Author's Note: This is a re-post of my very first Centon fic that I wrote back in 2010 under a different account with the username BabyGotBurned (a.k.a. Master Centon). It was originally two novels, but I've combined them because readers don't like TO BE CONTINUED and I respect that shit.

The RAW storyline was Cena became a slave to Nexus (the Wade Barrett version, not the confusing later versions that no one really gave a shit about). At the time, Randy was kind of forced into this rivalry with Wade and pitted against Cena, which made for a lot of super intense Centon moments.

The storyline drifted off after Bragging Rights or Breaking Point or one of those PPVs that started with a B, where Cena was ref in a match between Orton and Barrett. Cena risked being "fired" if Orton won, but Cena's all honest and decent and was like (in a fake conversation that only happened in my mind), "F-you, Barrett, I got principles," and Barrett was like, "You'd risk your job, you twat?!" and Cena was like, "Yeah, man, I would," so he let Orton win and Cena was "fired" for like, all of about two minutes before he made some magical and kind of non-progressive return that involved purchasing a ticket and sitting in the audience to mess with Wade, which I think actually only messed with the fans because they were like, "OMGITSJOHNCENA!"

Then some other shit happened and Nexus got re-vamped Horrible Bosses-style by CM Punk. Nexus later dissolved, Cena continued to be a hero, and Randy got suspended and divorced and injured...damn, for being the ultimate winner of this rivalry, Orton got hit with the baddest hats.

I've rated it M for the mature content throughout. Lots of drama and all that. I don't claim to own any rights to WWE. This story is for entertainment..or at least, it entertains me to write it.

1:

"Cena, come here and lace up my boots."

I clenched my fists and sighed heavily, thankful that I was facing away from Wade so that he couldn't see the bitter expression on my face. I didn't want him to know how much I truly despised him and his power over me.

"Cena! I'm talkin' to you!"

My rage dripped through my fingertips and fell away from me as I forced my expression to go blank and calmly turned to face him. Wade was sitting in a giant recliner that he had asked me to bring to him an hour before RAW was about to start. It was no small task to find the recliner, and getting it through the door, past security and up two flights of stairs to Wade's dressing room was less than appealing.

He leaned back and gave me a knowing smile, as if he knew exactly what I was thinking. He hadn't so much as given me a simple thank you for the recliner. Now he was asking me to perform another humiliating task that he was completely capable of doing himself.

And he knew that I hated him for it.

"Fine, I'll lace up your boots," I shrugged, acting like it didn't phase me.

I got down on one knee and reached for his left boot. Wade suddenly jerked away and said, "I want double knots, Cena. I won't have none of tha' bow-tie lookin' shit."

Breath in through the nose, out through the mouth.

"Got it. Double knots," I repeated.

Wade smiled broadly and relaxed so that I could take his boots. I worked extensively to make every lace as tight and as articulate as possible. Wade took out his cell phone and pretended to be involved in a texting frenzy with the other Nexus members, but he would glance at me from time to time, as if he were deciding when would be a good time to launch his verbal onslaught.

He won't make his torment obvious.

I finished lacing his boots. Wade turned his feet left to right, observing my work. I stood up and waited, preparing myself for one of Wade's lame excuses as to why I would have to unlace his boots and try again, a task that would be difficult and stressful, considering that he had a live match in four minutes.

He sighed passively and returned his attention to his cell phone. I waited in silence, but he refused to acknowledge I was even there. I finally asked aloud, "Is that all?"

Wade looked up at me like I had rudely interrupted him. I lifted a brow, waiting for him to say something. Instead, he put his focus back on his cell phone, waving me away with his free hand as he mumbled, "Go on, then. I'm busy."

"Right. I'll see you later," I said sarcastically, but he ignored me.

I walked out into the empty hallway of the arena. No one was around, so I thought I would take my time in the silence before I had to join Wade at ringside. I looked up at the beams coming down from the ceiling as I walked, and I wondered how much pressure it would take for them to collapse.

Being a member of the Nexus was almost enough for me.

A loud thud came from behind me. I turned around just in time to be hit in the face by Heath Slater. David Otunga and Justin Gabriel flanked either side of me before I had time to get up, and all three of them began kicking the shit out of me.

I felt the blows, but I could only keep my arms up to shield my face and wait for them to stop. These ritual beatings were quickly becoming a condition of my servitude to Wade.

You are either Nexus, or defense-less.

"HEY!" came a booming voice from nearby.

Slater, Otunga and Gabriel scattered like roaches and disappeared through separate doors. I started to sit up, but I was greeted by a large hand connected to an arm sleeve of tattoos.

"You dead yet, Cena?" Orton pondered me with a sideways glance.

I took his hand and let him pull me to my feet, replying, "It takes more than those three punks to kill me."

"I'll believe it," Orton said with a nod.

My right hip felt like it was on fire. The guys always managed to hit me in places where the bruises wouldn't show on live TV. I pressed my fist against the injured area and winced in pain. Orton was still watching me, but he didn't say a word.

Almost everyone believed that my servitude to Wade was just an entertaining storyline. Very few people knew the truth: Wade had found a way to gain an advantage over McMahon and the RAW general manager. I couldn't be sure exactly what he had done, but my initiation into the Nexus, and my forced servitude to Wade was not a story.

It was real, and Randy knew it.

"I've got to get to the stage. Wade will want me at ringside," I started to leave.

"Hey, Cena," Orton nodded at me.

I stopped and turned to face him. I could only hope he would say something that I could respond to easily.

"Let Wade know I want to talk to him later on tonight," Orton said.

Caught by surprise, it took me a moment to answer, "Yeah, I'll let him know."

Orton smiled and turned to walk away. I watched him leave, wondering what he would possibly have to say to someone like Wade.

:-:

It was late. Wade was downing his third pint in the hot tub, while the rest of the Nexus sat on the patio chairs by poolside and whistled at any female they could see, no matter if she was within range to hear them or not.

We were staying at a five star hotel, and I was surprised that we had not been asked to return to our rooms yet. Morrison and R-Truth had already left, along with Eve and Kelly Kelly after Health Slater refused to stop calling the girls Eye-boobs. I still couldn't figure out what that meant. Even Goldust shook his head at us on his way to the rec room. It was quickly becoming obvious that my status with the Nexus meant total alienation from the other Superstars and Divas.

"Hey, Cena, look at this," Slater stuck his hand in the pool like he was grabbing something, then he pulled his hand back out and flipped me off.

The other guys laughed hysterically. Wade almost choked on his drink. I just stared at him.

Randy suddenly appeared through the front entrance to the pool. He was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, looking as casual as any well toned athlete trying to blend in with the public. The Nexus grew quiet and stared him down as Randy wandered over to Wade and I. The room was tensely silent as Wade sobered up for a moment and asked, "What do you want, Third Place?"

Orton clenched his jaw. Wade's nickname was meant to point out Orton's position as a third generation wrestler. What should've been an honor had become a frequent joke amongst Wade and Nexus. They saw it terms of rank instead of heritage.

I braced myself for a fight. Wade smiled wryly, gladly welcoming it. Orton was quiet for a moment longer, then he asked, "Could I talk to you in private, please?"

Again, things were tense, but for a different reason. Orton was being completely out of character. Wade stood up slowly, never taking his eyes away from Orton. He signaled to the others, telling them, "Leave."

The Nexus seemed temporarily stunned. I gave them a nod to go and they started moving. Wade still kept his eyes locked with Orton as he said to me, "Make sure no one comes in and disturbs us, Cena."

I was up and moving as fast as the words were said. The Nexus dissipated to their individual rooms while I paced the hallway. The seconds seemed to move slowly, turning into minutes, then half an hour.

What's going on in there?

I was beginning to worry. Had Wade done something to Orton? Had Orton done something to Wade? Had they both killed each other in a fit of rage? Better yet, could they be conspiring together?

The suspense was killing me. I had to know. I quietly made my way around the pool house to the side door. It was mostly shrouded by bushes and the night made it almost impossible to see me as I crouched down, opened the door slightly and put my senses on full alert.

"...Cena into this?" Orton was still standing as he asked Wade a question.

Wade was now in one of the patio chairs, still nursing the bottom of his pint. He chuckled slightly and replied, "What's it to you, O? Since when did you become Cena's little watchdog?"

Orton ignored Wade's word games, but continued, "You're treating Cena unfairly and without due cause. He's doing everything you ask and yet you and your boys continue to punish him."

Wade laughed out loud. Orton narrowed his eyes. Wade put his hands up in mock defeat, replying, "I just can't believe you actually used the phrase 'due cause.'"

Orton clicked his tongue, asking, "Do you really think I'm joking with you, here?"

Wade's expression went serious. He stood up and closed the gap between himself and Orton, saying strictly, "No, Third Place, I don't think you're joking. In fact, if I didn't know better, I'd say you've got your packet out for 'em."

British slang had become required research since I started spending time with Wade. I remembered packet being a reference to a lot of money...as well as male genitals.

I expected Orton to start pounding Wade into the ground for even considering making such a reference. Instead, the unexpected happened: Orton broke his gaze from Wade and looked away.

It was only for a second, but it was enough. Wade's eyes grew wide like a firecracker had gone off in his brain. He blurted out, "You have a thing for Cena?"

Orton had his hand around Wade's throat faster than I could blink. I couldn't tell if it was Randy's sudden movements or the booze, but Wade stumbled back into the patio chair, watching Orton with a shocked expression. Orton leaned in and lingered for a moment before he said in the coldest tone I had ever heard, "If anyone touches Cena again, whether it be you or your Nexus goons, I will hold you personally responsible."

Locking eyes with Wade, Orton finished with, "The RKO is a very meticulous move. If I were just a fraction off when using it on somebody, I could easily break their neck."

Smoothly, Orton let go of Wade's neck and backed away, turning to leave only when he was a safe distance away. Wade just sat there, dumbfounded in the patio chair, the rest of his pint in a puddle beside him.

I quietly closed the door and stood up, taking careful steps back to the hallway and to my room. I could barely process what I had just seen, nor could I make sense of what it meant.

Orton has feelings for me.

Surprisingly, it came as a comfort. I closed the door to my room and sat down on my bed, thinking it over, wondering what I would do with this revelation.

Then, a rush of dread came over me.

Orton has feelings for me...and Wade knows about it.