The silence stretched out too long. Finally, Chris Jericho struggled to his feet, ignoring the pain, and limped into the kitchen where Batista was scraping something up from the floor. "Hey," he said, shoving at his rear end, which was glaring him in the face.

The big man shook his head. "Get back over there and sit down," he said. "You don't need to be up."

Jericho repeated the shove. "Turn around and talk to me, or I swear I'm gonna kick your ass!"

"Shit, Chris! What do you want from me, anyway?" Batista faced him with red-rimmed eyes. "Just go sit on the goddamned sofa, all right?"

The blue eyes locked on the sorrow, and found it unbearable. There had to be a distraction. Forgetting the floor beneath them was hardwood; Jericho lunged at him and slammed him onto his back. When he felt the impact below him and the whoosh of air from the bigger man's lungs, the danger occurred to him. Sitting astraddle of his hips, he stared at him apprehensively. "Shit, David, are you okay? I didn't mean that to be so hard!"

After a couple of wheezing inhalations, Batista met his eyes again and snorted in amusement. "You're such a dumb ass!" he said. As he reached up to frame Jericho's handsome face in his hands, the look in his brown eyes and the tone of his voice softened to a new level. "You're beautiful," he said.

Jericho bent down to kiss him. "I was offering you a hand job, you know," he murmured, and kissed him again. Slowly, he began to nuzzle his throat. "Butterflies and flowers, eh? What crazy shit inspired that? I never thought I motivated that kind of sentiment! Most people just want to bash in my face!"

"I know the feeling," Batista said, combing the recently trimmed blonde hair with four gentle fingers. "But rest assured that I'm not one of those people."

"I've never felt that way about you, either," Jericho said quietly. "I've always had a lot of respect for you, and not just because you're big and gorgeous."

"Gorgeous?" The big man grinned self-consciously. "Then why?"

"Maybe because you stick by your friends, or maybe it's just all in your eyes. I love your eyes, you know. Yeah. Gorgeous."

Batista slid a hand down the length of the other man's back and patted his ass. After a little sniffle, he cleared his throat and asked, "So, you mentioned something about a hand job?"

"Yeah," Jericho was grinning when he sat up again. "But not here. Let's go back to the sofa. My knees are killing me."

Ready Story #5 of 7 titled Knowing Better