Disclaimer: Nothing's mine. Only own my OC(s).
Summary: If you were to ask me why I hate John Cena, I would give you three reasons: he always wins, his character is stale, and really, no one can be that nice. Imagine my surprise when Cena himself comes into the restaurant where I work, and - over time - ends up changing my opinion of him forever. CenaOC
New story! I just couldn't help myself. I had the craving to write a CenaOC fic, and this idea just wouldn't leave me alone. And I really like those kind of hate-turned-love relationships, and was eager to try my hand at it. I really hope that everyone enjoys this little fic, and I'd love some feedback! Thanks so much for giving this a shot, whoever decides to read! Haha.
Against the Tide
Chapter One: Damaging Developments
I am a waitress.
I'm sure that is the most unremarkable sentence anyone has ever uttered, but hey, it's what I do. I'm not very good at it, really. I take orders and smile at everyone, but I end up forgetting to refill drinks and asking people if they want to-go boxes. I haven't managed to get fired yet, so I believe I'm doing pretty good so far. Again, "good" being a subjective term.
The restaurant where I work is called Hugh's. I know, original title, right? But Hugh, the owner, is really nice and hasn't fired me yet despite all of my shortcomings, so I owe him my gratitude.
The whole place is a little dive bar nestled in the outskirts of Boston. I could probably recite the menu to you by heart, but I won't waste your time with that. The food is good, the company is nice, and they are one of the only restaurants that I know of that play the WWE Pay-Per-Views on their screens every Sunday one comes around.
Everyone at work knows how much of a WWE buff I am, so that means everyone knows that I am always a little loopy on PPV night. I am easily distracted, silently rooting for my favorites - and sometimes not-so-silently. The customers have never complained, at least.
One of my favorite concepts for the PPVs as of late has been Money in the Bank. Everything about it has interested me. The concept of grabbing a ladder to reach a contract-in-a-suitcase, and then being able to use that contract any time to cash in for a championship match. It brought a level of guessing, a level of excitement. Every time a champion would be down, you'd wonder, "Oh, man! I bet so-and-so is going to cash in!"
The whole Pay-Per-View was going good. The Raw Money in the Bank match included only four people, which I was kind of iffy about at first, but I was glad that at least Chris Jericho and Kane were in it. Big Show was cool and all, and I didn't have an issue with him, but then...
Cena's hands clasped around the briefcase, clutching it and then smacking it against Big Show's cranium. He unhooked the briefcase from where it hung, and just like that...
John Cena was the Raw 2012 Money in the Bank winner.
I stared in awe, in disbelief, as the place erupted. Boston was a big Cena town - another reason why I hated the place - and everyone was cheering.
I, however, had a different reaction.
"Son of a bitch!"
I almost got fired for that little outburst. Apparently, there were children around. I should have noticed their Fruity Pebble-y clothing, and the fact they kept doing the "You Can't See Me" face thing. Not to mention the fact I spilled water down a guy's back as soon as the obscenity left my mouth.
Hey, I never said I was a particularly pleasant person.
I consoled myself with the fact that Punk retained and Ziggler won the Smackdown Money in the Bank, but still, the fact that Cena won - again - bothered me.
Many people wonder why I'm the one to start - and fail to keep up - the Cena Sucks chants, and I could condense it down into three short and concise reasons.
One, he always wins.
Two, his character is completely stale.
And three, no one can possibly be that nice.
Call me a cynic, call me a bitch, whatever. I think what I think, and even though the whole of Boston is completely Cena-centric, I remain the lone person in this godforsaken town that doesn't like him. I supposed, if he were to turn heel, then I might like him a bit more. Maybe.
Which, let's face it, ain't gonna happen.
All of these thoughts raced through my head as I poured my customer a refill. I couldn't help but feel eager about tomorrow's Smackdown episode. The Raw this Monday had been interesting, yet I still hated seeing Cena with the briefcase. At least he was cashing it in, soon. On an all-too aware Punk. On the one thousandth episode.
I sighed as I moved back to the front counter, heading behind the cash register and where they kept the t-shirts that were for sale. The t-shirts that everyone employed at Hugh's had to wear daily. Nightly. Whatever shift you had. I was currently getting change for the nice man who I had accidentally spilled cheese dip all over. I expected my tip - if I even got any - to be thin at best. But money was money, and I wasn't going to complain.
I had my head bent over counting each dollar out specifically - if there was anything I was good at, it was numbers - when the chime on the door rang, indicating a new customer. Not particularly surprising, but slightly out of the ordinary, for a customer to come in at ten o'clock at night, requesting a meal. The place was deserted as it was, only Cheese Dip Man sitting at the bar along the side of the wall, watching some kind of news station on one of the many television screens mounted all over the place.
I heard a vague gasp, and then a snicker. I turned and was faced with one of my co-workers, Rose.
"Your customer," she told me. "Table Eight."
I frowned at her. "Why - "
She held up a perfectly manicured hand. "You cursed in front of children."
"Fine!" I sighed exasperatedly, feeling too tired to argue. "But you can't hold that over my head forever, you know."
"I can try!" she called out as I walked over to deposit the change on The Cheese Man. I ran a hand through my hair and then turned to glance at Table Eight, the current bane of my existance.
And I paused.
Sitting at that very table, the familiar figure of John Cena greeted me.
"Son of a bitch!"
End Chapter One.
