Chapter One

"I've got the perfect plan!"

The other three men in the locker room turned to look at the blond making his announcement from the doorway with varying reactions.

Hunter smiled with fond amusement. His best friend was always coming up with the perfect plan, but only half of them turned out to be truly perfect. The other half tended to fail dismally. Though he did have to admit that the blond had done wonders on Karaoke night. He and Chris might have stumbled around for a few more years before figuring out their mutual feelings...maybe longer.

Chris, having been a beneficiary of one of Shawn's perfect plans, smiled with glee. He so wanted in on this plan...whatever it was. After all, he was no slouch at planning himself. Shawn and Dave were very happy together and it was partially thanks to Hunter and himself that the two had finally admitted how they felt.

Dave covered his face with his hands and groaned. Shawn as cupid was kind of a scary thought. Ever since they had gotten together, Shawn seemed to have this insatiable urge to help others find their true loves. Sometimes it worked out. Other attempts were just plain terribly bad ideas...that whole Tyson/Flair thing he had tried to arrange was still giving Dave nightmares. He had no clue what Shawn had been thinking when he told Flair that showing Tyson the man behind the robe might get him somewhere. Of course Flair had taken him literally and flashed Ty right in the middle of the locker room. Nightmares...

All three of them wondered whom the intended victims...er, recipients of Shawn's beneficence were to be, but only one of them had the courage to ask.

"Who is it this time Shawn? And please don't say Trish and Micki because Trish really does think she's a psycho. You do know that, right?"

Shawn snorted with laughter as he walked into the room flipping a CD case between his fingers. "That would be fun," he said, laughing when simultaneous groans reached his ears, "but I'm not that crazy. Trish would knock me out if I tried it and she could do it too. I've been warned not to even think about involving myself in her love life and I like living so..."

The others all smiled. At least Shawn was taking the warning to heart. None of them would have been surprised if he'd decided to try anyway.

"Nope, I've got me a bona fide winner here. Can't miss. The way those two snipe at each other? And they just ooze sexual tension. It's meant to be. I'm telling ya. And this right here," he said tapping at the case in his fingers, "is the solution."

"You're insane." Shawn stuck his tongue out in response to Hunter's contribution.

"Have you ever thought, baby, that they just truly can't stand each other? Sniping is not necessarily an indication of true ever-lasting love you know."

Shawn rolled his eyes at Dave before giving him what he thought was the obvious answer. "There's sniping and then there's sniping, love. Their kind is just defensive because they each think the other can't stand them, but they are so into each other. You can tell just from looking at them."

Hunter and Dave still didn't look convinced, but that was okay because he still had one possible accomplice left. Chris was the one he'd been hoping would help him anyway because it made the most sense. The blond was looking terribly thoughtful so Shawn wasn't assured of his help yet, but he had confidence that he could convince him to help if need be.

Chris was thinking seriously about the interactions between the two men that Shawn was obviously talking about. At first glance one would assume that they honestly didn't like each other, but at second glance... The barbs they threw at each other weren't vicious. Neither one of them went for obvious sore points. It was more...playful. Maybe...just maybe Shawn was right.

"Okay. I'm in."

Shawn grinned broadly as he walked towards Chris. "I knew you'd see the rightness of it. Now all you have to do is..."

****

He wasn't appearing on the show tonight and he didn't really have to be here at all, but he just couldn't seem to keep away. He couldn't understand it. He definitely couldn't explain it. Why in the hell he was so drawn to that bratty little punk was beyond him. But he was. It was kind of like an addiction. The more the kid insulted him, the more he wanted to be around him. Steve couldn't even say for sure why he felt that way. All they ever did was get under each other's skin.



And why the hell was he wearing a god-damned suit of all things? Oh right...because Michaels had mentioned that Vince was having some big-wigs in for meetings of some sort. It had nothing at all to do with Steve trying to impress the kid. Nuh-uh.

The brat was hot as hell and Steve had to admit to himself that he'd wondered more than once what it would be like having that lithe body underneath him, the guy moaning in ecstasy. And he would be too. Steve was supremely confident in his ability to get that exact result. He just hadn't figured out how to get the punk into his bed without incurring bodily harm in the process.

Coming out and just telling the kid wasn't Steve's style. Actually, he didn't have a style when it came to the whole dating thing. Somehow he doubted that the man in question would be thrilled if he asked him out for a few brews over a bowl of beernuts. Nope, Randy was more the champagne and steak dinner type. Not that Steve had anything at all against a good steak, but he could do without that fancy bubbly crap. It made his nose itch. Besides, any time he even hinted at something between the two of them all he ended up with was a bruised ego. The kid sure could come up with some zingers, though Steve gave as good as he got.

As he pulled his favorite truck into the parking garage behind a shiny limousine and noticed just who was exiting from the vehicle, he couldn't help but grin. Speak of the devil...

****

"Hey jackass! Come over here and park my damn truck. If ya do a good job and don't scratch it, then I won't have ta open a can of whoopass on ya."

The dark-haired man on the receiving end of that order was less than pleased to hear it. He turned around and sneered at the man approaching him across blacktop. It was the absolute best sneer he could muster...the one he reserved for just one man...Stone Cold Steve Austin or as he liked to call him...Assmunch.

"Har har. Very funny assmunch. I'd think even a stupid redneck like you could tell the difference between an Armani suit and a parking attendant uniform, but I suppose I gave you too much credit."

Randy picked a piece of imaginary lint from the sleeve of his suit as he walked towards the door to the arena. Steve quickly tossed his keys at one of the crew members, the command obvious in his scowl without the words, as he followed the younger man into the building.

"Sorry 'bout that Randall," he said, the name coming out in a sing-song mocking manner. "I prolly would have recognized ya if it weren't fer yer hair. What happened? Lawn mower run away on ya?"

"There is nothing wrong with my hair. It looks the exact same way it does every single week. Hitting the beer early today?"

"Nah. Not really. I've only had 'bout two or three so far. And it don't look the same. It's stickin' up all o'er the place. I betcha if Snitsky used as much gel as ya got in yer hair even he could stay stiff. That's a lotta damn gel." Steve reached over and patted the top of Randy's hair...just to be ornery.

"God. Keep your hands out of my hair, you cretin. And what's with the suit? I seem to recall you saying that would never happen again. Special occasion or did you lose your luggage?"

"Looks good, don't it? Though I could do without this here choke strap," Steve said, tugging on the end of his tie. "Thought maybe I'd pick me up some tonight. Int'rested?"

"I don't think so. As thrilling as the idea of rolling in the sheets with you is," Randy said, his tone making it sound like he thought it was anything but thrilling, "I'm not that easy. Even all prettied up in that suit, you are still...an assmunch."

"Ya think I'm pretty? Well that just warms mah heart, Randall. It really does. And if ya don't stop callin' me that name, one a these days I'm gonna have ta do somethin' ta actually earn it."

Steve laughed riotously as the look on Randy's face went from confused to clearly horrified.

"What'sa matter Randall? Don't like having yer ass munched? I'd be gentle."

"You...I...argh!" With the frustrated sound echoing through the halls, Randy turned on his heel and headed towards a dressing room...any dressing room...just to put space between him and one Stone Cold Steve Austin.

"That went well," the Texan said with a smirk as he headed in the opposite direction. He'd just have to catch up with the kid later...and try again.

****

"Steve! Old buddy, old pal...can you do me a huge favor?"

Steve had just made it to catering and started looking over the offerings when Jericho approached him. He raised a curious brow at the blond, which rose even higher when Jerky started lathering on the praise.

"You're looking really sharp in that suit. Going to have more offers than you know what to do with tonight, I'm betting."

"What'sa matter Jerky? Trips giving ya grief? No offense, but I don't like poachin' on friend's preserves, even the really tasty lookin' ones."

That and the grin on Steve's face seemed to stop CJ cold for a moment, his jaw dropping open for a moment before he could stop himself.

"I...no, no...nothing like that. I made this CD for Randy, but I haven't seen him yet and I really have to go get ready for my match. I was hoping you could deliver it for me and tell him that he should listen to it right away."

Steve took the proffered case, giving it a once over, before turning that curious look on Chris.

"It's...er...music that I thought he might like. Maybe a new entrance theme or something."

Looking skeptically at the blond, who now looked like he was searching for a quick escape, Steve couldn't help but wonder what he was missing here. But...this would give him another reason to search out his quarry, so he wasn't about to question it too closely. "Sure, I'll git right on it. Don't ya have a match ta go git ready fer?"

"Yes! Uh...yes, yes I do. Thanks Steve. I really, really appreciate this," Chris said as he backed out of the room, a look on his face like the demons of hell were after him.

****

It took him a good ten minutes to track down Randy and when he found him in Mark's locker room, he wasn't particularly thrilled by what he saw. Mark was sitting on a bench, his black leather pants unfastened in the front, Randy knelt behind him with his hand delved down the back of those same leather pants.

The words flew out of his mouth before he could even consider stopping them.

"Well isn't that special? Why don't ya just kiss his ass while yer down there?"

Two heads snapped up simultaneously. One face was wreathed in amusement, the other was clearly exhibiting exasperation and disbelief. But the thing that really bothered Steve was the sharp jab of jealousy that he hadn't been expecting. Yeah, he was sexually attracted to Randy. He'd be the first to admit that, but it wasn't like he loved the kid or anything.

So why did it bother him so much that Randy's hand was still stuffed down the back of Mark's drawers?

As Mark grinned, the scowl on Steve's face grew in direct proportion to the Deadman's amusement. What was so damned funny?

"He's just pulling the tag for me Steve. Having the insane urge to scratch my ass while I'm on camera just didn't sound like a good idea. Damned new pants..."

vIt took Steve a moment to process Mark's words, but it didn't cause the scowl on his face to lessen. If anything it became more pronounced, because Randy still had his hand where it didn't belong. Damn it. Maybe he was just pissed because he'd made the offer to let Randy stick his hand down his pants and the little brat had firmly declined. Yeah...that was probably all it was.

"What do you want, Steve? Are you going to follow me all over the arena or something? I didn't think you would be that desperate for me to turn you down again."

Steve didn't so much as blink even though Randy's barb had actually struck something in him this time around. Catching Mark's wince out of the corner of his eye, Steve forced his scowl into a smile. Inside he was wondering why the hell he did keep throwing himself out there when it was obvious Randy was never going to take him up on his offers. The answer was still the same...he just couldn't stop himself from making them and maybe, just maybe, one of these times he'd get lucky.

"I figured I'd give ya the chance ta correct your earlier mistake. Ya don't know what yer missin'."

The amazed look on Mark's face made him smile even more.

"Besides, I had ta give ya somethin'." Steve carefully laid the CD case on the bench beside Mark, before turning and walking casually towards the door. "Take a listen ta that. I'll see ya later, Randall."

Mark was the only one that heard the softly muttered "in my nightmares maybe" accompanied by the sound of tearing fabric. He turned to look at the man still kneeling on the floor behind him. "You know boy, one of these days he's gonna stop trying to get in your pants and that's when you'll finally figure out you've wanted him there the whole time."

Mark stood and fastened his pants, ignoring the stunned look on Randy's face he followed Steve out the door.

****

It was preposterous, that's what it was. He did not want Steve Austin anywhere near his pants let alone in them. Mark was seeing something that wasn't there. Steve was an uncouth pervert, for god's sake. The guy swilled beer like it was water, drove a pickup truck with super-sized tires, and he couldn't even speak proper English. So totally not Randy's type at all.

So what if he did look really good in that suit? So what if Randy had wondered more than once what it would feel like to have those roughened hands touching every part of his body? So what if he was actually tempted by the thought of joining Steve at the bar, dancing to redneck country music, and eating those atrocious little pretzels they set out in bowls on the tables?

He wasn't going to do it.

All Steve wanted from him was a quick lay. That was all he'd ever offered and Randy thought more of himself than that. He expected more than that. He was Randy-freaking-Orton...he could have anyone that he wanted with a flick of his wrist.

So why did he have this insane urge to chase after a bald redneck in a suit and actually take him up on the offer that would surely be tossed his way?

His growl echoing in the silent room, Randy swiped the CD case from the bench and stalked from the room. He was terribly curious as to what was on the damned thing. Steve was bringing him music? He supposed weirder things had happened. He just couldn't think of any at the moment.

****

Mark sauntered into catering, looking for his friends, and stopped dead in his tracks. Adam was lounging against the front of the buffet, obviously putting the moves on one Johnny Nitro. From their positions, Adam couldn't see him, but Johnny sure could. Leveling the man with a glare, he wanted to smile when Nitro noticed the look, made a hasty excuse, and fled the room. Adam looked confused but not really disappointed as he headed over to the table where Kevin, Scott, Chris, Shawn, Dave, and Hunter were sitting. Mark probably should feel bad...but he didn't.

As he approached the table himself, he happened to hear several comments between Jericho and Shawn that had him raising his eyebrow.

"I gave the CD to him Shawn, but I don't know if he's delivered it yet."

"What did you tell him?"

"That I had a match to get ready for and didn't have time to give it to Randy myself. He didn't question it."

Mark laughed quietly as he pulled out a chair next to Scott. "If you're talking about Austin, he delivered it alright. He neglected to mention that it was from you though." Mark took note of the excited grins his statement provoked and wondered what the two were up to. "What exactly was on that CD?"

"Just a song," was Shawn's immediate reply. At the raised brow from Mark, he expanded on his explanation. "I taped it and gave it to Chris."

"And I gave it to Austin to give to Randy. We were kind of hoping Randy would assume it was from Steve."

Mark groaned. "This is some matchmaking plot of yours, isn't it Michaels?" At the vigorous nod from the blond in question, Mark shook his head. "I hate to break it to you, but things didn't go very well. Austin didn't look too thrilled when Randy shot him down yet again and I think this time Randy might have actually drawn blood. So unless that song is magic, I wouldn't hold my breath on those two getting near each other any time soon."

Chris looked disappointed, Hunter's expression shouted 'I told you so', Shawn was delivering a devastating pout that almost made Mark want to take back what he'd said, and Dave was looking at his lover sympathetically. The rest of the men at the table just looked happy that they hadn't been involved in Shawn's little scheme.

Except for Kevin...he was staring at the space separating Mark's chair from Scott's while pretending not to. With a grin, Mark tossed an arm around Scott's shoulders. "So Scotty...I've been having a lot of trouble getting to sleep at night and I was hoping you could help me out with that..." Mark grinned unrepentantly when he caught the two simultaneous glares aimed in his direction. It grew wider when Shawn sprayed the sip of water he'd just taken on Hunter. Ignoring the flurry of apologies by Shawn as he dabbed at Hunter with a napkin, Mark winked at the dark-haired man next to him who was sporting a grin of his own. "You ready to come sing me that lullaby yet?"

****

Randy was cursing under his breath as he dug through his bag for his portable CD player. Having heard some of the music that Steve listened to on occasion, and not by choice, he could only imagine what was on the CD that he held in his hand. It was probably something atrocious like 'Hillbillies Love It In The Hay' or his all-time favorite 'My Cell-Mate Thinks I'm Sexy'.

Having finally located his player, he loaded the CD, set the volume on low and hit play. It wasn't a song he'd ever heard before, but it certainly wasn't country. He snorted as he heard the first line. God, this song could have been written just for Austin...bad grammar and all.

I don't look good in no Armani Suits

No Gucci shoes - or designer boots

I've tried the latest lines from A to Z

But there's just one thing that looks good on me

Randy had to admit that Austin's suit didn't look too bad on him, but it certainly wasn't Armani and the redneck looked better shirtless in a pair of ass-hugging jeans.

What the hell was he thinking?

He was almost scared to speculate where this song was going, but he kept listening anyway.

The only thing I want

The only thing I need

The only thing I choose

The only thing that looks good on me...is you

'Please tell me he's joking,' was Randy's first thought as the chorus came to an end. Steve had hit on him in every possible manner in the past from subtle to downright obscene and now he was using music on a CD to do the work for him? He'd heard everything now. Even as he thought it, he knew better...there was always the chance that Steve would shoot on him at some point in front of a crowd of thousands. Vince would have a fit. He had to put a stop to this because he was so not going out with Steve...ever.

I'm not satisfied with Versace style

Put those patent leather pants - in the circular file

Sometimes I think - I might be lookin' good

But there's only one thing that fits me like it should

Of course the guy didn't want Versace! He'd worn jean-shorts with black knee braces and black boots in public. How often had he caught the guy scratching himself? Randy shuddered then stiffened his back as he recalled wanting to do a bit of the scratching himself from time to time.

No, no, no! So not going there...

And what was with this song? Austin in leather pants? An image flashed in his head...one of Steve in tight leather pants, one of those black vests he used to wear to the ring, and a whip in hand. So what...now he had an S&M fetish?

Another image...this time depicting how well he might 'fit' Steve...

God, he was losing it. He should turn this song off and go give Steve hell...but it was like that whole 'deer in the headlights' effect. He just couldn't move.

The only thing I want

The only thing I need

The only thing I choose

The only thing that looks good on me...is you

And what was this shit with being the 'only' thing for Steve? The closest Steve had ever come to offering him more than a one night stand was the night he'd asked if Randy wanted to head back to his hotel room and shack up...for a week. Maybe he was expecting too much...but a little more than an offer for hot sweaty sex in Austin's truck would be nice. Instead he had to repeatedly turn the guy down and Austin just didn't get the hint. Maybe if he said yes just once it'd give the bastard a heart attack.

Nah...he couldn't get that lucky.

He ignored the little voice in the back of his head that said he'd actually miss Steve if anything ever happened to him.

Ya it's you - it could only be you

Nobody else will ever do

Ya baby it's you - that I stick to

Ya we stick like glue

Well the glue part was right anyway...every time he turned around he was faced with Austin. The guy nit-picked his clothes, his hair, and he even made fun of the way Randy delivered his promos. If he didn't know better he'd think it was kind of like pulling a little girl's pigtails in grade school. Of course his own behavior was hardly above reproach. He knocked Austin just as often, but it wasn't because he actually liked the guy or admired his wit or anything...

The only thing I want

The only thing I need

The only thing I choose

The only thing that looks good on me...is you

When the song faded out, Randy listened for a moment to make sure there was nothing else on the CD, but hearing only silence he turned the device off. He carefully put the CD player back in his bag then stood and walked out of the room. He was going to deal with this now before Austin made another move. He'd finally had enough.

****

He'd changed his mind.

The moment he walked out of Mark's dressing room he was overcome by the urge to ditch his suit. Randy certainly hadn't been impressed even if he had said that Steve looked 'pretty'. Pretty. Steve snorted loudly. Like anyone in their right mind could ever consider him 'pretty'. That explained it...Randy was nuts.

The suit wasn't really him anyway. Sure, he could doll himself up and he actually did have manners to exhibit, despite whatever Randy thought, but since the kid would never give him a chance to prove it, it didn't really matter. Still...he would have gone through with the whole wining and dining thing if it would have allowed him get his foot in the door. Since Randy had turned him down yet again, he wanted all remnants of his little fantasy date gone.

He stalked out into the parking lot and barked at the guy who had parked his truck to go retrieve his bag. On any other occasion, Steve would have been amused at the speed with which the guy sprinted across the parking lot. At this particular moment, Steve was too busy considering his options. As far as he was concerned, he'd offered Randy pretty much every conceivable possibility that he could come up with for a first date...short of making a trip somewhere to invoke a 'domestic partnership'...and that just wasn't gonna happen. Was it too much to ask to actually have a date or two under their belt before expecting a commitment of any sort? He'd even settle for not going any farther than a goodnight kiss if he could just get the guy to go have a beer with him.

Steve liked the kid, definitely wanted to get in his pants, he could even see them shacking up together long term, but he wasn't ready to even look at that big scary 'L' word until he actually talked the guy into a first date. So, for the sake of his own sanity...he was giving up. For the first time ever, Stone Cold Steve Austin was throwing in the towel.

Snatching his bag from the returning employee, he snarled a thank you and stalked back into the arena. Screw Vince and his corporate bigwigs...they could take him as he was. An old redneck boy like him had no need for a suit and Vince could just deal with it...and so could Randy. Though his dealings with Randy were bound to be slim to none for the future. No more hunting the kid down before his matches to try and taunt him into accepting a proposition. No more jokes about his singing, his hair, his wrestling gear...nope. Steve was completely done.

He would go out of his way to avoid Randy whenever possible and when it wasn't then he'd just keep his mouth shut. What did he need with a rich, spoiled, totally sexy guy like that anyway? Hell, he could pick up one of the younger guys and get them into his bed without having to offer so much as buying them a beer. They wouldn't have Randy's smile, Randy's snarky comebacks, and they definitely wouldn't have Randy's voice, which made him want to melt into a puddle of goo whenever he heard it. But so what! So what if their bodies weren't quite as perfect...so what if they didn't have those sexy little tattoos that he wanted to trace every inch of with his tongue...repeatedly. So what if they had never made him have passing thoughts of receiving rather than giving. So fuckin' what! At least they would make him feel wanted...for a few hours.

Steve didn't notice the people in the hallway scrambling to get out of his way. He wasn't aware of the fierce scowl on his face. He never noticed the guy jumping out of the way to avoid getting hit by the locker room door as he threw it open and stalked inside or the loud clang of the door slamming shut behind him. Not that he would have cared...it would just boost his reputation amongst the crew. Austin on a rampage? Nothing new there.

His suit jacket flew in one direction, his tie in another. What did he care? He wasn't about to wear the damn suit again. That didn't explain why he carefully unbuttoned the shirt rather than just rip it off, but for some reason he found himself taking care with them. Once he did that though, all bets were off and the shirt ended up hanging over a potted ficus plant. His shoes ended up in two different spots as he toed them off viciously. The belt and the fastenings on his pants took little time to open and he was just bending over to dig through his bag for a pair of jean shorts when the door swung open with a loud whoosh.

Steve stood up, turned to face the intruder, and while his mind was racing for a valid reason for the person to be standing in the doorway of his dressing room, his slacks slid over his hips and dropped to the floor, exposing the silky blue boxer shorts that he'd bought just for the occasion. He wasn't the least bit embarrassed to be standing there in his drawers, but he'd just realized something...damn were the things uncomfortable...clinging where they shouldn't, gaping where they shouldn't, and if he shifted just so...they tickled. So Steve did the only thing he could do at that moment...scratched. After all, he wasn't trying to impress anyone anymore and he was about to prove it.

"What the hell do you want?"

****

Storming through the hallways, he ignored the crew and cast members jumping to move out of his way. He turned yet another corner and barreled into catering, his eyes searching the room swiftly for his quarry. Coming to a sudden halt as he realized that Austin was not among the small group of friends at the table across the room, Randy wondered where the heck the guy could have gotten to.

Maybe he'd left the arena.

Good!

No, not good. He wanted this settled...tonight.

Crossing the room at a clipped pace, he stopped abruptly at the end of the table. He'd concentrate on Jericho. If he could get anyone to crack about Austin's location, it would definitely be Chris.

"Where the hell is Austin? And don't even try to tell me that you don't know. One of you has to know."

Watching the looks of amusement, confusion, and curiosity spanning across the faces at the table, Randy snarled in impatience.

"He hasn't been in here all night Randy. We kind of figured he was busy getting shot down by you again. Don't know why the guy bothers anymore. I kind of feel sorry for him. He must really want to go out with you because he's not usually that persistent."

Shawn's reply earned him a sharp snort of disbelief. Yeah right. Like he was supposed to consider himself special just because Austin propositioned him more than anyone else in the company? How incredibly flattering...not.

"I think he gave up on Glen after getting turned down the third time. Said it was too much work just to get a foot in the door. Why work that hard when he can just flash a dimpled smile at one of the idol-worshipping rookies and end up with a bed-warmer? Hell...Nitro isn't a rookie anymore but he'd probably buy him beer just for the privilege."

Randy simply glared at Mark. It was not because he'd mentioned Nitro wanting to get cozy with Austin. It wasn't! It was because Mark had the idea that being hit on by Austin an average of five times a day for the last six months was an accomplishment or something. He'd be totally thrilled if Austin wanted to turn his attentions to...

For some reason he couldn't finish that thought. It left a bad taste in his mouth. But why?

"Yeah, he must really have it bad for you Randall. The last time I made a comment about wearing sunglasses to avoid the glare of the stage lights off his head, he came after me with a chair. Yet you get to insult him all you want and he comes back time and time again begging for more. Either he's convinced that your ass is made of solid gold..." Randy turned swiftly sideways when he realized that Adam was staring at the body part in question. "Or he is genuinely interested in something more than that. I think he's a glutton for punishment."

Carefully keeping his ass out of Adam's line of sight, he flipped the blond the finger. He was just about to tell him what he thought of his armchair psychology when yet another of the men at the table started talking.

"Nah, Chico. An ass made of gold wouldn't have Austin begging. He gave up on Shannon after one try...and I know for a fact that that ass is bright, shiny, and golden."

Kevin glared at Scott for that comment. Mark grinned. Adam glared as Mark draped his arm around Scott's shoulders. Shawn had his head buried in his arms on the table, choking back laughter. Dave, Hunter, and Chris just stared at Scott in amazement for saying such a thing.

Randy growled.

"Will you people just shut up already! Austin does not want to date me. He's propositioned me in every conceivable manner for sex, but he's never asked me on a date...not once." Not really noticing that his voice was getting louder as he went, Randy continued on his little rant. "Steve has mentioned at least a hundred different scenarios for fucking me..."

Nitro, who had slipped back into the room from another entrance while trying to avoid Mark's notice, suddenly interrupted him. "Make sure you take him a six-pack Randy. He likes to drink a beer in between rounds. Definitely worth six bucks." If looks could kill, Johnny would have been dead on the spot. The man grinned as Randy stomped towards the door to the hallway. "He's in his dressing room..." The last was shouted as Randy passed through the doorway.

Various laughs and groans echoed through the room as Shawn pulled a twenty-dollar bill out of his wallet and handed it over to Johnny.

"You know, if Randy doesn't go out with Austin after all that, I might just spend the six dollars to find out if there's any truth to what I just said."

****

He was furious.

No, he was beyond furious...and quite honestly surprised. He shouldn't have been though. He'd been turning the guy down for the last six months. Of course he hadn't kept his bed empty for that long. Randy was just that shot in the dark that Austin kept taking while he was running around bedding the rookies and the other young guys like Nitro. Wouldn't it have put a crimp in his plans if Randy had finally agreed to go out with him on a night when he already had a date with someone else for a cheap roll in the hay?

God.

He couldn't believe that he'd actually almost bought into the guys' talk about how he was special to the bald red-necked smooth-talker. No...that was wrong. Unless you counted something like 'Wanna git nekked?' as smooth talk. Whatever term he wanted to apply there...he was obviously not special to the man. He was just one in a long string of possible conquests.

As he ripped open the door that he'd been directed to by a cowering technical assistant, Randy considered exactly what he wanted to say to the target of his ire. Most of his thoughts were centered around very vulgar four-letter words, a true measure of his ire and disgust. Austin was going to regret the day that he'd ever tried to proposition Randall Keith Orton. Austin would be cowering in the corner by the time he got done venting his rage. Austin was...

...Standing in the middle of the room in pretty much nothing but a pair of blue silk boxer shorts. A very expensive looking pair of boxer shorts that clung in all the right places. Definitely not what he'd have pictured as an undergarment for the man called the 'Rattlesnake'...not that he'd given it a whole lot of thought past wondering if the man wore any at all.

He looked...really fucking hot in them though.

No...no, no, no. He was here to ream Austin's ass...no, bad word choice. Randy was going to give Austin hell. He was not here to stare at the man and appreciate the fact that Austin had obviously been working out lately. He was definitely not going to offer to pick up on the scratching where Austin had just left off.

"What the hell do you want?"

Finally noticing the scowl on the bald man's face, Randy gaped for a moment. No matter what Randy had said to the man over the last six months...no matter how nasty he had been in his rejections...Steve had never looked at him in that way. Oh he'd grumped, groaned, and scowled...but there had always been a twinkling light in those beautiful blue eyes. Despite his previous anger with the man and his determination to finally end this once and for all...Randy felt himself missing that little twinkle. He waited a moment to see if it was just a trick of the fluorescent lights, but even when he shifted his stance to correct any possible glare...the sparkle of humor was still missing. His inexplicable reaction to its absence just sparked his anger once again.

"You know Steve, I really thought you'd tried every line possible to get me into your bed, but this latest stunt takes the cake. You couldn't even be bothered to stick around for my rejection to your lame attempt at seducing me with a song for god's sake. So that's why I am here...to tell you that it failed. Just like all of your other attempts. Give it up Austin."

Even as he issued the ultimatum, he felt the urge to withdraw it. Maybe it was just the fact that Steve showed no reaction at all. There was no emotion at all in those eyes that he usually found himself falling into despite the protests of his common sense. As Austin turned towards his bag once again while stepping out of the slacks around his ankles, Randy found himself wishing that Steve would turn around so he could keep searching for that twinkle.

"Fine."

He could say that he barely heard the gruffly spoken word, but that wasn't the truth. Surprise was his only excuse for what happened next. Steve wasn't going to actually give up that easily...was he?

"Wh...what?"

"Ya heard me. Fine. If that's what ya want, then I'll leave ya be."

If that's what he wanted? It was...wasn't it?

"I...yes, that's what I want. You really mean it? You aren't going to ask me to..."

He really couldn't believe it. After six months of chasing him, Steve was just going to give up. It was about time. He was happy about it.

Wasn't he?

"I ain't goin' ta ask ya out again. Ya got mah word on it."

Whoa...wait a minute. Steve hadn't 'asked him out' and that was the whole point here. Asking someone out and asking someone for a fuck were hardly the same thing. Right? Not that he would have considered going out with Austin anyway. Although he had looked really damn good in that suit. He looked really damn good in those little blue silk shorts too. Not that Randy was looking...much.

"You never asked me out Steve. Going out implies actually going out somewhere and maybe having some conversation or something. I don't recall any such invitation."

Randy stood in shock when Steve snorted at him. The man finally turned around and Randy finally read something in those beautiful blue eyes...he just couldn't explain the sudden disgust he saw there. Not until Austin spoke again.

"Did ya think I was wearin' that blasted git up fer my health? Ya turned down everythin' else I threw at ya. Now I'll be the first ta admit that mah social talents are vergin' on non-existent, but I thought ya were smart 'nough ta figure out what I was askin' fer. If I'd a wanted a quick lay, I coulda picked me up one a the rookies. Don't worry none though, ya want me ta leave ya alone and that's what I'm aimin' ta do."

Read chapter Two of Two