Notes: This chapter's for MiataCatashi. May it sustain you a little bit longer xD In other notes, lot of chat in this bit. But it's necessary. I have no idea what the next chapter looks like. I have roughly five billion other stories in my head, and it's hard to focus on which one to write. Anyway, I hope you like this bit and I'll try to get the next one out of my head soon. *crosses fingers*

Mike's eyes widened to a point that would probably be comical under different circumstances. He dropped his gaze and started cursing under his breath. "Shit. Fuck. Drew…?" Drew obliged the unanswered question and set Mike back on his feet, where he swayed slightly before leaning heavily against the lockers. The Scot was already pulling his clothes back on, smirking widely at the door John had rapidly just exited from.

The man in question had made it three, perhaps four steps into the hallway before he had to lean against the cool cinderblock wall and catch his breath. Drew… and Mike. He didn't want to believe it had happened. If not for the images now playing on permanent replay behind his closed eyelids, he might not have believed it at all. Mike. Drew. Fucking.

"Shit," he whispered to himself.

The door to the locker room swung open and John straightened up quickly, instantly alert, his stomach roiling. Mike stood in front of him, cheeks flushed from exertion or embarrassment, or perhaps both. He met John's eyes, opened his mouth to speak… and then closed it again, clenching his jaw and shaking his head. With an icy glare, he strode off down the hallway, not looking back.

Drew. This was his fault. What had he done?

With sudden anger he slammed back into the locker room, striding up to Drew, who was only in jeans and sitting on the bench.

"What the fuck was that?" John yelled.

"Your parents must not have done well explaining the birds and the bees to you, did they? I should think it was fairly self-evident." He smirked up at John.

"Don't fucking play games with me, you smug bastard."

Drew was on his feet and John was pressed against the lockers – still warm from Mike's body – before he could fully comprehend the movement. He was actually lifted slightly off his feet by the hands curled into the front of his jacket.

"I highly suggest you refrain from name-calling." He spoke quietly, staring calmly at John, but there was no mistaking the controlled anger in his voice.

After a moment he let go, and John dropped solidly back onto his feet. He took a deep breath, wrinkling his nose slightly at the scent of musk and sex that still hung overpowering in the air.

"Why him?" John asked, hearing the plaintive note in his voice, but being unable to stop himself. "Everyone on the roster, why did you have to choose him?"

"Ah, now that is the question, isn't it?" Drew stepped back with his arms crossed over his bare chest.

"I want you to stay away from him."

The teasing, amused look dropped off his face immediately. "I don't think it's any of your business whom I choose to fuck," he said, his voice low. After a moment, the smirk resurfaced on his face. "And besides, aren't you a bit of a hypocrite to be playing the jealous ex-lover? As I recall, you gave him up. Quite coldly, as well."

John was silent. He couldn't argue. Drew spoke the absolute truth. He had given up Mike, without absolutely any thought of the other man's feelings, thinking only of himself, his career and his future.

"Leave him alone, I'm warning you."

"Oh, you're warning me. What are you going to do? Run off to Vince and whine like a bitch? You can't do that, remember? We discussed that last night. And besides, why should I leave him alone? He's quite an excellent fuck… but you have firsthand knowledge of that, don't you?"

John shut his eyes, but it could only do so much. He'd clap his hands over his ears and hum the Star-Spangled Banner if it would drown out Drew's words. Unfortunately he was not five years old, and that tactic simply wouldn't work. He could still hear the man talking, discussing in great length and meticulous detail his encounter with Mike.

"Drew… please. Don't... don't do this to him."

"Well, isn't that selfless of you. Why shouldn't I do this to him? Or perhaps you have some suggestions for things I should do to him?"

"Can't you just find someone else?"

"Oh, but I've already grown rather fond of him." Drew smiled cheerfully at John, who had opened his eyes and was staring back with something that resembled defeat. "Well, if it means that much to you, do you have any suggestions as to who I should replace him with?"

John's gazed dropped to the floor and his shoulders slumped. He was silent for a long moment, and then a heavy sigh worked its way out from his chest.

"Me," he whispered. "Have… have me instead."