He couldn't breathe. At least, he felt like he was suffocating as the body pressed down on him. Bigger than him. Always bigger and strong, rough fingers wrapped around his throat and then he really was suffocating, gasping for air-

Randy woke with a start, sitting up in bed. His breath came out in sharp, little bursts and he brought his hands up, digging them into his scalp, trying to calm his heart and his breath. When he glanced around the room, he had a moment of disorientation before he remembered the night before.

He could hear the shower going through the closed bathroom door and he was grateful Cena wasn't in the room at that moment.

He sat on the bed for several minutes as familiar feelings invaded his chest. He hated it. He hated that feeling. He hated the dreams. He hated the way they made him feel. He hated even more that they weren't just dreams.

He'd never told anyone about them and he was so stupid…staying the night in Cena's room for the second time. He was lucky he hadn't woken the same way the last time. Rage welled as his mind went into flashback mode.

He did the only thing he could think to do. He bolted. He stood, grabbed his shoes and left the room before the shower turned off.

Xxxxxxxx

The mood back stage was decidedly somber when John made his way into the arena for RAW. He wasn't surprised. The end of the show would mark Shawn Michaels farewell speech and Shawn had been around a long time.

John's mind was elsewhere, though. He'd woken up that morning with Randy still wrapped around him and he had liked that feeling. He'd liked the feeling of the man's arm around his stomach, of his head above John's heart.

John had lain there for several minutes, not wanting to get up, not wanting to extract himself from Randy's grip. It was all he could think about…his changing relationship with Randy. It had felt right, having Randy in his bed.

Then, when he'd gotten into the shower and all he could imagine while he'd…relieved himself was Randy joining him, was Randy stepping under the water with him and wrapped those long fingers around him, he simply couldn't ignore it anymore.

The problem was, when he'd gotten out of the shower, Randy had been gone.

John skirted past the people in the halls. He wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone else. He was agitated, even worried. In the weeks since he and Randy had started the strange new friendship, Randy hadn't once ran from his presence. In fact, John had gotten insight into just who Randy was outside the ring. He had been beginning to think that the guy who kicked people in the skull was a different person.

If anything, John wanted to learn more about this other person. The one who liked B-rated horror movies, nineties music, and had freely admitted to his high school crushes. The one who could sit with John on the couch with their legs tangled together and smile, really smile, while he told John about all this.

He couldn't help it. He wanted to be closer. At least, he freely admitted that to himself.

He didn't find Randy until after the first segment on RAW when he'd been told that he would have to choose his own tag team partner for a match against Jack Swagger and Batista. John passed by Randy's locker room and smiled. If he did this, it would be the first televised event that Randy and he tagged together on in a long time.

Xxxxxxxxx

"Hey," John called. The door had been open and John leaned against the frame. Randy was sitting on the bench, elbows on his knees, seemingly lost in thought. His head snapped up, however, at the sound of John's voice.

"Hey," he answered, eyeing John. The expression on his face was unreadable but his gray eyes were wary.

John debated with himself a moment. "So, you gonna be my partner tonight?" He asked casually. He could see the relief that passed over Randy's face when he didn't bring up his departure that morning.

Randy shrugged. "Sure."

Xxxxxxxxx

He wasn't disappointed. John couldn't help the smile when Randy's entrance music hit and Batista had a fit in the ring. John reflected that it was worth it to ask Randy just for that. The crowd certainly didn't share Batista's sentiments. They seemed pretty happy with John's choice.

Pretty soon, John and Randy were standing side by side in the ring. Batista was still yelling, still glaring at Randy like he'd committed a crime by agreeing to tag with John. In fact, when John and Randy had tagged together before against him, he'd acted the same.

"He really hates you," John said casually, leaning towards Randy.

A humorless grin formed on Randy's face and he kept his eyes on Batista. "Trust me. The feelings mutual."

"You want to start?" John offered after stripping himself of his shirt and they backed into their corners.

Randy shook his head, finally broke eye contact with Batista. "You start." He ducked under the rope, Batista did the same and a second later the match was under way.

Xxxxxxxxx

They won, of course. Pleasure at the win and at the chance to see Randy work, once again in his favor coursed through John afterwards. He'd felt that before, when he and Randy had tagged against Rhodes, DiBiase, and Batista. This time was no different.

He was even more convinced of his epiphany that morning. He hadn't been able to keep his eyes off Randy after tagging the man in. It wasn't just an appreciation of Randy's talent in the ring.

Beautiful. It was all he could think as he had watched Randy stalk around Jack Swagger, delivering deliberate blows. As he watched Randy meet Batista's eyes, daring him to interfere before dropping a knee to Swagger's chest.

The rumors about he and Randy were still running rampant backstage and for the first time, John wished they were true.

Xxxxxxxxx

Randy was dressed and ready to leave. He'd taken a shower already and he'd intended on leaving as soon as he'd gotten out but the small television was on in the corner of the room was on.

There was a small group of superstars watching. Randy had gotten out in just enough time to see the hug. His stomach clenched and for a moment he thought he might be sick at the sight of it.

Most days, Randy could see him in the hallways or out at ringside and be fine. The dreams were fucking with his head. He'd ditched John because of them.

He'd ignored what was happening before. He had no desire to watch Shawn Michaels little farewell speech but he was out there at ringside, out there pulling Michaels into a brotherly embrace.

Not for the first time, he wondered if Shawn knew…if he knew, would he let that happen?

Hate seeped into every part of his body. Still, after all those years, Randy hated him. He hated everything about the man. A small part of him even hated Shawn for not knowing. Still, he had to think Shawn didn't know because if he did and still let that embrace happen…

He really needed to get out. He managed to make it out to the parking lot without running into John. He was grateful for that, at least. The hatred was still pulsing in his veins and he didn't want to see John while it was still there, while he couldn't get rid of it.

Xxxxxxxx

John was disappointed by the time he made it back to the hotel. He hadn't been able to find Randy after their match. He'd been caught by Shawn backstage and, apparently he'd been distracted long enough for Randy to slip out of the arena.

John was beginning to wonder if Randy might be dodging him. It was paranoia, probably. Randy had agreed to the match, but John had known that there was something bothering him before it.

It put into focus, suddenly, just how much he didn't know about Randy. The little details he'd picked up over the past several weeks gave him no clue as to why Randy would have bolted from his room.

At first, he'd given thought to Randy simply being uncomfortable at the position they'd been in while sleeping but that made no sense. At least, it didn't when he thought about the other times they'd slept in the same bed over the weeks since they'd started this little friendship. Randy hadn't been uncomfortable then.

John went to sleep worried that night.

Xxxxxxx

Knocking woke him up. John groaned and lifted his head to glance at the clock. It was past three in the morning. John grumbled when the knocking continued and rolled out of bed, fully intending on letting whoever was at the door know just what he thought of being woken up so early in the morning.

However, when he did open the door, the words died on his tongue. Randy stood, leaning against the frame. He was slouched, his shoulders hunched, making him appear shorter than he actually was.

What really got John were his eyes, though. He looked exhausted. His eyes were a little bloodshot and the tiny smile on his face didn't reach them. John sighed and rubbed his own eyes.

"Hey," he said gruffly.

"I…uh, I can't sleep," Randy admitted quietly after a moment. He looked distinctly uncomfortable admitting it and there was some sort of plea on his face. John could practically hear him begging John not to ask why he couldn't sleep.

John found he couldn't turn Randy away, not with that look on his face. He couldn't even be angry about the late wake up.

"Alright." John paused and opened the door wider. He shuffled back over to the bed and dropped down on his back, scooting up until his head hit the pillow again. Randy hesitated a moment before kicking off his shoes and getting in beside John.

Randy rolled onto his side and reached out to pull John close to him. John was mildly surprised at the action but didn't say anything.

"You ever going to tell me what happened today?" John asked after a few minutes.

Randy was silent for a while but he did answer. "Maybe…someday." A bit of humor entered his voice. "If you can put up with me for that long."

John smiled. "I think I can deal." He wrapped his own arm around Randy.

It felt right. They hadn't even kissed yet. John hadn't told Randy of his epiphany. They still didn't know each other as well as he would have liked but it was alright. John knew in that moment, lying there in bed with Randy, that they'd get there. He could wait.