Disclaimer: I don't own anyone, other than Brielle.
Rated: M
Warning(s): Slash, Het, Mpreg, Stripping, Exotic Dancing, Violence, Domestic Violence, Child Abuse, Mentioned Self-Harm, etc.

"Really?" John gave an enthusiastic nod, his eyes far-off and dreamy. He'd always wanted a large family, and now he had the chance to live out that dream. "That's wonderful! I'm so happy for you two!" Adam offered his friend another hug, which was readily and warmly accepted.

"The news couldn't have come at a better time, really. Because of the managerial shift in the company, Mike is being offered a big promotion. Think 'corner office'." John was positively beaming at the idea of it. "Oh, and I quit dancing. I was actually offered a new job - you'll never guess what."

"What?" Adam asked. He wasn't really in the mood to guess, and he was sure that John was right - he'd never guess it, even if he tried.

"I'm going to be a male model for pre, during, and post pregnancy!" He clapped his hands, that excited look never fading. "It's a great opportunity."

Adam smirked, imagining JoMo in one of those white, billowing dresses that pregnant models were often depicted in. "I'm sure you'll do great, John. We all have a brighter future now that the days at the club are behind us."

John nodded. "You can say that again." A brief, yet comfortable silence settled over them, before he asked, "So, what have you been doing lately?"

Adam spent the next fifteen minutes filling John in on their lives post-trial. He clipped the baby out of the picture, however. First of all, he really didn't want to tell too many people before he told Randy - after all, it was Randy's child. So far, the only exceptions he had made to that were Jeff and Brielle. Brielle didn't really understand, and Jeff was his best friend, who was understandably concerned for his welfare. Second, he didn't want to get people's hopes up in-case he miscarried. He'd been down that road before, and it was a unique combination of mortifying and painful.

"Sounds like you've really had your hands full, between getting the kids acquainted and planning for the wedding." John offered him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "I'm both excited for and dreading my own."

"How come?" Adam, who had sort-of zoned out during his little blurb, suddenly turned his full attention onto JoMo.

The brunette let out a self-conscious laugh. "It's stupid, really, but... I'm two sizes bigger than I was when I was fitted for the tux. Now, don't get me wrong, I love my body the way it is... just... I know it's only going to get worse, and I'm not sure I'm prepared for it."

Now, it was Adam's turn to offer John a sympathetic smile. "Vince's words finally getting to you?"

The laugh broke a little bit, sounding almost like a choked-off sob. "He told me that, even with a diet and regular exercise, my body was unchangeably ruined."

"Yeah. That sounds like something he'd say." Adam hooked an arm around his friend's shoulders, slowly steering him out of the nursery and into the hallway. "I know it's hard to get past something like that, but hear me out when I say that Vince is in a business of selling 'bodies'. His idea of 'perfection' is rather distorted."

"He thinks that Shawn is perfect, and look at how many kids he's had!" John made a spectacle out of it, making it seem like he couldn't count them on two hands.

"Believe me. You don't know the hell that Shawn endured every day to be that special kind of 'perfect'. It's a burden that nobody should have to bear."

"Don't tell me he -," John cut himself off when Adam nodded sadly.

Adam had been one of the original dancers working for Vince, and thus, had seen many come and go in his time. One of the few who actually stuck it out for the long run ended up married to the boss himself, Shawn Michaels. There were many things that set Shawn apart from the other dancers. The most prevalent on that list would be the fact that he rarely, if ever, danced at all. In fact, Adam did not remember an occasion where he'd seen Shawn step out onto that stage and strip. No, most of his dances were private. In effect, he was the incredibly pricey, kept dancer of Vince McMahon.

Most of the other dancers were not disturbed by this, and neither was Adam. Shawn seemed nice enough and he didn't attract a dangerous crowd... with the exception of one man, who would prove to be the most dangerous of all. He was the best of buddies with Chris Jericho, and the criminal had accompanied him to his audition for the gig at the club. That was Adam's first encounter with the monster, but it would certainly not be his last. Because of that, Adam always had an uneasy feeling when the blond southerner was around. It didn't help that, when it came to Vince, he was positively whipped.

All of the dancers, at some point in their career, had felt the wrath of Vince McMahon. Shawn received it the most frequently - and, often, such encounters were in public, for all the world to see. Mere weeks after the birth of their first child, Vince had, very publicly, announced how fat Shawn had gotten. Shawn then proceeded to spend the next four weeks in the gym, clocking hours on end on the treadmill, the weights, anything really. Eventually, he had to be hospitalized for extreme fatigue. The doctor, seeing what was happening, tried to separate Shawn and Vince. But Shawn wouldn't have it. And the cycle continued.

"We all endured hell and a great deal of self-deprivation to get where we are today." Adam concluded. "It's totally understandable, after what we've been through, to be worried about not fitting into a tux. But I'm here to say, don't worry about it. You're loved the way you are. Don't let anyone make you think differently."

John offered him a watery smile, before playfully swatting his shoulder. "You're turning into such a sap, Addy."

"Hey, no crying allowed. You know how contagious that shit is..." but even as he said this, he could feel the tears brewing in his eyes.

John wrapped his arms around Adam in one final hug, offering a muffled, "Thank you."

"You've no reason to thank me, Johnny. Just remember - it's okay to not be stereotypical. Everyone was made in their own unique way to fit their own unique role in life." He patted his friend on the back, before drawing back and handing him a small card, "And, I just so happen to know the name of a great maternity tailor."

OOOO

Randy was utterly amazed by the sheer amount of people that he didn't know at this party. He was being introduced to new faces left and right - including the face of the man who was to take his position as COO of All World Promotions, Dean Ambrose. Dean seemed like a nice enough fellow, and his lover, Seth, was a bombshell. Just weeks removed from the birth of their daughter (or, as Dean quickly clarified, Seth and Roman's daughter), he was already flaunting a form-fitting blue t-shirt and black acid-washed jeans. Seth was one of the newly-signed models for their post-maternity line, and Randy had to admit that he looked hot.

He talked with Dean for a little while, finding that the younger man was a rather quick, yet amiable, study. He had a firm belief in equality for all models, no matter size nor body shape, which was why he had pushed for the pre, during, and post maternity lines. Management loved him for his new, innovative ideas, and the underlings were enraptured by his ability to crunch numbers for an annual pay-raise of two-percent. Before, there had barely been a 'raise' at all - if you could call a gratuitous addition to your paycheck for every fifty outside jobs you preformed a 'raise'. But even as Dean continued yammering on, Randy's eyes followed Seth.

About two and a half hours after arriving at the party, Phil finally managed to make his way over to his former boss. He looked incredibly stressed-out and tired, but was smiling nonetheless. "How are you enjoying the party, Ran?"

"How come nobody thought to tell me about the new sign-on?" Randy asked, totally unaware of the lust-stricken look in his eyes.

Phil looked at him uncertainly. "Um... because it was a last minute decision, and you don't really handle the newbies, so..." Phil shrugged, refilling his plastic Solo cup with a mixture of orange juice and Sprite, "What do you care, anyhow? You're engaged."

"Does that mean I'm not allowed to have eyes?" Randy bit back sarcastically. "In-case you couldn't tell, that blond is stunning."

"Eh, he's not my type." Phil offered noncommittally, before sipping at his drink. "And you're allowed to have eyes - that's not what I meant. What I meant is that a wandering eye can get you into deep shit, and Adam is still incredibly fragile. Break him, and this time, nobody will be there to pick up the pieces."

Randy chose not to comment, his eyes slowly wandering downward from Seth's broad, gently sloping shoulders, down to the supple curve of his ass. His body was absolutely delicious... and that was with the clothes on. "The party's great, Phil."

"Look, I'm not gonna stick around and watch you break Adam's heart, okay? Just do me a favor and stop acting like a god-damn dog in heat and making decisions that are so fucking predictable." Phil hissed, before taking his drink and going to mingle with some other friends on the other side of the room.

"What's his problem?" Randy muttered under his breath, shaking his head in disdain.

Taking a deep breath, he strode across the room and suavely cut into Seth's current conversation, stealing the model away for himself. Seth was even more beautiful up-close and personal, and he had the most enchanting chocolate brown eyes... His smiles came easy and his laughter came easier, and he was never without something to say. Randy found himself easily opening up to the man, their conversation flowing naturally from one topic to another. It wasn't until one of the other parents - Tyson, it looked like - called Seth away to tend to a fussy Kelly that their conversation ended. And Randy knew one thing for sure: he was smitten.

Two days later, upon returning from the grocery store, Adam stumbled across a blue sticky-note which looked to be hastily tacked onto the Island Counter in the kitchen. He set his plastic and paper bags down onto the ground, before pulling the note off of the counter and looking it over once. His heart sank as the words sank deep into his brain, and the slip of paper slipped out from between his fingers before he could realize what was happening. Feeling the contents of his stomach about to come and great him violently, he rushed over to the sink and vomited his small breakfast.

It only took a few seconds for reality to sink in. On the note, was Seth's name and number.

Randy was cheating on him.