PRIZE

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A/N: Disclaimer: I do not know these men, I do not claim their personas nor their actual bodies (though I'd love to...sigh) and I have no rights to them. They belong to TNA and WWE respectively. NOT ME. This is purely for entertainment and I garner no wage from this. These men are themselves and their personas belong to their companies. I'm just a crazy redneck with a strange obsession with yaoi and hot men!

Warnings: language, innuendo, somewhat OOC characters, age tampering (I made Undertaker and Kane, Mark and Glenn for the most part in here, closer to Jeff's age and fucked around with everyone else's as well to fit the storyline.

This is just a prologue of sorts, if I get the hankering I will continue it, but until then enjoy this snippet.

I really needed to write SOMETHING out, anything. To get my writer blood flowing again. So here's a Jeff-Taker...with possibly Kane in there. If this is continued more mature things will likely happen.

No beta, so sorry for any mistakes. I really read over it this time, but my dyslexic-ness brain is evil to me.

A/N OVER

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Generally, Jeff hated working the graveyard shift at The Raw Diner. The 19 yr old would much rather be playing music, painting, or wrestling than bring the sole waiter on duty. Moreover, Jeff was generally the only one there at this time of night, it being 1:32am, as he, in his 'generosity and good nature' (Shannon's words not Jeff's) had let his friend and coworker Shannon go take a nap in his truck.

However, tonight seemed to be becoming more fun than previously thought. For at exactly 1:32am the obnoxious bell over the diner's creaky door chimed breaking the mirage of monotony. Jeff, unused to anyone coming in at 1:32am, was startled out of his sketch pad by the arrival of two large, leather-clad, drop-dead sexy bikers coming into the diner.

"Hey y'all, just have a seat wherever," Jeff called out, coming out of his stupor. He put a little extra bounce in his step and swing in his hips as he made his way to the other end of the L-shaped bar where the two men had taken residence. While crossing to the men, Jeff wondered if they'd come across the street from the local bar SmackDown!. He had not heard the tell-tale roar of any motorcycles. But, these two were obviously bikers. Coming up to them the lithe, well-muscled, green eyed waiter took a better look at the two of them, "Hi, I'm Jeff, I'll be your server/cook tonight. What can I get ya?"

The first man Jeff looked to was a pale man with dark auburn locks that reached his leather vest covered, superhero-esque muscular shoulders. The auburn hair pushed back from his face by a black bandana. The vest, no shirt underneath, led down to a pair of stone wash Levi's and black work boots. The man was just under seven foot tall, nearly a foot taller than Jeff, and built like a bull. 'Probably hung like one too,' Jeff mused lasciviously as the man looked over his menu. Jeff, a true artist at heart, looked over the man's numerous tats before moving on to the second man.

This man was slightly taller than the first and lacked the tat covered skin. He had equally long, but chestnut brown in his case, hair that concealed half his face. Jeff saw the shadows of some intricate and fairly wicked looking scars on the man's neck and under his jaw. Perhaps that was what the hair was hiding. A similar vest was on the second man's body. This man was also wearing a plain red t-shirt and black jeans of his own that led down to a well-worn pair of timberlands. The red material of the shirt was stretched so tight over his pecks Jeff wondered if it would be easy to rip off.

Neither man would win a beauty pageant, but Jeff wasn't looking for an effeminate pretty boy. No, this small-town guy was looking for just what these men presented; a rough, sexy, 100% man.

Jeff averted his staring just as the first man decided that he would order.

"Coffee, black. And a Raw Dog special," said man number one in a rumbling voice that sounded like a mix of velvet and gravel.

"You want that with grits or hashbrowns, Mr..." Jeff asked sweetly, turning on the southern charm after that voice had given him a half-boner. Thankfully, it was well hidden by his black half-apron. His acid wash skinny jeans, on the other hand, wouldn't have done such a good job on their own.

"The hashbrowns," man #1 said, "And it's Mark, Mark Calloway."

Jeff smiled at being given a name. A nice fitting one at that, nothing odd like Norbert Binx, though that would have been funny.

"And for you Mr..." Jeff asked the other.

"Coffee, two sugars, and stack of pancakes with a side of 3 sausage patties, please, and I'm Glenn Jacobs," the now named second man said. Jeff wrote everything down and nodded.

"Be just a sex on the drinks," Jeff called as he flitted down the counter. Two coffees later Jeff was busy in the kitchen. Jeff assumed that over the grease cracking and the sizzling of the eggs, bacon, and sausage he wasn't supposed to head the two men talking about him.

"What'd'ya think about moving to the boonies NOOOOW, with hot little things like that running around?" quipped Glenn in a snarky tone taking a swig of the hot coffee.

Mark snorted and said, "Shadup. He is cute though, with that dishwater blond hair a' his all streaked green and black, and those ear gauges of his..."

"Says something about him," Glenn agreed.

"And did you see that pert ass," Mark said quietly sipping his coffee.

Jeff decided then to drop off the orders.

"Anything else I can get you boys?" Jeff asked, a sugar sweet smile gracing his lips, it hid well his devious thoughts.

"A blow job and you in my bed," Mark muttered in a dark, bedroom tone. He hadn't meant for Jeff to hear him but the glint in the young waiter's eyes, the hitch in his breath, and the rose colour blooming on his cheeks alerted Mark that he, Jeff, had heard and was apparently interested. If the now obvious bulge under the apron was anything to go by. They both had started in on their food while Jeff had had that revelation.

"Sorry, I'm not for sale," Jeff teased with a grin that could only be described as a "sex kitten" one. "You'll have to try a bit better than that." He winked. Mark made a harsh sound as he nearly choked on bacon.

"Like dinner first, cause Hell knows I want you as a playmate," Glenn said in a satin voice, pointing at Jeff with a bite of pancake on his fork then eating it in a suggestive manner.

"I don't just jump into bed with every hard body I see," Jeff asserted. He continued, "Besides, you both don't look the type to share?" Even though his well-built resolve wanted to waive the white flag at the appraising looks on the faces of the obviously interested bikers.

The men look at that moment as if they'd do anything to get a hold of those swaying hips, and both debated 'rock, paper, scissors' mentally before deciding in their own minds that that would only serve to insult the teenager.

So, food now completely abandoned and only a third eaten, instead of responding to the inquiring half question from the teen, Mark decided to send out some racy questions of his own, "What are you? You can't be anything but jail bait, think you could handle one of us, let alone two?" His voice had been teasing, so as not to offend his prey. He sipped his coffee for something cool to do in his wait.

Jeff fought not to blush as the referral to his age and not melt into goo at the thought of two hard bodies taking control of him. "I am 19, thanks, but I ain't no little white virgin. I bet I can take all you got." Jeff wasn't lying, he told himself. He had, after all, gone down on his brother's best friend, Adam, and had been fucked, even if it was only thrice during his only relationship from high school, and that had been two years ago. When he had been a sophomore and his ex, Hunter, had been a senior. He had gone down on hunter as well. He and Adam had flirted their little hearts out but never got together. Only a blow job each after a night of moonshine at a bon fire over the last summer, the summer after his graduation from high school.

However, Jeff wasn't going to admit his less-than-stellar track record in the bedroom to the men in front of him.

"And how about you both?" Jeff practically purred with more bravado than he honestly thought he had, "Are you planning on cradle robbing?"

"Well if you count six years as cradle robbing," Glenn purred, more like growled, back.

"Ah well, that's alright ain't it?" Jeff asked with a wink. Turning to Mark, "You? You gonna make me call you daddy?" Jeff waged war with his cheeks after that statement. He had no earthly idea where the idea had come from, but, seeing it's obvious effect on Mark, he ran with it best he could.

"Only if you ask nicely," the 31 year-old ground out, finding it hard not to yank the boy across the counter and have his wicked way with him.

"Oh, I can be nice, very nice," Jeff said sleekly.

"But can you be bad?" Glenn asked huskily, letting his hand pass the line of the bar and trace the gentle curve of Jeff's neck.

Jeff lost his self-control and moaned loudly at the touch. He turned his face to nuzzle to the palm. He felt his cheeks turn red, he couldn't believe he'd shown such a submissive action. He quickly extracted himself from the calloused hand.

Glenn almost stood to try and follow the blonde's movement, but caught himself just in time.

Mark watched the exchange with a lusty interest. He debated whether he and Glenn should try and take the beauty home or to lock the door and fuck him right there.

"Looks like you're a lot more eager than you wanna pretend to be," Mark said with a smirk, he put a hand on Glenn's shoulder to bring the younger back to reality.

"Never said I wasn't," Jeff defended, breathing quickly, "Just said I wasn't a whore for a hot bod." Even though, if Jeff's libido had its way, he would have been the cock-slut of the town. But, Jeff's mind and slightly shaky-at-times morals prevented his sex-drive from taking over. That was his conflict at the moment. He desperately wanted to go anywhere semi-private with the men right now. Fuck work. Fuck Shannon. Fuck his inhibitions. But, he barely knew them. Matt, his older brother, was always berating him for never thinking things through. 'For all I know, these men were serial rapists or murderers or cult members, or Gasp! Dentists!'. Jeff shivered at the thought.

Seeing a shift in Jeff's expression, Glenn backed off and back peddled some.

"Well, we know you aren't a whore, or you'd have been in a much different position now," Glenn placated, "How about you call us when you get off?"

"Or call us tomorrow," Mark interjected, sensing Glenn's turnabout. "We are new here; we'd love a tour?" 'Of you, but of this dinky little town will do too.' he added mentally.

Glenn scribbled out his number on a napkin and tucked it into Jeff's apron pocket.

"Sounds good to me," Jeff said, checking the clock, it was already 1:55am, Shannon would be in soon to help him with the last callers from SmackDown!. "Y'all will have to excuse me soon. SmackDown! lets out soon, this place will be full of drunkies soon."

As soon as he finished his sentence the back door banged open and Shannon's sleep-muddled voice called out "Jeffro!"

"Front Shanny!" Jeff winked his goodbye to the men and disappeared to the back where Shannon's half-coherent ramblings were still emanating from.

Mark and Glenn shared a smoldering smirk, both knowing what the other was thinking. They finished their forgotten food slowly, sitting in their corner of the diner and watching as Jeff went to work dealing with the drunkies that had begun stumbling in soon after Shannon's arrival.

By 2:10am the diner was indeed chock-a-block full off piss-ass drunks. At times Glenn and Mark stiffened, worrying that Jeff couldn't handle the mostly larger and very intoxicated men, who seemed to have made a tradition/game out of running Jeff all over and hazing him/hitting on him; the few women were not as worrying, as they seemed to accept Jeff wasn't about to suck them nor fuck them and merely clung to him at different intervals, trying to get sympathy for their drunkenness. But, for the most part Jeff held his own well against the drunken regulars.

The two bikers were no strangers to drunks, nor were they foreign to acting a fool when stumbling home drunk or stumbling into a diner at 2am after closing time. Mark had a very shiny scar on his left knee from a waitress named Sara in Death Valley who'd gotten tired of having her skirt lifted and finally dropped a pot of hot coffee in his lap, luckily missing all the important stuff but the knee.

They hadn't, it turned out, come from SmackDown! like Jeff had thought, they had been walking Carthrage Street, exploring. They were nocturnal by nature, so a 1am tramp around town was no odd thing. They'd come across SmackDown! but passed it over; the last thing the men needed was for a bunch of drunk rednecks to call the cops on them for being outsiders causing trouble, or worse try to fight them over some ridiculous drunken idea. Mark and Glenn were like the Irish when it came to their drinking habits. They took to fighting when they took to drinking.

"Hey! Hands OFF!" An offended snarl broke them from their shared thoughts.

Jeff was standing with a drunken man who looked a few years older than Jeff himself. The man was well built and sandy blond. He was an inch or so taller than Jeff with larger arm muscles displayed by the white wife beater and leather vest bearing the emblem of a relatively new biker gang, Mark and Glenn had merely heard of it, Aces and Eights.

Jeff's wrists had been caught by the biker's and he was hastily trying to pull away while snarling obscenities at the blond biker. "Get the hell off me you fucking asshole! Fuck you! Stupid fucking bitch! Asshole!"

"Awww, calm down Jeeeeffy, why don't you calm that sassy mouth a' yers down and come home with me?" A very drunk blond sneered at the struggling teen.

A few things happened at once. Mark and Glenn stood up. A petite blonde guy, with piercings and tats to spare wielding a shot gun and sporting a mohawk came out of the back, and half the diner clamored away from the scene.

"Let him go," Mark said in a tone that brokered death to nay-sayers. He cracked his knuckles and advanced towards Jeff and the blond biker, Glenn backing him up.

"Says fucking-who, huuh? Why'doncha jus go suck mah tailpipe," The blond drunk slurred out, trying to sound threatening. Jeff was drug along with his flailing hand motions. A few more guys stood up, they weren't dressed as bikers. They moved towards the drunken man as a cocking sound was heard from the pump-shotgun in the mohawked guy's hands.

"Ken! Get the fuck offa me," Jeff shouted. Mark went to grab the drunk man by the vest but it was at that moment he decided to let Jeff go. Jeff caught Mark's hand. "You are so fucking wasted Ken. I know I ain't one to talk about sobriety but get the fuck out of this diner if you cain't keep your hands to your damn self! And Shanny for the love of God but the fucking 10 gauge away." Jeff let go of Mark's hand and went to sit down, seemingly deflated after his outburst and tired. "Mark, I'm fine. Thanks."

"Jeeeeeffy, what..." Ken whined. Jeff glowered at the drunken man.

"He said get the fuck out," Mark snarled. "So get the fuck out. Ain't no one wants to see you make an ass out of yourself, and I bet you don't wanna get shot or beat to a pulp."

The drunken man glared at Mark before trying to get to Jeff again. Mark went back towards the man, Glenn hot on his heels. Glenn grabbed the man by the throat and Mark grabbed his vest. "I believe you were told to leave. So get the fuck out," Glenn hissed, he and Mark shoved Ken backwards a bit. But the man was too drunk for his own good. Mark and Glenn stiffened, ready for a fight when one of the locals grabbed Ken by the back of his collar and shoved him towards the door.

"Get home you drunk asshole, before we call Matt in and you have to deal with me and the lot of us," the local called after the biker, Ken. "You ok Jeff?"

Mark and Glenn hung back, watching the scene before them. This man was large, almost as large as they were, and golden blonde and built with the muscles of a body builder. He tried to touch Jeff's cheek but a his hand was half-heartedly smack away.

"Hunt, the last thing I need is your drunk ass all over me too," Jeff sighed. "Thanks for the save...but one word to Matt..."

"I was just tryin' to scare Ken," Hunt said grouchily, his own drunkenness apparent, but not to the height of Ken's.

"Yeah, yeah. Go home Hunter. I'm fine. I had it under control," Jeff sighed again. He glanced back at Shannon who had a look of half-panic half-relief on his face, "And for the love of fucking Jesus Christ put the damn gun away Shanny!" Shannon left to do just that, looking a bit sheepish as he left. Mark couldn't help but think 'That damn gun would've knocked the kid over.' "Thanks for the Knight in Shining Armour routine, but I'm fine." Jeff blushed faintly when he noticed the scene that they had made and that mostly everyone in the diner's eyes were glued to him, sitting in the chair at the recently vacated table. "Pay attention to your own business people! Ken Anderson is the least of your worries!" Everyone, for the most part, returned to their food or coffee after that, not wanting to get kicked out themselves or possibly see the spitfire they knew emerge from the tired and generally peaceful yet energetic teenager. Or perhaps, they were less inclined to listen in when Glenn took to standing behind the teen, glower on his face with Mark beside him, equal look of doom on his own face.

The large man named Hunter was eyeing Jeff, as if having an internal and obviously intoxicated battle with himself over something.

Jeff finally stood up and put a hand on Hunter's shoulder.

"Go. Home. Hunter." Jeff said stiffly. He turned on his heel and stalked to the back of the diner, bumping past Mark on his way, not stopping once for anyone. Mark had to control his urge to punch something. He's gotten all worked up and the situation had defused without a brawl, which was good because of them being new in town. But it was bad in the fact that Jeff had stomped off, shaking, and it seemed he and Glenn were left with the less-than-wasted-but-not-sober Hunter, all three men riled up and rearing to beat something.

"Who the hell are you two anyways? His fucking body guards? Nice fucking job," Hunter sneered at them.

"Whoever the hell we wanna be, now step off goldilocks," Mark snarled. He and Glenn sat back down, ignoring the huff from Hunter.

"Hey man, don't think you can talk to me like that," Hunter growled, trying to approach.

"Hunter! Come on man! Jeff's already pissed off," the short but stocky, mohawked Shannon said hastily as he hurried forward. "Just let it go. They helped Jeff, they cain't be all bad. Just leave'em alone ok?"

"You're lucky you're cute Shannon," Hunter joked with a grunt. "Tell Jeff I want a call later. To make sure he's ok, whether he acts like he hates me or not." With that the blonde shoved a twenty in Shannon's hand and stalked out of the diner.

Shannon sighed in relief as the larger man left. Obviously worried. He walked back around the counter and cashed out Hunter's order, putting the tip into Jeff's sketch book, as he knew it wasn't for him.

"Hey, you. Shannon was it?" Mark called, he ended up startling the boy. Glenn caught his eye and Mark nodded back, understanding. "Jeff, he ok?"

Shannon gave a shaky laugh, "Yea, man. He's fine. He's pissed Ken got the jump on him so good. Don't worry. Y'all need more coffee or somethin'?"

Glenn nodded and soon they had more coffee and Shannon was called away to answer another customer.

"The fuck was that," Glenn whispered to Mark.

"No clue. Seems Jeffy has more demons than he'd like to admit," Mark grumbled. "That blonde guy pisses me off."

"Which one, this town seems to be full of them," Glenn teased darkly.

"The roid rage idjiot," Mark returned icily.

"Think we should leave, or wait him out?"

Mark shrugged slightly, "Don't feel right. I think we should wait."

"Yeah."

The two sat back and waited, sipping coffee as Shannon brought it to them, and watching. They received what were supposed to be covert glances from the other patrons of the diner. Some were simply interested in the newcomers, others were trying to discern if the two were dangerous or useful. Mark and Glenn waited as the diner slowly emptied as 3am drew closer. Shannon seemed to have taken over as server and Jeff as cook. They only saw glimpses of the multi-coloured haired teen over the hour they waited until everyone was out of the diner.

"This place have a closing time?" Glenn asked Shannon, finally tired of waiting and of the interested glances Shannon was giving them. The man Shannon had just cashed out nodded to the teen and then to Mark and Glenn. The two bikers raised a brow at the man.

"I'm Matt and Jeff's friend, Kimo. I was just about to jump in when you guys and Hunter did," the big body-builder type said, his mocha skin and shaved head making him distinct in this type of tiny southern town. "Thanks for helping him. I was a bit too wasted an hour ago to do much good. But thanks. I don't know who the hell you two are, but you guys are good by me."

"Welcome," Glenn assented. Mark merely nodded.

"Night Shanny, tell Jeff I hope he's calmed his prissy butt down!" Kimo called out loudly.

"Fuck off Kimo!" Jeff's half-humorous voice called out. The man left with a laugh and a wave. Jeff came out of the back, wiping his brow and tossing a full black apron over the counter.

"Feeling better?" Shannon asked with a smirk.

"Yeah yeah, loads, I just love it when my ex and my stalker have a tug of war with me as the chew toy," Jeff grumbled. He smiled at the two at the end of the bar. "Y'all didn't have to wait for me."

"Well, we don't do the Knight in Shining Armour routine for just anyone kid," Mark told him seriously with a grin. Jeff was about to retort when he was cut over.

"Hey, who are those guys Jeff," Shannon asked curiously.

"You've had us to yourself for an hour, short-stuff, how come you didn't ask then?" Glenn asked roguishly. Shannon blushed a bit and pouted.

"This is Mark Calloway and Glenn Jacobs, my saviors it seems," Jeff said with a quirky smile. "And my suitors..."

"Don't flatter us now," Glenn grouched. "And suitor isn't the word I'd use, baby boy."

"Baby boy, is it now?" Jeff snickered. "I think I'd rather be baby Hardy again."

"Haha, you hated it when Adam called you that," Shannon interjected. "Jeff, how long was I asleep? And What the hell happened in here?"

Jeff snickered at Shannon's confusion and indignation at being kept in the dark. "You were out for about an hour, and I met these two," Jeff said nonchalantly as he wiped down the bar with a wet towel.

"Uh huh, you flirted with them didn't you."

"Hey! They started it!"

"Whatever Jeff, you wanna get some? Good. It's about time you got laid!" Shannon teased before running off to the back before the Jeff could rat tail him with the towel.

"Jeez, that kid," Jeff sighed with a half smile. He eeped when he felt two hands on his shoulders, he turned around to glance at the two men still waiting on him. "Can I help you two?" Glenn and Mark smirked at the loaded question. "Oh stuff it, I've had enough guys trying to get in my pants for tonight...so sorry to say boys, the flirting window is closed for tonight."

"Well then," Mark snorted, "way to lay down the law, Jeffy." That earned him a glare.

"Mark means to say, we are glad you are ok?" Glenn said, almost a question.

"I'm fine. I'm tired, my feet hurt, and I've got bruises that I'm going to have to hide for weeks. But I'm just fine," Jeff huffed with a sigh. "I'm sorry. Y'all probably don't care about my bitching."

Mark snorted a bit but Glenn shoved his companion in the shoulder. Jeff just grinned.

"I wasn't saying nothin' about not wanting to hear it," Mark snapped. "Jesus brother, calm down."

"Brother?" Jeff's grin fell with a look of confusion.

"Half brothers," Glenn added in. "You sure you're ok? Your wrists look bad..."

Jeff glanced down at the vivid red marks on his wrists and hid them behind his back, "Well it's a good thing its October. I can wear hoodies, even if it is still 70 degrees by day here in good ol' temperamental NC. Anyways...I'm ok. But, I believe you too were trying to flirt with me again."

"Thought you said the flirting window was closed?" Mark asked, accepting the redirect and going with it. Jeff just laughed and leaned back against the cabinets behind the counter. "Tease," Mark insisted after the laugh was done.

"Maaaaybe. But I'm dead on my feet. You guys are fun, and God knows you're both drop dead sexy, but I cain't take much more of tonight, today...whatever..." Jeff admitted tiredly. He flashed a small smile, "Why'd you two wait around anyway?"

Instead of explaining the unright feel of the night, they both merely shrugged leaving Jeff with a half-frown until his eyes sparkled and he gained a full blown lecherous grin.

"Now, now, you just said no play time. No grinning like that," Glenn told him.

Jeff grinned even harder and laughed, "I'll try not to. But y'all, I'm about to be off. Call me later tonight? We...can maybe see...about that tour?" Though the way he said tour made Mark and Glenn assume that it would lead to very little sightseeing.

"We'll call you then," Mark reaffirmed, getting up and more into Jeff's space. Jeff walked right up to him, they were nearly nose to nose.

"You better."

"Later Baby Hardy," Both men said then left grudgingly. Still feeling as if something was unfinished, a woman and man walked in as they left. The way they were greeted Mark and Glenn understood them to be Shannon and Jeff's replacements. They waited in the parking lot, smoking as pretense for not leaving, to see Jeff drive off in a candy painted truck with Shannon in the passenger seat. Jeff honked at them and they both nodded to him.

"You still feel it?" Glenn asked Mark as they let their cigarettes burn, puffing on them absently from time to time.

"Yeah. Somethin' ain't right...I think it has to do with the punk from Aces & Eights. We'll have to wait and see...ain't no way some smarmy little blond wanna-be biker is gonna grab Jeff from us," Mark snarled.

"You attached already Deadman?" Glenn teased.

"Fuck you Crispy," Mark shot back and was rewarded with an angry glare and pout from his younger brother. "Anyways...I don't think we'll be leaving this podunk town anytime soon...call that degenerate, and a few of the others. We're settin' up shop in quite town Cameron."

"I feel sorry for this town..." Glenn muttered as he pulled out his cell, he and Mark headed off into the night, for the first time that night, the backs of their cuts were obvious to any who looked and sitting on the back was the tell-tale mark of the Undertaker's infamous gang, the Ministry of Darkness. Not was widely known as the Hell's Angels or any of the like. The deformed cross wasn't well known, as the Undertaker preferred to keep business, business and not get the cops or media involved.

But let it be known, anyone who crossed the MoD was destroyed. No mercy was ever given.

"Are you gonna go after Jeff seriously? Cause if so I don't wanna get but on bitch duty again for lookin' at one of your boys," Glenn grumbled after finishing his phone call.

Mark just grinned a sinister smile. Glenn sighed and resigned himself to the 'look but don't touch' mentality unless Jeff or Mark, more Mark likely, said so. Whether Jeff hardy knew it or not, his ass was owned.

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A/N: R&R as you see fit. I'd love to see if people like this :)

~Ley