It's the first night of the Ortons' two week long vacation at the beach. They arrived earlier that day and after cleaning up the beach house that afternoon, they're all relaxing on the back porch while the Orton patriarch, Bob, fires up the grill. Randy's leaning over the balcony, eyes grazing over the waves. He loves going to the beach each year, loves going into the ocean, sunning out on the sand, watching pretty girls in little swimsuits walk by. Then he turns his head to the right, catching a glimpse of the family staying next door to them. And there he sees jock extraordinaire, John Cena.

Wonderful.

He turns his head away and sits down at the table as his dad finishes up the burgers. As he eats, he hopes it'll be easy enough to avoid running into John all over the place.

He finds out the next day that it's not easy at all. Because John's in the beach house. With the rest of his loud, obnoxious, huge clan. "What are they all doing here?" he asks his mother. He'd been out on the beach, walking through the waves as they washed up onto the shore, and only came back because he knew it was around lunch time. He had no idea that he'd return to a house with enough people to form a football team.

"We thought we'd ask the neighbors over for lunch. John goes to your school, do you know him?" his mother asks.

Randy's eyes fall on John, who's in a conversation with a boy who looks like a littler version of John. "I know who he is."

"Well, why don't you get to know him some? John!" she calls over to him, and he looks over, spotting Randy. "Why don't you two go for a walk down the beach?"

Randy sighs, knowing his mother won't take no for an answer. "Could I at least get some lunch first?" It's the reason he came back, afterall. Though, if he had known that Cena and his 500 closest relatives were going to be there, he'd have waited a while. Especially if he knew he'd be roped into going for a walk with John.

He eats one of the egg salad sandwiches his mom had prepared and grabs a handful of chips. John's standing around, looking at him. He grabs another handful of chips, just to postpone the inevitable a bit longer.

Randy notices his younger brother is playing with one of John's brothers. And his sister is, no, he refuses to believe she's flirting with another of John's brothers. "We'll be back in a bit," he says to his mom, John telling his own parents the same thing.

They don't say a word to each other for the first few minutes they're outside. It's awkward. Until John finally breaks the silence, "Does your family come here every year?"

"Yeah," Randy answers, but makes no further attempt to carry on the conversation.

"This is my family's first time here. They're talking about doing it every year, though. Depends on how this year goes."

"Cool."

John sighs. "You can drop the bullshit, ya know."

"What?" Now Randy actually turns his head to look at John.

"I said you can drop the bullshit. There's no one else from school here. No one here knows that you're one of the school's bad boys and no one knows I'm a jock. We're just two kids on vacation at the beach. So cut the bullshit, at least while we're here. I'm not gonna have a miserable vacation because you feel like you have to hate me, just because I play football."

"I never said I hated you," Randy mutters.

"You sure acted like you did."

Randy shrugs. "We're just… we weren't meant to get along."

"You know I'm friends with Roman, too, right? Because he's on the football team with me."

"Roman's different. Roman comes with Dean. And he chooses to hang out with us, not you."

"I get that. He's a good guy. And I am, too. So, while we're here, can we at least try to get along? Maybe get to know each other? A little?" John suggests.

"Fine. What do you want to know?"

"I guess we can start with your favorite color."

Randy can't help but let out a little chuckle. "Blue. Navy blue. Yours?"

"Green. See, it's a start. What about your favorite movie?"

Randy grins. "Rebel Without a Cause. I saw it last year when it came out. Me 'n Dean bonded over our love of that movie once we got talking."

John nods, because he knows who Dean is, everyone at the school knows Dean and he would love that movie. "Mine's Godzilla. Something about him speaks to me, ya know?"

Randy actually finds himself chuckling again. "Guess that's why I like James Dean so much. He speaks to me."

They end up walking along the beach and talking much longer than either of them thought they would. And Randy is surprised that he's getting along so well with John, at how easy it is to talk to the guy.

"I think it's getting kinda late," John says, sitting up on the sand dune he and Randy laid down on earlier.

"We can't have been gone that long."

"Sun's setting," John tells him, pointing to the sun sitting low in the sky.

"Oh, shit. Guess we should head back and hope there's some food on the table." He pushes himself up and brushes the sand off his body, John doing the same.

"Size of my family, I'd be lucky if there's a crumb left," John says. "It's kill or be killed at the dinner table at my house."

They start making their way back to their beach houses, still chatting as they walk. "I'll see you tomorrow," Randy says as they part ways. And he means it, too. He actually wants to see John the next day. And the day after. And every day for the two weeks that he's staying here.

It's five days into the trip when Randy meets up with John after dinner behind Randy's beach house. And he's managed to sneak his pack of cigarettes and a bottle of rum out of the house with him. They walk together along the beach, which has cleared out of most of the beachgoers. "Brought us something to drink," Randy says, pulling the bottle out.

John grins. "I was wondering what the sweater was for."

"Well, you know it can get chilly out here at night," he replies with a smirk. He then pulls out a cigarette from his back pocket. He lights up and inhales. After blowing out the smoke, he holds the cigarette out to John.

"I've never smoked before," John tells him.

"Don't you wanna try everything once?" Randy asks.

With a shrug, John takes it and breathes in. The smoke fills his mouth and lungs and he coughs it all right back up, holding the cigarette out so Randy can take it back. "Holy shit, never again," he says through wheezes.

"Suit yourself," Randy says, bringing it back to his lips for another drag.

They sit down on the same dune they walked to the other night. Now there's no one around. Randy plops the bottle of rum between them. "Have you at least drank before?"

"A little here and there," John tells him.

Randy raises an eyebrow. "You mean you've never been drunk?"

"No. And you have?"

"Nope."

"Then why do you sound so surprised about me?"

"I thought all jocks did was drink like fish."

John snorts. "You thought wrong."

Randy unscrews the cap off and brings the bottle up to his lips. "Well, we already determined we're trying everything once, right?" With that, he tips the bottle back and then coughs as the liquid burns all the way down his throat and warms up his belly. "Wooo, that is strong," Randy says with a shake of his head.

John holds out his hand. "I'll have you know my drinking experiences have been limited to beer and a glass of wine."

"Good thing you're already sitting down, cuz this'll knock you on your ass."

Grinning, John brings the bottle to his lips and takes a swig. He swallows and starts coughing yet again. "You weren't lying." He breathes out through his mouth a few times, trying to ease the burning a little bit.

"Johnny, I never lie." He reaches for the bottle again and takes another drink. "I just wish this shit tasted better."

"That's why sensible people mix it with other, better tasting things," John says, even as he reaches for the bottle again.

Randy droops over, his shoulder leaning into John's. "What's that say about you, then?"

"Blame it on being on vacation," John says with a lazy grin. He can already feel the alcohol working though his body, loosening him up. It's a good feeling. "And hanging around with you too much."

"You've been hanging around with me for four days."

"But it's been a pretty strong concentration of you for the past four days," John reminds him.

"Hmm, yeah, I'll give you that. Never thought I'd even be able to stand being near you four minutes, much less four days."

"Hey!"

Randy shrugs because it's the truth. "But you're really not half bad. I guess I always thought you'd be a total dickhead."

"Just because I'm a jock?"

"Well, yeah."

"Roman's not a dickhead."

"I told you before, Roman's the exception to everything. You know how much money that kid comes from?" he asks, and John nods. It's not exactly a secret that Roman's family is very well off. "And he still is best friends with Dean, despite that. And despite being first string on the football team, he still hangs around with us. He's not the typical football player."

"Ok, ok, point taken. I never meant to be a dickhead towards you. I mean, was I ever?"

"No, but that's because I make it a point to not be around anyone I don't think I'll like."

"How do you even have friends?" John asks, sipping from the bottle again.

"I met Dean when we were sneaking out of class for a smoke break."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Randy is still leaning against him, and John lets his head fall to the side so it's now atop Randy's head. "You got a girl?"

"Nah. Last girl I dated was Cindy Montgomery back in seventh grade."

"What? I dated Cindy Montgomery back in seventh grade," John tells him.

"Don't tell me she was your first kiss."

"She may have been," John admits.

Randy takes a drink out of the bottle, then finally looks at the contents. The bottle is nearly halfway empty. He hadn't realized they had so much to drink. But, damn, he's feeling good. "It's like we kissed each other through her," he mutters.

John snorts. "Never thought of it like that. And now we're sharing a bottle, that's not any better," he adds, snatching the bottle back. He stares at the rim of the bottle which they've both been drinking out of for a moment, then brings the bottle to his lips again. He's thankful he's swallowed before Randy speaks.

"I'd much rather just kiss you," Randy blurts out without thinking about it, mainly because at this point, he's not really thinking anything.

"Wuh?"

"You wanna?" Randy asks.

"Kiss you?"

"Yeah."

"You're a guy. Can't kiss a guy."

"But do you wanna?" Randy asks, because he does really want to. He's certain the alcohol making him bold enough to say it, but he's spent almost all his waking hours with John in the past four days, and he thinks John's cute, funny, smart, witty… all the things he thought he'd be looking for in a girl. He's already found them in John.

"Yeah," John answers. He lifts his head and turns to Randy, watching him sit up straight, as well.

Randy leans in close, waiting a moment to see if John will push him away. When he doesn't, he leans in further and presses their lips together. He can taste the rum on John as he lightly runs his tongue over John's bottom lip. He's relieved and utterly thrilled when John's mouth parts for him and he can slip his tongue inside. He moves, straddling John's legs, still kissing him. John lies back onto the dune and Randy follows him down, pressing their torsos together.

John's hands rest on Randy's back, slowly working their way up under Randy's shirt. He can feel his body reacting to the kiss and his hips arch upwards into Randy's. Randy groans and pulls back. He looks down at John, both of them panting. "That was better than my kiss with Cindy."

"Mine, too," John agrees. His hands then move lower, gripping Randy's hips. "Let's do it again."

"Thought you couldn't kiss boys," Randy says against John's lips.

"Changed my mind." With that, John lifts his head up just a bit more and slips his tongue into Randy's mouth.

They kiss and rub against each other for a long time, each of them getting harder as their hands roam one another's bodies. "I'm gonna come in my pants if we don't stop," Randy tells him after a while.

"Then go in the ocean and wash it off."

"We're both wearing jeans," Randy reminds him, though he doesn't know how John forgot that, because his jeans are far too tight right now.

"Right. Guess we should take 'em off," John says, reaching in between his and Randy's bodies to undo the fly.

Randy's too drunk to care if anyone sees them at this point. But, no one's walked past them in all the time they've been out at the dune and it's dark enough that, on the off chance someone does walk by, they might not realize there are two boys playing tonsil hockey. So, he quickly moves to the side and pulls his jeans off, leaving him in briefs. John is wearing the same, and he can see the wet spot that's already formed. "Fuck," he breathes out before moving back to where he'd much rather be. He rocks his now underwear clad crotch against John's and resumes making out with him.

It doesn't take much longer for both boys to succumb to their orgasms.

And it doesn't take much longer after that for John to roll over onto all fours and puke up the contents of his stomach. "Oh, shit," he groans, piling sand over the vomit.

"Well, it's probably time to get back, anyway," Randy says. He can't look at John, because he's not feeling so great himself, and if he sees him being sick, he's pretty sure he will be, too.

"I feel a lot better, though. You should throw up, too."

"I don't wanna throw up," Randy tells him, even though he's sure John's right and he'll feel better as soon as his stomach is emptied.

"You got a whole ocean to do it in if you have to."

Randy groans as he stands up, grabbing the bottle so he doesn't have to bend back over to get it.

"You should probably button back up," John says, pointing to Randy's crotch.

"Same goes for you."

They both fumble around trying to button themselves back up, Randy having a slightly more difficult time as he's still trying to hold the rum while taking care of his pants. "Jesus fuck, I'm never drinking again," John says.

"You say that now."

"Don't joke around like that. I feel like shit. And I threw up! My mouth still tastes like throw up," he says, cringing at the rank taste in his own mouth.

"Well, next time don't drink as much. I sure as hell won't." They're standing in front of Randy's place and they say their goodbyes. Randy manages to slip the bottle back where it was, though it's pretty obvious someone went to town on it. He then proceeds to head to the room he's sharing with his little brother and passes out on his bed.

After eating breakfast, Randy feels much better than when he first woke up. He's still got a headache, though. A brutal one that he's trying to hide from his family. Maybe John's onto something with that never drinking again thing.

He heads outside after helping clean up and meets up with John. "How're you feeling?"

"Like crap," Randy tells him. "I've still got a splitting headache."

"Let's go swimming, then. You can just float in the waves."

"I like that idea." They find a spot on the beach to set up their towels. Since they're staying at the beach, they're among the first to get out and claim a spot before all the day's tourists arrive. They head into the water and once they're out a few feet, Randy lays back and floats. His eyes shut as the waves rock him up and down. "This really was a brilliant idea."

"I have my moments." John stands there, watching Randy as he floats. "So, um," he begins after a few minutes of silence between them, "about last night."

"What about it?" Randy asks, eyes still shut.

"You… I mean… do you remember what happened?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Don't you think we should talk about it?" John asks.

"What's there to talk about?"

"Really? Randy, we kissed. We kissed and then I came in my pants," he says. He rubs his hand over his face. "What was I thinking?"

Randy stands himself back up and looks at John. "You must have been thinking that you wanted to do it, because you never stopped me." At John's look of confusion, he goes on, "I'd do it again. I'd do it right now if I could."

"Kiss me?"

Randy nods. "The alcohol just gave me a little extra courage."

"So… you wanted to kiss me even before we got drunk?"

"Yeah. Look, you're a way better person than I thought you were, and you're really attractive and I couldn't let Cindy Montgomery upstage me."

"You think I'm attractive?"

"Is that really all you got out of that? Yes, you're attractive. Anyone could admit that. Just… just look at you. I want to kiss you again. I want to make you come in your pants again."

"Really?" John asks.

"Yes, really! Do you think I'd lie to you? We've gotten to know each other so well over the past few days, do you, knowing what you know about me, really think I lie about anything? Especially something that could actually get the shit kicked out of me?"

"I wouldn't kick the shit out of you. I couldn't. Look, I mean, I never thought I wanted to kiss you, or even thought about kissing you, but now that it happened," John's eyes drop down, watching a wave move over his abdomen, "I want it to happen again." He finally looks back up and meets Randy's eyes.

"And the other stuff?"

"That, too," John admits. "The touching, the kissing… I would say coming in my pants, but I'd rather not do that again if I can help it."

"Oh."

"I mean, I'd much rather come on you." He has no idea where his sudden boldness is coming from, not like he's ever been shy, but to speak so openly about all the new feelings inside him that Randy stirred up, he never expected it.

"Oh." Randy smirks and moves closer to John. "I think I might like to come in you."

"What?" John's eyes go wide at that statement. "You… you'd want to do that with me?"

"Yeah," Randy tells him. He reaches out and grabs John's hand under the water, bringing it to his now hard cock. "Thinking about you and what we did last night has me like this right now."

"I'm not doing much better myself." He gasps when he feels Randy's hand on him. They rub each other through their swim trunks until they're both gasping for breath, coming into the salty ocean water. John has a lazy grin on his face, eyes locked with Randy's. It's amazing he doesn't notice Randy going to lift him up and toss him into the oncoming waves until it's too late. He manages to regain his footing, pushing on Randy's chest. "You asshole!"

Randy just cackles.

They continue to mess around in the water for a while, body surfing and leaping over waves, but neither forgets about what happened between them the night before and just minutes earlier, nor the words that were spoken.

When the finally part to go get some lunch, Randy says, "Tonight. I'll meet you outside, ok?"

John nods his agreement, and adds, "No booze this time."