Authors Note : Okay, so I know I have an on going story at the moment with 'Some Kind of Bliss'. I'm still going to keep up with that story, but I've had the inspiration for this one for ages, and I wanted to get something out.

To those who've read my other stories, this isn't anything like I've written before. To begin with, it's a 'slash' story, that is to say a male/male paring. Added to that, its an OC pairing. So its a wrestler with a created character, in this case Morgan Lee.

If the description doesn't interest you so far, that's totally cool, I just want everyone to know what I'm writing before I write it. As a disclaimer, I don't own any wrestler or anything affiliated with WWE. It's all owned by Vince McMahon and I don't have any permission to use any of it. It's just me obeying my creative muses. Morgan is my character, but the songs that he performs are taken from other artists, again I have no permission to use them.

So, with that said, I hope you guys enjoy.

John Cena hated promotion. If there was one activity that came along with being a wrestling Superstar, it was definitely the promotion that irked him more than any other. Just hearing the words pass his bosses' lips shortly after he had won the title put a downer on his whole victory. It wasn't that John hated all aspects of it - far from it. John loved going to signings and events where the fans would mill about excitedly, asking for autographs and pictures with their favourite wrestler.

He loved meeting the people, who week in week out supported him, had his back, bought his merchandise and chanted his name whenever the occasion called for it. John loved that side of promotion. What he hated more than anything else were the interviews that came with it.

Being a private person, John despised the probing questions and prodding insinuations that came from over-quaffed men and women, who didn't know him as a person, yet felt they had a right to talk on about his life and goals, give their unfounded opinions and comments. If John had his way, he would tell them it was none of their damn business, and would refuse to participate. But it wasn't his decision to make.

Being the incumbent WWE Champion, it was clear that it was necessary to undertake in these visits for 'the good of the company'. At least that's what the official line had been.

John Cena was the face of the company, the poster boy for a hipper and edgier organisation. An organisation that embraced the burgeoning Hip Hop culture to allow its current Champion to run with the ball and broaden its appeal past the long haired rockers that made up the staple of it's loyal fan base. Maybe it was a fair trade, Cena mused, that in order for him to be the man, he had to put up with the good and the bad that came with it. Even if the bad was suffering with stomach churning moments like today.

At least that's what he told himself as he relaxed back into the make up artist's chair. He had been invited to appear on 'Cassie Says', the newest and most talked about chat show on the planet.

The host, Cassandra Moore, had a huge cult following, which had oozed into the mainstream, with her finding fame for her sharp tongue and even sharper questions. She got the answers no-one else could, got the Hollywood Stars who refused to give interviews. Sure, Cassie had made some enemies along the way, but this was primetime baby! It was all fair in the rules of love and war...even if the objective happened to be a 6-foot, 2 hundred-odd pound mountain of muscle called John Cena.

Squirming uncomfortably in the chair, John tried to duck his head away from the make-up brush tickling it's way over his cheeks. Pouting his lips in annoyance, John felt trapped under faceless pairs of hands, powdering his face and messing around with his hair. What was the point in changing what he looked like, if people wanted to know who he was as a person? Wasn't that defeating the object of the interview?

Growling at a particularly effeminate wardrobe advisor who fumbled with his jersey, clucking his tongue at John's wardrobe choice, Cena made it abundantly clear that he would not change what he was wearing, and no more changes in his appearance were going to take place. Grunting in false gratitude, John watched the collection of make-up artists and advisors leave the room through the reflection in the mirror. Reaching into his pocket, John extracted his cell phone which had started to vibrate insistently against his leg.

"'Sup." John answered, in his well-know way of greeting to whomever called him.

"Cena boy! What's up man!" John Cena grinned wildly as he recognised the voice of his long-time friend Dave Batista.

"Batista ya freak! What's happening man!" John slumped back into his chair, tracing his finger across the creases in the denim of his shorts.

"Usual shit," Dave admitted, "Orton and Trish have broken up again. How many times is that now this month? Three? She said she caught him hitting on Ashley after that inter-promotional house show last week. It was fuckin' hilarious man! She dumped a strawberry milkshake all over his head. Anyways, me and the boys are pulled up in some truck stop our way to Cameron. Where are you at?"

"Doing an appearance on that show, 'Cassie Says' ?" John felt the resentment in his own voice, as his eyes got distracted by a sounds at the back of the room. John looked into the mirror before him, long enough to see the door closing as someone entered.

Stood in the entrance, was what John Cena assumed to be another of those make-up artists. Dressed in faded denim jeans and a vintage black tee-shirt, John imaged he couldn't be much older that 18.

Cena found himself oddly captivated by the other man's eyes. They were a mesmerising oceanic blue, hinting at soft seams of green and a dusting of grey. They were as enticing as they were mysterious, expressing a lifetime of emotion and thought, reflecting deep in the pools of blue. Coming down over his head were waves of dirty blonde hair, broken up by the occasional streak of brighter blonde, which reached down to just above his chiselled cheek bones. His full lips were pursed into a soft scowl as he studied the papers clutched in his hands.

"...you still listening to me man?" The voice in Cena's ear demanded.

"Yeah...sorry I'm here dude, you were saying?" John asked absent mindedly, turning his attention away from the arriving make up artist and his eyes.

"I said you want to be careful with that woman. Trish went on that show a few weeks back and she ended up storming off the set because the host humiliated her." Dave chuckled darkly down the phone.

"Trish throws a hissy fit every other hour man. It's not much to go on is it?" John grinned, noting that he had been joined by the other person in the room.

Searching his deep blue eyes with a set questions as to his intentions, John mouthed an 'oh' at him as he handed over the paper that he had been holding in his hand. Placing it on his knee, John took up a pen from the work surface, and scribbled his autograph across it, before handing it back to him. Getting up from the seat, John didn't notice the confused look the 'make-up artist' shot him as he walked towards the exit.

Snapping his phone shut as he ended the conversation with his friend, John was grabbed by a production assistant as soon as he stepped through the doorway, telling him he was on in five. Sighing in frustration, John allowed himself to be steered towards the set, and the beginning of the interview.

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"...welcome back ladies and gentlemen. I'm sat here with the gorgeous John Cena, WWE's current Champion. So tell us John, what's it like being the face of such a controversial organisation?" Cassie's question was laced with traps, just waiting for John to stumble through, "are you concerned at all that the WWE's reputation will tarnish your own image?"

Relaxing back into his chair, John did his very best to remain cool under pressure. "I'm very proud to be the face of a company and a product I believe in." His answer was short and concise, yet left no ambiguity in the slightest.

"Even though critics have labelled the WWE as a breeding ground for immoral liaisons and despicable storylines? One need only mention the name 'Katie Vick' and it sends shudders down the spines of concerned viewers of America." Cassie's smile must look bright an open on camera, but John could see the spite laced in her eyes.

Taking his time to answer, John sipped at the glass of water provided for him, thinking how to word his answer without causing offence. "We're storytellers Ms. Moore. We go out there to entertain and let you escape from the daily grind. That's what we do. We don't claim to be a moral standpoint for society. We go out there and give you drama and passion. We're performers essentially, not politicians."

"What about the children who watch your television shows? Don't you think they could be impressionable and might foolishly choose to use you and your colleagues as role models?" Cassie laid it out on the line, hoping to get a rise from John. Simply smiling warmly, John wouldn't give her the satisfaction.

"It's not real Ms. Moore," John's smile was laced with sarcasm, but he didn't care, "if parents aren't going to teach their children the difference between real life and entertainment, then that's hardly our fault. We give disclaimers and impress just how dangerous our job is. And if the parents don't like what they're watching…change the channel."

Cassie stiffened slightly at being out smarted on her own chat show. Licking her lips into a grimace, she turned her face back to the camera, clearly giving a cold shoulder to the smoulder John Cena. Although he may have had the ability to think on his feet, he didn't like the blatant attack on himself and his profession. To quote one of his friends, that was not cool.

"Well ladies and gentlemen, it's time to welcome my second guest for the evening. He's a 20 year old British singer causing a storm of controversy wherever he goes, not least because of his sexuality. His debut album has sold five million copies in America alone, and he has risen to the top of the Bill Board singles chart on three separate occasions with his first three releases. I think you'll agree that's an amazing feat for a British artist. Here performing his new single, 'Some Kind of Bliss', please welcome...Morgan Lee!"

Thankful his part of the interrogation was over, John turned his head to focus on the staging to his left, as the lights raised on Morgan. Feeling his jaw go slack, Cena couldn't stop the flush of colour reaching his face as he realised in horror, that the 'make up guy' he had assumed wanted an autograph, was in fact Morgan Lee. Faced with the most talked about singer in the world, and John had assumed he was a backstage hand after his signature.

Gritting his teeth at the embarrassment of his realisation, John could only watch as Morgan got through his song, to a rounding gale of applause from the studio audience.

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The remainder of the show had been relatively pain free for John Cena, aside from a few less-than witty barbs from Cassie. Instead, she had focused her poison laced tongue towards Morgan. John was definitely impressed in how the younger singer conducted himself, showing a maturity beyond his years as he simply refused to rise to any attack which Cassie brought, returning the barbs with warm smiles and shaking his head. All the while Cassie raged from ignorance to out and out bigotry.

Cena half expected her to pull out a copy of the bible and scream chapter and verse at Morgan, labelling him an abomination and a waste of a human being. Although things didn't degenerate to that level, Morgan simply continued to smile politely, and gave equally catty comments back to the flustered host, clearly being more than a match for the woman when it came to a battle of wits.

By the end of the broadcast, Cena was positively thankful that it was over with. Cassie, looking the worse for wear, had stumbled half-heartedly through her 'thank you's', before tearing from the set as the cameras finished transmitting, screaming at her agent wanting to know who had booked the guests. Sighing, John turned his head to Morgan, who had run his fingers through his hair, resting his palms flat across the top of his head.

"Hey man," John began, "good show dude. She was some bitch." Leading into perhaps a conversation, John hope Morgan would at least exchange pleasantries. If nothing else, he wanted to apologise for the autograph incident earlier in the day. Breathing a silent sigh of relief, John was glad to see Morgan crane his neck to face him, a smile curving his mouth as he responded in his charming British accent.

"She just got her knickers in a twist because I wouldn't fight back. Why give her the ratings I say?" Morgan smiled a little more deviously as he watched the show's host scream at some poor assistant for bringing her the wrong 'non-fat, decaff, extra foam mocha-latte'.

Getting up from the tacky blue seat he was perched on, Morgan removed the microphone pack from his waist, dropping it carelessly onto the set behind him with a resounding thud. Stepping off the matching blue stage, Morgan made his way back towards the dressing rooms, with Cena falling into step beside him.

"Yeah, you're right, why give her the ammo. Hey, I'm John Cena," John threw a smile at Morgan extending his hand which the other man gripped in a handshake. "I'm a wrestler, I work for the -"

"I know who you are," Morgan grinned, releasing his grip, "congratulations on beating Edge by the way. That was some bitchin' FU from the top of the ladder…what?" Morgan's amused expression searched John's face as he watched Morgan as if in dumfounded awe.

"Nothing," snapping his mouth shut, Cena could feel himself blushing for some reason, "I just didn't figure you as a fan of wrestling…or of mine."

"Oh, I never said I was a fan of yours," Morgan added, nodding his head, "just that I saw your match at Unforgiven." Morgan watched as Cena blushed deeper, stumbling his words into some sort of apology.

Feeling sorry for the guy, he hurried on. "Although I do have your album."

"Really?" John's face brightened, grateful at the save he was given. "Did you like it?"

Morgan tilted his head diplomatically as he pushed the swinging door open, heading into a corridor buzzing with people and activity. "Hip hop isn't really my thing, but yeah it was cool."

"That's cool," John nodded, feeling like he was obliged to return the sort-of compliment he was given, dodging a running producer as he spoke "and hey, I've heard some of your stuff. I really like it."

"Don't lie to me John," Morgan couldn't help but chuckle at John's attempt at being nice, "I bet you couldn't name three of my songs, could you?"

Hanging his head in mock shame, John joined in the laugh as he led the way into the dressing room, their collective 'people' awaiting their entrance. Morgan was right, he knew Morgan's first hit, "What took you so long?" and obviously, "Some Kind of Bliss" because of today's, but couldn't name any others if his life depended on it.

"No, not really. I was just trying to be polite and not sound so ignorant." Morgan smiled warmly at John at the admission.

"And it's appreciated." Turning back from John, Morgan accepted his phone from one of his management team, flicking through his received text messages as she ran down through their schedule for the day. In turn, John was being briefed by a WWE media representative, discussing the show and where John would be fly to next.

With his things collected, Morgan's management ushered him towards the exit. Stopping just short of leaving, Morgan slung his jacket onto his torso, before extending his hand to Cena again.

"It was nice to meet you John." Taking Morgan's head in a firm handshake, Cena couldn't help be caught in the other man's stunning eyes once more. They were the most stunning eyes he had ever seen, almost supernatural in their appearance.

"You too man. Listen, if you ever fancy coming to a RAW event or a Pay-Per-View or something, hit me up okay? I'll get you some VIP seating and shit. You could even come backstage and have a tour or something." Reaching into his back pocket, John handed Morgan his business card, printed with his contact numbers and e-mail address.

"I might just do that. Good luck with the press tour." Morgan nodded as he headed towards the door, his manager sighing as she checked her watch with growing impatience.

"Thanks. Good luck with the album." Cena responded, waving slightly as Morgan made his exit out of the room.

Stuffing his jacket into a duffle bag, Morgan hadn't been gone an entire minute when John felt his phone vibrating against his leg. Pulling the device out of his pocket, Cena flipped it open to read the text message he had received. Although he didn't recognise the number, the message itself made it all too clear who it had been sent by. Feeling red burn into his cheeks, John couldn't help but chuckle.

"By the way John, thanks for the autograph! I'll be sure to treasure it. M"