Thank you to everyone and many many apologies for the hideously long gap between updates. I tried to do this so many times and kept deleting it. It's pretty much how I wanted it now. I need to get back into my muses heads more…connect with them better. But anyway I will try not to take so long updating the next chapter.

Chapter 25

John flopped back onto the pillow with a sigh, running his fingers through his hair and finding them knotted. Randy said he had washed his hair rather than have Hennigan roll around in his bed with dried vomit, but what the hell did he use to wash it with, Dawn? John closed his eyes and tried to remember the night before but nothing surfaced accept the same old feelings of guilt.

"So tell me why I'm in bed with you?" Hennigan croaked out to Randy who was yawning to wakefulness.

"Randy?" John shook his shoulder and Randy turned to his bed partner, his blue eyes connecting with Hennigan's brown sugar orbs. He sighed and muttered a 'huh?' forcing John to repeat the question once again.

"Oh…" Randy swallowed hard and cast his gaze shamefully downwards and suddenly became very interested in his fingernails. Hennigan narrowed his aching and protesting eyes at the third generation superstar.

"Did we? Oh shit." John murmured dropping his head in hand and willing away the dull throb of the hangover.

"We…did." Randy replied softly. By the tone of his voice and the fact that he was still way too intrigued by his fingernails John knew there was more. He nudged and prodded until Randy finally spilled out the truth and with the events of last night finally made clear John's face colored hot and rouge from embarrassment and anger. Cena knows how I feel about us and he still took advantage of me! However, Cena was not at the moment here, Randy was. John began to turn his rage onto Randy who was maybe not as much to blame as Cena, but still, he could have put a stop to it.

"And you did this, regardless of my feelings, to get to him!" John shouted then winced as his own voice echoed throbbing against his eardrums.

"I know, I know and I'm sorry." Randy met his eyes with John's and waited wondering if John was going to go off on him, but the scowl twisting his face softened and melted away.

"It's not your fault." John sighed, deflated. "I shouldn't have got drunk…and John should have known. Anyway I can tell you're genuinely sorry and you did pick me up off of my trashed ass last night. Thank you, by the way. I guess…I understand. I mean I understand wanting someone so bad and knowing…you'll never have them."

John dropped his head, his eyes stung, the precursor to tears that he was tired of shedding. He knew he needed to move on but it was easier said than done. His feelings still drifted to Mike no matter how much he tried to keep them away from that sore spot.

"You don't think I'll ever get him?" Randy asked quirking an eyebrow.

"It's not that there's anything wrong with you, it's just Cena…he's Cena."

"Well…fuck him. Maybe he's not the person I imagined him to be." Randy gave a shrug, but John knew he was only trying to fool himself. When he looked at Randy he saw a reflection of himself and the same desires of just wanting that certain person to accept them, or in Hennigan's case, to accept him back. Mike is better off with Layfield than me. John takes care of him in ways I never could.

John startled when lips pressed softly and hesitantly against his. He pulled back to quick and hard banging his head against the headboard and sending stars dancing in front of his eyes.

"Randy…mind telling me what you're doing?"

"Sorry. I have no idea." Embarrassed Randy tossed the covers aside and hurried to the bathroom barricading him self within. John figured he better find his way to his own room and rustle up his tooth brush and scrub away the taste of bile and stale alcohol.

Unfortunately, Cena was in the elevator when the doors dinged open. All of John's anger boiled over and before he knew what had came over him he was in the elevator shoving Cena against the wall, nose to nose, all but biting his head off.

"Hey, John whoah!" Cena threw up his hands in a gesture of peace trying to ward of a confrontation in which Hennigan would not benefit from, being the smaller of the two.

"If you ever try to touch me again I will make you sorry you ever saw me. I told you once and more than once John!" Hennigan bellowed before surprising himself with his own strength and launching Cena off his feet and onto his ass in the hallway. "Stay the fuck out of my life!"

The elevator doors closed with Cena watching Hennigans' face twist into a scowl and glimmer with tears of rage and hurt. John leaned against the elevator wall and watched Cena's stunned face disappear as the doors slid shut, wishing Cena would really disappear for ever.

"I have a meeting." Layfield snapped, annoyed that his partner had slept through the alarm. He sat up in bed combing his fingers through his chestnut hair and willing his lips not to snarl up in anger. Mike didn't even move, mumble, or snore. "Wake up damn it!"

Before he could control his fist, he found it connecting with the small of Mike's back…but it did work. His younger counterpart was up and squinting at the clock, taking a moment to realize he had slept let.

Hissing curses under his breath Mike hurried out of bed and to the kitchen where he should have already had John's breakfast waiting for him. It was a ritual he should have gotten down in his sleep by now. He had screwed it up once before and paid for it with a sore jaw from the behemoth slap John had laid against his face. Trying to not let the fear of punishment scatter his thoughts like leaves on the wind, Mike pulled open a cabinet and grabbed a pan placing it on the immaculate stainless steel burner. He gave a quick glance over his shoulder and found himself puffing out a relieved breath that he didn't even realize he had been holding.

How the hell did I sleep through the alarm? John's right…I'm an idiot.

His legs felt wobbly from the stress of displeasing his lover and he took a moment to lean on the marble counter and steady himself. One hand disappeared behind his back and rubbed at it hoping to massage away some of the soreness. The punch to the spine wasn't the only thing causing his back to throb. John had gotten increasingly rougher and more violent in bed and Mike was often left in pain feeling ravaged and half dead from the force of his lover. Often times he ended up with bruises blackening his ass and finding it hard or near impossible to sit the next day. Last night was one of those nights and his back still ached from John pounding into him until he thought he would collapse.

Shaking those thoughts away and forcing his focus back on John's breakfast, which was where it belonged, he reached for the fridge and pulled to door open snatching the carton of eggs. He stopped as anxiety shot through his body...the carton felt much too light. Flipping the top open Mike's face drained of color. His chest suddenly became tight constricting with panic. What kind of dumbass puts an empty egg carton in the refrigerator? Me, that's who. What was he supposed to do about John's breakfast? Thoughts raced through his mind confusing him as to make a simple decision to go to the store and buy some or make something else. The panic was to overwhelming for him to straighten his thoughts out. Calm down, please calm down…

Mike sat at the table bent over it like a mourner and tried to get his breathing back to normal and to keep his nerves from jangling. After a few minutes of fighting with it the panic ebbed away leaving Mike feeling tired and depleted all over again as if he hadn't even went to sleep the night before. He swiped the back of his hand over his forehead smearing it with cold sweat.

He wasn't sure what was happening but this wasn't the first time he had experienced this. There had been a few times when he was with Hennigan that his anxieties would get away from him but since being with John it was happening more and more. He knew John didn't mean for him to feel that way, he didn't mean for him to be scared, he just wanted him to do things right. If that meant a slap or two was needed to straighten him out then it was okay. John loved him, this was for his own good.

Their relationship was a few months old yet Mike had found himself doubting once or twice when John had first struck him, over his clumsiness at spilling wine all over the dinner table. He had sank into a depressed state immediately, his fragile psyche shattered by one simple movement, but really it was nothing. It was only a slap, Mike realized that he should have taken it better instead of malfunctioning over it and falling into a funk. John had made it up anyway, buying him gifts and showering him with affection until his negative feelings drifted away, replaced once more by the certainty that he was loved.

That's exactly why Mike had to be sure to please John, to show him that love back, and to receive John's praise and affections that he desired like a drug. He assured himself that this was okay, John had a hard time showing his feelings, they just needed coaxed out and Mike could do that by pleasing him.

With that in mind Mike finally got his thoughts together and decided to go to their neighbor's a floor down and see if he could borrow some eggs from them. He didn't have time to go to the store and get home before John was out of the shower and truth be told he really didn't like going out by himself anyway. It was just terrifying that he would have to make a choice without John, that someone might see his bruises, that someone might see just how unstable he was becoming. Mike ran his fingers through his hair which was growing longer—John wanted it long—and was still not used to it.

Moments later Mike was at the neighbors' door feeling nervous and exposed and stumbling over his words just to ask for some damn eggs. The woman disappeared back into her penthouse, up turning her nose at the young man in the jeans and sweatshirt. Cursing under his breath Mike tried another neighbor and that one was a little more gracious. Mike waited at the door for the man to come back with two eggs needed to scramble, and not too long or they'd be too tough.

As time slipped by Mike got more and more impatient fearing John would at any moment be out of the shower, dressed, and yelling for him and finding him awol. How long does it take to get eggs from the kitchen, come on! Mike felt a major headache forming and pulling at the backs of his eyes. Just when he was about to turn away and try another door the neighbor reappeared and handed Mike two eggs before giving him a concerned glance.

Mike played it off and hurried back to John who would hopefully not be out of the shower yet. After making it into the kitchen he let out a sigh of relief, only to nearly rocket out of his shoes when John was suddenly behind him demanding to know where he had gone and why he still had no breakfast on the table. Mike's hands clenched over the two eggs he still held and he spun around to face the irate Texan trying to make a sentence but finding all the words jumbled. His hands clenched too tight around the delicate eggshells and he felt them crackle. Oh shit…

John needed to do nothing more than leer down at Mike to have him shuddering. He was in control of the situation immediately. Control was his baby and he knew it inside and out. Though he was pushed nearly to the brink by Mike's idiocy this particular morning he knew he had to reign in some of his rage at least. He didn't want things to escalate too quickly, he wasn't sure how much Mike would put up with before thoughts of leaving seemed the better option than staying and being his bitch.

With sick pleasure Layfield towered over Mike, backing him into the counter and drawing a squeak from him when he realized he was cornered with no where to go like a roach about to get squashed underfoot.

"Michael, where is my breakfast? More importantly, where were you just now?"

John knew Mike couldn't answer him. The twitch of his pretty blue eyes and the wide horror of them told John he was in the grips of panic. He looked ready to shit himself and that thoroughly amused the Texan, his lips even twitched fighting with a smirk.

"Are you gonna answer me boy?" The butt of his hand crashed hard against Mike's face and he knew when he came back from his meeting a new bruise would be puffed up there, just a companion to keep the rest company. Mike was still not saying anything, just whimpering like a sorry puppy. John reached around and pulled the empty skillet off of the stove burner. He knew he shouldn't do it but that dark side of him wanted to hear the thick clang of metal against skull, to see the knot well up under the greasy hair that hung over Mike's forehead, and to watch maybe a trickle of blood drip down his temple.

It wasn't really necessary, he knew Mike wasn't out cheating on him or some crap like that, he didn't have the balls to. He didn't know exactly what Mike was up to, just that it was not fixing his breakfast which did legitimately get under his skin. But Mike was already afraid and obedient, if his fear of pissing John off to the point that he left him alone was not enough, the threat of physical abuse left no room for defiance. He doubted Mike was even able to defy him in the state he was in, dependent and eager to please, not very stable emotionally or psychologically. John could watch the cracks increase weekly, if not daily. I don't care if he doesn't need this…I want it. That's all that matters.

Mike didn't have time to get his arms up as a sheild, he didn't expect John to actually hit him with the utensil, in fact his arm had been dropping as if ready to lower the weapon and even discard it. But obviously that was not the case. Mike found himself on his ass cowered against the cabinents, dazed, his headache throbbing harder than ever. A strange image of JR pounded through his mind yelling over Lawler's trademark hyena shriek: Bah Gawd! He's got 'em with the Frying Pan From Hell! What a slobberknocker!

Mike clutched at his head as John straddled over him smirking down at him, the image of the Texan's thin face and harsh glare piercing through him and doubling blearily.

"What were you doing!" John bellowed, the veins at his temples poking out in their rage.

"Ge-ge-getting you eh--"

"I don't care." John spat. "Just don't let it happen again unless you want a thorough ass whuppin."

John sauntered away, his boots clacking against the tile floor. Mike uncurled his hands and burst into tears, shards of eggshell and mingled with the slimy whites and the broken yolks dripping from his fingers.

Sorry if there are a lot of errors I'm not trying to be careless but I'm really tired. I'm going to read over this tomorrow and fix any errors I can find because yes I do care about the grammatical and/or spelling in my stories lol. Anywhoo…review please. Also just a quick note, if anyone also read the Chris/Adam pairing…the violent one…well please don't think I'm a violent person, since JBL has brought brutality to this story as well. This fic is basically all on the shoulders of my Miz muse and this is just how it goes. As for the other one, it was done as a request from another sight and I didn't intend for it to get as…evil…as it did. I got taken over by Jericho muse…he did it. But trust me that I'm not a violent person in fact I work at a shelter for battered women…which may account for why stuff like this sometimes works its way into my stories. Anyway enough rambling, I'm tired and running off about nonsense. Goodnight and please comment if you feel this chapter was worthy of a few words, lol. *gives everyone gifts of Boogeyman's bag of worms and exclusive luscious pictures of Shawn Micheals.* Lol!!