"I can't believe you told Christian about our problems!"
"I'm sorry! Excuse me if I needed to talk to a friend."
Tommy slammed the door to their hotel room and set down his bags, glaring fiercely at his partner. "Well excuse ME if I don't want our personal problems spread around the locker room! He called me on my fucking cell phone to ask me what the heck the problem was! Next time you want to tell me something, do it your damn self instead of getting your friends to!"
"I didn't tell him to call you!" Lance shot back. "I had absolutely no idea he was going to! I just wanted some relationship advice, and I figured I'd ask the guy with the longest standing relationship in the company! If anyone knows how to make something work, it's gotta be him!"
"If you want advice, call a fucking shrink!" Tommy snapped. "Leave the guys in the locker room out of it! Do you think I want everyone to know that my "lover" and I haven't had sex in over a month?"
Lance threw his hands up in the air. "And you think I do? You think I want to shout it from the rafters that when my boyfriend and I are getting close, I just can't do it because every time I touch him, I think of Vince McMahon's slimy hands all over him?"
"You always do this!" Tommy shouted, his jaw tense with anger. "Every fucking time we try and talk about this, you throw that in my face! And I'm getting really fucking sick of hearing it, Lance!"
"What I'm sick of is that every time we talk, you try and blame me for everything!" Lance shot back. "I'm the moron who can't get over you cheating on me with a man old enough to be your father; I'm the idiot who just can't cut it in bed; everything is my fault, isn't it?"
"You know what, Lance, a lot of it IS, actually!" Tommy shouted. "What do you want from me, huh? You want me to go back in time and undo it? Well, I would if I could, Lance! I said I was sorry, I said it was a mistake, hell, I fucking groveled and begged for your forgiveness! And no matter what I do, all you do is bitch at me and remind me every chance you get!"
"Well maybe if you'd actually recognize how much it bothers me and deal with it instead of telling me I should just forget it and move on, then maybe I would get over it!"
"We have dealt with it! We've dealt with it over and over and over and over again!" Tommy snapped, an increasingly hurt look taking over his features. "You're ashamed of me, aren't you? You think I'm turning into some kind of company whore again, and you think if you actually lowered yourself enough to sleep with me, then you'd be besmirched!"
"I do not think of you as a whore," Lance retorted, his fists clenched in frustration. "I told you a long time ago, I don't care about the past and I don't care about what happened in ECW. That was long done by the time we got together, so it doesn't matter!"
"Then why the hell do you act like you don't want to touch me?" Tommy demanded, tears glistening in his angry, hurt-filled eyes. "You treat my just like you did back then, Lance, like I'm a disease that you don't want to contract! I didn't blame you for it back then because, hell, I know I was a slut, but I worked my ass off to turn my life around, and I sure as fuck don't deserve to be treated like that now!"
"Could you NOT bring that up?" Lance growled, gritting his teeth and scowling darkly at his lover.
"Bring what up? That I was a filthy slut? That I was a trashy party favor who took every cock in ECW?"
"Yes!" Lance exclaimed angrily, his arm lashing out in temper and knocking a vase off the table behind him, the fragile item crashing onto the floor and shattering into 1000 tiny slivers. "That is the last thing in the world I want to hear about!" he screamed. "It's in the past, so leave it there! I sure as heck don't need to be reminded of it!"
"Right, because my past is just too low for you, isn't it?" Tommy demanded, hating himself for the tears which were slipping down his cheeks. "You can't bare to think about something so far below you, so you just want to ignore a big part of what made me who I am. You're fucking ashamed of me, and I can't stand it!"
"That's not true!" Lance retorted. "I'm not ashamed of you, I'm proud! I'm proud that you managed to go from a drugged out slut to a clean, monogamous, respectable man! But I'm sure as hell not gonna be proud of the way you acted in ECW! It was a mistake, and you need to fix your mistakes and put them behind you! I didn't like your behavior then and I'm certainly not going to start liking it now!"
"So in other words, if you thought I was relapsing, you'd be out the door in a heartbeat, right?" Tommy took a deep, shuddering breath, wiping furiously at his treacherous tear-filled eyes. "And since I fucked up and slept with Vince, you're aching like hell to get away from me, aren't you? You're just too fucking sanctimonious to know how to dump my sorry ass."
"You know what, I've had just about enough of this!" Lance growled angrily. "Why don't you go take a nice long shower to clear your head, then come our here and apologize to me!"
"Apologize to you!" Tommy exploded, equally angry. "Why the fuck should I apologize to you? For being such a fucking burden and making you look bad in front of all your prissy little friends? Is that it?"
"I'm not listening to this!" Lance turned his back on his lover, fixing the wall with a deathly glare. "Just get out of my sight and get your head together! I can't believe you whine about my not being able to sleep with you and then pull something like this! Why do you think I can't get it up for you, huh?"
"Fuck you!" Tommy yelled, blinking his eyes rapidly as the floodgates
began to open. "Just fuck you!" He turned and stormed into the bathroom,
slamming and locking the door behind him, sinking to the floor as the tears
burst past all his layers of defense, sobs wracking his helpless body.