"That's about right for you isn't it Orton. Always taking what you want no matter who gets caught in the crap that goes along with it," John said seething at The Viper's attitude. "You're like it with your career, we all know that, but what most people don't know is that you're like it with your personal life as well."

"Get over it, Cena; you just can't stand the fact that someone else has got the belt," Randy said trying to remain calm as John picked yet another fight with him. "Super Cena can't be seen to be losing now can he. Always has to come out on top."

He watched as John stood up from the table he sat at and walked away.

"You know I thought I knew you but this last week has shown be a side of your character that I don't care for," Randy said taunting him. John had started an argument; he was damn well going to finish it.

"You are the biggest hypocrite I've ever known," John said looking him straight in the eye. "I'm not the kind of person who takes what he wants and then leaves."

Randy flew up from his seat and launched across the table. He wasn't going to have John making that comment to him. He tried to stop John that night but he wouldn't instead he kept pushing until Randy could only give in and enjoy the feeling of his lover's mouth taking him in.

He grabbed hold of Cena's shirt and shoved him to the floor, holding him down as he pulled his fist back to punch him. He was about to throw the punch but he locked eyes with John and saw the hurt behind the anger. This is why he'd walked away without looking back if he'd seen the look that currently laid in John's eyes he would have crumpled and found himself pulled back into the relationship.

He had to stay strong for his family, his daughter. When he'd arrived home, Alanna had been distant with him and although she came around quickly to his presence, she interacted more with Sam's colleague who stopped by the house with the paperwork she needed. It briefly went through his mind how often Alanna spent time with the man but he brushed it off putting it down to paranoia and guilt over how long he had been away.

"I'm…" he started to say.

"ORTON, CENA, MY OFFICE NOW!" Emma shouted across the room.

Randy silently cursed himself, this was the second time in the last six months that he'd been called into Emma's office because he was about to punch someone.

He got up and offered his hand to John, trying to portray his true emotions. John simply adjusted his shirt and jumped up from his spot on the floor.

They silently made their way out of the room and followed Emma through the corridors to her office. Neither looking at each other.

Emma stood at the doorway to her office and waited until they entered. Once they were both in the room, Emma slammed the door with such force they looked at each other and cringed.

"Please tell me why I suddenly had a barrage of text messages and a crowd of people running to find me because you two decided to go at it in the canteen?"

"This asshole, he started at me, telling me I'm only in it for me, that I don't care about anyone else," Randy fumed.

"Listen to yourself, Orton; you're making it sound like I was lying when everyone knows it's the truth."

Randy went for to lunge for John again only to find Emma stopping him from his attack.

"You two assured me that you could work together, you are supposed to be in an iron man match tonight. What's it gonna look like if both of you go into it black and blue because you couldn't wait."

"The match will be fine," Randy said looking away from her.

"Don't try to brush this off, Randy. You two are supposed to be the locker room leaders. Setting the example for the younger guys only coming through the ranks. How'd do you think it looks when you're punching each other out?"

"I wasn't the one who was hitting," John shouted, speaking for the first time since entering the room. "This is his fault anyway."

"Don't give me that bullshit, John. You've been picking fights all week," she said getting in his face.

"Thank you," Randy said quietly from behind. When she turned round and saw the look on her face, he immediately regretted it.

"Don't thank me Randy I wasn't defending you. I don't know what the hell went down with you two last week. And frankly, I don't want to know. I'm just sick of you two arguing over your personal shit when you're supposed to be professionals."

Neither man could look at her when she was finished. She moved round her desk and took a seat holding her head in her hands.

"I hate it when you guys make me turn into the bossy bitch."

"I'm sorry," Randy said, only partly responding to Emma's comment. He wished John knew that he was apologizing to him. He didn't want to hurt him; but how else was he supposed to keep his marriage going.

"Me too, Em, I'm sorry."

Emma looked up from her desk and indicated for the two to sit down. Randy waited until John sat before taking a seat on the sofa, the other side of the room. Maybe it would be better for John if he kept his distance for a while.

"Have you guys even had the chance to have a proper talk about tonight's match?"

"No," John said keeping his eyes on Emma.

"You two are my dearest friends," she said shaking her head. "This is the end of the storyline. You need to sort this out, if not for yourselves then for the fans. And guys, Vince won't be happy if this match isn't a success."

Randy looked over to John from where he sat but John simply stood nodding his head at Emma before leaving her office. Randy just watched, unable to move.

"Randy?"

"Yeah, sorry, we'll go talk about the match," he said hanging his head as he walked to the door.

He looked up momentarily to see which direction John went in so he could follow. Emma was right; they needed to sort this out. He kept his distance from John as he followed down the corridor; he knew they were heading to John's locker room. There they could talk without people overhearing the conversation.

He saw John turn into his room and as he approached, he saw John stood in the doorway holding the door. Randy went to step through the door when John slammed it shut in his face.

"Leave me alone," he heard John say through the door.

"Johnny, we have to talk, about the match at least," he said as the door swung open again.

"Do not call me that."

"Fine, I'm sorry, John. Please just let me come in and talk about this match. Then I'll leave you alone. I promise," he pleaded placing his hand on the door frame.

"I can't do this right now, Randy," he said turning around to go back into the room. "We'll talk about the match later."

As he said those last words, he swung the door closed hard without looking. Before Randy had the chance to move his hand out of the way, it was crushed between the door and its frame.

"Shit. Fuck. Goddamn it Cena," Randy yelled grabbing his hand and checking out the damage.

"What the hell happened?"

"You crushed my hand, that's what, you asshole."

John grabbed the hand he was cradling and checked it out.

"It's not even cut. Stop whining," John scolded.

"It's killing me," Randy said through gritted teeth.

"I've got an ice pack for my knee in here. You can use that," John said leading him into the locker room.

Randy followed carefully; concerned that John could change his mind at any moment. He watched as John grabbed the ice pack and tossed it at Randy.

"It's a little warm now, but it'll do."

"Thanks," Randy said quietly. "Listen, John, since I'm here…"

"I don't want to hear it, Randy. Whatever excuse you've come up with, I don't care."

Randy looked down at his feet, taking in what John said. He wanted to take John in his arms and make things better. Show him that he really was sorry, show him how much he cared, that it was only because of… he stopped in his own trail of thoughts… he knew he was using that as an excuse now. Really, he was just scared that John would end things when he got back from Tampa after seeing Liz.

"I was only going to suggest that we discuss this match," Randy said lying to John.

He couldn't believe how he'd let things get so out of hand. Maybe if he'd listened to John, told him that he was worried, then this wouldn't have happened. Either way he knew he lost John completely, and it was all his doing.

"We can talk about what stunts we want to happen and how we're going to end it but other than that I suggest we let it happen naturally. They always seem the best matches."

Randy watched as John busied himself around the room so he didn't need to focus on him. It cut Randy deep into the heart that John couldn't even look at him anymore without feeling angry.

"Do you agree?"

"Yeah, sorry," Randy said shaking his head. "I was lost in thought."

The two started tossing ideas about for the pin falls and they came up with a couple of stunts to pull. One including Cody and Ted and another utilizing the pyrotechnics used throughout the night.

The longer the conversation went on the more Randy wanted out of the room. John barely faced him, talking to him over his shoulder, and when he did face his direction, John never made eye contact. Looking instead at his feet or even looking through Randy, focusing on a poster or one of the alcoves in the room.

When John disappeared into the bathroom, Randy stood from his place on the bench and started pacing. He couldn't believe how stupid he'd been and now every second he had to spend with John was a reminder.

"You fucking idiot, Orton," he shouted at himself before hitting a metal locker that was in the room with the same hand he'd just iced. "Shit."

He turned around and saw John watching from the doorway of the bathroom, looking directly at him.

"I'm sorry," he said looking down at his feet, unable to meet John's penetrating eyes.

He could feel tears threatening to surface and he didn't want to let John see. John would only think he was feeling sorry for himself.

"I should go," he said without looking up.

Before he could get to the door, John stopped him, putting his hand on his arm.

"Let me see your hand," he said taking it into his. "You've cut yourself."

"I'll sort it out."

John took his hand and led him over to the sink that was in the locker room. He turned the tap on and put Randy's hand into the water to clean it out. Randy winced slightly at the pain but didn't pull back, for fear of never feeling John's touch again. Randy watched John intently as he tended to his cut fist.

"You should find a plaster to cover it. Em won't like it if she sees you've cut yourself. She'll think you've been fighting."

"I think I'm going to have to be careful. I'll start to get a reputation as a hot head," Randy said trying to alleviate the tension.

He continued to look at John, taking in every one of his features. He feared that today was going to be the last day he would be able to see them. When John didn't look away, Randy moved his gaze to John's lips, remembering the way they felt against his own.

"Randy…" John said breaking the silence.

Randy leant in and brushed his lips against John's wanting to feel them one last time. He thought that John would pull away, but when he didn't he pressed a little harder, taking the lower lip between his own. When he felt John relax, he moved his hand up to the back of his neck to hold him as he sought entrance with his tongue. Although at first John didn't open up to him, after a couple more kisses Randy caused John to moan slightly which allowed him the access he sought.

When John didn't break the kiss he moved his other hand so he was cupping John's face with both hands and he kissed him, like his life was on the line, moaning into the kiss when John's tongue started battling for dominance with his own.

He grabbed at the hem of John's tight shirt and pulled it up slightly so he could run his hands over the muscles in his back. He didn't know when John was going to end this so he wanted to feel as much of him as possible. He broke the kiss momentarily to pull John toward the shower room. He knew John hadn't taken his pre-match shower, something he would need today after their argument, especially since today was a pay-per-view event.

He pulled John in for another kiss as John kicked off his shoes and socks as they entered the room. Randy looked up from the kiss to see where John had set out his shower gel and led him in the direction of the stall.

He turned the tap of the shower so it was set to a high temperature, just as John liked it and then turned his attention back to John. He pulled at the shirt he wore, taking it off over his head and threw it back toward the door so it wouldn't get wet.

He lowered his head to John's neck and licked his way along the faint scars that were there. He remembered from the night of their first kiss that John had been more sensitive in that area and he wanted to make sure John never forgot this moment.

As he attacked John's neck, careful not to leave any marks noticeable to anyone, his hands lowered down to his pants and undid the belt, button and flies of his jeans. His lips skated down his chest and stomach, stopping to dip his tongue into his navel, remembering the sensations it brought him when John had done that to him on several occasions.

His hands tugged at his jeans until they pulled around John's ankles. He kissed down John's right thigh and calf as he lifted John's feet from the jeans. As with his shirt, he threw them in the direction of the door. He let his lips run back up his leg before moving across his hip line and grabbing his boxers and lowering while treating John's left leg to the same kisses as his right.

He stood slowly, checking the temperature of the water, before moving to stand behind John. He pushed him forward so he stood under the spray, letting him soak in the hot water. He grabbed the bottle of shower gel and soaped up his hand before moving close to John's body, reaching round and lathering up his chest. He took his time washing John's body, moving next to his shoulders and massaging the muscles that had once again tightened up since his first massage in the summer.

After he lathered John up, he let the water rinse off the soap before laying light kisses across the back of his shoulders and neck. His hand snaked back round John's body resting on his stomach. He smiled as he realized he was probably as obsessed with John's abs as John was with his. He pulled John back so he could feel his body's reaction to him, hoping he also noticed that he hadn't done a thing about it.

He reached for the shower gel again, poured some into his hand, and let it lather up slightly. He ran his finger down John's sternum, over his abs, and then gently took hold of his hard member. He slowly stroked John's cock with a firm motion that caused John to close his eyes and rest his head against Randy's shoulder.

Randy continued his movements, squeezing harder and moving faster when he felt John's body tense as he got close to the edge. He moved his free hand from John's hips to his abs, wanted to feel them again, memorize them. He was almost lost in thought when John reached up and grabbed hold of his neck, silently begging for release.

Randy watched John's face as he redoubled his effort and before he knew it John's eyes opened, connecting with Randy's as he shot his load onto his stomach, covering Randy's hand that still lay across his stomach.

Randy held John as he slumped against him, letting the water rinse John's stomach. They stood like that for a few minutes before Randy reluctantly pulled away. He turned John around in his arms. They looked at one another with all their emotions showing, the hurt, the anger, the fear and they let it wash away down the drain.

They moved into each other's embrace, kissing softly, silently, saying goodbye to one another. When the kiss broke Randy felt a tear roll down his cheek. He stepped back and left John to finish his shower, picking up his clothes as he left the room, folding them up ready for John later tonight.

7