Weeks passed by, and things between John and Randy were… ok. They continued to wrestle each other at OVW, that was a give in, but after their day was over? While they thought for sure they were back on track, they found things to grow progressively awkward between them. Both John and Randy would think back to that conversation they had in Randy's apartment. John swore to himself that he had been talking about Ramen when he said, "Show me what you're workin with," but the more he thought about it, the less sure he became. So, they would sometimes hang out and play cards (rummy was a favourite of theirs) and once in a rare while would go out drinking, but neither would let themselves get too drunk. And if they did find themselves a little tipsy, they would turn to Dave so as to avoid the other.

That was until one day after a show when John said, "Fuck this, Randy. I thought we resolved whatever shit we had between us."

Randy's eyes shifted back and forth from John to the floor, not wanting to say anything, but thinking the same thing. He could only agree, "Yeah…"

"So, you know what we gotta do?" John asked.

Randy arched a questioning eyebrow and replied, "No, what?"

"We need to go to the bar tonight, Thirsty Thursday, and all that, and get shit faced. Get things back to normal. Please?"

Randy thought about it for a second before replying back, "You buying?"

"Is that what it'll take?"

"Probably not, but it wouldn't hurt the cause."

"I guess I can sacrifice a little for the cause. Just don't drink me outta my rent for this week, ok?"

"I'll try, but when I have a fifteen dollar limit—"

"Hey," John cut him off, "my rent is more than fifteen bucks a week."

"Then your landlord is ripping you off."

"Are you two finally speaking again," Dave asked as he walked by them in the locker room. It looked to him as though he had gotten there just in time, because John was flipping Randy off for whatever he had just said. "Shit, the way you two were acting it was like you had fucked then tried to pretend it never happened." He saw John and Randy make eye contact for a brief second before they quickly looked away. "Wait, you two didn't fuck, did you?"

"No!" Randy shot back to him.

"Where the fuck did you get that idea?" John asked, a hint of anger coming through his voice.

Dave held up his hands in defense and said, "Hey, I just call it like I see it. You guys coming out tonight, though?"

"Yeah," John answered, speaking for the both of them.

"Good. I guess I'll see you at Tommy's, I'm going there now," Dave said, grabbing his gear and leaving the room.

"See ya," John said while Randy just waved and said, "Yup."

"Dave's crazy. He obviously doesn't know what he's talking about."

"Right," Randy agreed. "Totally and completely insane. So, are you good and ready to head over to Tommy's?"

"Well, I don't really want to bring my shit to the bar, and I'm sure as hell not leaving it here."

"Bring it back to my place," Randy suggested.

"Ok," John said with a smile that lit up his entire face. He was sure this was what they needed to kick their friendship back into gear.

"Now that that's settled, let's go get drunk."

The two left for Randy's apartment, chatting back and forth, knowing they were actually back to where they left off. Once they dumped their stuff, they headed to Tommy's, spotting Dave instantly and sandwiching him between them at the bar.

"We," Randy said, gesturing back and forth between John and himself, "think you're crazy."

John nodded along with Randy, at the same time gesturing for the bar tender to get their orders. "Yup, you're crazy." The three ordered their dollar beers before resuming their conversation.

Dave smiled, "So, the Dream Team is back. Now, why do you say that?"

Randy raised an eyebrow, "The Dream Team?" Dave only shrugged in response, so Randy answered Dave's question, "We," he started, again gesturing between John and himself, "definitely do inot/i want to fuck each other."

"I never said you wanted to."

"But you insinuated it," John said. "Maybe you should get your eyes checked, because last I knew, I was a dude, Randy's a dude, and I don't want to have sex with another dude." John leaned back onto the bar, taking a deep swallow from his cup.

"Hey, man, I think you're reading way too much into my little comment."

"Or maybe you're just crazy."

Dave rolled his eyes and drank from his own cup, "Yeah, sure, Randy, I'm crazy. Forget I ever said anything. I didn't know what I was talking about, anyway. Because I'm crazy." He let his eyes graze over the crowd before they stopped on a thin blonde woman sitting at a table. "Ok, the crazy guy has… important matters to attend to. Have fun, you two." And with that, he left them at the bar.

"Can you believe that guy's still married?"

"Doubt it'll be for much longer… So," John said before finishing off his first beer, "what's up?"

"What's up? Is that all you can think of as a conversation starter?"

"Nope. There's always how's it goin'? Or what's crackin'?"

"Oh, God, please inever/i say what's crackin' again."

"Not a fan?"

"No. God no." Randy downed the rest of his drink, getting a second one as soon as he placed his cup on the counter.

John drank half of his second beer before asking, "You ever gonna answer my question?"

"Hmm?" Randy hummed out, cup still in his mouth.

"What's up?"

Placing his cup back down on the counter, he answered, "Same ol, same ol… Ya know, doing the wrestling thing, picking up hot women at the bars, wrestling some more, drinking, can't forget the drinking or the hot women. And the wrestling, doing quite a bit of that. What about you?"

"Sounds pretty much the same…"

"Well, let's be honest, it's not like there's a lot more than that to do around here."

"Very true," John agreed, tipping his cup towards Randy before finishing it off. He ordered a third drink just as Randy finished his second. "Don't forget, no drinking me out of rent money."

"Yeah, sure." John suddenly smirked at him, and he raised a questioning eyebrow. His question was answered, however, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Slowly he turned around in his seat and came face to face with a woman, brown eyes, brown hair, tanned skin, a knockout. "Hello," he said to her, trying to keep his voice level, though it still sounded as though he was slightly pissed that someone had the audacity to interrupt him when he was in the middle of a conversations, hot as she may be.

"Hey. I think I've seen you around here before."

"Probably, I'm in here at least once a week."

"Thirsty Thursday is the only reason to ever come in here."

"Yup," he agreed, deliberately trying to avoid talking to her. He had been in a conversation with John, shouldn't he be more important than some girl that just walked up to him. Wait a second, he thought to himself, this girl is ihot/i and yet iJohn/i suddenly becomes more important? When he realized that she was still talking to him, he snapped his attention back to her, "Sorry, what was that?"

She dropped her hand from his shoulder and huffed, "Nothing. Just forget it." She walked away, looking for some new target.

"Way to go, Randy," John said, amused.

"What?"

"She was practically begging you to get into her pants. You blew that one. What was going on up in that head of yours?"

"I wasn't really feeling her."

"You're such a fucking liar."

"You're just upset that she didn't go to you after she was done with me. Besides, you don't interrupt someone when they're in the middle of a conversation…"

"Wait, are you trying to tell me that talking to me is more important to you than getting some? Randy, that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me. However, you're still a dumbass."

"Ortons are not dumbasses."

John placed his empty cup on the counter and another one was immediately given to him. As he started on beer number five, he said, "Yeah, sure. You keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better."

"I'll let you know that my father would resent that statement."

"You're the one that brought your entire family into the mix. I just said iyou/i were a dumbass."

Randy gulped down the nearly full cup of beer in front of him and got himself another. "I do know one thing, five beers in half an hour, if we keep going at this rate, we'll iboth/i be dumbasses by the end of the night."

"I can drink to that," John said, lifting his cup in a toast.

"Here, here," Randy agreed, bringing their cups together.

Another hour rolled along before Randy said, "Shit, have I reached my fifteen drink limit?"

"I fucking told you," John replied, his words slurring together and his accent becoming stronger, "that you can have more than that if you want it."

"I probably shouldn't, but I can't pass up that offer." He finished his drink and got another one. But, before he started on it, he, for the fifth time that night, got up to go to the bathroom. "I'll be right back."

"Yup."

While Randy was gone, a woman came over and sat in his seat, obviously to flirt with John. However, before she could open her mouth, John said, "You probably shouldn't sit there."

"Why not? There's no one here."

"He just left to take a leak. Just trust me on this one."

She shrugged, then moved from Randy's empty seat to John's lap. "Is this better?"

"Yeah, this works." Her arm wrapped around John's big shoulders and she continued to talk to him, although John was feeling pretty hazy at that point and wasn't listening too closely.

When Randy came back and took his seat, the girl pouted at him, saying, "He told me I couldn't sit there because you'd get angry."

"Fucking right," he said, once again annoyed that someone was taking their attention away from each other.

"What's your problem?" she asked him.

John brought his free hand to his face and shook his head. This could not end well.

"For starters—"

"Randy, just leave it."

"She asked, I'd like to answer."

"We don't need some fight breaking out, ok?"

The girl looked back and forth between John and Randy, formulating her own ideas about the situation she found herself in. She slid off John's lap and pouted some more, adding, "You could have just told me you weren't interested," before walking off, shooting another glare at Randy.

"Oh, man, you got burned."

"What the fuck was that about? I was very much interested. But, dude, she fucking hated you."

"Did she think I was trying to steal you away from her, or some crazy shit like that. Oh, shit." Randy scratched his head, looking towards John, "Maybe she did think that."

"Then she's just as insane as Dave."

"Yup… You should move in with me," Randy suggested out of the blue.

"Huh?"

A very drunk Randy tried to rationalize what he meant by it, "Think about it, right. What's the point in us living in separate buildings, since we're always around each other and we can, you know, save on rent money." Randy nodded, "Yup, much more convenient."

John was silent for a moment, not sure if he was just as insane as Dave or if it was the alcohol, but he was seriously considering the offer. "I dunno, dude. Maybe we should wait to have this conversation when we're not drunk off our asses."

"Or you could just say yes."

"I could do that. But I'm drunk and shouldn't be thinking about anything right now."

"Whatever. I know you'll say yes anyway. God, I feel so gross."

"You're not gonna puke, are you?"

"No, not like that. But you know how you feel when you just have way too much to drink, not just beer, but anything, and you feel all full and don't want to move? That feeling."

"Did you want to go back to your apartment?"

"Not until you answer me."

"Look, let's make a deal. I'll move in as soon as I can find someone who'll move into my place."

"Fuck, no one's gonna wanna move into that fuckin shit hole."

"It's not that bad."

"It's fucking terrible. So it looks like I'll never get a roommate."

"You're better off without one, anyway."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Randy asked, his temper starting to shine through.

"Calm the fuck down. I was just sayin that you're more of the personal space type of dude."

"Oh. Sorry…"

"So, did you want to get back to your apartment? Think you can remember the code this time?"

"Fuck you. See, that's why you should move in. You could remember it, too and we wouldn't have to rely on my drunk ass to remember it all the time."

"I told you, I'll do it if I can talk it over with my landlord to see what I can work out. I mean, I just moved in there a couple months ago, I can't imagine that he'd be too happy if I up and left."

"He's the one that's fucking you over, I say you pack your shit and leave."

"Hell no, I'm not gonna get my ass in trouble for doing something like that. No, I'm gonna give him my notice and make sure you let your landlord know."

"Why, so they can up the rent?"

"Dude, it's their building, they can do what they want."

"But you're gonna move in, right?"

"Holy Christ, you're persistent, aren't you? Yes, I'll move in with you, Randy. Eventually."