***************

"You are NOT going to wear that."

Tazz looked up from tying his sneakers.  Michael Cole was standing at
the foot of the bed, arms folded across his chest and a frown on his
face.  He glanced down at his clothes: blue jeans and a "thug
superstar" t-shirt. "What's the matter with it? It's clean. " he
asked, slightly defensive. "brand new, too."

"You know as well as I do what's the matter with it. We were both at
the commentator's meeting." Michael countered, more than a little
annoyed. "McMahon wants both of us dressed up tonight to issue
in "the new era of Smackdown". And if I have to wear a suit, then so
do you."

Tazz scowled. "No way."

"Look, I know you don't like it.  I don't, either. But we have to."
Michael made a show of looking over his lover's clothes again. "You
have to change. McMahon'll have a cow if you show up to the arena
dressed like that."

"McMahon can have a flaming porcupine breech position for all I
fucking care," Tazz shot back, his anger growing. "Bad enough I'm
back behind the announcer's table...I'm a damn wrestler, for Christ
sakes! Not Howard Cosell!" Catching the crestfallen look that
suddenly appeared on Michael's face, Tazz turned
contrite. "Mikey...baby, I'm sorry. You know what I mean." He paused,
trying to find the words. "This...how I feel...it's got nothin' to do
with you."

After a moment, Michael sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I
know," he said quietly. "And I know you're frustrated.  But bucking
McMahon tonight is not going to get your point across.  It's just
going to get you suspended." Sitting down next to him, Michael put an
arm around Tazz's broad shoulder.  "You know that."

"Yeah, I know."  He let out a heavy sigh. "Sorry, babe. Everything
about this whole brand extension mess is pissing me off and I don't
mean to take it out on you." He paused. "First the fucking lottery,
then that jackass puts me back behind the table, then we find out
we're not doing "Heat" anymore..."

"But you're the best one for "Smackdown"." Michael said in an attempt
to soothe. "You sat in on the tryouts. We work so well together that
nobody else felt right."

Reaching up, Tazz put his hand over Michael's, twining their fingers
together. "This may have a lot to do with it," he commented.

"It probably does, but it still works." Michael agreed. "As
for "Heat", not doing it will give us a little more time together
outside of work."

"You gotta point there," Tazz admitted.  Turning a little in
Michael's embrace, he ran a finger along his beard. "Give you a
chance to catch up with yourself, too, babe. You've been running
yourself ragged lately."

"We've both been," Michael admitted quietly, leaning against his
lover. "Look at it this way.  You doing commentary will give us both
a break until thye find a decent storyline for you.  And you'll still
be wrestling at house shows and on "Heat". He didn't sideline you
completely."  Michael paused, brushing a kiss against Tazz's
temple. "And it won't be forever. Maybe a few months...just until
the "Smackdown" brand is firmly established and McMahon calms down.
You can be patient for that long, can't you?"

After a moment, Tazz turned to face Michael.  "You know how much I
hate it when you're right?" he asked conversationally.

Michael couldn't help smiling.  "I know."

Another long silence, then Tazz bit his lip and nodded. "Okay, fine.
I'll sit at ringside and toe the line like a good boy.  I'll even say
nice things about the jackass.  No waves, I promise."  He paused, the
frown returning. "But I'm not wearing that damn suit."

"Peter..."

"Damnit, Mikey, no!" Tazz turned away. "That asshole may be the boss,
but he can't tell me what to wear.  And nothin' you say is gonna make
me change my mind, either."

"But you always looks so nice when you get all dressed up," Michael
cajoled. Leaning over, he nuzzled his lover's ear. "C'mon. Please,
love? I'll make it worth your while."

That got Tazz's attention. He turned back to face Michael, a slow
smile spreading across his face. "You will, huh? What did you have in
mind?"

Michael smiled as well. "I was thinking this for a start."  Leaning
closer, he cupped the back of Tazz's head and pulled him into a kiss.

Tazz let out a little sigh when Michael drew away some moments
later. "That was nice, babe," he said. "but you're gonna have to
better than that if you want to get my jeans off."

"Oh, I already know how to do that," Michael countered, still
smiling. "Remember Wrestlemania?"

A blush darkened Tazz's cheeks as the memory came back to him. They
had filmed "Heat" in one of the skyboxes overlooking the crowded
Skydome, both of them dressed to the nines in rented tuxedos, both of
them concentrating on business. Until the moment the camera crew had
left the two of them alone; Michael had locked the door behind them
and immediately pounced, giving him one of the most incredible blow
jobs ever before he had to leave. There had been no warning, no
hesitation...and no mercy.

"I don't know what it is," Michael continued softly.  "but you in a
suit drives me absolutely crazy. I just think you look so sexy in
one."  He paused. "Please, Peter? Will you put it on for me?"

Tazz looked up at his lover, meeting Michael's long, loving gaze with
one of his own. "You really like it, huh?" Michael nodded eagerly and
after a moment Tazz reached down and pulled off his sneakers. "Okay."

Michael's eyes widened in both suprise and delight. "Okay?"

"Yeah. Okay." Getting up off the bed, he went to the hotel room
closet and pulled out the black suit hanging there. "I'll put the get
up on. Not for McMahon or to make "Smackdown" look good." He pulled
out a black dress shirt to go with it. "For you."

Michael visibly relaxed. "Thank you."

"Just one thing," Peter said as he pulled off his t-shirt and tossed
it aside. "You're gonna help me take it off after the show, right?"

Michael grinned. "If you help me take off mine."

"You got it, babe," Tazz paused in the middle of undoing his jeans, a
mischevious look suddenly appearing on his face. "You know...I COULD
use a little help right now, too," he said.  "This zipper's really
hard to undo."

Laughing, Michael slipped off his jacketand put it on a nearby
chair. "I'll see what I can do."

Tazz pulled the smaller man into his arms. "And next week, we're both
waring jeans, no matter what that jackass says." He paused, giving
Michael a once over with his eyes. "'Cause seeing you wearing them
turns ME on."

Michael stopped what he was doing, the suprised look
returning. "Really?"

"Yeah, really." Grinning, Tazz's hands slid down to cup his lover's
ass. "'Cause hiding a perfect peach of an ass like yours under a
monkey suit like this is the worst thing I can think of."

"Hey!" Michael protested even as his cheeks turned bright red. "This
is my best suit!"

"Looks even better off you," Tazz countered, pulling Michael into a
kiss that ended all conversation between them for the time being.