Name: Chemicals React
Pairing: Justin Gabriel/John Cena
Rating: PG-13
Summary: On John Cena's last night at RAW, Justin Gabriel has something to say. If he can only figure out how...
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author's Note: Wow, this took longer to write than I thought. Of course, it turned out way longer than I thought to, so. Haha. I really hope everyone enjoys it. =)
Knowing about Cena's departure from Raw doesn't make it any less emotional when the moment actually finally comes. The Superstar's speech had managed to move basically everyone, Justin included.
He remembers sitting in the locker room watching the match between Orton and Wade with nervous excitement, sitting on the edge of his seat like everyone else. To keep everyone guessing, the only people who had been informed of the results of the match were the people who were directly involved in the match or the main event the next night, which meant that Justin was already aware of the Nexus leader's loss. That didn't make it any less powerful to watch Cena count the one, two, hesitate, three. Justin looked around at the shocked faces that surrounded him as he hopped up to go out for his cue and felt something clench in his stomach as well. He pushed it to the back of his mind and hurried to the entrance to the ring.
That was last night. Tonight finds Gabriel sitting in the locker room up in his own head, completely alone for the first time in a while. The episode is long over, and most everyone's already headed out, so when the locker room door bangs open, Justin jumps so hard it rattles his teeth. He whips around at the sound of Slater's laughter.
"Warn a guy, would ya?" Justin snaps, rubbing his jaw.
Heath keeps laughing and ruffles Justin's hair. Justin half scowls, but it turns to a light smile when Heath sits down next to him. The redhead reaches out and scratches Justin's chin with another chuckle.
"Chill, scruffy." Heath fires back.
Justin actually manages a glare at the southerner this time, swatting his hand away.
"Shut up, man." Justin grumbles.
"It's a joke! Plus, before you completely wig out, I come with good news." Heath says with a smile.
The high flyer turns to his friend.
"Really? Like what?" Gabriel asks, trying to mask his curiosity.
"Cena still hasn't left yet." the redhead beams.
"And?" Justin replies, turning away.
"And, if you hurry, you can still catch him." Slater continues, his excitement building. He shoves his friend playfully.
"Okay? And why do I want to catch him before he leaves?" the dark haired man says, hoping the other catches on and drops it.
No such luck. Heath sighs and rolls his eyes, grabbing the other by the shoulders and yanking Justin around to face him again.
"To tell him you have feelings for him, you moron!" Heath exclaims.
Justin shrugs out of his friend's grip and stands up, walking away a few paces. He can't believe Heath's bringing this up right now. The South African had had a crush on Cena for God knows how long. He'd found the other man attractive since the first time he'd seen the other on TV, and being around him in person on an almost daily basis, in matches constantly, had just made him develop more concrete feelings. He knew he didn't have a shot in hell, and had already decided not to act on them, but they still hadn't gone away. Heath was the only one he'd told, and only because they were so close (and the other had been trying to pick him up, but.), and ever since, the redhead had been trying to find ways to set them up.
"No way, man. Not gonna happen." he says, shaking his head and gesturing with both hands.
Heath almost pouts.
"Why not?" he asks his friend.
"Because! I already told you, Heath, I'm not telling him." Justin replies.
"Come on, J! Think about it. If he gets mad or anything, you don't even have to see him for months! What's the worst that could happen?" Heath reasons.
"He could kick my ass for being a fag and coming on to him?" the darker haired tries.
"Yea, right. You know he's not like that." the redhead says.
Justin sighs, turning to face the wall. He's quiet for a moment before,
"I know. He's perfect."
It's quiet, and Justin wonders for a minute if Heath even heard it. Then, the southerner speaks up, suddenly from closer behind him.
"That's why you should tell him, Justin." Heath almost pleads. "What if this is your last chance? What if he goes off and finds some girl and starts talking about settling down while he's gone? You know how fast bitches move these days."
"Then I'll be happy for him. Look, Heath," Justin turns around to face his friend, finality in his tone as he speaks. "I appreciate you trying to help me, really, I do. But John Cena and I aren't even in the same airspace, he's so far out of my league. He would never, in a million years think that a relationship with me would possibly be a good idea, and with good reason, so I'm not even going to get my hopes up."
Heath opens his mouth to speak, but Justin just talks over him.
"I'm not going to tell him how I feel, and that's final. Now could you drop it? Please?" Justin says, exasperation etched into his voice.
Heath falls silent, looking at his feet.
"Thank you." the high flyer says. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm heading out. I'll catch you at the hotel later."
With that, Justin shoulders his bags and turns, leaving Heath alone as the dressing room door shuts behind him.
III
But of course, who's walking out to his car right in front of Justin but John fucking Cena. Despite all his will and determination to keep everything a big secret, Heath's words keep ringing in his head. Before he knows it, he hears his own voice call out.
"John! Hey, wait up!"
The high flyer's feet betray him as they lead him at a rush to the now stopped Cena, who has turned to face him.
"Justin! Hey, what can I do for you?" John asks with a bright smile.
The feud between the two of them had always been purely scripted, and John had always been nothing but nice to him, always more than happy to see him. That had just made things ten times harder on the poor younger man. Even so, Justin returns the smile as he comes to a stop in front of the now ex-Superstar. It's now or never, Justin thinks, looking at the ground and taking a deep breath.
"Well, see, since it's your last day, and, ah, we probably won't get to see each other for a, uh, a few months, I just wanted to tell you..." Justin begins. He looks up, meeting John's eyes-
-and is promptly overcome with nerves. Somehow, the older man's face has completely scrambled his thoughts. He struggles fervently to try and form a coherent sentence.
"Uhm." is what comes out instead.
John smiles at him anyway, patient as ever, and Justin loses his breath.
I can't do this. Justin thinks.
"-that I really admire you, and respect you. That you're a fantastic wrestler, entertainer and person, and everyone's going to miss you while you're away." Gabriel finishes, his face coloring with shame and his gaze turning back to his feet.
"Thanks, man. I really appreciate that." John says sincerely
Justin turns back to John, painting a smile on his face.
"Anytime." he says.
The two are quiet for only a moment before John speaks up again.
"So, uh, I know the real farewell party isn't until tomorrow night, but a few of us are going out for drinks at one of the clubs tonight, too. You're more than welcome to come along." John offers.
"Nah, I don't really..." the high flyer tries, thinking the older must be trying to be nice.
"No, really, I insist. You can even bring Slater if you want, or if it'll make you feel more comfortable to have your friend there." the older says. "I'd really like it if you came."
The darker haired man runs the idea back and forth in his head for a few minutes. Or, he pretends to. However, one look at Cena's hopeful expression has the deal sealed and has Justin agreeing. Cena practically beams.
"Great!" John exclaims. "We're going out to The Olive Branch. We'll be there around midnight. I'll have them put your names on the list for VIP at the door."
Justin just nods, watching as the older climbs into his truck.
"Text me if you're running late in case we go somewhere else." John says before starting his engine. "I'll see you there!"
Justin watches as John rolls his window back up and backs out of his parking place, pulling out of the parking lot with ease and heading towards his hotel.
"...see you there." he mutters before walking over to his own car.
As Gabriel drives to his own hotel, all he can think is, what have I gotten myself into?
III
Heath looks like he's so happy he could shit. He swoops Justin up in a bear hug and tries to dance him around the room, but the darker makes himself completely dead weight and goes limp in the other's arms, and Heath pouts, but releases him. This doesn't stop Heath, however, from almost jumping up and down in joy.
"This is great!" the redhead proclaims. "I mean, not that you got nervous, but he apparently wants to spend time with you."
"Whatever. Maybe he was just being nice?" Justin suggests, gathering some things out of his bag to take to the shower.
Heath rolls his eyes. "Do you always have to be so negative?"
"Do you always have to read into everything?" Justin fires back.
The redhead glares at Justin, who offers an almost cheeky smile before slipping off into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He's just gotten his clothes off and turned on the water, when the door is yanked back open and Slater steps into the room.
"Whoa!" the high flyer exclaims, jumping into the shower and pulling the curtain shut. "Do you really not know how to knock?"
"Seriously, Justin," and Justin rolls his eyes and huffs out a breath because of course Heath doesn't give a shit, "He's putting us on a VIP list at the Olive Branch. That's not a club, man. That's a bar. A nice, upscale bar. I doubt he would have invited us if he didn't genuinely want you to be there."
Justin sighs and opens the shower curtain just enough to stick his head out.
"Heath, why are you trying to convince me when I already agreed to go?" he asks. The other falls silent for a moment. "Look, why don't you go pick me out something nice to wear and let me finish my shower?"
Heath's expression brightens almost instantly and he rushes from the room. Justin closes his eyes and leans back against the shower wall, letting the hot water wash over him. He's struck with the sinking feeling that tonight's going to be a long night.
III
The bar is definitely one of the nicest Justin has ever been to. His breath catches when they walk through the door. He feels underdressed, despite the cost of the clothes he's in. He's in a pair of fitted dark wash jeans and a navy blue t-shirt with a white wing design that had always made him smile. The shirt, however, is covered by a purple and black designer hoodie. He tucks his hands into the pockets nervously. Heath's dressed similarly, but in different colors and light wash jeans that look faded. The redhead's mouth hangs open in shock as they look around, following the hostess to their section. Justin rolls his eyes and elbows his friend, who jumps.
"Shut your mouth. You look like an idiot." Justin whispers.
"Sorry." Heath mumbles, shuffling his feet a little more.
Before Justin has a chance to respond, a voice makes him perk up and turn away from his friend.
"Justin! Slater! You made it!" Cena's voice is loud over the soft chattering around them, and it makes Justin's face flush. He can't believe how excited the other sounds.
They make their way to the table, Heath all grins while Justin just shoots Cena a sheepish smile, looking up at him nervously from under his bangs. If Justin didn't know any better, he'd think he saw Cena's breath catch. But he does, and he's not getting his hopes up. He's not Heath; he doesn't see something where there's so obviously nothing. But...
But maybe Heath has a point about the older wanting to spend time with him. The only other people seated at the table are Orton, R Truth, and, for some reason, Cody Rhodes. They're all dressed similarly to the two of them, and Justin relaxes nearly visibly. John looks stunning in his dark jeans, white button down, and navy blue blazer. Justin feels his mouth go dry looking at him, especially when the older makes Ron slide his chair over so he can do the same and move in two chairs between himself and Orton at the round table. He pats the one closest to him, looking into the high flyer's eyes and Justin just lets his feet guide him to the chair.
"Morrison should be here soon, but he said to go ahead and start drinking without him." John says.
Justin just nods.
"Now, I know you all know each other, but maybe not necessarily on a personal level, so, everyone, introduce yourselves." Cena says, and everyone goes around the table with introductions before dissolving into conversations.
Morrison arrives moments later. When Cena slides closer to Justin to make room for the newcomer, the younger shoots him a confused look. John simply offers him a content smile, and everyone finally begins drinking. Justin's nursing his fourth Rum and Coke a bit later when John clears his through quietly and turns to him, lowering his voice a bit.
"So uhm," Cena begins softly, "I'm glad you came. You look great."
"You, uh, do too, man." Justin mumbles, trying his hardest not to blush under the scrutiny.
"It's nice to have a chance to talk without all the confusion there's going to be tomorrow, huh?" John asks.
"Definitely." Justin agrees, nodding. "I'll be it's gonna get crazy tomorrow night."
John laughs. "You have no idea." he says, then leans in, lowering his voice a little more. "That's why I wanted you here tonight. You and I haven't really had much of a chance to talk lately, and I really wanted to be able to catch up before I was gone for a while."
Justin stares for a moment, his eyes studying John's. "Really?" he finally mutters.
The older nods, smiling a bit more. He swipes his tongue over his lower lip. Justin gulps. He tries to meet Cena's eyes, but they're trained on his own lips. When Cena's eyes flick back up to his again, there's something different in them, and Justin thinks for just a moment all it would take is... John tilts his head just so, and he's right there and Justin wonders if this is an actual moment or if he's pulling a Heath and reading too much into things...
Something crashes, and the table jerks, and suddenly Justin's lap is full of cold drinks. Heath's too, apparently, for the redhead jumps up, his face bright red. Orton's laughing so hard he has to hold his sides. Justin's pretty sure he's never been so embarassed in his life.
"S-sorry, guys." Orton wheezes out, wiping tears from his eyes. "Guess I got a little too into that story."
The high flyer's sure his face is bright red as he looks at his feet, standing up.
"It's cool. I was, uh. I was getting ready to go anyway. It's getting a little late, right?" Justin says, his voice flat. "We'd better get back to the room and change. It's cold out. C'mon, Heath."
He pulls some money out of his wallet and throws it down on a dry area of the table for his and Heath's drinks and hurries out the door, dragging Heath behind him by his wrist. He has no idea what in the fuck he was thinking, agreeing to this. He'll never fit in here. Not as Nexus. They're almost to the rental when Justin hears Cena's voice calling his name.
"Hey, man," Heath says, nudging Justin. "John's coming."
"I know." Justin picks up the pace. "Walk faster."
"Come on. You have to at least talk to him. He didn't do anything." Heath reasons.'
Justin stills. The other has a point. He sighs.
"Fine. I'll only be a minute." The darker man fishes the keys out of his pocket, handing them off to his friend. "Start the car."
Heath nods, and Justin turns, waiting on Cena to approach. He steels himself for whatever is about to happen. John finally catches up to him, remorse painted across his features.
"I'm really sorry about that in there." Cena says. "Randy can be kind of an asshole sometimes and he really doesn't know when to quit. I told him to be nice, because you're a good guy, but he doesn't like to listen to me a whole lot."
"No, it's cool. I understand completely. We were kind of crashing your celebration to begin with." Justin says, wondering why he ever thought John would actually want him there.
"No you weren't. I invited you because I wanted to spend time with you." John tries. "Here, why don't you come with me to my big party tomorrow night."
I'd really rather not be humiliated anymore if it's all the same to you, thanks. Justin thinks.
"Parties aren't really my thing." is what he actually says. "Especially parties full of people who don't like me."
"It won't be like that. I promise. You'll be my personal guest. You can stick with me all night. I swear, no one will fuck with you." John offers. "I'll put anyone else on the list for the club you want, too."
Justin almost thinks it sounds like a date. There's no possible way it could be a date, though. Either way, the last place he wants to spend his night off is at a club packed to the brim with people who probably detest him. Unfortunately, he finds himself looking into John's eyes again, and before he knows it, he's nodding his head and Cena's grinning like it's Christmas fucking Morning.
"Fantastic! It'll be a great time, I promise." the superstar says excitedly. "I'll pick you up at 7 and we'll head out. Wear something like what you have on tonight. It'll be casual, comfortable."
"Sounds...good." Justin returns, fully unconvinced but determined to give it a shot.
"Awesome. I'll see you tomorrow night!" Cena calls out, waving as he goes back inside the bar.
Justin hangs his head and squeezes his eyes shut tight. He feels like an idiot for falling for it again, but he can't help it. John Cena just manages to rush through all of his red lights. He turns and trudges back to the car, debating not even telling Heath. Then, he thinks, Who am I kidding? and climbs into the driver's seat, shutting the door.
"I'm his personal guest for his big party tomorrow night." Justin mutters, resting his head on the steering wheel carefully.
"You're shitting." Heath exclaims, his jaw dropping.
"Not in the slightest. He insisted." the South African says, lifting his head and shifting into reverse. He backs the car out, shifts into drive, and heads back to the hotel.
"I told you he was interested!" Heath says joyously, almost bouncing in his seat.
"He's not interested, Heath, he feels fucking sorry for me." Justin nearly snaps. "His friend was an asshole and now he feels bad about it."
"If it was just that, why would he take you as his date instead of some girl?" Heath continues.
Justin grips the steering wheel tighter. "It's not a date."
"What else would personal guest mean? He's picking you up, right?" the redhead prods.
"Yes, but that's not the point. He's probably got some kind of party bus and he's picking up half the damned Raw roster." the darker haired figures.
"Not everything is going to turn out badly, Justin. Maybe he really does like you." Slater tries.
Justin snaps.
"Heath, stop! Just fucking stop!" Justin cries out. "Stop trying to make me feel better, stop trying to get my hopes up, just fucking stop!"
Heath's eyes widen and he stares at his friend in shock.
"I can't take it anymore, Heath, I really, really can't. I just want to go to this thing tomorrow night, let Cena leave and fucking be done with it." Justin's voice softens a bit, cracks. "Just let me move on, please."
Heath nods. The rest of the ride is spent in utter silence.
III
The next day comes entirely too soon for the young high flyer. He and Heath had gone to bed the night before without another word. Justin rose first the next morning and hurries into the bathroom, jumping into the shower. By the time he's out, Heath's gone. He instantly feels bad; he hadn't meant to snap at his friend like that. Cena was just a sore spot.
Too late to worry about it now, he thinks. I have a party to get ready for.
He shoots Heath an "I'm so sorry, man." text anyway, just for good measure. He smiles when he gets an "It's all cool, J. BFF. =D" in return.
Justin spends the rest of the day rushing around trying to look his absolute best. By the time 6:50 rolls around, he feels like he's in pristine condition. His hair is perfect, his teeth are white, his face is clean, his ripped light wash jeans look fantastic on him with his short sleeved black button down. He smiles at himself in the mirror. Maybe he can pull this off after all.
The South African has just finished dabbing on some cologne when there's a knock at the door. He checks his phone. 7:02. Right on time. Justin grabs his his wallet and slides it and his phone into his pocket, opening the door with a smile.
His breath catches in his throat. John Cena stands before him in a pair of perfectly fitted super dark jeans and a black t-shirt with a white and light blue plaid short sleeved button down over it. Despite the number of times Justin has seen the other next to nude in the ring, something about the way he looks right now stirs something in him he doesn't really expect.
"Wow. You look...incredible." Justin breathes out before he realizes it's out loud. He almost takes it back before he sees the look on John's face. The other is smiling tenderly at him, and it makes him flush despite himself.
"You do, too, Justin. Really." John returns. "Ready to go?"
Justin smiles and nods, exiting the door and shutting it behind him. When they get outside, Justin's shocked to see they're just riding in a regular car. There's a driver, but it looks like it's just the two of them.
"Are we picking everyone else up?" Justin asks as they near the car.
"Nope. I told you, you're my personal guest. It's just us." John says.
The superstar opens the door for Justin, and Justin shoots him a puzzled expression, but climbs in. John shuts the door behind him and circles around back, climbing into the other side. Now Justin's more confused than ever, but everything's been good so far, so he figures that maybe, just maybe, it'll keep up.
III
Seven and a half hours later, Justin's still by the Superstar's side, and the older is three sheets to the wind. Or, he was about an hour ago. Now, Justin's unsure what he'd call John. He doesn't think wasted quite covers it. True to his word, however, John hasn't let Justin get more than an arm's length away the whole night, even going so far as to wait and go to the bathroom at the same time. Justin is flattered that John would go to such lengths to make something up to him.
Justin doesn't think he's ever been to a private party this large. He's sure he's met over three hundred people over the course of the evening. John had politely introduced Justin to every one of them as "a close friend of his", and every time it had made Justin blush. It was overwhelming, to say the least, and at times it was enough to make his head spin. John was there the whole time, keeping him grounded to reality by keeping a hand on him at all times.
Still, though, it seems everyone who came by insisted on buying John a drink. He'd thankfully declined most of them, but he could only say no to so many people, and with how many had come by, John just kept slipping further and further into intoxication. And it seemed the drunker he got, the handsier he got. The Superstar had gone from having an arm casually slung over his shoulder as he spoke to Jerry Lawler, to discreetly rubbing his arm when Mark Henry stopped by, to resting a hand on his knee while John and Paul spoke movies, to outright rubbing his thigh as Michael Cole stuttered through a borderline nervous conversation with the two of them. At one point, John had even reached into Justin's pocket to fish out his phone for the time since John's own was long dead. Justin didn't know how much more he could handle.
Suddenly, John slumps over and rests his head on Justin's shoulder. The younger nearly jumps. Instead, he looks at the older and laughs at the perfectly content expression on his face.
"You okay there, buddy?" Justin jokes.
John laughs with him. "I am fantastic, man."
"I should hope so. You seem to have been having a good time." Justin replies, rubbing a hand over John's short hair.
John nods his head quickly, then his grin fades and he goes green.
"Okay, now I don't feel so good." Cena almost moans out.
Justin's eyes grow wide and he leans John forward swiftly, but carefully, pulling one of the empty beer buckets over to sit between the older's knees.
"Do you think you're going to be sick?" Justin inquires, full of concern.
"No. I do think it's time to leave, though." John responds, breathing deeply.
Justin nods. "Okay. Okay. Can you walk on your own?"
"I think so."
John stands, then wobbles, almost toppling over completely. Justin leaps up and grabs the older, balancing him.
"Whoa! Maybe that's not such a good idea." Justin slings one of Cena's giant arms over his shoulder, letting the older balance on him. Justin's never been so glad to be a pro wrestler in his life.
It's a challenge, but somehow Justin manages to get Cena not only out to the car, but loaded in, out, and back up to his hotel room in one piece. (Thankfully the driver not only knew the hotel, but the room number.) He finally manages to figure out which pocket John's stashed his keycard in and he digs it out, swiping it through the door. They both stumble in and Justin barely makes it to the bed with the older before they're both falling onto it heavily. Justin cringes, hoping there's no one below them. John just laughs.
"Okay. We made it!" Justin exclaims, sliding off the bed and onto the floor.
"Hooray!" Cena cheers from the bed.
Justin laughs to himself as he pulls off John's shoes and socks, stashing them in the corner with his other bags. He stands once again and unbuttons John's overshirt, sliding it off, then pulls the other one over his head. John's all smiles the entire time. Justin wonders what's got him so happy. The jeans are a bit more difficult, both physically and mentally, but finally he gets them off. However, when he stands to go put them with John's bags as well, the older is sitting back up and laughing a bit.
"Well, well, Mr. Casanova. If you wanted to get me undressed, why didn't you just ask?" the Superstar asks, wrapping an arm around Justin's back and pulling him in close.
The movement takes the high flyer completely by surprise, and he loses his balance, falling forward into Cena's lap. He drops the clothes and throws his hands out to catch himself on reflex. They land on the larger's firm shoulders, and Justin grips them instinctually. Suddenly, it hits Justin what position he's in, essentially straddling John Cena's boxer-clad lap, hands half squeezing his biceps, and he tilts his head up nervously to meet the older's gaze.
What he finds makes him nervous in an all new set of ways. John appears to be studying him as if he's trying to decide something. He's suddenly serious, and Justin's unsure what to think. John's eyes are also darting back and forth between his eyes and his lips again, and for the second time, Justin thinks, all it would take is... but John is two steps ahead of him. Before Justin can even properly assess what's happening, there's warm lips sliding across his, and John's pulling him in ever closer.
Justin's breath catches in his throat. He wonders briefly if this is some sort of alcohol-induced hallucination, for John was hardly the only one who had been drinking, but then John's nipping at his lip and sliding his tongue carefully, cautiously, into Justin's mouth when the younger moans into it, and there's no WAY Justin can deny the reality of the current situation. John clenches his hands in the back of Justin's shirt, still exploring the depths of the younger's mouth. Justin keeps flexing his fingers against Cena's muscular arms, entirely too caught up in the whole thing to even think about moving them. Justin tugs at the Superstar's lower lip and John moans.
"Justin..." Cena moans.
And just like that, the moment's gone. Justin is viciously ripped from the hazy, heady feeling of the drunken kiss and he realizes that they're just that, drunk. It hits Justin harder than the Big Show and he yanks himself physically from John's grasp.
"You, I can't." Justin almost sobs.
"Justin, wait!" John tries.
But it's too late. Justin retreats to the bathroom, knowing that John's too drunk to just leave here alone. What if he gets sick? And even beyond that, Justin has no idea how he's supposed to get home. He locks himself in and leans against the door, breathing heavily and squeezing his eyes shut tightly. He tries desperately not to cry, and for the most part, it works, even as he slides shakily down to sit on the floor.
"Justin! Justin, please, can we talk?" John calls through the door, banging on it. His speech is still slurred, and it reminds Justin of how wrong what just happened is.
Justin doesn't respond.
"Gabriel! Look, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to come on to you like that. I don't know what I was thinking." Cena tries.
That's the problem. You didn't mean to. Justin thinks, but still keeps quiet.
The more Cena speaks, the more difficult it is to fight back the sobs that keep threatening to escape. Finally, he gives up, and everything goes quiet. Justin's not sure how much time passes before he unlocks the door and opens it, stepping into the room, but John's already in his pajama pants and passed out. The South African feels like a dick for not being there to help him.
In the back of his mind, something screams, This is your chance! Leave now, and don't look back! but an even bigger part reminds him of just how drunk Cena really is, and that he'd feel even worse if he left and something happened. With a light sigh, he grabs a blanket and a pillow off the side of the bed John's not sprawled across and curls up in the chair in the corner. It takes a while, but eventually, he's whisked off to a fitfully uncomfortable sleep.
III
Thankfully, Justin still awakens before John the next morning. He jots down a quick note (I had a wonderful time last night. Thanks for inviting me. Hope you have a wonderful vacation. See you soon. -Justin Gabriel) and leaves it next to John's phone on the nightstand. With one last sorrowful look at the slumbering Superstar, Justin slips out the door, shutting it behind him.
It isn't until he's out in front of the hotel that he remembers John drove him. He lets out a sigh and calls a cab. He can't believe he let it go so far the night before. He hopes John doesn't remember anything, but something tells the young high flyer that he does. He should have never even stopped Cena that first night. This could all be over with. But no, he just had to go and listen to Heath. Well, fuck Heath. He doesn't know what in the hell he's talking about.
"You really planning on leaving without saying goodbye?" a voice pulls Justin from his thoughts.
He whips around, and lo and behold, there at the top of the stairs stands John Cena, still in just his PJ pants, not even wearing anything on his feet.
"I left you a note..." Justin mumbles.
"That's not what I meant and you know it." John says, descending the stairs and crossing his arms over his naked chest. Justin looks down.
"I don't see why it matters." Justin responds.
"Because you're my friend, Justin." John explains. "Or at least, I'd like to think you are. Is there something you're not telling me?"
"No!" Justin proclaims, looking back up at John. "It's nothing like that. Of course we're friends."
"Then why just duck out like that?" John asks softly, tenderly.
They're standing so close. Justin has so much he could say to that, so many different things, but no idea how to say them. He's so nervous. He has no idea how John would even react to any of it. He thinks over everything Heath's told him, and the events of the last 48 hours and for a brief moment, he thinks of staying here, telling John everything and just hoping for the best. But then the cab pulls up and the moment is broken.
"I just didn't want to wake you." is what Justin settles on for an answer, and John huffs out a sigh of disbelief. "That's my cab. I've gotta go. See you later, John."
Justin tucks his hands in his pockets and turns, walking toward the cab. He's just pulled open the door when John's voice rings out again.
"So that's it, huh? You're just gonna go out like that?" John calls. "Your shining moment is right here, and you're just gonna leave?"
Justin stops and turns, looks John right in the smirking face.
"What in the hell are you talking about?" Justin shouts back.
"You know what I'm talking about!" John returns. "I give you the perfect opportunity to tell me how you feel and you just bail?"
Justin freezes. He turns back around and sticks his head back in the door of the cab. "This'll only take a minute, I swear. I'll pay extra, just please don't leave."
"I don't have shit else to do. Take your time." the cab driver grunts, and Justin nods, shutting the door.
The high flyer turns and walks back over to where John stands.
"What are you talking about? What do you mean how I feel?" Justin asks as he nears the older man.
"Don't play dumb." John says, and Justin breaks.
"Look, if Heath put you up to this to get back at me, it's not fucking funny, okay? So just drop it." he says, scowling.
"What? Heath? I haven't even talked to Heath." John says, now confused as well.
"Right. You mean he didn't tell you to fuck with me? I'm so sure." Justin spits. "I'd really rather not get yanked around like this, so if you could just let me get in my cab, I'll be on my way."
"What are you talking about?" John fires back.
"I'm talking about you toying with my emotions, you asshole!" the South African snaps, shoving John roughly away from him. "Please just leave me alone, okay?"
"Justin! I'm not toying with you, I promise! You should know I'm not like that!" John tries to explain.
Justin hears Heath's voice in his head. He knows the answer is the same for this situation as well. He visibly deflates, hanging his head once more.
"I know. I just don't understand." He looks back up at John. "What are you talking about, then, if Heath didn't talk to you?"
"Justin, I know you like me. I've known for months now." John explains.
"Really?" Justin asks, embarassed suddenly.
John nods. "Really. I figured you were going to tell me when you stopped me outside the other night, but you got nervous. I wanted to give you another opportunity, so I invited you and Heath out that night. Then, Randy ruined everything when he spilled all the drinks. So, I had to give you another shot. I figured being in a date-like setting would loosen you up, but it just seemed like it made you more tense."
The darker haired listens on in shock. This whole time...?
"I originally started drinking because I hoped you'd take advantage or use it as an excuse or something. Then I got too drunk, and got a little carried away." John says sheepishly, scratching the back of his head lightly. "Anyway, I thought with the way you reacted I was totally wrong in my assumptions. I figured you'd bail out then, but you spent the whole night making sure I was okay. That proved it."
Justin kind of nods. "I couldn't just leave you alone. If you got sick or hurt I'd never forgive myself."
John smiles softly.
"But now you're just going to leave. I say, fuck that." he says slmost sternly. "I've spent the last two days giving you every chance I could for you to tell me how you feel, so now I figure it's my turn."
Justin's eyes widen.
"John?" he asks nervously.
"Justin, look. When I first figured out you liked me, it made me kind of nervous. But the more I thought about it and the longer it went on, the more okay I became with it. I thought it was kinda cute. But then I started seeing you a little differently, too. I've come to the point now where, if you were to come on to me, I couldn't turn you away, because, especially after the last couple of days...I've come to really like you, too." John explains, appearing almost nervous himself.
"What...what does that mean?" Justin inquires, his mouth awfully dry all of a sudden.
"Well, I was just wondering...see, I know I'm gonna be gone for quite a bit, and distance like that can be frustrating, I know. I wouldn't ask you to do that. But maybe if you and I were both still single when I got back, we could-" John starts.
He doesn't get to finish. Justin throws his arms around John's neck, leaning in to kiss him deeply. Thankfully, no one's outside to catch them except the cab driver, who isn't even pretending to pay attention, but Justin thinks he's past the point of caring anyway. John wraps his arms around Justin as well, lifting him off the ground just slightly before setting him back on his feet. When they pull back, they're both grinning.
"Can I take that as a yes?" John asks happily.
"Fuck the time, fuck the distance, I can handle it. I don't want to wait a few months. I want you now." Justin breathes out, kissing John again.
"Really?" John responds almost as if he's imagining it.
Justin nods quickly.
"Well then, why aren't we back up in the room? It's too fucking early to be up. Send your cab off and come back to bed with me." John suggests with a half smirk.
Justin grins back and kisses John lightly one more time before rushing back over to tell the cab not to bother. As the two of them walk back up to John's room hand in hand, Justin thinks to himself that he owes Heath big time. But for now, he thinks he'll be a little bit busy. When Justin falls back asleep this time, it's in John's arms. He can't believe his luck, but he knows he wouldn't have it any other way.