how you would prefer all of us to relate to you from now on?" Punk asked, biting into his super chocolatey chocolate chocolate chip Cliff bar.

"You're a regular gothic Shakespeare, Punk, that was fuckin' eloquent as hell," Cena complimented.

"Thank you," Punk responded.

Rey sat chewing thoughtfully for a second. Batista watched him discreetly.

"I'm still considering it."

"When do you think you'll be ready to tell us you final decision on the whole issue?" Punk questioned calmly.

"Well…maybe next Friday after Smackdown. I need some time to be with my family and let it all sink in. I need to take some time to adjust. You guys have had years to think of me the way you do," Rey reminded them.

They all considered that.

"But I've only had a few days to think of you guys thinking of me the way you do. If that makes any sense," Rey finished a little awkwardly.

"Yeah, okay. That sounds fair," Punk agreed. "You can bring it up when you're ready next Friday."

"Thanks."

"What about Batista?" Jeff blurted.

Awkward silence. Dave was not known for his way with words, so it was up to Rey to do all the talking for the both of them.

"Well…we made amends. Right?" Rey smiled hopefully at Batista.

Batista smiled back. "Yeah."

"I mean, what do we do with him?" Jeff asked.

"What do you mean? Like…stick him in a zoo? Ship him to China? Roast him and eat him? What the fuck are you talking about? Please be more specific than that," Rey complained.

"I mean, how do we deal with Batista beating everybody to a bloody pulp all the damn time?" Cena clarified.

"Yeah!" Randy said.

Rey exhaled and stared at Dave. Dave just stared back at him. They couldn't think of a solution.

"Anger management."

It was Triple H who said it (because maybe he'd been to some?).

Rey's eyes slowly widened. A sugary grin stretched out across his face and Batista saw the light bulb go on above his head.

He gawked at him. "Rey!" he protested.

"You know you need it, Dave," Rey said in his fatherly tones.

Batista grumbled, "I don't want any fucking goddamn anger management…"

Rey ignored him and turned to Triple H. "Can you think of anybody who would work well with Dave?"

"Well, I took a bunch of classes," Triple H started. (I was right! He had had some!)

"I made him," Shawn put in.

"Shawn made me take a bunch of classes," Triple H continued. "From this one lady. You'll like her. Her name's Adalia Jimenez. She's a psychiatrist."

"Those are the ones with medical degrees, right?" Rey asked.

"Yeah."

"I suggest shock therapy, Dave. Have the nice lady taze you all day," Triple H teased.

"Her name's Jimenez?!" Shawn asked, chuckling.

"Yeah, that's right," Triple H said, picking up on HBK's twisted train of thought as always.

"That's exactly what you need, a crazy Latino lady to assist with your problems crushing on your spicy Latino man, here," Shawn said, laughing. "Maybe the two of you can trade stories about your love lives."

Batista proceeded to melt into the concrete out of sheer embarrassment.

Rey rolled his eyes.

"Mmm, girl, I know just what you're saying about those sexy hombres," Cena said, impersonating a Latina with a bad attitude.

Rey smacked Cena's forehead playfully.

"What is wrong with all of you…?!" he groaned.

"Rey, whatever happened to all those fan mail packages you had?" Shawn asked Rey all of a sudden.

"I Fed-Exed them to my house from the hotel's address. Why?"

"Come on, Rey-Rey, you know what I'm asking you…" Shawn sang to him.

"No, I doooon't," Rey answered back in a singsong voice.

"What are you asking him?" Batista demanded.

Shawn rolled his eyes. "You guys take the subtlety out of everything. Oh, well. I was wondering if our sweet little Prince Charming here had to pay the costs of shipping and handling."

Rey blinked at him. "Shipping and whah?"

They all stared at him.

Rey burst out laughing, unable to keep a straight face any longer. "Oh, that was great…I had you guys going there for a minute."

He had trouble catching his breath he was laughing so hard.

Shawn stared at him, not amused. "Oh, ha ha ha."

Rey caught his breath but couldn't wipe the smile from his face. "Of course I had to pay shipping and handling."

"What are you even going to do with all those things? It'll take you forever just to unwrap them," Batista pointed out.

Rey smiled. "Well, I'm gonna have my kids help me out. It'll be like Christmas morning."

**

They weren't even close to missing their flight. They all stood around at the airport warily for two hours.

Don't break down, plane, don't break down, they all thought collectively.

Kane and Big Show had an epic rock-paper-scissors tournament.

Randy fell asleep and Jeff poked at him and made him say even more hilarious food words in his sleep while Jericho watched in awe.

Shawn, Triple H, Batista and Cryme Tyme had a huge card game.

C.M. Punk got out his ipod and shared head phones with Rey.

They all scrambled onto the airplane when it arrived.

Triple H carried Randy in and tossed him into a seat and Punk shook his head exasperatedly and buckled the unconscious body in so he didn't fly around the cabin when the plane took off.

There were two seats together, so Kane sat with Big Show, Cryme Tyme sat together, Jeff sat next to Randy's body, Cena sat with Jericho and Triple H sat with Shawn. There was a seat open next to Punk and another next to Batista. Rey looked from one to the other, torn. Punk winked at Rey and waved him over towards Dave.

"Go," he mouthed.

Rey smiled gratefully and sat next to Batista.

"Cross your fingers that we don't explode out of the sky," Rey said as he sat down.

Batista laughed. "Does Angie still have to tell you every time that your plane's not gonna go down?"

"Every time my flight gets delayed with so many problems, yeah."

The flight went smoothly (without any explosions, too!) but Cena was right, the flight attendants took one look at the horde of enormous wrestlers and decided not to risk offering food to them. So they went without lunch until they landed.

Shawn peeked out from his aisle seat towards the end of the flight to see how Rey and Batista were doing. He broke into a grin and elbowed Triple H.

Triple H leaned out too and couldn't help but smile.

They both rallied all the guys' attention, silently pointing forward.

Everyone snuck a glance and stifled a giggle.

Rey had fallen asleep on Batista's shoulder, his mouth slightly open, breathing quietly. He stirred every once in a while, snuggling closer onto Batista's soft, gray pullover hoodie.

Batista was smiling contently and mutely turned the pages of his book.

Shawn snapped a photo of them when they weren't looking.

**

Rey spent about a week with his family, sleeping in, doing laundry, getting tackled by his children, and getting romantic with Angie.

He considered telling her his dilemma with the guys and decided he might as well be honest about what Shawn had needed all of his information for.

When he told her the whole thing, Angie just sighed at him and said, "Oh, so they finally told you, did they? That's the real reason why you were so upset; it's not that the town was so small."

Rey nearly fainted again.

Just when he thought he'd been shocked enough already, he was struck with the realization that women know everything all the time. Angie knew everything about her husband, even things that he hadn't known about himself (as well as some things he probably still has yet to discover). So he just let that go out of sheer terror of the omnipotent power that is women communicating with other women and finding out everything that has ever occurred since the dawn of time.

So when Rey came back to Smackdown next Friday he was still unsure of what to say. He walked into the locker room and everyone was silent with tension.

"Hey, Triple H. Did you get your tan on over break?"

Triple H shook his head. "Uh, no, why?"

Rey shrugged. "I don't know. Your skin looks kinda…glowy today. It's nice," he said and smiled sweetly.

"Thanks, man," Triple H murmured and turned tomato red.

The exfoliating gel had worked!!!

He went to open his locker and saw something. He smiled subtly and traced his gloved fingertip around the new star sticker adorning his locker's surface. It was pink with shiny silver borders.

C.M. Punk peeked at Rey and smiled.

Rey thought for a moment.

We all like you, Rey, and for some of us it's like an infatuation. And for some of us it's like an addiction. But we all care about you, and if you feel uncomfortable, we'll stop drooling over you.

Rey believed that Punk would cease his infatuation if Rey asked him to. He was Straight Edge, so he definitely had the self-discipline to stop. But most of the others lacked that control. In fact, Rey's constant guidance was what provided a lot of the guys with any control at all. Rey gave them a sense of stability in their lives. Maybe their obsession with him was a good thing. Maybe he was a positive influence on them.

Well, he hadn't been a positive influence on Dave, but that seemed to be an exception to the rule.

But we're not all like Dave. Punk had said.

Some of us just want to be friends with you, Rey, that's it.

Rey turned to look around the locker room and they all quickly and unconvincingly returned to their own business.

He thought for a moment. He looked back at the star sticker and considered what his life would be like if the guys stopped trying to cheer him up when he needed it.

What if he looked different? What if he stopped being nice?

The whole time, he'd thought of all this attention, all of his cute looks as a burden.

But then he knew. He knew that if he weren't the way he was, if he didn't look and act the way he did, nobody else would be able to pull off what he could. No one could take his place as a father figure and caregiver to all of the other wrestlers. Nobody could pull off laughing and crying and joking with the others as easily as Rey could.

And Rey knew all of a sudden that he was lucky. He could go up to any man, woman or child he ever wanted to and offer a hug whenever he felt like it. Any of the other guys would catch hell about that. He could wear pink and pastels and footie pajamas and eat candy and buy teddy bears and hold puppies and kitties. He could do whatever he wanted to, because he could pull it off. (He might even be able to wear a skort or a skirt, but he didn't want to risk trying it out.)

And so Rey Mysterio recognized that his looks, his height, were not a burden.

They liberated him.

He turned to everyone. They all watched him hopefully.

"I've decided what to do about how you guys feel about me."

They all listened intently, silently.

He continued. "I don't mind all of you paying attention to me. I can't return any romantic feelings, so I am sorry for that, but I do love all of you as my friends."

"So you don't mind gifts and things?" Jeff asked.

Rey shook his head. "Just don't tell me if you're daydreaming about me. That means you, Shawn."

HBK giggled maniacally.

"No flirting and no romantic touching, okay?" Rey clarified.

They all nodded.

"And no kidnapping!" Batista added.

"Aw, damn it," Cena said sarcastically.

Rey rolled his eyes. "Ah, Dios mio, this is going to take some getting used to."

But he was smiling.