A/N: I'm going to apologize to all of the Cena and Batista fans, but I really don't mean it. I hate them both. But they inspired this one.
"You don't know this, but for the past six years, I've been watching you."
Jericho stared at the monitor in the locker room in disbelief. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Did John Cena really just say that to Dave Batista?
Well, wasn't that just creepy.
"Lance Cade, come here! You need to here this!" Jericho called into the shower area of the locker room.
"Chris, I'm naked!" Lance called back. He didn't like being interrupted during his shower time.
"It doesn't matter if you're naked! I'll throw you a sparkly towel if you desire! Just get in here!" Jericho yelled.
A few short moments later, Lance showed up in basketball shorts and shampoo still in his hair. "Chris, his better be important."
"Oh, it is, Lance Cade. John Cena just told Dave Batista that he's been watching him for six years. I knew that there was something going on there. Two buff guys like that cannot be seen together that often without people thinking things," Chris explained.
Lance's face turned red. He tried tiptoeing his way back to his shower, but Chris stopped him.
"DO NOT DEFY ME, LANCE CADE! Listen to the television!"
Batista, mercifully, opened his mouth to speak after John Cena finished his pitiful attempt at a glory speech. "It's funny that you've been watching me, because I've been watching you, too."
"Oh, no he didn't!" Chris screeched, snapping his fingers in a "Z" formation.
"Chris, did you suddenly acquire hood instincts?" Lance asked.
"You were there with me, Lance Cade. I purchased some hood instincts from JTG and Big Shad. Anyways, don't you find this whole John Cena and Dave Batista scandal to be rather intriguing?"
"No," Lance sighed. "I find it to be boring and unoriginal. How many times can enemies become tag team champions?"
Jericho put his index finger in the air. "Why, Lance Cade, I just thought of an idea! I'm going to turn on you, and then we can become the new tag team champions?"
"No, Chris. Can I return to my shower, now?"
Jericho turned to look at Lance. "My, my, Lance. Your head is disgusting! You have white foam all over it! I demand that you take a shower right now and wash that off."
"Are you kidding me?"
"No, I'm not. You look horrendous. And if you need some special shampoo, I have some that will make your hair sparkle like the sea."
"Thanks for the thought, Chris," Lance sighed, knowing that it was futile to argue with the Messiah of the Sparkle.