"What the hell did you think you were doing?" Edge growled, his hands planted firmly on his hips as he glared at Lita. The two of them had been arguing in their locker room; towels and shirts were strewn across the room, evidence of their tempestuous quarrel. "An accidental hit with the belt the other week – that I can accept, seeing as it didn't cost us too much. But twice? Do you think I'm dumb? Even you're not clumsy enough toscrew up our matchestwo weeks in a row! Just what, exactly, do you think you're playing at?"

"I already told you, Edge!"the female wrestlerprotested, her hands held up in a gesture of exasperation. "I made a mistake, okay? I never meant to hurt you like that! Why would I even want to?"

"Maybe you've decided that you prefer Cena to me."

"Now you're just being paranoid! John Cena is nothing but a washed-up athlete who thinks he can rap – and besides, he's head-over-heels about that bitch Maria..."

"Who gives a crap about Maria?"

"I do, if she's getting in the way and messing up your chance to get that belt back! Why are you being so angry with me? Why is this bothering you so much?"

"You screwed Matt Hardy over, Lita– who's to say you won't do the same to me? You've been so distant lately!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Lita rolled her eyes and threw up her hands in frustration. "If you keep on talking to me like that, of course you're going to push me away! Just leave it, alright?"

"No, it's not alright!" Edge raged, his hands balling into fists. "I've been with you long enough to recognise when there's something up! There's something you're not telling me, and I want to know what it is! Tell me what's going on, Lita! Tell me why the hell you're being such a stuck-up, secretive little bitch!"

"Fine. You want a reason for what's been happening for the past few weeks? I'll tell you." Lita took a step back, folding her arms defensively across her chest and tossing her hair defiantly back from her scowling face. "I saw you the other week, Edge. I saw you and Triple H."

"What?"

"You heard me. I saw you after the Royal Rumble. I saw the two of youeating each other as ifyour lives depended on it. When, exactly, were you planning on telling me that you'd gone gay?"

"I am not gay!" Edge spluttered, his mouth agape. His cheeks flushed adeeper shade of scarlet, although whether from anger or embarassment, Lita couldn't tell. "I can explain everything, Lita! Just because you saw me and Triple H kissing doesn't mean that I've gone gay or anything! You know what he's like, the way he tried to bend Batista to his will! He was just trying to mess me around, but I told him where to go, so I don't want you thinking we were planning on eloping to Vegas or anything stupid like that..."

"What was I supposed to think?" Lita countered, her lips drawn into a thin line of disapproval. "I don't want you to see Triple H anymore if that kind of stuff happens. If you're going to leave me for another man, I think I should be the first to know."

"I already told you, Lita, that's not what's happening!"

"And I already told you that I don't have a thing for Cena, so stop being so fucking paranoid." With a triumphant smirk, she strode towards the door, pausing only to cast a glance behind her at her angry lover. "Now, you can stay here and sulk if you like, but I've got other things to do. Call me when you've cooled down."

Lita closed the door behind her with a deceptively calm 'click', making Edge give another irritated snort andcausing him totug angrily at his messy hair. He wouldn't be surprised if she was off to stare atCena again - shewas interested in Cena becausehe had the belt, he was sure of it. If she wanted to play dirty, he'd make damn sure she wouldn't get away with it; but for now, he hadto run some errands of his own.

Things were getting a little better for Triple H. He'd won his match against Flair, allowing him to get through to the next round of theRoad To Wrestlemaniatournament, and it amused him to watch the other wrestlers flailing around in an attempt to win a WWE belt for themselves. Maybe one day they'd realise that he, the Game, was infinitely superior to them, and thatany beltwas rightfully his – but until then, he'd teach them a lesson the hard way, and laugh at their mistakes.

There was the issue of Edge, too. If Triple H had his pick of anyone, he'd obviously select Batista to be his lover, but since that dream had long-since flown, he'd have to make do; and as far as making do went,the hairy little bastardwasn't a bad choice. He was relatively good-looking, Triple H supposed; maybe he could do with a haircut, a shave and a manicure, but his physique was near-perfect, and his bold attitude appealed to the Game's sense of cut-throat determination. Besides, now that Triple H had played his opening hand, it was entertaining to watch Edge squirm every time he walked past.

"Triple H." Edge suddenly stepped out from behind a pile of crates, briefly startling the Game and totally derailing his train of thought. "Trips. Hey. Can we – uh – can we talk?"

"Sure, if you need to." The Game smirked and patted Edge patronisingly on the shoulder. "What's up, Fido? Still feeling lonely?"

"Don't give me that crap." Edge immediately stiffened and pulled away. "Besides, I thought you said you were the lonely one around here. And don't call me Fido! Anyway, I didn't come here so you could laugh at me – I need to have a word with you."

"About Lita, right?" The larger wrestler could tell by Edge's nervous stance that this was supposed to be a secret conversation.

"Yes, about Lita. If she knows I'm here talking to you, she'll try and kick my ass." He cast a furtive glance left and right as if checking to see whether they were being watched. "She saw us the other week, Trips! She saw you shoving your tongue down my throat, and now she thinks I'm gay or something!"

"Okay, so she saw more than she should have done." Triple H shrugged. "What do you want me to do about it?"

"How can you stand there so calmly and say that?" Edge shook his head in disbelief. "How can you just stand there and not care that my girlfriend watched us touching each other like a couple of hormonal teenagers?"

"I guess I learned to stop caring what people think about me and my lovers. When the two guys in question are several-hundred-pound wrestling champions, you should know better than to object. I mean, let's face it, we all saw what happened when you tried to mess with Randy and Batista… and with me."

"Okay, maybe that does make a difference." Grudgingly, Edge was forced to agree. "But that's not what matters here. The point is, my girlfriend is majorly pissed at me, and it's all your fault!"

With an angry snarl, Edge gave Triple H an almighty shove which sent him staggering backwards into a pile of equipment; he was forced to throw his hands out to steady himself, and in doing so only succeeded in bringing down yet more crates on top of himself. For a brief moment, Edge seemed aghast at what he had done – but with a determined scowl, he threw himself back into the fray, raising his fists to pummel at the Game with all he had to offer.

"It's all your fault, you asshole!" the smaller wrestler sneered. "Lita's going to leave me for that hip-hop hobo because you tried to hump my leg! I hope you're happy, you good-for-nothing piece of shit!"

"Get the hell off of me!" Triple H yelled, thrusting dented crates from his prone body and trying to dislodge Edge from his chest. With another shout, he managed to push the smaller wrestler away and stumble to his feet, staring back at him with a stern glare. "Just listen to yourself, Edge! You're insane!"

"I'm insane?" the feral wrestler screamed, charging back towards the Game. "You're the one who thinks you can lord it around the whole of the WWE doing whatever the fuck you want! You're the one who gets off on being a complete man-whore and shagging your way around the whole federation!"

"That is it!" the larger wrestler roared, reaching out to grab Edge by the wrists and spinning him around forcefully to face him. "I have had enough of your crazy accusations and your bullshit! Just because you can't be comfortable with yourself doesn't mean you have to keep taking out your sexual frustration on me!"

Edge said nothing, instead just glaring at Triple H with a hateful snarl, his teeth bared. He tugged at the Game's arm as if trying to break away, but the other wrestler proved stronger, refusing to let his opponent escape. They were closer than ever now, the two of them able to feel each others' heartbeats, see their chests rising and falling as their breathing quickened; defiantly, Edge held Triple H's smouldering gaze, daring him to do something, daring him to make a move - but to his surprise, it wasn't the Game that made any indecent advances.

It was him.

With a guttural growl, Edge found himself leaning forward, leaning in to the bigger man's body; his lips met warm flesh, pressing themselves against Triple H's neck, nipping and biting at his skin, his tongue flicking out to taste the thin sheen of sweat that had formed there. The Game purred in response, releasing the smaller wrestler's wrists so that his hands could slide down his back and draw him close,capturing the two of them in a tight embrace; in a mere few moments, the two of them became lost in each other, their fingers stroking and touching at bare flesh and loose hair, their mouths locked in a passionate kiss punctuated only by loud moans and murmurs of desire.

Slowly, daringly, one of Edge's hands reached for Triple H's leg, his fingers trembling as they snaked towards his trunks, touching at the sheer material and pausing daringly at the waistband; the larger man gave a grunt of assent, indicating that his companion should go further, that he should risk giving up everything forthis minuteof reckless passion...

"Um... guys?" A female voice cut in, completely destroying the moment. "Have either of you seen Cena?"

"Maria!" Edge and Triple H yelled, pulling themselves apart and both blushing a deep, deep shade of scarlet. It was one thing for Triple H to come to terms with his sexuality, but to get almost get caught - quite literally - with his pants down was enough to make even him feel self-conscious. "What the hell? Can't you find him yourself?"

"I was with him, but he went off to get me an ice-cream and I haven't seen him since..."

"Oh, great." Edge scowled and glared at the woman. "Look, honey, it's not my fault your man abandoned you - although, frankly, if my girlfriend was as dumb as you, I'd do the same thing. So why don't you just run along and go ask someone else, yeah?"

"O-okay..." Evidently Maria realised she had made a mistake in asking these two men for help, and tottered away with more than a few backward glances.

"So... where were we...?" Triple H grinned, having recovered his composure enough to talk again. "I think we were just getting to the good part..."

"Forget it!" Edge snapped, shoving the larger wrestler away. "As far as I'm concerned, what just happened never happened - or something - so you'll just have to go and play with someone else, alright? I've had enough of you!" He kicked angrily at a dislodged crate and stormed off, his face still burning with shame.

"You've had enough of me?" Triple H chuckled to himself as the other man stomped away. "I don't think so. I think your problem is that you haven't had anywhere near enough..."

Trying to cool himself off with a cold shower, Edge was doing his best to try and sort out all of the warring thoughts which were threatening to take over his mind. What had he been thinking when he'd suddenly leaned forward and kissed Triple H again? He wasn't gay; he knew that for sure, seeing as his heart still skipped a beat every time Lita walked into the room. But, then again, Triple H had had that thing with Stephanie McMahon a few years back, and Randy and Dave had both had girlfriends, too. Maybe he liked both men and women...

Oh, did it really matter? He had Lita and that was what counted. At least, he hoped he still had Lita. It would be just like Maria to track Cena down and tell him everything she'd seen between him and Triple H, and if Cena found that out, there'd be hell to pay. John Cena would be arrogant enough to think he could take on both him and the Game at the same time, which would cause no end of hassle - and if Lita discovered that he'd been messing around with Triple H again, the least he could hope for would be a swift kick in the balls.

And, on top of all that, he still didn't have the belt.

God dammit, things really sucked right now.