"ITVR: Chapter 55"
Moods.

By Jadedoll, Penumbren, & Raising Kane

Randy Orton wasn't the kind of young man that people messed with. But not because he was particularly street tough or dangerous looking, in fact his GQ style look was probably the least aggressive thing about him. People weren't even really intimidated by his height, nor his�cut muscle build, certainly not in this business anyway. No. People, meaning other wrestlers and crew, tended to stay out of Randy's line of vision because he'd developed at�a very tender age the ability to look at another human being like they were a small piece of dirt. It was all about the tilt of the head, the almost-raised brow and an expression of such contempt, that he'd found more often than not made his victim want to smack his teeth in. When he'd been thirteen, he'd used it on the bully at school who'd teased Leslie for being fat. Randy had been a 'husky' boy himself at that age, but he'd learned enough about wrestling that when the bully had swung at him, Randy had kicked his feet out from under him and sat on his back till the older boy cried. It hadn't made Randy feel good to put the bully's face in the dirt, but when Leslie had gone with him to his Prom years later, he'd felt it had been worth the effort. Two weeks after joining the WWE Randy had pulled out the 'Look' from storage and had welded it to his face. Not every one in the locker room was a bully by any stretch of the imagination, but his youth, last name and Vince's push had caused him enough grief in fourteen days that the 'Look' became his only defense. Give them a�false�reason to hate you and they won't pick one that's real,�had been Randy's twisted logic. It worked with just about everyone. Randy Orton, Third Generation Superstar, Legend Killer, the next Rock was an arrogant prick and proud of it. Men like Benoit and Batista might hate his guts, but he was wrestling mid card�at twenty-three for fuck's sake, so they could all just drop dead from jealousy for all he cared. Sure... not like their opinions meant anything. Not really. The only people willing to put up with his smug bastard routine were the guys on the food chain much lower than he was. They didn't care that he was mean to them, or that they didn't actually have any fun when they went out to a night club. Randy was one of the 'Beautiful People' and they were hanging on his coat tails to see how far he'd go. If they pulled him back to earth with them in the meantime well, there was always another young superstar looking for sycophants. Even with his entourage of hangers-on, Randy still wasn't afforded any better treatment than most wrestlers. Only the miraculous patronage of Hunter had given him any cred backstage, and hadn't that caused plenty of questioning looks from amongst those in the know. Mostly Randy's own eyes were wide with shock at Hunter's unexpected intervention on his part, becoming the third member of Evolution was something he'd never even hoped for, yet it had happened, giving credit to Randy's decision to play the prick while he was young enough to make something of it. Not like the great HBK hadn't pissed off a lot of people when he was the rising star, although, then there were people like Dwayne who were the definition of the word 'courtesy'. Being courteous hadn't worked for him two years ago, why would it work now? Did Randy regret his choice? Regret being perceived as an arrogant prat with an ego the size of California, rather than the half-way decent human being his beloved family still loved with all their massive hearts? Maybe, but he was stuck now. Lost in the person he'd become and unable to find a way to come out without risking everything he'd achieved. It was the calls home every other�night that kept him sane these days, hearing his mother's voice discussing ordinary things like her cat's taunting of the neighbour's dog, that showed Randy he really was someone other than RKO. Randy was playing 'asshole' right now as he watched Maven try and chat up Dawn Marie. The chick was having none of his bald friend and Randy was being silent witness to his friend's humiliation by not helping in the slightest. Sliding back the cuff of his outrageously expensive suit, Randy checked his watch through even more expensive sunglasses and inwardly cursed Hunter black and blue. He hadn't done anything in recent weeks to have warranted being locked out of the Evolution locker room, yet now he was. Three times he'd tried to put his gear in their shared room, and three times he'd found the door soundly bolted. Unable to find Ric, he'd dumped his gear back in his rental so no one would ask why he still had his bag, and tracked down Maven. Keeping his glasses on, Randy worked on hiding his worry and hurt behind the tinted lenses. Why now would Hunt suddenly decide that Randy was persona non grata? Had someone finally pointed out that the son of Cowboy Bob wasn't worth the tarnish he was surely taking? Randy could think of no better explanation for Hunter's actions... except for... oh... last night... What if he'd...Steve had said something... to Hunter and... and... Feeling his iron-shod heart suddenly plunge to his shoes, Randy turned away from Maven's impending doom and made a beeline for the arena exit. Getting away was the only course left to him now. Without Hunter's protection there was very little Randy could put claim to in the WWE locker room. No real friends and a lot of people who wished him ill, no-one but Hunt and Ric had ever tried to reach Randy and now without them, no-one ever would.�A bed of his own making no doubt, and one it seemed he would just have to lie in. 'At least I had last night,' Randy thought at he walked away from his career. Despite the outcome, he still couldn't doubt it was worth walking across that bar and taking�the biggest�risk of his life. Oh hell yeah, had it been worth it. **** Chris' kiss was intoxicating. Akin to quaffing a shot of Crown Royal... smooth, sweet, warming with just a bit of bite at the end. No longer worried about the possibility of rejection, Adam took everything that Chris offered him with that slow passionate embrace. His senses were reeling as he lost himself in the sweet taste of Chris's mouth, the press of Chris' angular hip against his side, the warmth of his skin, and the scent of their lovemaking. As Chris finally pulled away, he listened to the rapid breaths blowing gently against his face. He could have cared less about the mess they'd made, not wanting to let Chris leave the bed, but he held silent as Chris straightened the sheets and cleaned the mess. His ribs were starting to ache just a bit and he knew he'd prefer to be asleep once the pain medicine wore off. Truthfully he was feeling rather sleepy in any case. Once Chris came back to the bed, Adam happily cuddled up to the pillow on Chris' lap. He smiled as Chris' fingers started combing through his hair. The actions were soothing, tugging him slowly towards sleep, as he listened to Chris' quiet words. The kisses to his eyelids he considered exceptionally sweet, even if the words Chris was speaking were less so. He remembered Chris' raging at him that day and even that brought a smile. Despite Chris' claim that he may have been channeling Austin, Adam knew that Chris had a unique talent when it came to giving someone a verbal ass chewing. He'd almost felt worse because Chris was upset with him that day than due to the pain he'd inflicted on himself. Granted the extra work hadn't been worth the misery he'd suffered, but having Chris stay with him that day had been. "...When you fell asleep, I almost called your doctor to come over and check up on you, you were so wrecked." He'd had no clue at all that Chris had been that worried about his condition. Thankfully Chris hadn't called the doctor that day, though Adam had called himself the next day and rescheduled an earlier appointment. When the doctor told him he'd set back his recovery time, he'd called himself even worse names than Chris had. It had still been worth it though with the knowledge he'd gained that day. As Chris' magical fingers led him even closer to the edge of sleep, he heard something about Chris wanting to tie him to the bed that day. Now wouldn't that have led to something interesting? At that point... most likely not. But now... maybe he'd suggest just that sometime in the future. ---- Adam groaned as the insistent beep of an alarm rang through his aching head. Damn. That had to be worse torture than his actual injuries. He knew he needed to wake up every hour though he was sincerely unhappy about it. He turned his head and cursed into the pillow for a moment until his hand brushed warm skin and he remembered exactly where he was. The beeping finally stopped and he heard a loud yawn. Turning onto his back once again, he peered up at Chris in the dimmed light of the room. "This really sucks," he said slowly as his eyes finally focused on Chris' sleepy face. "Adam Copeland, June 8th or 9th depending on what time it is, 2004, and we're in... Uniondale, New York. If I swear not to go comatose on you, do we really have to do this every single hour?" With a sleepy yawn, he buried his face in the pillow and in essence in Chris' groin, but he was too aggravated to take advantage of that fact at the moment. Yes he was acting like a complete grouch and he was well aware of it. How the hell did doctors expect a person to get any rest when they had to wake up every hour on the hour, be aware enough to answer stupid questions, and then try to fall back to sleep? It was absurd. He really hadn't been joking when he said that he made an awful patient. Hopefully Chris wouldn't want to dump him on his head. **** Hunter's teasing little touches were unexpected, to say the least. Between the hip thrust that had Shawn very aware of Hunter's interest and the fingers rubbing caressingly against sensitive skin, Shawn could feel his temperature rising practically by the second. Judging from the expression on Dave's face, he wasn't the only one being affected, either. "I just realized that Randy hasn't been in here at all tonight." Oops. Somehow, Shawn suspected that his locking of the door might've had something to do with it... and hadn't Dave unlocked the door to let Ric in? Hunt must've locked it behind him. He should probably feel bad for the kid... but the little prick was just so obnoxious that he really couldn't. That thought really did make him feel bad for a minute; Randy was no worse than he had been in his younger years, and probably for similar reasons. Insecurities were nasty things that would come up and bite you on the ass at the worst possible moments, after all. Look at himself, earlier that afternoon. No matter how hard he tried, he'd always be insecure about his relationships. With his track record, who could blame him? Marty, Bret, Vince, Mark... and others. All had ended badly, most through his own actions. Hunter's voice brought him out of his self-pitying thoughts before he could get buried in the familiar morass and he shook his head a little. Really, he should know better by now... and�why dwell on thoughts of past failures when his future was looking him in the face? "That's a fantastic idea, screw Vince, let's go." Biting his tongue against the totally inappropriate response that leapt to his lips, Shawn couldn't quite hide the yelp that escaped as Hunt's�teeth nipped him in a very sensitive spot. He settled for a pouty glare as he turned around, rubbing his posterior, finding himself resenting Hunt's manhandling less as he recalled his lover's reaction to his "dominant" comment only moments earlier. He'd never thought Hunter would have any interest that way, but maybe... Having learned early on to keep out of Hunter's way when he went into his turbo-mode, Shawn moved over to lean against Dave, settling back with a smile. Watching Hunter pack his clothes away was almost funny; the last time he'd witnessed Hunt doing this sort of thing for him had been during the DX days, and those memories always made him smile. Finally having Hunter within his grasp made the bittersweet overtones of most of those memories fade away. Although that reminded him... he needed to corner Hunter later about that drinking thing that Steph had mentioned. He was nearly positive that it had been in response to the infamous kiss, but he wanted to know for sure. That way he could make sure that it never happened again. He nodded absently in response to Hunter's half-question about Stephanie; Dave might feel a little awkward around her, but the Billion Dollar Princess was close to Shawn's heart and he definitely wanted to spend some time catching up with her. Just not tonight. "Shall we?" "I'm ready whenever you are," Shawn answered immediately, taking a half-step away from Dave, still close enough to enjoy the contact when he slid an arm around the man's waist. Waving at Ric with a grin, he laughed out loud at the leer and wink that Flair gave him as they left. Almost totally ignoring everyone else backstage, Shawn did take in the images of the expressions on their co-workers' faces as the three of them walked down the hallway, their body language probably screaming "RELATIONSHIP RIGHT HERE". The little half-smile just didn't seem to want to leave his lips, and he was just drawing breath to ask Hunter where they were actually heading when something interrupted his thoughts. Or rather, someone. Almost incredulously, Shawn watched Randy walk by at a fast pace, his head down, shoulders slumped... the newest Third Generation Superstar just radiating depression. That wouldn't do. No matter how obnoxious he might find the kid, there was obviously something wrong here. "Orton? Hey... Randy!" Shawn left the warm comfort of his lovers' arms with mild regret, but dropped a hand on Randy's shoulder to stop him. Orton spun around in surprise, his eyes wide and momentarily showing far more expression than Shawn could remember ever having seen in that face before. Taken aback by the upset and depression he saw there, he slipped almost instinctively into comfort mode. "Hey... just wanted to apologise to you." The depression slid away, to be replaced by surprise. "What for?" The almost surly response made Shawn's teeth grind, but he forced himself not to snap back. "It's my fault you were locked out of Evolution's room tonight. At least, mostly mine," he amended with a glance back at Hunter, that little smile hovering on his lips again as he turned back to Randy. He'd promised himself to be discreet... here�was his first chance to practice.�"We had some things to... work out, tonight, and we needed the privacy. I'm afraid I completely forgot that there were two other people who were supposed to be sharing the room. Hence, my fault. I'm sorry." He held out a hand to the younger man, rather impressed with his phrasing, and waited for a response. Hopefully the kid would stop looking quite so pissy, at least. Whatever was up, he obviously needed someone to shake him out of it. **** "...He's hanging with Maven and acting like the devil himself was after him." Dave rolled his eyes at this bit of information. Case in point... Randy hanging with Maven was for the benefit of one person only... Randy. Spending time with little toads that would kiss his ass seemed to be a habit for the youngest member of Evolution. Dave's immediate response to Hunter's next comment was who hadn't Randy pissed off with his attitude? He had thought on occasion about trying to talk to the kid, maybe trying to get him to tone down his arrogance, but Dave was pretty sure that Randy would ignore any advice he sought to give. Having been on the receiving end of more than one sneer when they'd first started working together, he had pretty much written Randy off as a lost cause. "That's a fantastic idea, screw Vince, let's go." Dave couldn't help the fleeting grimace from crossing his face. The last thing in the world he wanted to think about was screwing Vince, in any context. The next moment he was covering his mouth to smother a snort of laughter at the indignant look on Shawn's face. Luckily Dave had already packed his bags upon his return earlier... the last thing he needed was Hunter poking his nose in them and discovering his own surprise for later. Watching as Hunter flew around the room packing any stray belongings, Dave smiled when Shawn leaned against him and gently settled an arm over Shawn's shoulder. He was more than ready to leave and spend a little bit of time with Shawn and Hunter... alone. Ignoring the bit of color that flooded his cheeks upon mention of Stephanie, Dave nodded in response to Hunter's hint of a visit from the Princess. The only way he was going to get used to her forthright manner of asking personal details of their relationship was by proximity. He knew both Hunter and Shawn were crazy about her and he had a feeling if he could get past his embarrassment then he would be joining the Stephanie McMahon fan club as well. She already had his respect for standing up for Hunter and more so for what staying at Hunter's side during the confrontation with Vince had meant. Dave didn�t miss the exchange between Shawn and Ric. Shaking his head, he pulled his sunglasses from the strap of his bag and slipped them on as they left the room. A rather silly grin on his face, he tossed his arm around Shawn's shoulders and ignored the reactions as they walked down the hall. He could hear the murmurs as they passed, but he found that he honestly didn't care. A look at Shawn showed he felt pretty much the same way. Hunter's expression wasn't as easy to interpret, but Dave hoped it wasn't going to be a problem. After what had happened with Vince tonight, he was half tempted to make a general announcement right there in the middle of the hall as a sort of huge FU to the boss. Who ever would have thought that it would be thanks to Randy Orton that he didn't do so? Dave honestly didn't notice him until Shawn was pulling away and calling Randy's name, but once he was aware of Orton's presence, he did notice that things weren't quite normal with 'Randall'. Hearing the beginning of Shawn's apology, Dave was almost to the point of seconding it until Randy's snide response. That had him bracing to knock Randy's teeth down his throat for taking that tone with Shawn, but he hid his annoyance behind a mask of bland indifference. Dave waited to see if Randy would accept the apology. If so then maybe he'd add his own. If he smarted off again, well then Dave might just be tempted to give him a small attitude adjustment **** Randy had just reached the exit and stepped through when he heard a voice calling his name. Tensing instinctively, he calculated the likelihood of reaching his car before he was faced with his first little session of payback. Not that he couldn't handle anything physical they might throw at him, Randy doubted anyone would try something like that right here in the halls of the arena. The news of the furor caused by Rhyno had filtered to his ears an hour ago and the fallout from that was still rattling everyone's nerves. No. The first sign that he'd lost Hunter's favour would be purely verbal, likely designed to get Randy to throw the first punch. He knew exactly the kind of thing they'd say too. Not much could get that reaction from him, but he had one massive weakness where other wrestlers were concerned, he knew exactly what they would say. just wanted to apologise to you Wha...? The words struck Randy as particularly cruel considering the man who was speaking them to him and the company he was in. It was his first sighting of�Batista and Hunter all night and he wasn't in the least surprised at the look on Batista's face. He didn't enjoy being regarded as something that would be scraped off the bottom of one's shoe, but Randy had honestly never had the balls to confront Dave face to face. Something about the man just screamed 'you are dirt' at Randy, so he did his absolute fucking best to live down to the expectation. Then there was Shawn, beautiful golden HBK, who'd given Randy one of the greatest honours in his young life by feuding with him and treating it seriously. Shawn he could look in the eyes because he'd never try and impress Shawn, some things just weren't possible and Randy knew it. Hunter... well... right now he had to pretend Hunt wasn't even there. He was Randy Freakin' Orton... he wasn't going to beg. "What for?" His defensive asshole voice coming to the for to hide his sudden case of nerves and confusion. Seeing the�expression on Batista's face darken even further, Randy almost�regretted the tone. His mother had raised him better than that, it was a slight to her for him to speak to Shawn with such rudeness. Before he could qualify his words,�the other man�continued, I completely forgot that there were two other people who were supposed to be sharing the room. Hence, my fault. I'm sorry. So it wasn't that Hunter had dropped him like a sack of shit after all? It had been personal stuff that Shawn had been dealing with and they'd just forgotten Randy existed. Okay. Randy was at a brief loss for words at�the change in his world perspective. He'd been all ready to run home crying into his family's arms and now Shawn was saying it had nothing to do with him and... oh Jesus... was offering his hand like he wanted to be friends or something. Somewhat in a daze, Randy pushed his sunglasses back on his short-cropped hair and took the older man's hand carefully. Batista still looked ready to rip out his lungs as use them as a hat, so he kept the grip short and as polite as humanly possible. "That's okay Michaels, you don't have to..." shut up, shut up, "...it wasn't like I was hanging to get in anyway." Pretending he didn't see the irritated look the other brunet was shooting him, Randy dug his keys from his suit pocket and�risked an assessing�glance at Hunter. "There's nothing for me here Hunt," and wasn't that so tragically true. "I'm going back to the hotel to make a few calls. Should I come in before the Sunday run-through?" Randy hated the slight tinge of nerves he could hear in his voice, but he still didn't have his head round that fact that he wasn't being booted from Evolution. He'd arrange a meeting with the other guys in his match later that week, but other than that he was on his own for a few days. As usual. Falling in step beside Helmsley, Randy sorted through anything else he'd wanted to ask his mentor tonight. With the locked door debacle and his nerves still simmering from last night, he'd forgotten anything he was supposed to be doing during this taping anyway. Lucky thing Vince didn't have him�cutting a promo or he'd have been stuttering like a two-year old. Hunter's answer completely flew from his mind at the sight of the man leaning�against his car. Heavy duty boots, denim shorts, black t-shirt and ice blue eyes that could kill Randy with a look. Austin. **** He sat on a bench in a room in the back half of the arena. Hunched over, his elbows on his knees, and his fingers steepled in front of him, someone might almost think he was praying. Glancing through strands of the black hair hanging in his face towards the door where Patterson had just exited, praying was the last thing on his mind. Pat had suggested that delivering an apology to Adam might mitigate some of the wrath that had landed on his head. Terry'd be damned before he uttered so much as one word that might be construed as an apology. After all... this was all Adam's fault. He knew that Vince was irate, had had to listen to the man yell at him for close to half an hour before the boss had stormed from the room after informing him that he would be informed of his punishment before the night was over. The punishment, Pat had told him just moments ago, would involve him being sent down to OVW for an undetermined amount of time. He'd been scheduled for TV time in the near future, plenty of it, but it had disappeared in the blink of an eye. That was Adam's fault as well. He knew what people were thinking... Heyman had been more than happy to tell him during his diatribe that his co-workers thought it was a retaliation for the comments that Adam had made casting doubt on his manhood. They were wrong. So wrong. It went so much deeper than those snide little barbs that Adam had thrown at him. He'd heard the laughter, known they were laughing at him. And that was Adam's fault too. Half the locker room was aware of what had happened during their breakup so many months ago, but none of them knew the truth. None of them knew how he'd suffered during their relationship. He'd known that Adam was enamored of Chris Jericho when they first got together. He'd even heard that Jericho was the reason Adam had severed his long standing relationship with 'Taker. But then Jericho had gone to Raw and he had figured he'd finally have a chance to have Adam. Sure enough they'd hooked up, but Adam had never looked at him as anything but a friend he fucked. Terry had kept things light, never pushing for what he really wanted because he had hoped that Adam would realize he was meant to be with him and him alone. That hadn't happened. When Adam had heard about the need for surgery, Terry had been there for him. He'd offered comfort, but where had it gotten him? Nowhere. They'd left the doctor's office and Adam had told him he needed some time alone. Terry understood that. The problem was that Adam hadn't spent that time alone. Terry had come back from a matinee movie to find Jay and that damned Chris Jericho at Adam's house. Chris had had his arm around Adam, whispering in his ear while Jay looked on. Despite the anger he'd felt at finding him there, Terry had hidden it well, saying all the right things. Then two weeks later he'd stopped by Adam's once again after flying home from a show and found Chris there yet again, the two men sitting way too close together on the couch. He'd slipped back out the door unseen and gone home to tear his living room apart. Somehow he'd just known that Adam was sleeping with Jericho. He hadn't let on when Adam had called and asked why he hadn't stopped by that night, just blamed his absence on fatigue. Inside he was raging. Why couldn't Adam see that Chris wasn't the one for him? Why couldn't Adam see how much he loved him? He'd made the mistake of hooking up with Brock the next week. At first it had seemed like a good idea, a way to get back at Adam for cheating on him. He didn't find out until after the explosion at the show when Adam had shown up in his soft collar that Adam hadn't been with Chris in that way at all. That night he'd been angry with Adam for coming without warning him. He hadn't intended to get caught with Brock, despite the fact that it was his way of paying Adam back for Chris. That night he had wanted Adam to hurt like he'd been hurting. When he'd found out that the affair between Chris and Adam hadn't been a fact but just an assumption on his part, it was too late. Adam wouldn't return his calls. Terry had given him time to get over his anger with the hope that Adam would take him back... someday. Then they'd both been assigned to Raw. Terry tried gaining Adam's attention. Granted it was a schoolyard method, like the bully pulling the little girl's pigtails, but he kept hoping that Adam would break down and talk to him if he kept throwing himself out there. Internally he fumed at the fact that Adam would rather spend his nights with complete strangers than give him another chance, but he still hadn't lost hope. Until tonight. That was something else to lay at Adam's feet. As soon as he'd seen the two of them together, he'd known. Adam had finally gotten the courage to go after the little hussy. And for that Adam had to pay. He had wanted to take out Jericho... something that he knew would cause Adam the most pain, pain like he was suffering... but he'd known that Adam wasn't making idle threats. If he'd gone after Jericho, Adam would have flat out killed him. That Adam cared that much for someone else instead of Terry was the reason he'd had to pay. And it wasn't over yet. Regardless of the fact that he couldn't inflict more pain on Adam himself, he would find a way to do it. He'd have liked to go after Jericho, but Terry knew that the men working with Chris in the near future wouldn't fall in with his plans. Oh no. Dave and Glen were beyond his means and neither would agree to help him. He needed someone he could get to, someone he could find something on. His smile would have scared anyone who chanced to see it. He knew just who he could get to. All he needed was to find one of the kid's little lackeys and get his phone number. He knew that security was waiting for him right outside the doorway. If luck were on his side, he'd be able to find Maven in the locker room when he went in to pick up his gear. Maven... he was scared of the man known as Rhyno. **** Hunter had spotted Randy at the same moment as Shawn and was truly shocked at the dejected air radiating from the youth. When Hunt had seem him earlier, Randy was looking a bit harried, but not this all-pervading gloom that was, he could see, pulling Shawn in a like a magnet. While his lover explained the dressing room situation, Hunter hung back a little. He wasn't unaware of the affect he had on the younger man, Randy's deferential behaviour being the most obvious clue, but Hunter had hoped he could nudge the kid into thinking of him as a friend rather than some kind of protector in the locker room. Problem was, Hunt had filled the 'protector' roll far more often than he might have liked. When it all boiled down to it,�Hunter blamed himself for Randy's attitude. He'd been such a friendly kid when they'd first been introduced and Hunter had been pleased to see such a talented son from the Orton blood. Unfortunately, Hunter had then lived through two weeks of hell with other issues and by the time he'd looked up Randy had been lost in the garbage of back-stage politics. The quiet dinner he'd had with Bob Orton had made Hunter feel worse then the heel he played on TV. The man's worry for his son's sudden attitude shift reminding Hunter of his own first weeks in a pro locker room and the friendships he'd found with a certain group of men that probably kept him sane. Never physical, oh no, Shawn, Steve, Mick, Hunter and Mark had firmly destroyed any remnant of that kind of backstage shit. Rumours of casting couches and 'pet' wrestlers were a thing of the awful past, but that hadn't stopped Randy 'Golden Boy' Orton getting his own form of hazing when he'd first moved up into the big leagues. By the time Hunter had waded in and pulled Randy under his wing it was too late. That friendly kid who'd addressed everyone as 'Sir' was gone, swallowed by the sneering, arrogant punk who treated everyone, even the decent guys like Jericho and Angle, who'd never looked twice at him, like dirt. While a gilded place as the new WWE Golden Boy was a hell of a better start than most kids his age got, it had its major share of drawbacks too. Hunter had squashed every rumour he'd heard with an iron heel but it hadn't stopped the general opinion on the younger�Orton being one of intense nepotistic favouritism. Sometimes Hunt just wanted to yell at them all 'give the kid a fuckin' chance' but he knew it would fall on deaf ears. No one had more than one real chance at the WWE; it was just a pity that most of the guys thought Randy didn't even deserve that one. Well Hunter had certainly given his personal FU to the hordes with his future plans, hadn't he? Falling in nicely with Brock's usual metal capacity, he'd been able to push Randy's title chance as an actual possibility rather than some 'yeah right' fancy of Hunter's imagination. Hell, no-one, not even Hunter, thought Orton could handle being on top of the mountain for a long run. But to give him�a taste, a reward for being unashamed to learn, well, it certainly wasn't a bad idea. If he could just convince his father-in-law and 'creative' to hold their collective bladders for more than five minutes then he'd be proved right. The only problem would be if they all ran scared and pulled�the title off Randy too soon. Still, Hunter had persisted, bringing Ric into the situation as someone who could get away with just about any kind of behaviour and still be loved for it. If anyone could get Randy to lighten up and forgive people their stupid pranks, then it would be Ric. Recently Hunter had thought there was a break in the supercilious mask that even he found he wanted to smack at times. But if the unhappy young man walking past them was any indication, then Hunt just had another set-back with his personal reclamation project. God, it would be so much easier if he had some help. But Randy had just about pissed off every human being in the WWE, so there would likely be no-one stepping up to the plate any time soon. Except maybe Shawn, who was being nicer to the kid than Randy probably deserved, given his tone. Should I come in before the Sunday run-through? Well Hunter certainly wasn't. But then, he had the luxury of spending the next five days with his opponent, he'd have hours and hours to talk with Shawn about their little gore fest on Sunday, Randy wasn't so gifted. But this time Hunt would leave it up to the kid to decide if he wanted to do extra work. The guy hardly needed any more time in the gym, good way for him to let out his frustration that it was, but maybe the company of people other than his cronies was a good idea. "Nah, don't bother. But I'd set up a meeting with the guys from Sunday and Monday though. Pay per views always need more talk than just a TV match." It was a direct quote from Bret Hart that one and there was�a�man who definitely knew his craft. Although Hunter doubted Randy had heard his words given the pole-axed expression on his face. Following his gaze Hunter looked at the man leaning against what looked like Randy's rental car. Now there was someone who could straighten the youth out. If Randy wasn't killed in the process. **** Steve was almost chewing his own hand off in frustration by the time he finally gave up and headed for the car park. He'd looked in literally forty rooms while stalking the back stage area and found his erstwhile lover of last night in exactly none of them. He'd catch little echoes of Randy's presence like a scent on a breeze, or more accurately, a peeved expression and some cursing, but the theory was sound. What he didn't get was why the kid was racing around the back stage area like some demon was after him. Austin didn't consider himself that�mean looking, or that his performance last night had been so bad that the kid was actually hiding from him. But ya never know. He'd even tried to talk to Maven twice, the guy being the closest thing to a friend Steve could see�Randy had. Each time the bald, young Tough Enough winner had been trying to�get Dawn Marie into the sack and had tried to avoid conversation with Austin as being a cramp to his style. Steve would have suggested that staring at something other�than her tits might have improved his chances with the beautiful Diva�somewhat, but nahhh... Maven hadn't helped him�with his love life any,�answering Austin's demands about Orton's whereabouts with a careless wave and the words 'Somewhere around, I guess.' Austin had refrained from beating Maven's teeth in, but only by a degree, instead directing his frustration against several plastic plants that someone in Arena Management had decided were appropriate at a sports venue. 'Cos most pro athletes went in for some foliage when they were feeling cranky... shyeah right. Staring at the handful of completely unrealistic leaves in his hand, Steve felt like giving up and going home. Despite what Copeland had said, he really had no evidence to think that Randy wanted more from Steve than a hot fuck and his non-existent pull back stage. He should probably have someone tell the kid that Vince had stopped listening to him years ago and the best he'd get from dating Stone Cold was a constant demand for sex and an unlimited supply of beer. Okay. He had one idea left and if it didn't work out he'd head back to the hotel and sulk. And drink. Pushing open the door to the�staff car park, Steve looked over the array of vehicles and tried to guess the make and model Randy would rent. Despite his initial sexual attraction to the kid, Steve knew very little about Randy's taste except that it seemed to be a lot like a mini Hunter. Ahhh... yeah. That would be it. Lifting one butt cheek to rest on the hood of a stylish champagne-coloured sedan, Austin crossed his arms across his chest and began to rehearse what he say in his head. Randy had to leave the arena sometime and when he did, Austin would pounce. He just hoped he had the right car. ---- Thirty seven minutes later, the object of Steve's lust finally walked out the exit. Hip coming off the car, Austin was stunned by Randy's slumped shoulders�and morose expression.�Randy never slumped. He must have mastered the 'cocky sonofabitch' walk at the age of five for fuck's sake and Steve had to suppress the very real urge to find the person responsible for that slump and tear them a new one. His�ass returned to the car, however, when he saw the three men following immediately on Randy's�tail. Stopping to watch the conversation taking place, Steve was amused by the look of total shock on the kid's face at whatever Michaels had to be saying to him. The handshake caused Steve's eyebrows to climb but not the almost sympathetic look on Shawn's face. Batista's expression was identical to one of many he'd seen tonight in Randy's wake, while Hunt looked like he was torn between hugging the kid and ringing his neck. He saw the moment when Randy spotted him. The look of absolute horror on the handsome features was enough to send a disappointed pang through Steve's heart. Okay well. He'd come out here to have his say and Randy was just gonna have to listen to him if Steve had to tie him to the car to do it. Strolling over to the group, Austin exchanged a nod with Shawn and Dave, then took a solid grip on Randy's elbow and looked Hunter in the eye. "Don't mind if I borrow this do ya Hunt? I won't break him." **** "So how 'bout a few more details on what Hunter and Dave had to say?" Reclining his seat a few degrees, Kev shook his head at his lover's curiousity. He should've known that Scott wouldn't be satisfied with the brief rundown he'd given him earlier, but he'd almost been hoping to avoid the details. Walking in on that particular scene wouldn't have been his first choice if he'd known ahead of time what they'd be interrupting. "Well... interesting is one word for it. I really wish I hadn't teased Mark into going to the locker room, though." Tilting his head back against the seat, Kevin let his eyes drift shut for a minute, remembering the scene. "Mark knocked and then opened the door, since it wasn't locked. I should remember to tell Hunt to lock the door from now on, I think, if they can't tone it down," he added almost as an afterthought. "Hunt and Dave were kissing... god, Scotty, you should've seen 'em. Mark... well, I always knew he still cared about Shawn, and he definitely showed that tonight." Opening his eyes again, he turned to look at Scott, letting one hand fall on Scott's knee. He had no intentions of teasing Scotty too much on the drive back to the hotel; his lover was at least as wound up as he was, after the day they'd spent teasing each other, but he couldn't not touch him, either. Letting his fingers gently knead Scott's leg, he frowned a little as he remembered the look on Mark's face. "So, Mark sees them and just loses it. For him, anyway. Demands to know what they're doing, and they practically jump apart, Hunt putting himself in between Dave and Mark like he's going to protect him. Mark made some comment about whether or not they'd waited for Shawn to leave before stabbing him in the back... I still wonder how he had any clue about Shawn and Dave, too. "Anyway,�him and Hunt�had some rather not-so-nice words about who actually cared for Shawn, and then Dave started in. After he made some snarky comments about Mark dumping Shawn---him and Shawn must've talked about some interesting things themselves last night, for him to know that---he said that he loved Shawn. Well, actually, he said that they loved Shawn. Went off about people interrupting them and assuming things, and then declared that he loved Shawn and Hunter... then turned around and said it to Hunter directly." Kevin sighed. "He'd pretty obviously not said anything about it before, which just makes me feel like a heel for interrupting a moment that pretty obviously meant a lot to both of them." "So... that's pretty much it for details, Scott. Dave walked out after that and then Benoit came to get me to go talk to Vince. Hopefully Hunter and Mark managed to actually play nice, which, since I didn't hear any further explosions tonight, I'll assume is what happened. I'm sure Shawn'll appreciate if they did, since they've always had issues with each other." Because of him, Kevin carefully didn't add. Both he and Scott knew most of that story, but neither of them had all the details and probably never would, given the natures of the two men involved. Glancing out the window, he smiled and pulled his seat up straight up again as they pulled into the hotel parking lot. He was almost grateful, since if he had to beat himself up over interrupting that moment any more, he'd give himself a headache. Besides, he had better things to think about at this point. Giving Scott a sultry look as they parked, he asked, "So, Bad Guy... got any plans for tonight?" **** Biting back his urge to break Heyman in half, Mark ignored the greasy little jackass as he watched Jeff's face. He could see the withdrawal, the normal cocky attitude sliding back into place over that momentary glimpse of vulnerability and... something else that Mark couldn't put his finger on. Watching the cool mask fall over Jeff's expressive face made something inside hurt a little, but he forced the feeling back. He had no right. Not to care for the man in front of him, and certainly not to assume---or even hope---that the caring might be returned. Certainly the business-like man he was looking at now gave no hint of any such feeling. "Not just wait for you 'Taker..." Back to his stage name. Back to counting on one hand the number of times Jeff had called him by his real name. That last time, though... there'd been something... Huffing a little at himself, he brought his mind back to the present, not letting his thoughts dwell on the odd undertones of promise in Jeff's voice.� "I'll be your bodyguard, because you really, really need one Big Man." Bodyguard? Hah. The images his mind kept throwing at him had nothing to do with Jeff being a bodyguard... although quite a bit to do with bodies. Watching with some amusement this time as Jeff played his little game with Heyman, he understood at least the idea of what Hardy was doing. Trying to act like nothing was wrong, like the "deal" they had was that he watch Mark's back against any possible spot of controversy or scandal... well, if it kept Heyman off his back and Jeff around, he could live with it. The next two months were going to be hell, though, if tonight was any indication. They had to learn to communicate with each other at least a little bit, and it was pretty damned obvious that somewhere along the line their wires had gotten crossed. Stepping up behind Jeff, he wasn't surprised somehow when Jeff handed him his coat without even looking. His own sensitivity to the other man's presence had gone up tonight, and apparently it was mutual. What that might mean was something he'd have to worry about later. Right now, he had a job to do. "Don't you think so 'Taker?" He smiled a little,�his hand lingering against Jeff's for a brief moment before he shrugged the coat on, following a step behind Jeff and Heyman as they walked to the curtains. Heyman's pace was quick, nervous; Jeff's confusion tactics seemed to be working on him. Too bad they were working on Mark, too. Stopping as Heyman went out, he looked at Jeff, wanting to say something... but found the words stuck as he took in the slight flush and almost longing expression on the younger man's face. He recognised the look. He'd felt the same way, more than once. Allowing himself the moment of weakness, he put a hand on Jeff's shoulder, feeling uncharacteristically awkward as he spoke. "It'll be yours again, Jeff. I promise." Squeezing slightly before letting his hand slide away with almost a caressing motion, he cursed himself at the look on Jeff's face. He could hear Heyman's voice squeaking in the background as they looked at each other, and heard the first cue. Shrugging slightly, hoping Jeff would understand---but how could he, when Mark didn't understand himself, tonight?---he stepped back, his eyes closing for a minute as he let The Undertaker come out, flow through him. His back straightened slightly, his eyes drifted open, and he twitched his coat into straight lines as he turned toward the curtain. The gong struck. Counting the beats, he nodded slightly to himself, then stepped out through the curtain, the flashing of lights through the enveloping darkness almost blinding him, and walked down the ramp. **** to be continued...

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