One: Bar.

Through barred teeth, the blue-eyed superstar storms over to the table – where his newly acclaimed lover has his arms around some girl. He stares her down after being momentarily distracted by her large breasts, "Hi, I'm Dolph Ziggler. Your in my damn seat."

Two: Hair.

Zack pops his collar, grabbing his lovers wrist and yanking him to the dance floor. His fingers run through the slicked back platinum hair while gazing down through his Dolce sunglasses at the blonde's perfect body.

Three: Bed.

For the millionth time, Ziggler and Ryder have awoke to fight. Shoving one another aside, or off the bed completely; slowly realizing that sleeping together wasn't about to happen unless they had separate beds in the room.

Four: Clothes.

Sea-foam eyes scan skeptically over his boyfriend, "You have four collared shirts on, and they're all popped." He can secretly see Zack rolling his eyes behind his faded sunglasses; he would just have to smack him upside the head once he turned around.

Five: Drink.

"Oh, sorry," Zack's voice carelessly tosses the words. His disgust evident when he purposely dumped his drink on Maria's new dress. He grins when she gets up and immediately, storms off. "Fuckin' skank, Dolph is mine: Woo.. Woo.. Woo.. You. Know. It."

Six: Tan.

Dolph bursts into a fit of laughter as his Long Island lover steps out of the showers, "I didn't think you really only tanned one leg!"

Seven: Ice.

Ryder stares hard into the freezer, immediately slamming it and glaring at Ziggler as he enters the kitchen, "I need ice for my fucking protein shake! Where is it? – Are you fucking listening to me!" he growls, giving up and storming out; failing to notice Dolph's ear buds hadn't been connected to anything.

Eight: Promise.

An awkward silence settled between the two superstars. With a heavy sigh, Zack stands up and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "I don't fucking know," his voice doesn't hold anything the other man is praying for it to be, it's distant, and unsettling. "But you said –," Dolph starts, worry evident. Ryder doesn't care, "This is your fault – not mine."

Nine: Hate.

"Why do you talk to her?" Zack's arms fold over his chest, his eyes like an iron maiden at Maria walking off before he turns them to his boyfriend. "I'm not afraid to smack a woman around, Dolph... By the time I'd be through with her, bro, you wouldn't touch her."

Ten: Chocolate.

Zack Ryder sat up on the bed, his sunglasses slipping down the bridge of his nose as he gazes over them longingly, a lustful smirk on his face, "What you plan on doin' with that, broski?" he chuckles, crawling to the edge of the bed, unwilling to wait.

Eleven: Gym.

CM Punk laughs with pity evident in his voice, staring at the sad sight of Ziggler and Ryder; the first of which had been passed out on top of a bench press and the second is hardly even moving on the treadmill beside his own. Punk rolls his eyes with disgust, watching him lean over to vomit into a prepared bucket on the side, "Party to hard last night?" his voice is vile. Ryder glares over at him, lowering the speed again, "At least I exercise, unlike your overweight boyfriend." At this, Punk just laughs, "I happen to keep him that way, it gets me off," he laughs with pride, scoffing at the two again, "You alcoholics are all stupid-fucks."

Twelve: Early.

A sneaker jams into Ryder's back, sending him crashing onto the ground in a heap of hotel sheets. "We need to leave, now!" he faintly hears Dolph's voice, he mumbles something along the lines of "Shut up" to hear the other man leave. Five minutes later.. he remembers the early flight.

Thirteen: Confession.

Zack's exhausted with arguing over Maria, "I'd fuck Tiffany, she's fucking gorgeous, bro," he drools, "And Rosa, too. I'd grind up on every piece of pussy! You know it," He laughs with over exaggeration, proclaiming that Rosa isn't an idiot, before having to listen to the worthless banter Dolph provides to defend his girl.

Fourteen: Smell.

Tag. It's what you wear to repel women... Dolph now knows this as he's storming over to Zack, "You liar! This doesn't make women jump all over you!" he hissed, turning away from him, and trying his best to pretend he didn't like it when Ryder's arms wrapped around his waist, and his lips trailed over his neck... although it helped when he whispered, "I know. Maria thinks it smells disgusting. But, bro, I like it."

Fifteen: Night.

They're two of the last few people in the locker room, making small talk and packing their bags, Ziggler smiles at Ryder. It was sweet, and still cocky, and it sparkled like a Britney Spears music video. "I'll... See you next Friday, bro." He waved, falling onto the bench beside his bag the moment the blonde left, his mind perfectly projecting it with her "Baby, One more Time" song and him leaving in a hotter, slow motion like way.

Sixteen: Pills.

The two superstars stand as silently as possible in the hotel's hallway, the spiky haired brunette holds out his hand for a second before the two dash into the room together. The blonde's voice a harsh whisper, fearing getting caught; "Are you kidding me? We could get fired! I already have a strike, Zack."

Seventeen: Driving.

Dolph yawns, stretching out the best he can in the packed car. His blue eyes scan carefully over the back seats, making almost completely sure that the other superstars were sleeping. With a large grin plastered over his face he turned back to Zack, leaning out of his chair and unzipping his pants with his teeth.

Eighteen: Hot.

He grins in self-absorbedness into the mirror - God, he looked good. His eyes travel to the figure walking in beside his own reflection, never leaving it to look at the sexy guido. The other man pulls his backside into his crotch, his own eyes meeting the reflection of the blonde, who deliberately asks him if he likes what he sees, "Woo woo woo, you know it."

Nineteen: Bodies.

Zack groans at the sound of the phone ringing. That wake up call… He struggles to roll over towards the desk, seeing as the bleached bitch in his arms didn't feel like waking up to it. His limbs are a tangled mess with Dolph's, and the moment his finger tips touch the phone, their bodies crash onto the hotel floor.

Twenty: Forgetting

The silence of driving down the highway becomes shattered within moments. Dolph slamming the breaks on with his knuckles white, gripped hard onto the steering wheel as wide as his eyes. Screaming in panic at Ryder beside him, he's unable to resist from choking him when he finds out that the scream for him to stop the car was just because he forgot his Backstreet Boys CD … in the hotel… that they'd be going back to later on.

Twenty-one: Cameras.

The blonde hurriedly gets off the bed, shoving the tool aside; "The cameras aren't even on me!" he screams, readjusting them to focus solely on himself this time, "If we're going to make a fucking porno, Zack, I want to be in it!" He gives his sexiest grin for the lenses, "I'm Dolph Ziggler."

Twenty-two: Broken.

"You did what!?" The Floridian's scream echoes through the entire hotel, before resorting to staring into the mirror for some type of magic to happen. His hands dug into his platinum hair, a puffed up, frizzy mess from the ravaging night before. Nervous, and guilty, Ryder heads out the door, "I'll see if Rosa has a straightener you can use!"

Twenty-three: Hairbrush.

"You need to stop bleaching your hair," Zack growls, looking him up and down before shoving the brush into Dolph's hands and rummaging his fingers through the platinum hair. With a gasp, Ziggler pushes the younger man away from him, not enjoying the comment that he'd end up looking like Shawn Michaels in no time at all. "My hair is naturally this blonde, you jackass!"

Twenty-four: Inside.

Breathlessly, the older man's hands grasp onto the popped collars of his lover's half-unbuttoned shirt, pulling him hard against his body as they fall into the empty locker room door.

Twenty-five: Lessons.

Dolph stares down Zack, having enough of his attitude, "I could do a lot better than you." Straightening his vest he storms over to Randy Orton, his hands fixing his blonde hair as he attempts to sell his looks to The Viper. "You know... I could use a little help in the ring, too," he whispers; brushing himself up against him... And… walking back to Ryder deathly embarrassed from rejection.

Twenty-six: Winter.

Sea-foam optics look up from his vacation brochures, glancing at Zack who has just commented that he "would make one sexy snow bunny" if they went to the mountains instead of the beach - something he was against, but made sound attractive for himself. Ziggler grins at the comment, knowing he's just gotten his way, "Then we get to go on my plans, then."

Twenty-seven: Mind.

For ten minutes of searching backstage for Zack, he's unsurprised to see him zoned out, right in front of him while he's trying to have a serious conversation. With a sigh, Dolph crosses his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes and waiting for Ryder to stop picturing him naked… or whatever it was he was thinking… as long as he wasn't dressed like a swiss-miss in the visual… again.

Twenty-eight: Tasting.

Dolph tosses his head back, a hand running through his own hair as Ryder's tongue slowly drags across his neck. Through his insistent need to go shopping, discovering edible body lotion had to be the best purchase he's ever made. His eyes are half-lidded as he manages to look down at Zack, questioning his enjoyment and receiving a usual answer: "Woo woo woo, you know it."

Twenty-nine: Water.

Shielded by the steam of the hot shower mixing into the air of the freezing locker room, Ryder is graciously down on his knees, with Ziggler pressed up against the wet and sticky tiles, balancing himself on the slippery surface, dripping something a far cry from hair conditioner, his leg draped over Zack's shoulder and his arms latching onto the shower-head, his muscular body lustfully stretched out, contracting to the feel of his younger love.

Thirty: Forgive.

His blue eyes are wide in shock, laying on the floor against the wall in shaking silence before his hand absentmindedly touches his lips, looking down at the crimson liquid before turning back up. Nervous, he accepts the hand extended to him with his own uncovered in blood; sighing in relief when Ryder just pulls him into a hug. "Bro, I didn't mean it."

Thirty-one: Fire.

Zack glares hard at Dolph, demanding he stop flicking his food into the sand. He plucks the stick from his hands, eating the puffy white treat at the end, complaining that he didn't want to be walking on "his" beach and stepping in Marshmallows. Dolph groans, complaining that he likes them too, but not when it's completely burnt.

Thirty-two: Fake.

Ryder gasps in shock, screaming for Ziggler to come look at what he got in the mail. Uncurious, he questions if it had been the latest Playboy, and with the negative answer, he goes back to flipping absentmindedly through the television channels… until a box is shoved into his face. "Look at these! The sunglasses I bought!" He glances at them, nodding with approval just to make him shut up. "They're fake!"

Thirty-three: Accident.

Green eyes force themselves open, the stinging in his eyes from the liquid pouring from his forehead not registering as the stylish Long Islander struggles to regain consciousness. Barely able to turn his head, his eyes shift across the rental vehicle to see his beautiful blonde boyfriend… soaked in blood and slumped against what used to be called a door. He can barely speak above a whisper as he calls his name, to no response.

Thirty-four: Love.

Zack grins with mischief, tonight ECW taped the show alongside Smackdown, rather than Raw, which meant another chance to check out their eye-candy. The night, however, doesn't go exactly according to plan when his eyes scan the locker room, and fix themselves on Dolph Ziggler. His head playing that typical movie moment… Dolph's slick, platinum hair wafting through the air as he turns to look back, their eyes locking.

Thirty-five: Notice.

From what Zack Ryder was certain had to be the most beautiful girl in the world; his fixation on the Diva finally seems to have been broken. His eyes catch something much better looking, a gorgeous blue-eyed-blonde strutting by, immediately causing him to excuse himself from Rosa to submerge himself into Dolph Ziggler's perfection.

Thirty-six: Summer.

Unsuspectedly, Ziggler is pulled into his boyfriend's arms and his lips are locked to his with a passionate kiss. Nothing could have made the moment better, so perfectly planned, the way it happened in movies - just the way Zack Ryder likes it. The sun setting on the pier over the beach, the fiery sun setting into the dark blue water, and himself, like the sun on the ocean, reflecting in Ryder's loving green eyes.

Thirty-seven: Headache.

Pissed off didn't even begin to explain how furious Dolph Ziggler was with this boyfriend stealing tramp known as Rosa Mendes. Attempting his best to remind himself that he couldn't hit a woman as he storms up to her, his entire plan is diverted when she decides to rant on about her new dress and haircut.

Thirty-eight: Tangle.

Almost entirely passed out from the double performance of Superstars and Raw in one night, Zack Ryder is awakened by the whining screams of Dolph Ziggler, who always seems to wake up first to get to the gym. He ignores his pleas for help, laying back down when he moves an inch to get up to help.. He's told him before to not use a rubber band in place of a real hair tie.

Thirty-nine: Betrayal.

Zack is reluctant to accept the gift from Matt Striker, trying to find a nicer way to turn him down, since he was the one who gave him undoubtedly the best commentary he's ever received… and he'd be lying to say he wanted that to stop. If Dolph could put his hands on Randy Orton - even if he was rejected - he could certainly put his lips on Striker's.

Forty: Present.

"What's this?" Ziggler smiles as he's handed the fancy looking bag, his mood brightening as he's finally found someone who believes in him… sort of. A present for defeating The Great Khali - even if it was just disqualification. Distracted momentarily by his victory, Zack prods him to open it. "…You got me an Alpine hat?… What the hell am I going to do with this?" he grumbles, expecting something a little… better. Ryder grins and pulls him close, "I want you to wear it in bed tonight."

Forty-one: Fight.

The supermarket is relatively quiet, the faint country music playing something Toby Keith to the disdain of the Guido and his boyfriend staring into the isle shelves, arguing just loud enough for people to stare, "Do we have any ice cream in the hotel room?" "I don't even care! You twat!"

Forty-two: Cash.

Zack runs into the bedroom, where Dolph had been sleeping late into the summer's afternoon. "Come look what I bought with my last paycheck!" he screams with excitement, pulling the poor, unsuspecting man right out of the bed and through the house. "C'mon, bro! Let's go somewhere!" he says, pushing Dolph who was still not-quite awake into the electric-purple convertible.

Forty-three: Sunglasses

Ryder sits up slowly, smiling over at Dolph basking in the sunlight, wearing his Dior sunglasses he so graciously allowed him to wear. Assured he had fallen asleep tanning, and that the tide rolling in was loud enough to cover the sound of him messing around as he stood up, he inches his hands over to repossess his beloved glasses. "Not a chance," Dolph laughs, shoving him into the sand.

Forty-four: Dare.

"Come on, please?" Zack pouts before resorting to reverse psychology to get Dolph into the outfit he purchased for him to wear. With success that only comes after a half hour of nonstop bickering, Dolph Ziggler finally walks into the room: a red scarf tying back his platinum hair, a set of high heels, a black corset hugging his sculpted abs over a off the shoulder ruffle shirt and a long blue skirt with a white apron tied around his waist…. The perfect "Swiss miss." Ryder sits up, his eyes wide and eager as he licks his lips, "Lay-ee-odle-lay-ee-Woo-Woo-Woo!"

Forty-five: Vision.

Zack stares at his date curiously across the dinner table. For once they've gotten out to go somewhere fancy, in private, with no one else to bother them -especially the other guys from the locker room. Tonight was the night he'd finally propose to Dolph Ziggler… or maybe he wouldn't. He watches the older man scan through the menu with his gorgeous blue eyes while he fiddles with the velvet ring box in his pocket… and slips momentarily into a day dream of his beautiful Dolph walking to the alter… He sighs as he comes back to reality, giving his own order to the waiter and deciding, when he looks back to his date, that he couldn't stand what would happen if he had said "No."

Forty-six: Sky.

Dolph growls, wondering if it was possible to hate CM Punk and his horrid husband John Layfield… of course they could get their matches moved away from the main event to get out of the arena earlier. Unfortunately for him, he's stuck with Zack Ryder.. And dragging his unconscious body back into the arena, because he had to run out into the baseball sized hail like it wasn't going to hurt.

Forty-seven: Pleasant.

Dolph groans, swiping a french fry through some ketchup before resting his head on top of his fist… he had definitely had better dates in high school than this, but somehow, Ryder's apologetic charm for not booking reservations at the place they were supposed to go - which was very far from being a Burger King - almost makes it just as good.

Forty-eight: Drunk.

After another long Smackdown/ECW taping, it didn't take too long for Ryder to get completely drunk, something Dolph could have handled, if he hadn't been drunk himself. Dolph however, was still seated at the bar with his fellow roster members, and not making his way up to the karaoke stage completely unprepared to mortify his boyfriend. Sure, Matt Hardy made it look fun, but when Zack is proclaiming his love to Dolph, to the entire bar.. to a Backstreet Boys song, was not. "As long as you love me" better have meant, "Please forgive me in the morning."

Forty-nine: Destruction.

The two men burst into a fit of laughter amongst their passionate, sloppy lovemaking. Dolph's arm had completely missed grasping hold of the headboard, and knocked a lamp over onto the floor… another object in their hotel room to have been destroyed, next to Ryder's custom Nike shoe going through the television when he hurriedly tried to kick them off to jump in bed… and the crack in the mirror from Dolph's hair not straightening correctly and the flattening iron being thrown into it.

Fifty: Service.

Ziggler swings the hotel door open with force, although it seems to move at an automatically slow pace no matter what, he wouldn't dare to waste a second to snatch the whipped cream from room-service. He shuts the door fast, waving it at the bed, "Zack, if you get this in my hair, I will never forgive you."