Disclaimer: I don't own anyone.
Rated: M
Warning(s): Slash, Mpreg, etc.
"Now, c'mon Phil, don't be like that." John called after his boyfriend, who was still fuming from his loss in the main event. John understood. He did believe that the ref had cheated him. But still…
"Fuck off, Cena. I'm not in the mood." Phil bit back at him. He stormed into their shared locker room and slammed the door closed in John's face. "Go ahead and find Sheamus. The first round was on him, or don't you remember?"
John shook his head and knocked on the door, desperate to maintain his composure but feeling it slowly slip from his grasp. "I don't want to find Sheamus, Phil. I want to stay here and talk with you about this."
Phil narrowed his eyes as he started to undress. "Well, enjoy talking to yourself. I'm done with you, Cena. I'm done with all of this, from fucking psychotic AJ Lee to that bitch of a ref."
"Phil," John breathed in slowly. "I understand that you're pregnant. I understand that. But that doesn't give you permission to be a whiny little bitch. I want to help you, but I can't do it if you don't let me."
The door snapped open and an extremely irate Phil looked out at his boyfriend. "What the fuck did you just call me?"
"A whiny little bitch, Phil. That's exactly the way that you're behaving." John didn't even hesitate to answer.
Phil was absolutely fuming. The tension in every muscle, from his shoulders to his thighs, was visible to the naked eye. He was so upset that he was almost shaking with the force of it. John didn't want him to be so upset. He knew that it was dangerous for the baby for Phil to experience such extreme levels of stress. But the harder he tried to calm Phil down, the more that Phil wanted to tear his hair out. It was a lose-lose situation.
This was all thanks to one idiotic call by a ref in their main event match. It had been John Cena and Sheamus vs. CM Punk and Alberto Del Rio to decide who would earn a rematch from their two main event matches at Night of Champions. John Cena had pinned Punk, but Punk had had his foot on the rope to break the count. However, the ref decided to ignore the blatantly obvious and, once more, work had caused a rift to form between the two lovers.
John just wanted to reach out and take hold of his extremely pregnant, extremely hormonal boyfriend. However, he was sure that Phil wouldn't be too thrilled about that. As of late, Phil had been getting less and less sleep. The baby had been keeping him awake at all hours of the day. And, after Night of Champions, they had had a small scare after the German Suplex from the top rope knocked Phil out for a few minutes.
"Please, Phil. Just listen to me for once. I don't want to have to fight with you. For once, I just want to be able to enjoy the fact that we're gonna have a baby… but every time I think about that baby, I think of the damage it's causing."
Phil narrowed his eyes at his boyfriend. "Oh, so now it's my fault that I got pregnant? Fuck you, Cena. Go to hell."
John rolled his eyes. Would he ever win? "You know that that's not what I meant, Phil. I just meant that -,"
"I don't fucking care what you meant!" Phil cut him off. John closed his eyes and pinched the bride of his nose to try and contain his frustration. "I don't care about you. I don't care about us. I wish you would just leave me alone."
John met Phil's eyes and held his gaze. If Phil was gonna make statement's like that, then he was gonna have to stand by them. "Look me in the eye and tell me that you want me to leave, and I'll be out of your hair forever."
John knew that he was dancing in dangerous territory. He didn't know what was going on inside of Phil's head and he didn't pretend like he did. Hell, he wouldn't want to be Phil right now. He was five months pregnant and they had just found out last week that it was twins. Twins. If looks could kill, then John would have been hurled halfway across the world and buried thousands of feet beneath earth's surface.
Phil looked him in the eyes, his entire face emotionless and steeled to remain that way. "I don't care about you. I want you out of my life. In fact, if you were to fall off of the face of the earth tomorrow, I wouldn't give two shits."
John felt his heart clench at Phil's words. Phil certainly didn't hold anything back, did he? "Well, I asked for the truth and you gave me the truth. And I am nothing if not a man of my word."
"I'll save you the trouble, John. We're over. Go rot in a ditch somewhere." Phil hissed at him, before he slung his bag over his shoulder and stalked off.
John just stood there, in shock, for several minutes. That was, until he felt Sheamus clap a hand onto his shoulder. "Hey there, fella. What's the matter? You look like someone ran over your dog."
John shook it off and tried to put on his classic smile. "Yeah. Something like that."
"So, what do you say about those pints? I know I could go for a celebratory round." Sheamus stated.
John didn't mention how he was fairly certain that Sheamus could drink at any time, for any reason. "Yeah. I think that I could go for a few rounds right about now."
'A few' rounds was a little bit of an understatement. Five beers later, Sheamus practically had to drag him off of his bar stool (not that he wasn't about to fall off himself) and out to the car. Instructing him to roll down the window for some fresh air, but if he had to puke, he could just do it out the window. After all, this car was a rental and he didn't want to blow a significant amount of cash to clean the seats.
John stumbled back into the hotel room, aided by Sheamus. But once Sheamus was certain that he was okay, he abandoned him for his own lover in their hotel room down the hall. John crashed face-first onto the bed. He had been hoping that his entire fight with Phil was nothing but a horrific daydream, and that when he came back to the hotel, Phil would be there waiting for him. Unfortunately, that was not the case.
Instead, there was a letter on the bed where Phil should be lying. Slowly, John clawed up toward the head of the bed and rest his head on one of the icy pillows. He closed his blue eyes against the way that the room spun in frantic circles around him. And then, blindly, he reached out for the letter and read it out loud to himself. It was exactly what he had feared. Phil really had left him.
Dear John,
You obviously don't understand me. I thought that you did, because you told me that you love me. But maybe your love was a lie and I was just willing to believe anything that came out of your mouth. Now, I hate you John. You've shown that you feel nothing but the same toward me. It makes me sick to think that I trusted you so fully, so wholeheartedly. I won't make that mistake a second time.
I won't keep you from the twins when they are born. Just because you screwed me over doesn't mean that they deserve to be punished for it. This, however, will be the last time that we talk about anything other than the children. I don't want to have to deal with all of your shit, Cena. You constantly preach hustle, loyalty, and respect… but you were far from loyal to me, and you really didn't show me any respect.
Phil Brooks.
And, after he read Phil's bitter letter, he closed his eyes against the tears and collapsed, exhausted, into a sleep brought on by extreme depression and the pain from his brewing hangover.