Still no words had been spoken between Randy and Cody. Another two weeks had passed. There were a few awkward eye contacts, a couple of lingering glances, but no words. To each other at least.

"Come on, Ted. I just want to be sure he's alright," Randy was saying. He had pulled Dibiase away from the crowd of Superstars at catering and was moments away from begging him to tell him how Cody was doing. He has a strong enough resolve to not talk to Cody himself, to help him and give him space, but he still cared. More importantly he still felt guilty.

"He wouldn't like me talking to you behind his back," Ted shrugged.

Randy tilted his head and tried to shove every ounce of care he had into his eyes to make it visible. "I'm not going to say anything to him. I'm just concerned."

Ted sighed and looked around to make sure no one was around. "He's worse than he lets on. And he's drinking a little too much. I can't help but wonder where he picked up that bad habit," he said obviously sarcastic.

Randy shook his head and put his hands on his hips. "And I imagine he's dodgy. Is he letting you around him at all?"

"No."

"And he's rooming by himself?"

"Yeah."

"And if I tell Hunter to room you two together that would be too obvious that I was behind it."

"Yeah."

"Dammit." Randy paused. "Okay, I want you to lie to him."

"What?" Ted gasped.

"Start telling him that you and your wife are in trouble or something like that. Make it so that you need his help. No matter how upset he is, he won't ignore you; he's too nice. And then once he let's you around take all of his booze and get him to talk."

"Randy, I—"

"Yeah, I know you're honest and noble and Christian and whatever but you'd be lying for a good reason. You're doing it to help him," Randy pleaded.

Ted sighed again. "Alright. But this is it. Don't come to me again. I know you feel bad and you should. You want to help him because you're the one who did this to him. So know that I will help him because he's my friend but you deserve to suffer with the rest of this guilt." And with that Ted turned and walked away.

Randy shook his head, again disappointed with himself. Ted was right. He turned to walk away too and soon as he did he found John Cena standing right behind, a wide grin plastered across his face.

"Hey Randy!"

Randy's head immediately dropped. "How much of that did you hear?"

"Enough to know your upset and enough to want to cheer you up."

Randy looked up at him, complete defeat written all over his face. "John, quit."

"No," he said, his smile never faltering.

"I don't know what you want from me. I told you how I felt. You feel differently. You need to deal with that. I don't know what you want me to do."

"There's a bar right across the street from here. I want you to meet me there later tonight."

"John—"

This time it was John who walked away from Randy.

Randy watched him for a few seconds before he began his walk to the locker room. He knew John was only trying to make him feel better but all he did was make him feel worse. John expected things from Randy that Randy couldn't give him. Which made him feel guilty that he might have led him on by sleeping with him. That guilt piled on top of the guilt he felt for betraying Cody. All of that was only made worse by the fact that every time he looked at John he saw the man that he cheated with. All Randy felt was guilt. That was until he was joined in the locker room by another superstar.

"Randal!" That all too familiar voice came from behind him and instantly anger was added to his short but overpowering list of emotions. He turned his head slightly to see CM Punk had just walked into the previously empty locker room in his ring gear and a hoody. "You know you look extremely angry and broody. Even more so than you usually do."

"Fuck off Phil."

Punk chuckled slightly. "We're off to a good start." Randy shook his head and turned back to his duffle bag on the bench in front of him. "Or not," Punk pouted. Randy could hear his voice getting closer. "Well, I overheard that you and John have plans later. That didn't take long."

Then anger completely overtook Randy's short list of emotion as he turned around and stepped into Punk's space and got in his face. "You need to learn how to mind your fucking business!" His anger was evident in his tone and in his face. His eyes told the story on their own.

Punk shrugged. "I've told you, that's not as much fun."

"Fun?! Is everything supposed to be about having fun for you?!"

"Well… Yeah." Punk smiled slightly.

Randy stared at him intently, and Punk reciprocated. Orton's face showed complete anger, Phil's complete leisure. That only pissed Randy off more as he moved closer to him in hopes of intimidating the smaller man. With their bodies' now only inches apart, Punk's expression never changed.

"Fun?" Randy echoed. Punk didn't respond.

In an instant Randy's hands grabbed the back of Phil's neck and forced their mouths together. Randy's lips moved against the other's at a hurried and vicious pace. Punk's body didn't move, it stiffened, as his mind raced, trying to catch up with what was happening. Randy's kiss never wavered in intensity and in seconds Punk found his own lips moving against the other man's. He wasn't sure if he even consciously made that decision. Randy's actions intensified as soon as he felt the kiss being returned. He forced his tongue into the other man's mouth. Phil let him at first and then did the same with his own tongue. The fight for dominance began. Punk stepped in closer; making their bodies flush against each other and his hands cupped both sides of Randy's face. Their tonsil hockey fight was so intense that it overcame all of their feelings: so much so that they didn't hear the locker room door open. They didn't feel the other presence in the room. They didn't feel the eyes on them.

Nick Nemeth turned around and attempted to open and close the locker room door as quietly as he could. Him and Cody just broke up. Like a couple weeks ago. He walked away from the locker room confused. He felt like he was experiencing déjà vu when he saw Cody walking towards him again. How does Cody have the worst timing of all time?

"Cody!" He yelled with an over excited tone.

"Nick," Cody said slowly and awkwardly. Dolph's recurring excitement towards him was nothing but confusing to him.

"Umm…" Nick paused, standing right in front of Cody, trying to find something to say. "Hey! So I'm thinking of doing a moonsualt tomorrow on Smackdown and the last time I did one of those was in developmental and yours is beautiful so would you mind giving me some tips real fast?"

"Um… Okay, yeah. Just let me go change real fast."

"No!" Cody stared at him blankly. "It's just… I'm um—really—um—eager! To learn. You know me. Stealing the show and all that good stuff." Cody continued to stare. "Please!" Cody nodded at last and allowed Dolph to drag him away from the locker room.

…

"What the fuck are you doing?!" Punk yelled as they finally ran out of breath, separated and he pushed Randy away from him.

Randy's face was still full of anger. He nodded down at the tent in Phil's trunks, and then back up at him. "Fun."

He grabbed Punk's head again and kissed him again. Their fight for dominance continued. It was cut short this time as Randy pulled back moments later. Phil looked up at him questioningly. Randy grabbed the sleeves of his hoody and slid it off of his tight frame. His hands then fell to the top of Punk's trunks, his thumbs resting just barely on the inside of them. He stopped there and stared at Phil. The Chicago native was never one to be shown up. Without hesitation he pulled Randy's trunks all the way off with one swoop. Randy was slightly taken back but only fractions of a second later he pulled Punk's trunks off. They both stepped out of their now discarded trunks and stared at each other, still intensely, with both of their hard cocks out. Randy grabbed the other man's arms then, spun him around and pushed on the small of his back, bending him over. Phil's arm caught himself on the top of the bench. He felt Randy's hard manhood pressed against his entrance and winced. He waited, anticipating the harsh feeling of being stretched open. He continued to wait. And wait. He finally turned his head around to see Randy towering over him. His expression of anger had finally left. It was now him wearing the look of questioning. They stared at each other again until Phil nodded. Randy's hands grabbed his hips firmly and he pushed himself all the way in in one quick, hard thrust.

"Fuck!" Punk yelled. He felt like he was on fire. Not in the hot, lustful, way: literally on fire. Randy's thick, long cock, stretched his tight hole wide open. It was a rough sensation with out any lube or preparation. Randy was unrelenting. He thrust in far and hard and fast on every thrust. "You fucker!" Punk yelled at him. He looked back and Randy's look of anger had resurfaced.

Randy poured all of his anger into the tight, hot feeling around his dick. He slammed in again and again. Trading guilt for pleasure. His rate was exhausting. He grunted with every thrust. It wasn't until Punk yelled at him that he realized his presence. He had allowed himself to zone out and feel until that point. He never slowed his pace as he began to change his angles. After a few different explorations he heard a loud moan erupt from the man beneath him. He continued at that angle, his pace becoming more and more erratic.

When Randy hit his prostate Punk's cock begged to be touched. He balanced himself with one arm and began jerking himself off at as rugged a pace as Randy's. In moments he came. Randy pulled out and tugged his own cock a few times and came all over Punk's back. They were both still and panting for several moments after. Almost in perfect unison they both came to. They stepped away from each other, pulled clothes from their bags. They both looked over at each other a couple of times while getting dressed. When they were both fully clothed, they stared at each other again. They walked to the door, looked once more, and turned and walked away from each other. Still no words were spoken between Randy and Phil.