This chapter is a lot more angsty than my others but I guess it had to be, considering. Oh, and thanks to everyone who's stuck with this story so far. I've had great fun writing it so far.

Hurt With No Comfort

Dolph was awake, and staring up at the ceiling. He was alone in the hotel room but the note that had been left on the pillow on the other side suggested that that wouldn't be the case for long. He'd been awake for about fifteen minutes and had yet to move from the spot he had woken up in.

He was still wondering if he should be gone before Punk got back. He was still wondering how he had gotten so caught up. He was wondering how he had let that guilt invade his chest. Because it had settled there was now refusing to leave.

He'd won the bet with Orton last night. He'd successfully gotten Punk in bed. He'd never felt so miserable after winning a bet.

He was an idiot. He actually liked Punk. With a frown he got up and got dressed quickly. He was just sitting down on the edge of the bed to pull on his shoes when Punk came into the room, carrying a bag in one hand and a coffee cup in the other. He kicked the door closed.

"Hey," he said, throwing the bag to Dolph, who caught it and glanced inside to see the breakfast food there.

"Hey, how long you been up?" Dolph set the food aside but accepted the coffee. His stomach was tied in too many knots to eat anything.

"A while," Punk answered with a shrug. "You should probably know I never sleep."

"Yeah." Dolph looked him over. In a pair of shorts, a faded tee-shirt, and a baseball cap he almost looked as good as he had last night in the pink.

"Well, I should probably go…get in a workout before the show tonight…" Dolph began lacing up his shoes again. He didn't meet Punk's gaze as he said it, something Punk noticed. He was frowning when Dolph looked up at him.

"You want me to come with? I was going to go for a run but I usually end up at the gym anyway."

"Naw. That's alright. You can go run if you want. I'll just-" He cut himself off, gestured to the door.

"You aren't bailing on me, are you?" Punk asked.

Dolph stilled at the question and he knew that it was probably a good idea to answer that with a yes. He didn't do relationships. Also, he knew that if his bet with Orton ever came out, that Punk would possibly hate him for it.

But, unexpectedly, it had turned into something more than just a physical attraction. You remember why you don't do relationships. And you couldn't build a relationship on a lie, anyway. He had apparently been silent for too long because Punk spoke up again.

"Right," he said and shook his head. "I'm an idiot."

Dolph squirmed when he saw the flash of actual pain in Punk's expression. "I'm sorry," he blurted out, grabbing up his stuff, the undeniable urge to run fighting with the urge to continue the lie, to do anything to wipe that mixture of pain, anger, and embarrassment from Punk's expression.

In the end, he ran, left Punk in the hotel room alone the new sense of regret, guilt following him the whole way.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Randy was awake and staring up at the ceiling. He'd been awake for at least fifteen minutes, lost in thought. The heavy arm draped around his midsection hadn't moved since he'd woken up. John hadn't stirred.

Last night had been amazing. He'd completely lost himself in John and his initial attraction to John had turned into something much, much more. It had even before last night. He'd acknowledged that when he'd first woken up and had been swimming in guilt because of it since.

His stomach rolled every time his mind drifted to his bet with Ziggler. He'd won but he didn't feel like he'd won anything. He felt like more of an asshole than he ever had in his life and he'd done some really nasty things in his life.

He'd been falling hard for John since they'd been hanging out, since he'd made that bet with Ziggler. And what would John think if he ever found out?

Randy turned so that he could wrap John up in his arms at the thought. John stirred at the action and finally opened his eyes, that grin spreading across his face, and Randy smiled back, hoped John couldn't see the guilt in his eyes.

"Hey," John said.

"Hey." Randy kissed him softly, even as he suddenly felt like he might not deserve to. John must have seen something in his expression when he pulled back.

"You alright?"

"Yeah…fine." Randy pulled away from him and sat up, reaching for his discarded pants. John sat up as well, his grin turning into a frown.

"You aren't leaving, are you?"

Randy jerked back around. "No, I'm not leaving," he answered immediately, making a decision right then, at the look on John's face. He really was falling for John and he couldn't just leave. He'd just have to make sure John didn't find out about the bet.

Xxxxxxxxx

With a smile on his face, John went downstairs towards the hotel lobby. He'd offered to go find some breakfast. He was rather happy. He'd been wary about Randy before but their growing relationship had proven to him that he'd been wrong. And the fact that Randy had stayed in the morning.

In fact they had stayed up for a long while after together, talking before John had offered to go get breakfast.

He was almost out the door when he spotted Punk coming inside. Obviously just back from a run, his shirt was drenched in sweat, and he was breathing like he'd just sprinted five miles.

"Hey," John said, the smile still on his face. And he was startled by the look on Punk's face when he lifted his head.

"John," Punk said shortly before starting away again. John's smile had turned into a frown of concern and he reached out to grab Punk's shoulder, stopping his progress.

"What's wrong?"

Punk pulled away from his reach. "Nothing," Punk answered, his words clipped.

"Yeah, right." John glanced around the lobby, to the people there and grabbed Punk's arm, pulling him to a more private corner. "You're pissed off…" He didn't say anything about the hurt he could see in Punk's eyes. That would likely get him nothing but a cussing.

"Ziggler bailed," Punk blurted out, his eyes drifting around the place like he was afraid someone would overhear.

"What?" John asked, a bit confused.

"He bailed," Punk repeated, finally meeting John's gaze again. "I let him fuck me, then he bailed. Happy now?" He turned and started away once again.

"Shit," John whispered before he ran to catch up with Punk, made it into the elevator just as Punk did. Punk leaned back against the wall and glared at John.

"I don't need a babysitter."

"I'm not a babysitter," John protested. "Thought I was a friend."

"Whatever."

Xxxxxxxxx

Randy was walking with a purpose. He'd made a decision after that morning. John hadn't made it back to his hotel room. He'd sent a text explaining that he'd run into a friend that needed help and the way that John had apologized profusely in the text had Randy not even questioning it.

Randy's lips thinned when he finally spotted Ziggler in the halls. He was standing with Swagger and Vickie. Randy didn't hesitate. He went straight over to them and grabbed Ziggler's arm.

"I need to borrow him a moment," he said with a glare in Swagger's direction. The look on his face stopped even Vickie from protesting and he dragged Ziggler away, pulling him into an empty room.

"We need to talk."

Xxxxxxxxxxx

Punk had been walking backstage and passed by the room with the ajar door when he'd overheard the conversation. He'd finally managed to ditch John, who had stayed in his room for far too long with that damned concerned look on his face. He got that John was just trying to be a good friend but he had not wanted to rehash how much of an idiot he'd been.

Really, he hadn't wanted to talk about it. He was angry, sure, but he also felt incredibly stupid for letting Ziggler get to him, for caving to something that he should have known not to. He'd been so sure, when Ziggler had first started coming after him, that all the guy wanted was sex. Why had he ever thought differently? Just because Ziggler had said it wasn't just about that?

And the most screwed up part about it was that he actually did like Ziggler. He hadn't had such an attraction for someone in a long time and he'd let that get to him. He'd actually thought that Ziggler felt the same way, at least after a while.

He'd been walking an empty hallway and just passed by the door when he heard Ziggler's voice.

"So, we both won. Fine. What do you we do now?"

"Nothing. No one can find out about this."

Punk had been about to keep on walking but he stopped short and frowned at the sound of Orton's voice.

"Oh, you mean you don't want John to find out that this thing with you guys started because of a bet?"

That definitely stopped him and Punk stepped closer to the door.

"If you don't want Punk to find out that you guys started because of the same thing, I'd keep my mouth shut if I were you."

Punk drew back at those words and raked one shaking hand through his hair. The anger had turned into rage. Not only had Ziggler been fucking with him the whole time, but Randy had been doing the same with John.

The rest of the conversation was along the same lines and the rage burning through Punk's veins only heightened with each word he overheard. Still, he skirted around a corner when Ziggler and Orton were about to come out into the hallway.

Fists clenched so tightly that his nails bit into his palms, Punk started away as well after Orton and Ziggler had cleared out. The fact that both Orton and Ziggler had played him and John burned. The fact that Orton still planned on staying with John…

Oh, they were both going to pay.