Randy rubbed a hand across his forehead, closing his eyes against the headache that was building there. One good thing, he supposed, about being a small town pariah was that nobody wanted to get too close.

The day's events weren't exactly typical. Well, harassment from Justin and his friends was but it usually didn't go farther than a few verbal jabs, mostly because Justin didn't want to get on Shawn's bad side.

Randy's thoughts went to John Cena as he wiped the bar down. He'd hardly had time to thank the guy before Mike Mizanon had dragged him out of the bar. He grimaced. He'd known Mike for years too. He could imagine what Mike had told Cena…

He ran a hand over his head, working a little faster to get the placed closed up. He really needed to get home before the pressure behind his eyes built into a migraine. He figured he had about a half hour before that happened.

"You alright?" The voice broke him out of his thoughts and Randy looked up, a smile automatically forming on his face as Shawn made his way over from the back office.

"Yeah…yeah, I'm good."

Shawn studied him a moment. "Sure about that?"

Randy shrugged, chewed his bottom lip. "Just a headache."

Shawn frowned. "Alright. You can go. I'll finish this up."

Randy raised an eyebrow. "Don't you have a date?" A smirk formed on his face. Shawn had been practically bouncing off the walls all day. It was late but Randy knew Shawn probably wouldn't be getting any sleep that night.

"Not until late," Shawn answered idly but there was a gleam in his eyes. "Get out of here, Randy. I'm not dragging your ass home when you collapse."

Randy opened his mouth to protest but stopped. Shawn was right. He really did need to get home before it turned bad. "Fine. See you tomorrow."

"Mmm hmm," was Shawn's only response. Despite the headache, Randy grinned when he made it way outside and caught the man getting out of his car.

"Randy," the man said in greeting, an easy smile on his face.

"Hey, Hunter. I think he's been waiting for you," he said as he started past.

"Yeah." A smile formed on the big man's face but he still studied Randy a moment. "You need a ride home?" He asked politely.

Randy shook his head. "It's only a few blocks. See you later." He started out. The smile was still on his face as he walked home. He didn't know Hunter all that well but he seemed to make Shawn happy and Shawn was the first person, after his mom of course, that hadn't treated Randy like he was some sort of freak.

Technically, being gay in such a small town was enough to earn that label by itself but nobody gave Shawn shit for it. Despite the fact that, most of the time, Shawn was a laid back guy with good sense of humor; he could be intimidating when he wanted to be. Besides that, he'd lived in the town all of his life.

Randy's smile only widened when he thought about the last time Justin and his friends had been in the bar and the way that Shawn had made big Mason Ryan back down in fear, despite the fact that Ryan had a good four inches and at least forty pounds on Shawn.

The bigger man had been harassing Natalya and if there was one thing that Shawn wouldn't stand for it was people harassing his waitresses. Frankly, though, Randy had been surprised Natalya hadn't given the bastard a broken nose herself.

Randy was brought out of his thoughts when a car passed and the bright lights from the high beams seemed to pierce straight through his skull, making his head pound harder. He picked up his pace.

By the time he made it home, his head was beginning to pound and he was grateful for Shawn's intervention. He'd had one at work before and Shawn had found him in the corner of his office with the lights off, unable to stay out at the bar with the noise and the lights.

He kept the lights off as he kicked off his shoes and dropped down on his bed, fully clothed. It only took a few minutes for the headache to reach migraine status and after that he didn't think.

Xxxxxxxx

"What the hell is your problem?" John asked, irritated when he and Mike made it back to their place. He stripped off his jacket, hanging it just inside the door.

"Me? Dude, you've been here a day and you've already stepped into something you shouldn't have."

"What was I supposed to do?" John asked incredulously, heading for the couch. "Let someone get their ass kicked when I could stop it?"

Mike scoffed. "It wouldn't have turned into a fight. Justin wouldn't have let it get that far. The owner would have had their asses and all three of them know that."

"Still…" John paused.

Mike shook his head. "Look, Michaels place is really only place in town to get a good drink but just…stay away from Randy Orton, would you? Associating with him will only land you in some trouble you don't need."

John frowned at him. "What is with this guy? I got the feeling those three didn't need much encouragement to go after Orton."

"They wouldn't. Just trust me…Orton's bad news." Mike stood, stretched. "Now, I'm going to bed. I still gotta get up early for work tomorrow."

"Yeah." John watched him go before shaking his head and flipping on the television. He couldn't quite get his mind off the bartender, though, his pretty gray eyes and wide smile following him down into sleep.

Xxxxxxxx

John groaned as his back spasmed. He gritted his teeth and buried his face in the pillow. Mike had already left for work and had said he wouldn't be home till late. A part of John was grateful for that. He really didn't want Mike hovering around him in that moment.

"Fuck." That hurt, John thought as he attempted to keep still. It hurt badly enough that he considered getting up and finding the pain pills his doctor had prescribed. He wasn't sure if he could get up though.

Still, he tried to focus on the pain. Focusing on the pain was better than focusing on what caused it. John Cena was twenty eight years old, six feet tall, two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle and officially disabled.

He couldn't help the bitter thoughts. That last year, he'd been on his way to the Super Bowl. And now, he was on his couch, face down, hardly able to move.

Xxxxxxx

"So, you almost got into it with redneck psycho again," Natalya commented.

"Again?" Trish asked.

Natalya nodded. "Justin and his friends were here last night. But, get this…somebody stepped in between them."

The two blondes were leaning on the bar as they spoke, watching Randy expectantly. They were pretty slow at that moment but that wouldn't last all night. It was Friday and as soon as five o'clock hit, they'd be slammed. Until then, however, Trish and Natalya were using the opportunity to grill Randy.

"There was no fight. Justin's not dumb enough to start one here," he told them.

"That's debatable," Trish countered. "And even if Justin's smart enough not to, I wouldn't be money that McGillicutty is." She wrinkled her nose and Randy had to smile at the expression. McGillicutty had been hitting on her since she'd started working at Shawn's.

Natalya waved that away. "That's not the point, here. The point is that John Cena stepped in between Justin and Randy and took up for Randy."

"John Cena? Who's that?" Trish asked with a frown.

Natalya stared at her a moment. "John Cena, duh. He played for the Patriots."

Trish tilted her head. "Football?" She asked, unsure.

"Yes, football. Anyway, he did before he took a nasty hit and ended up in the hospital with a messed up back. I heard he was told he couldn't play anymore because if he took another hit like that he could end up in a wheelchair."

"Wow, that sucks," Trish commented, a sympathetic pout forming on her face. Her eyes darkened too and Randy knew she wasn't thinking about John Cena in that moment.

"You alright?" He asked tentatively.

Trish shook herself. "Yeah, I'm fine." She forced a smile and changed the subject. "So, this guy took up for you, huh?" Her smile turned a little more sincere. "Maybe he likes you?"

"He doesn't even know me," Randy pointed out.

"Not yet," Natalya spoke up. "Doesn't it start with attraction, though?" She tapped her lip thoughtfully, looking him over. "Who wouldn't be attracted to you?"

"It doesn't matter, Nat," Randy said with a shrug.

"Why wouldn't it matter? You've been single for way too long. When was the last time you got laid?"

"He's friends with Mike," Randy revealed. "Tell me again why it would matter if he thought I was hot or not?" He paused. "Also, can we not assume that every guy who talks to me is gay or bisexual? They kind of have to talk to me to get their drinks."

"Can I assume that every guy that checks out your ass is?" Natalya started walking away. "Because he was totally doing that last night."

"Not everyone in town believes Justin's bullshit," Trish pointed out after Natalya was out of earshot. "Me, for example. Cody, Shawn, Nat…"

"Exceptions," Randy said with a small smile.

"There can be others."

"Not ones who are friends with Mike," Randy said with a shake of his head and really tried not to let his mind drift to memories he'd much rather forget forever.

"That wasn't your fault."

"Tell that to Mike," Randy countered softly with a bitter smile before he moved away as the first customers of the dinner rush came in.

Xxxxxxxxx

Maybe it was the talk with Trish. Maybe it was what had happened the night before. He'd forgotten how liberating it felt to speak to someone who didn't know his history…whatever it was, it bothered him more than it usually did. The automatic wariness he saw in people's eyes whenever they approached the bar…

The bitterness he always felt when he thought of his history with Mike refused to leave and was only heightened when people came in and were looking at him like…well, like they always did. He was used to it and most of the time, he tried not to let it bother him but sometimes he just couldn't help it.

Xxxxxxxx

John made his way into the restaurant, going directly to the bar. Going out had been a decision he'd made because he really did need a distraction. His mood hadn't improved when the pain in his back had lessoned, with the help of a few of those pills the doctor had given him. He hated that he needed them in the first place.

Michael's was the only place he'd been to and, despite what Mike had said, he couldn't help but want to check out the bartender there again. Maybe that would be enough of a distraction.

He sat down on the stool and when Randy stepped over to him, he saw a flash of surprise in the man's eyes. As soon as their gazes met, a small smile lit Randy's face and John felt his own mood lift a little bit.

Xxxxxxxx

Randy stopped in front of John Cena, a little surprised to see the man back. When he met the man's blue eyes, however, he didn't see any of the wariness or downright hatred he'd been seeing all night and, just for that, Randy smiled a real smile for the first time since he'd spoken to Trish and Natalya.