A/N: Hahaha, collaborating is fun! This is redsandman99 and I want to say something real quick. RRatedauthor (who wrote the majority of this first chapter *stops to hand him a cookie*) owns Tom and if you do not know who Tom is, you should probably go to RRatedauthor's profile page and read Blood Brothers by Choice, Superstar for a Day and One is the Loneliest Number because I don't feel like explaining the entire Tom/Jeff history at the moment. And I own James, and if you don't know who he is by now, just look at some of my other stories and you'll find out everything you need to know about my lovely psycho.

Tom walked through the front door. It had been a hard day at the office and all he really wanted to do was relax in front of the television with a cold beer. Being a district sales rep for the WWE involved a lot of travel and it was not uncommon for Tom to be dead tired when he came home. Hardly a day went by when Tom didn't ask himself why he'd taken this job after he'd blown his knee out in a Hell in a Cell match with the Undertaker. That was actually the second question he usually asked himself; the first being why did he agree to the feud with Mark in the first place? It wasn't really based on anything... it wasn't like he'd encased Paul Bearer in Cement or some nonsense like that. But one wrong landing and Tom's career had ended right there.

Thankfully Stephanie had offered him this position. Tom had come to the conclusion that she had done this not out of any sympathy for him, but rather to justify the size of the guaranteed contract Tom had signed just a few months earlier. Barring that injury, Tom should've been wrestling regularly through Wrestlemania XXX.

"Jeffro, I'm home." He shouted, then frowned. Usually his husband of almost a year was waiting for him to return with said cold beer, or if not, at least dinner on the table. This time, there was neither. Not even their surrogate son, Lucas, greeted him. Jeff had agreed to baby-sit while Matt was on a European Tour.

"Anybody?" Tom hung up his sport coat and walked into the kitchen. Opening the fridge, he mumbled under his breath. The complete and total lack of beer was upsetting, but even more so was the fact that there was almost a full case when he'd left that morning. He looked at his watch, brow furrowed, as he tried to figure out just what the hell was going on. No beer, no dinner, no Jeffro. Tom was tempted to step outside and make sure that he'd come to the right house, but he dismissed that as ridiculous, although it did happen once during the haze that was his late teens.

The only thing that even caught Tom's eyes was a can of Pepsi. He hated the stuff with a passion, but since Phil wasn't on speaking terms with Jeff anymore, there was no chance he'd miss it. He popped the top and drank half the can, enjoying the burn as the carbonation hit his throat. Grabbing a bag of Cool Ranch, (At least whoever had taken the beer hadn't touched his chips or there would be pain!) Tom adjourned into the den, planning to relax with either some poker or maybe a baseball game, he didn't particularly care which.

With his hand on the door to the den, Tom heard a faint scratching noise from within. At least he now knew where the dog opened the door and gasped. He know also knew where Jeff was. Passed out on the floor with his friend Shannon, the remnants of Tom's case of beer scattered around. The room reeked of alcohol and sweat and if Tom wasn't mistaken, an undertone of a certain drug he'd also become familiar with during his hazy period.

Pretending that Jeff and Shannon weren't sprawled across the floor, Tom made as much noise as he could in sitting down, opening his chips and turning on the plasma TV he'd just bought Jeff for his thirty-second birthday.

"Thirty-two." He looked down at his husband, his teeth clenching uncontrollably. "I swear, Lucas is more grown up than you are sometimes."

Upon hearing his name, Lucas bounded back into the room and jumped on Tommy's lap. He scratched his ears and Lucas immediately splayed out, exposing his underbelly for a rub.

"At least somebody loves me." Tom continued to pet Lucas while he channel surfed for something to watch. No baseball, no poker, and he sure as hell wasn't going to watch RAW. Since he could no longer compete, he really had no interest in watching the television shows. Fortunately, the Game Show Network was showing an old episode of "Deal or No Deal".

"Damn.. I've only seen this one like a hundred times." Tom yelled

Turning the volume down to almost non-existent levels, he spent the next two hours snacking on chips and splitting his attention between the television and Jeff and Shannon. Finally, an idea came to him.

"Lucas... "

Matt's "son" meandered into the room and made a beeline for Tom, jumping onto his lap and licking his face affectionately. Since receiving temporary custody, Tom had learned that Cool Ranch chips were one of the dog's favorite treats.

"Baby Lucas want a treat?" Tom scratched its ear.

Lucas barked an affirmative.

"Good dog. Now sit." Tom took a couple of the chips and placed them on Jeff's face. "Lucas... treat..." He shook the bag.

Lucas jumped of the couch and went right for the chips on Jeff's face, snapping them up then licking the crumbs off of him.

"No lickies..." Jeff moaned, pushing the dog aside.

"Morning... or should I say evening?" Tom squatted nearby.

"Tommy, you're home early." Jeff stretched. He was shirtless, but Tom had lived with Jeff long enough to know that he liked showing off his sexy body. No pants would've been a problem.

"Early, Jeffers?... it's almost nine o'clock. PM." Tom looked at his watch, his expression hardening.

"Oh." Jeff replied

"Yeah, oh." Tom answered "It looks like you had a bit of a party while I was at work."

"Not really. Shanny came over and we had a couple beers and shot the shit." Jeff shrugged

"A couple? "Tom mentally counted the bottles scattered on the floor. There were twenty-two. "You drank my entire case."

"I'll buy you another one... what's the big deal?" Jeff crawled to his feet.

"What's the big deal?" Tom repeated "What's the big deal??? I'll tell you what the big deal is... I'm working my ass off in a job I really fuckin' hate so the two of us can have a decent life together and you spend your time getting drunk."

"Tommy, I..."

"Jeff, I am really sick of your excuses. I can understand why you left WWE and by the way, if you don't do something about your RLS, I'm going to start kicking you right back, but it's about time you figure out the rest of your life." Tom barked

"Why?" Jeff somehow staggered to his feet. He stood right in front of Tommy, hands on his hips, demanding an answer. When Tom wasn't talking back, Jeff decided to try a different tactic.

"I've busted my ass for over a decade for the WWE. I'm a former three-time heavyweight champion."

"And none of those reigns lasted longer than a month." Tom smirked "Dude, you were bigger than Hogan, the Rock, and Cena together. Fuck Jeffers, the company needed you. Why do you think they re-wrote Night of Champions for you?"

Jeff's mouth opened and closed, but nothing was coming out.

"I'm not gonna do this... I am not gonna stand here and argue with you." Finally, two coherent sentences came out of Jeff's mouth. "Imma go out. C'mon Shanny."

Jeff prodded the Prince of Punk with his toe. Shannon blinked sleepily. "Whassup, Jeff... hiya Tommy."

"Hiya yourself." Tom cringed at Shannon's red eyes.

"We're going out." Jeff announced

"We are? Awesome!" Shannon bounced to his feet.

Tom threw up his hands in a combination of disgust and resignation. "Have fun you two... Lucas, walkies!"

Now with his leash in his hand, Lucas made a return appearance.

"Only smart thing you've done is train that dog to bring his leash." Tom snapped the chain onto the dog's collar and grabbed his shoes. He was out of the door without even a goodbye.

"What the fuck was that about?" Shannon asked

"Tommy's being unreasonable, I guess." Jeff answered

"I have never heard the two of you fight like that before." Shannon said

Jeff squinted. "I thought you were asleep?"

"How's a guy supposed to sleep with the two of you making all that racket? Besides, I woke up the second he turned on the TV." Shannon stretched, his t-shirt riding up to expose his tattooed abdominal muscles. Jeff found himself unintentionally staring at his friend's body.

"Hey. Stop checking me out!" Shannon protested, but did not immediately cover himself.

"Me check you out... I'm the one with no shirt here!"

"Well put one on and we can go." Shannon poked Jeff's chest.

While walking Lucas down the darkening streets of Chicago, Tom thought a lot. After so many months of happiness with Jeff, lately he'd felt like he'd been just going through the motions trying to keep everything balanced. Maybe it was his work ethic, but he really hated slaving to Vince while Jeff stayed at home and drank.

"Well, no sense being an ass about it." Tom scooped Lucas' business and tossed into the nearest garbage can. They were just turning around to go back when Tom spotted Mark across the road, pulling into the parking lot of the nearby biker bar. Outside the ring, Mark was really a nice guy, and both Matt and Jeff liked him, but that did not mean the same for the eldest brother. Tom doubted that they would've been friends even if Mark hadn't ended his career by pulling a spot and whipped Tom into the steel steps, knee-first, during their last match.

Nor did it help that Tom was genuinely creeped out by the man Mark chose to spend his time with, who coincidentally was pulling in beside him. What was his name? Larson... Dawson... something like that, and Tom was in no hurry to get to know him any better, much like most.

Watching the two of them exchange a passionate kiss in the parking lot was just too much.

"C'mon Lucas, let's go home."

Lucas barked agreement.

As he walked home, Tom was once more engrossed in his thoughts, so he missed a familiar red Corvette pulling into the same bar Mark and his companion has just entered. In hindsight, it wouldn't have mattered if he had noticed it, Tom probably could've cared less.


"Let's go!" Shannon bounced from foot to foot. Jeff was taking forever to primp in the car's mirror.

"Chill." Jeff said, redoing his hair into a bun for the fifth time. "We got all night and lotsa cash, so just gimme a sec."

"Why here? This ain't our scene." Shannon had checked out the parking lot. Other than their car, there was only one other non-motorcycle. Definitely not their usual hangout.

"Mark told me about this place. He said there were over a hundred beers on tap." Jeff replied

"Lemme guess, you wanna try them all." Shannon giggled

"Dude, you're so fuckin' gay sometimes." Jeff replied, finally satisfied with his appearance.

The bar looked like your typical dive, complete with loud music, dingy lighting, and loud conversation. Just like their car, Jeff and Shannon stood out like nuns at an Anthrax concert. They were the only people who's wardrobe was not at least half black. Even the guy checking ID's gave them a funny look.

Jeff shrugged it off. He was used to it. They squeezed their way between two Khali-sized men and ordered a couple beers. While he drank, Jeff looked around for any familiar faces. He knew Mark often came here and it wouldn't hurt to have at least one person who wasn't looking at him like prey.

"Hey, Dead man!" Jeff waved frantically when he finally located Mark.

Mark looked up from where he was having a very intimate conversation with James.

"Who the fuck are those two" James asked gruffly. "and why are they coming over here?"

Mark squinted, the vibrant colors they wore hurting his old eyes. "They're gonna get themselves killed comin' in here like that!" he thought.

"Coupla guys I used ta work with." Mark answered

"Can't they find their own twink bar instead of hasslin' us?" James' eyes roved over their bodies.

"Shut it, Lawson." Mark growled

"Make me." James retorted

"We agreed there would be no blood play tonight." Mark grabbed James' wrist hard enough to hear the bones crack.

"You agreed there would be no blood play tonight." James corrected him, ignoring the pain going through his arm. "I made no such promises."

Mark and James returned to their drinking in silence. James found himself staring at Jeff more and more frequently, especially once he started dancing. The way his clothes clung to his small frame was enticing and his thoughts starting going places they usually didn't. Even Mark noticed how distracted he was.

"See somethin' ya like?" Mark asked, smugly grinning at him.

"Fuck you, Callaway." James snapped from his haze. "I don't like him at all. You're fucking crazy if you think I do."

"Whatever." Mark emptied the bottle and it joined the rest of the ones on the table. "Lawson, you may think you're all that and a stone cold killer, but you can't lie worth shit..."

James continued to watch Jeff on the dance floor, tuning out the rest of Mark's lecture. Mark leaned back, a fresh beer in his hand, and laughed silently at James' obvious infatuation.

"If you're gonna sit there drooling over him, why don't you invite him to join us for a drink?" Mark snapped his fingers in James' face.

"Do that again and I'll break them." James threatened

"Like you could." Mark replied. He beckoned to Jeff.

Jeff wandered over, obviously buzzed.

"Heya, Markie... howzit goin'?"

"Looks like you're havin' fun." Mark chuckled

"Yeah... too bad Shanny left... he's such a party-pooper." Shannon had taken off, promising to get Jeff's car home.

"Why dontcha join us?" Mark gestured to an empty chair.

"What the hell are you doing... I don't wanna be seen with this twink." James glared at Jeff.

"The hell you don't. " Mark guffawed, smacking James across the back. "You've been making goo-goo eyes at him for the last hour."

James looked at Jeff again. Was the kid actually smiling?

Mark waved for another round of drinks. The three of them drank right through last call, James finding it harder and harder to pay attention to their conversations. Every time he looked into Jeff's emerald eyes his mind took detours and it didn't help that Jeff was staring at him every chance he got. Thank God the bar was closing.

With no more beer forthcoming, Jeff, now completely drunk, stood to leave.

"Guess Iza get home?"

"You better not be drivin'." Mark warned him.

"Naw. 'Sides, Shanny took my car. All gone." Jeff sighed

"Want me to give you a ride somewhere?" Mark offered "Or James can."

James shot daggers across the table.

"'Sokay. Imma walk." Jeff weaved his way through the rest of the drunks and stepped outside. The cool night air cleared his head a little, enough to make him realize he really need to piss.

"Gotta pee. Gotta pee." Jeff chanted, looking for a bush something to go behind. Nothing, except an alley.

"I hope there are no monsters." Jeff ran as far as back as he dared. (And as far back as he could before his bladder exploded!) His call of nature completed, Jeff had just zipped up when he felt a warm breath on his neck.

"Don't bother." A sultry voice said "They'll be coming off real soon."

Jeff gulped. He whirled around and came face to chest with the two big men he'd seen at the bar.

"You're so perdy. Me 'n my friend are gonna have lotsa fun." Both were as drunk as Jeff, if not more so.

"Eeep." Jeff squeaked "L-l-l-look. M-m-my friends are waiting for me. I gotta go." He tried pushing between them but this time, there was no room to get by.

"If he won't cooperate, then we'll just have to mess 'im up a li'l, won't we?" Jeff almost gagged when one of them breathed right into his face.

"Not too much, pardner, we'll need to keep that pretty mouth intact."

They laughed. Jeff panicked and ran at them, hoping to get free. But it was like hitting a stone wall. There was no way he was getting past either of them. He opened his mouth to scream but one of the men put his hand on his mouth.

"Don't do that perdy," the giant purred drunkenly. "You don't want to ruin our fun, now do you?"

That was exactly what Jeff wanted to ruin. Adrenaline was starting to override the booze that was clouding his mind and he bit down on the man's hand as hard as he could. It was enough to get his mouth free and he tried to take advantage of that. "Help me!" he screamed as he tried to run again. "Somebody help me!"

The second man grabbed him and threw him down to the ground like he weighed nothing at all. He tried to scream again but the air was taken out of his lungs with a hard kick to the stomach. As he tried to regain his breath, he looked up at the two large men. They both had evil looks in their eyes. He gulped heavily and tried to scramble backwards—only he couldn't get far because the alley was a dead end.

He was supremely and utterly fucked.


Getting drunk had done nothing to help the mood James was in. In fact, he was even crankier than he had been before because Mark had not shut up about that stupid fucking twink Jeff. And the worst part was, he had no idea what the fuck was pissing him off so much. He had no fucking reason to even be angry. Nothing was wrong in his life. Or maybe that was the actual problem. He was in a rut, doing the same shit over and over again with no fucking sign of anything changing. Driving Mark nuts, tormenting Glenn, having sex every single night, killing even more often than that—nothing was making him feel any better. Something was making him extremely unhappy, but he didn't know what the hell it was.

"You ready to go?" Mark asked.

James just grunted.

Mark threw up his hands. "What the fuck has been wrong with you lately? Did aliens come and hijack your mind? You've been acting really fucking weird lately."

"I'm fine," James growled. He didn't want to talk to Mark about this. He just wanted to be left alone.

Mark glared at him. "Would you stop lying? I told you earlier that you couldn't lie worth a shit. Now tell me what's wrong or I'm going to bust your head open."

"Fuck you Mark," James snapped. He hated not being able to lie to Mark. It made things much more complicated than they needed to be.

Mark snarled and went to hit James. James didn't let his companion's fist hit his face. Moving way too fast for a person who had just drank a whole bunch, he whipped his knife out of his pocket, slammed Mark up against the wall and had the knife pointed to the long haired man's throat. "Quit fucking hitting me," he hissed angrily. "I fucking mean it Mark. If you think I won't fucking use this on you, you better think again."

"Help me! Somebody help me!"

James and Mark were both surprised by that yell. It sounded a hell of a lot like Jeff. "What the fuck is that twink doing?" James muttered.

"Would you quit calling him a twink?" Mark asked, shoving James away so he could see what the hell was going on with Jeff.

"Twink twink twink. Twink twink twink. He's a twink. He's a twink," James sang purely to irritate Mark.

Mark glared at him and he just rolled his eyes before following Mark. They could hear some sort of ruckus going on deep in a nearby alley and since they both enjoyed a ruckus, they kept following the noise. They soon found that Jeff was being attacked by two large men who had been in the bar earlier. Those two definitely know what to do with a twink, James thought to himself.

"Fucking hell," Mark growled. They weren't close enough to the action for Jeff or the two thugs to see or hear them. "We have to do something."

James didn't want to do something. He wanted to go and kill some innocent victim and try to figure out why he was so fucking depressed. But as he watched Jeff get pinned down on the filthy ground, he was strongly reminded of all the girls his father had raped and it was enough to make him take his gloves out of his pocket and put them on. "Get the twink out of here," he muttered. "I'll take care of the cavemen here."

Mark raised his eyebrows. "You sure about that?"

James nodded. Maybe this is what he needed. Maybe he had been killing people too helpless. Maybe what he really needed was a challenge. And the two men before him would be more than a little challenging. One was actually taller than he was and the other one had a good twenty pounds of muscle on him. Maybe two good, hard fought kills would help pull him out of his funk. "I just hope me killing these guys cancels out the fact that I'm helping you save someone," he muttered. "I can't let this ruin my street cred."

Mark rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, I think you're reputation as the freakiest mother fucker in history will stay intact even after this."

James grinned a little. He took that as a compliment. "Okay then. Let's go be good guys for once."