Title: Ain't that a Bitch (Yes, Aerosmith)
Rating: T for language
Summary: He needed a cigarette. Now.
Warnings: none
Disclaimer: I own nothing and no harm is meant.
Beta: None, all mistakes are mine.
A/N: This fic is set AFTER Extreme Rules.
Smoke rose from the forgotten cigarette hanging between his two fingers as he breathed out the last drag through his nose.
Randy was standing on the balcony of his current hotel room. They were all the same, some a little bigger than others but each furnished with a bed, dresser, t.v. and of course the on-suite bathroom. The view being the only big difference.
Try as he might though, his mind just wouldn't shut down. So many possibilities running through his head and set on repeat through the course of the night. It seemed John had no trouble though, nodding off as soon as his head hit the pillow. Still clothed in fact until Randy decided to be a good lover and undress him.
But after staring at the back of John's head for about an hour or so he disentangled himself from John and climbed out of bed. On his way to the bathroom he tripped, silently cursing the other man for leaving his bags in the middle of the floor.
With a grunt he pissed, washed his hands then stared at his reflection. Worried gray eyes stared back at him, the stress lines clearly visible on his forehead.
He turned the water back on and cupped his hands under the flow splashing his face a few times before he turned off the faucet. He reached for one of the hand towels bringing it to his face as he mentally hit repeat for what had to be the hundredth time that night.
Swagger shouldn't have been that strong, that prepared. Randy had kind of hoped his loss the Morrison would have thrown the big brute off his game a little bit. Shaken him up. Funny, how wrong he turned out to be.
Snarling in the mirror, displeasure etched in his features, he tossed the hand towel halfheartedly to the tile and stalked out of the bathroom.
He needed a cigarette. Now.
The older man was still asleep, blissfully unaware of his lover's tormented state. He'd shifted a bit, arm thrown over Randy's empty space as if saving it for the younger man. The muscles rising with his breathing almost enough to entice Randy into joining him. Into letting John fuck his mind to sleep. Almost.
That was until he caught sight of gold glinting in the moonlight. The WWE gold. John's WWE Championship gold.
A soft growl tore from his throat as he narrowed his eyes and stared at the belt. John's belt. Not his and not the World Heavyweight Championship belt.
He sighed heavily before his mind could preform yet another encore and grabbed his pack of cigarettes heading towards the sliding doors.
Which brings us back to the present.
The burning cigarette did nothing to calm his fraught nerves. He'd lost, lost to that cocky, lisped bastard.
He had hoped to go into the draft as champion. At least that way, no matter where he was placed he wouldn't have to worry. He wouldn't need to work for title shots or in any way be insecure about his job. His stance on the roster. Yep, the normally cold, stoic viper was slightly apprehensive. Maybe even a little scared but he would never tell. It was bad enough Cena could tell just by looking at him, he didn't want to become an open book for everyone.
He leaned over the railing, hooded eyes tracking the night's skyline. Seeing nothing in particular just staring off into space.
Most likely John would stay on RAW. His match had ended in a victory for him. Batista completely laid out, still not moving even long after the ten count was over. No one would want to see that precious title on Smackdown let alone the face of the WWE.
As for himself, well, the jury was still out. All thanks to his foolish thinking. Yeah, he watched the Undertaker's match. Saw Jake go toe to toe with the best of them, hell he'd even felt the younger man's power and force that night on RAW.
Then came the shaman's match and Randy had gotten his hopes up. Big mistake.
It was like the blond knew of the viper's plight, knew he needed to win this match. And like a bully, he toyed with his victim.
Oh don't get me wrong, Randy gave it his all and then some. There were some close call and near falls but unlike the other fight, for some reason his second wind never came.
In the end, Jake had proven his worth, taking out the legend killer and nearly breaking his neck to boot. That bastard.
There was no belt, just insecurities and a few aches and pains.
Randy put out what was left of the cigarette then straightened up running his hands up and down his tattooed arms, just now feeling the nights chill. He was contemplating going back inside when a throat was cleared behind him.
"You alright, Orton?"
John. When had he gotten up and how come Randy hadn't heard the door sliding open?
"Yeah, just thinking. You can go on back to bed." he replied not turning around, eyes trained on stars billions of light years away.
"And let you sulk out here like a kid who's gotten his candy taken away. Not a chance."
Randy felt thick arms wrap around his waist at those words topped off with a gentle kiss to the back of his neck. He leaned back into the embrace but tried to defend his honor.
"Wasn't sulking," he half growled. "just-"
"Moping like a big fat baby. Get over it." John countered, resting his chin on the younger man's right shoulder. "Now you can go after my belt. The fans are dying for some centon action."
John stumbled back as Randy abruptly turned around, shoving him against the brick wall. A small groan escaped his lips in protest as the air rushed from his lungs.
"One," The viper growled, "I'm not fat. Two, don't ever used that nickname in my presence and three. We have to be on the same show to-"
"Oh quit your bitching and grow a pair. The chances of you getting sent to Smackdown are slim at best. Besides," the champ chuckled, "I could never lower my standards."
He was let go as Randy took a small step back and smirked. "No, we wouldn't want to tarnish your reputation with the likes of a Smackdown rat, now would we."
"Exactly, so now if your bitch fest is over, I'd like to get back to sleep."
"Sleep...nope. I've got a much better idea." With that Randy winked at John before going back inside. "You coming?"
"Oh, you have no idea" John returned, voice already heavy with lust.
A/N2: Just for the record, I hope Orton kicks Swagger's ass!