John rolled over in his bed and his hand came to rest on a firm stomach next to him. Wait a second, had he brought a girl home with him last night? He hadn't thought so. And, well, those certainly didn't feel like abs belonging to any girl he had ever been with. One eye opened slowly, inspecting the scene. As his vision came into focus, he realized it wasn't a girl in bed next to him. It was Randy. He sat up, a little too quickly as his head started pounding, and shouted, "What the FUCK are you doing?"

Randy, who was still pretty out of it, grunted in reply.

That's when John pushed his shoulder, trying to shake him awake. He couldn't believe Randy was in his bed. Why in the blue hell was Randy in his fucking bed? It couldn't be… He wasn't that drunk… Was he? "Randy, wake the fuck up."

"No."

John started to shake him harder, ripping the blanket off the sleeping form. "Get up!"

Randy rolled over, opening his eyes. That's when he realized he was actually in a bed. John's bed. His eyes flew open as he sat up, staring John in the face, "What the fuck is going on?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out. Last night, what happened last night?"

"We went to Callie's, I remember that much. We had a lot to drink…" Randy rubbed his hands against his eyes, trying to clear out his still foggy head and recall the events of last night that led to him and John sharing a bed.

"No shit. What else happened? This can't be what it looks like."

"No," Randy agreed, shaking his head, "I mean, it can't possibly… I'm still clothed, right? So are you. There, nothing happened."

"Yeah. And there would have to be some kind of sexual attraction for anything to happen in the first place. Right?"

"Right, and I'm not into you. And you're not into me. Because we're both straight. We must have been really drunk and I came here because it was closer than my place and ended up passing out on your bed. Simple as that."

"Simple as that," John agreed. "Wait, didn't Dave say something about us looking like some old married couple?"

Randy laughed, "Did he really?" He scratched his head, trying to remember that moment, "Ninja. I remember that. Oh, shit, yeah, now I remember. Why did he even say that?"

"He must have been pretty drunk, too. I mean, we've only known each other for two… make that three days. I don't think we'd be marriage material, especially not for each other."

"I know. He has no idea what he's talking about."

"Yeah, dude…"

Their talking faded into silence. Neither one knew what to say in this situation. Each of them was still trying to figure out exactly ihow/i they ended up in the same bed. They sat on the bed, as far apart from each other as it would allow, in the awkward silence that followed their awakening and brief conversation. It was something they had yet to experience with one another, and neither of them liked the awkward feeling growing between them.

Randy stood up and stumbled over to the wall, sliding down it to sit on the floor, as a memory of last night came crashing back, "Shit."

John's head snapped up, "What?"

"I… It was…"

"What?" John asked, more forceful this time.

"I asked you… It was me that asked if I could… If I could sleep in your bed."

"What?" John asked once again, this time with shock and surprise coming through in his tone.

"I… Shit, I should go."

"Yeah, that might be best."

Randy stood back up from the floor, looking around the room at everything but John, who kept his spot on the bed.

"Umm… I'll see you later," Randy said, unable to say anything else.

"Yeah, see ya," was the only thing John could say in reply.

"Bye," Randy added before walking out of the small bedroom and, finally, the apartment. And, when he left, he had no idea if he would ever be back. His walk back to his place was slow, giving him time to think. He would have to think of a way to get John to forgive him. But, then, as he thought about it, he realized that John played a role in it, too. He didn't tell him he was an idiot for even coming up with such a dumbass idea like sharing the bed. What the fuck kind of grown man shared a bed with another grown man unless they were queer. And he, Randy Orton, was not gay. Sure, in the Marines he had given a number of hand jobs, but that was a different set of circumstances completely. It didn't make him gay. Hell no.

As Randy took his walk, John did not move from the bed. What the hell had just happened? He couldn't let himself believe that he iwanted/i to share a bed with Randy. But, then, wasn't that all they did? Share a bed. It wasn't as though they had had sex with each other. No, it was nothing like that. They were drunk. They were drunk and nothing happened. And if nothing happened when they were drunk, then when would anything ever happen? He couldn't figure out exactly why it was such a big deal for him. Randy was just his friend, and best friends share beds, don't they?

The memory came flooding back to him just then. Randy had said that exact thing last night. He remembered he asked Randy if he wanted to crash at his place again, and Randy agreed. That's when Randy said he was not sleeping on a floor. John threw out a couple other ideas, all of which Randy was dead set against doing. He wanted the bed, and believed that as the guest, he should have gotten it. And that's when Randy suggested sharing. What the fuck had he been thinking, why the hell did he say that was ok? Obviously he wasn't thinking of the next morning. Sure, it stayed innocent enough, but what if, one day, they're both really drunk and really horny, then what? What would that do to their friendship?

There was no contact between John and Randy the rest of that day; they worked out at different times, or they stayed in their own apartments on opposite sides of the town. Which is why it was surprising to the both of them when they ran into each other at a bar in the center of town called Murphy's. When John walked in, he instantly spotted Randy at the bar surrounded by several women. He saw one of them slide her hand up Randy's leg and slip a piece of paper into his pocket. Their eyes caught across the room, and Randy smirked.

So that's how he was gonna go about things, then? Get as many women as possible? Well, if that's how Randy was gonna handle it, two could play that game. Sitting at the opposite end of the bar, he earned himself a nasty look from Randy. And it wasn't long before a girl sat down next to him.

Now Randy looked back at the girl who had been bold enough to slip her number into his pocket, and he let his own hand slide up her thigh. John had always tried to make an effort to try and get to know a girl before getting into her pants. He never went beyond kissing on a first date. But, hell, who was dating? John shot another glare in Randy's direction as he saw the nameless woman whisper something into his ear.

The woman that had sat next to him leaned closer, letting her hand brush over his. "I'm Robin," she told him.

"John," he answered back, now looking over her shoulder to watch Randy and the chick stand up and leave the bar.

Robin turned her head around, following the direction John's eyes were facing and seeing the same sight. "You know one of them?"

"What? Oh, I've only seen him around…" he lied.

"Oh, I thought she was an ex, or something, the way you were staring at them. Looked like you were jealous."

"How could I be jealous when I have you for company?" That got him a smile. He let his exterior relax, but his insides churned. What the fuck was Randy playing at? Sure, he was partially to blame; he was the one that let their new found friendship explode way too fast. But, shit, did he really look jealous? Of whom? Was he that obvious? Could everyone see right through him? But, wait, what was there for him to be jealous of? Jealous of Randy because he was off getting himself some ass? Jealous of that chick because she was getting the time with Randy he wanted?

"Hey, John, where the hell are you tonight?"

"Shit, sorry. It's just… It's been a long day. I'm just tryin' to, ya know, chill. So, yeah, man, I'm sorry if I zone out from time to time. The mind's just racin'."

"Well, why don't you say we get outta here, go back to my place and see if we can take your mind off of things?"

Knowing what Randy was currently doing, wanting to see if this would get his mind off of Randy, he accepted her offer.

When Randy pulled out of her, some woman whose name he couldn't even remember, and rolled onto his back next to her on his bed, he couldn't help but think about what John was doing. He pulled the condom off his limp dick, tied it off and tossed it into the trash bin he kept under the bed. His eyes shut, and when she curled up next to him and he felt her hand spread out over his abs, his mind flashed to that morning. That morning when John's hand fell onto his stomach, and for a brief moment, he felt a spark flash between them.

That was the reason he brought this chick back to his place, to try and get his mind as far away from John as he could. Because there was no way that he was gonna let himself get torn up over some dude he had only known for three fucking days. No, no, no, he would get all thoughts of John out of his head, and if it took beer and women to do that, then he'd do whatever it took.

He let her nuzzle into his neck, place kisses on his face, wrap her small hands around his dick and try and bring it back to hardness. He shook his head, bringing himself back to reality and reached into a nearby drawer to grab another condom.

John went through the motions, but that's all it was. He wasn't thinking about Robin, he was thinking about Randy. Not in her place, but just Randy in general. What they needed to do was talk. They needed to have a civil conversation about them. They needed to talk it out, figure out what was going on with their friendship. There was no way they could let it move at the pace it was currently moving. No, everything had gone too quickly. He never should have let Randy keep calling him his best friend, that was the start of everything.

He closed his eyes as he began to come. When he was done, he pulled out of her and got out of the bed to throw out the used condom. "You could have at least pretended to like it," Robin said to him.

Shit, he hadn't meant for… "I'm sorry. Like I said, long day…" he told her, sitting back down on the edge of the bed.

"Lots on your mind?" John nodded, and she added, "Figured as much. Look, if that chick at the bar really was your ex, and you were just pissed at that dude because he was getting in on the action, you just gotta get over her. Like you said, you hardly know the guy. She was probably just desperate."

Suddenly, unexpectedly, John's temper flared. He wanted to shout at her that Randy was a great guy, that he had no fucking clue who that chick was, that he wasn't jealous of him, but of her, but he couldn't. He had told her that he had only seen the guy once in a while. He pushed his anger down, taking a calming breath. Maybe he should come clean to her? But why get her involved in something that seemed so petty? "I told you, I don't know her. But," and now he had to tell her. He had to now that he opened his fucking mouth, "I do know him."

"Oh?" she asked, intrigued. "You said you had only seen him around."

"I know. But I only met him a couple days ago."

"Then what the fuck are you getting so worked up over?"

John's head fell back against the wall, not knowing how to explain it to her. "Look, Randy and I met at OVW, or, actually, we met iproperly/i at a diner before going to a training session at OVW. Later that night we went out to a bar and he got totally wasted. He started calling me his best friend after knowing me for only a day. I didn't stop him, since I thought it was pretty amusing. Actually, he got so drunk that night he couldn't remember the code to get into his building, so he ended up crashing on my floor. Anyway, the next day we went out. We iboth/i got wasted, and I let him come back to my place again."

"Holy shit," she cut in, "did you have sex with him?" From the way she said it, it actually sounded like she wanted them to have had sex.

"Wait, what? No!"

"Oh… Then what the hell is your problem?"

"I can't even believe I'm telling you all this. Why don't we forget I ever said anything? We can get back to what we were doing before, and this time, I'll more than just pretend to like it, ok?" John asked, rolling over and resting a hand on her hip

"Fuck no. Not until you tell me why you were so spaced out the first time around."

"I'm sure you don't want to hear it."

"You'd be surprised. Now spill."

"Fine. We were drunk; he refused to sleep on the floor again and suggested we share the bed."

"Sounds hot."

"When we woke up this morning, neither of us remembered the night before, we had no idea why he was in my bed."

"Did you think you two had sex? If you two really were just friends, then why the fuck would it matter if you shared a bed? You were drunk, if you knew that there was no interest between either of you for each other, then who really cares?"

"When I was starting to wake up," John said, taking a deep breath before admitting his thoughts to her, "I rolled over and my hand fell onto his stomach."

"And what? Did the world end because you touched another man? You go to that wrestling school, aren't you used to guys feeling you up all the time?"

"This was different. Look, shit, I'm sorry, I talked too much. I should really get back to my place."

"Why bother? You're already here, we've already seen each other naked, what's spending the night gonna do? You'll figure out whatever it is that's eating at you about this guy. One drunk night won't make one bit of difference. Nothing happened, no one got hurt, you'll get over it. Now, what do you say we put that little conversation behind us, pretend it never happened, and I'll try and get your mind off things again? And really, feel free to spend the rest of the night; I won't be kicking you out."