Disclaimer: Nothing's mine! I'm just having fun.
Summary: He was the only one that could tell her apart from her sister. Maybe that was what first attracted her to him, or maybe it was something else entirely. JohnBrie, oneshot
Okay! This is completely new territory for me. I never thought I'd write a fic like this, but after reading some pairings around the site that didn't really involve OCs, I have found a few I like - this one included. I would love to hear your opinions on this little fic of mine. Please enjoy!
Once
She never gave it much thought, at first.
People mixed the two of them up all the time. They would say, "Oh, I can tell the difference. You're Nikki and you're Brie," and they would point. And they would be wrong.
It was quite funny to Brie Bella, really. She could tell the differences between herself and her sister like people could tell the differences between Zack Ryder and CM Punk. They were that obvious to her. But, apparently, not to anyone else.
No one else except him.
She tried not to think about it, about the way he would easily say things like, "Hey, Brie," in such a confident manner because he knew that's who he was talking to. Other people would've just said hey, and not added the name at the end. Those were people with tact. The others, well, they didn't care whether she was Nikki or Brie - shit, she'd even been called Kelly once - but he was different.
He was so different that it kind of made her admire him - and that was very difficult for a person like herself to do.
It had happened several other times. He had said something along the lines of, "Want a bag of chips, Brie? I got two instead of one." And again with, "Brie, I didn't know you liked country music."
She preferred to not think that the last event happened. She preferred to not think that anyone had figured out her secret love for Kenny Chesney. That was a secret she had planned to take to her grave. At that moment, she had thought, Couldn't he have mistaken for Nikki then?
But she digressed.
There really is no one quite like John Cena, she supposed.
Sometimes, she wondered what was so different about him. One of the most popular superstars, as well as one of the most polarizing. Always with a smile on his face and a kind comment for anyone around. He was the most infuriating type of man to her, especially when he seemed to notice things about her that she didn't think were obvious.
"Happy birthday," he had said to her once, handing her a pair of deep green fuzzy socks. She had stared at him for a moment, clueless at the somewhat-dorky gift, but also silently pleased.
"What…is this?" she had asked, taking the socks from him.
"Socks…" he had trailed off lamely. "Green's your favorite color, right?"
Brie had nodded and said, begrudgingly, "And fuzzy socks are a guilty pleasure of mine."
"Yeah, I noticed you had a kind of liking for them."
"You notice everything, Cena."
And he had beamed that million-watt smile at her, causing her heart to do the most traitorous skip of its life.
John Cena…
She found that she noticed things about him, too. It was odd, how someone that she normally wouldn't have batted a seductive eyelash at was now someone constantly on her radar. Strange, how she would always pay extra attention to his matches, how she would listen carefully during his promos. Curious, how she wanted to tell people that John had accomplished more in his career than most of them would ever and that they had no reason to chant that he sucked.
The whole thing got pretty scary after a while. Scary for Brie, at least. She wasn't used to caring for someone this deeply. She was used to leaving before being left, but now she found herself unable to even walk away from the one man that could be her undoing.
She decided not to think about it, most days.
Other days, it would get so unbearably hard that it was difficult not to think about him. Those were the days in which he paid extra attention to her, saying things like, "Good match, Brie," and "I can help you with some moves, if you want."
It was all utterly ridiculous.
But somehow, she didn't mind the extra attention. If anyone lived for the attention, it was Brie Bella, along with her sister. She thought sometimes that by being a Diva, you were required to enjoy the spotlight. Yet there was something about the way John put her at the forefront of everything that caused her to absolutely crave his attention.
She hated that - the feeling of needing him.
And it wasn't just that she liked the attention. She found herself liking the way he said her name, the way his knuckles would subtly brush the back of her hand while they were walking together, the way he sometimes would breathe his words close to her ear…
Then, one day, it happened.
She was leaving the arena after losing the title to Kelly, feeling particularly angry that that was how it had been written out, but she couldn't do anything about it. Nothing except force herself into her new role with enough zest that maybe she would work herself up to another title run in the future.
Brie slung her gym bag over her shoulder and sighed as she walked to the bus that was headed back to the hotel. Groaning, she ran a finger over a developing bruise on her elbow. She grit her teeth, not even sure how she managed to get that one. That was the thing about this job. You got bruises and half the time didn't remember getting them.
"Brie!"
Of course it's him. He was the only person - other than her immediate family - that would call out her name with such reckless abandon, so sure of her identity.
She paused a moment, stopping in her tracks. He was motioning her over to where he was standing, in the shadow of an empty bus. Most of the other Superstars were still in the locker room, and she had left early, eager to at least get a good seat on the short ride to the hotel.
As soon as she was close enough for him to hear her without her having to shout, she said, "Yes, Cena?"
"It's really not fair," he began, "how short those Diva matches are."
She blinked and then rolled her eyes, "Tell me about it."
"Vince should utilize you two more," John continued, his face earnest and sincere. There was something about that blatant honesty that made it easy to tell if he was lying. And this was not one of those occasions. She idly wondered if Cena had ever told a lie in his life.
"Did you want something?" she asked, crossing her arms. Her bag slipped a little bit down her arm, but she didn't bother to correct it.
John smiled at her. This grin was different, an impish, exhilarated smile that she could so easily associate with one of his young fans. The very thought made her smile, though she was sure it came out as a grimace.
"Just wanted to offer some encouragement," he said, kindly. "You'll get the belt back. No worries."
"Well, thanks." Sarcasm coated her words.
"And…I wanted to do this." He reached for her face, fingertips light and cautious against her cheekbone, fluttering there for a moment before moving back to cup her neck as his lips found hers.
His lips were soft and hesitant on hers, half-expectant for her to push him away, she knew. But then Brie realized that she had no intention of pushing John away. There was nothing in her body that wanted to shove this man from her, nothing that she could force herself to find.
She did the only thing that seemed natural - she kissed him back.
And, as if just wanting to screw with her, as soon as she did so, he pulled away and gave her that damn good-ol-boy smile.
"See ya later, Brie."
His white teeth were the last thing she saw before he disappeared onto his bus, just as the other Superstars decided to make their presence known and emerge from the arena.
Brie found herself standing there, feeling disoriented and confused, but happy. She shook her head in disbelief before boarding the bus.
Among the many things she liked about John Cena, she had come to the realization that she liked kissing him the most of all.
End.