Title: Old Playmate
Rating: T
Summary: Randy finds Edge.
Warnings: none
Disclaimer: I own nothing and no harm is meant.
Beta: None, all mistakes are mine.
A/N: Okay, *scrubs face*, I'm going to go ahead an apologize for this one now. It really didn't want to work with me and I think ultimately I may have forced it.
Voices carried as Randy made a right, coming to a sudden halt. Standing next to a concession table not ten feet away was his old buddy laughing and talking with his lover. Dressed in street clothes, both were facing the table, not yet aware that they were no longer alone.
If it was possible, Randy's eyes darkened another shade. His hands clenching at his side as he watched the two blonds for a moment.
He was stalking his prey. No one else was around but he still didn't want to risk anything.
No, he didn't plan to kill either of them, that would be crazy. He just wanted to cause a little pain, okay, a hell of a lot of pain.
He quietly made his way across the distance until he stood about a foot behind the unsuspecting superstars.
Randy could pinpoint the moment, tension filling the air along with Edge's body. Shoulder's riding up just a little bit as Christian made to turn around only to be stopped by his lover's hand on his wrist.
So, maybe Edge knew he was there after all. When neither of them moved again, Orton took matters into his own hands.
"What the fuck was that out there, Copeland" he growled.
Only then did they move. Edge slowly turning around, smirk firmly in place as he leaned back against the table, while Christian only turned half way as if watching from the sidelines.
"What ever do you mean?" Edge tried to ask innocently, failing epically though he'd gotten the reaction he wanted.
The legend killer visibly straining, veins popping out in his neck and forehead as he tried to hold himself back. What he probably wouldn't give to wrap his hands around the older man's neck and.....
"You know what the fuck I mean. Where the hell do you get off spearing me." He all but spat his words inching closer, noting the way Christian's eyes narrowed as he glared at the side of Orton's face.
Edge, however, only crossed his arms across his chest, smiling real big like there was some hidden joke in all this. He looked from his lover back to Randy, taking in the way both bodies were strung taut. One waiting to strike, the other waiting to launch a counter attack. One past the point of rage, the other just beginning to reach pissed off.
His gaze finally settled on the tan, muscled specimen in front of him. Randy hadn't bothered to change out of his ring gear and Edge could tell time had done some mighty fine work over the years. Baby fat gone, leaving nothing but a very tempting six-pack with perfectly sculpted arms and legs. His face had thinned out a bit and his love of ink was displayed all over his arms and part of his back. Personality wise, he was no longer that cocky, brash kid, but a cold calculating menace. Yep, Randy had grown up but no, the Rated "R" Superstar still wasn't afraid of him.
"Lets get a few things straight, Orton." The smile dropped off his face as he got serious. Stepping just that last inch closer so that he and the younger man were nose to nose, his tone firm.
"We were never friends not even during that Rated RKO stint. Just two guys tired of DX's mouth and looking for a little boost in our careers. That being said, I don't see why me spearing you is so hard to understand." He watched as Orton raised his head high in defiance.
"No, never friends, but if you think I'm going to waste one second of my time fighting you, forget it. This isn't Smackdown, Copeland. You've no authority but this stunt-"
"Authority, my ass. I do what I want when I want, when have I ever given a fuck about what Vince says, or...or maybe it's John." The smirk was back as he cocked his head studying Randy. "Your master, he's running RAW, right? I hear he keeps you on a short leash, why not everyone else."
If it hadn't of been for the backup standing so close to his side, he would have thrown a punch to Edge's mid-section.
Randal Keith Orton was nobody's fucking bitch, not even John's.
He just continued to stare into mocking green eyes as his hatred for the man built on so many levels. They were so close, they could feel each other breathing, one slow and controlled the other short and quick. Silently waiting for the other one to throw the first punch so it could be called self-defense.
Edge was just contemplating taking another jab at Randy's ego when he caught some movement out of the corner of his eye. A bright ass orange shirt appeared from around the same corner Randy had. The blond didn't turn his head or avert his eyes, he just watched the new comer's movements in his peripheral.
John had been on the verge of giving up his hunt, when he heard his name being spoken. He thought it might have been Edge's voice but he wasn't quite sure, it'd been a while since the two of them talked. They weren't exactly on the best of terms anymore.
Both he and Evan had been searching for the last 30 minutes, covering half the damn arena, even talking with the skeleton crew and few superstars that were still around. No one remembered seeing Randy, Edge or Christian for that matter. To Evan it seemed obvious they hadn't seen Randy, everyone else who'd seen him was long gone.
John put out his arm stopping Evan when he saw the three men. He motioned for the high-flyer to stay quiet as he locked eyes with Christian. He could tell both of them wanted this confrontation to end without blood being split but they weren't sure if that was possible. We were talking about two very stubborn jackasses after all.
Though Edge had caught John's shirt in his peripheral, Christian taking a step back and looking away confirmed that he wasn't going completely crazy. But if Orton hadn't been so wrapped up in his own dark world, he probably would have head footsteps, felt the air change, or maybe noticed Christian lowering his guard. Instead his gaze stayed fixed on his opponent's face, mind reeling with plenty of options.
He was however bewildered when Edge moved back to leaning against the table once again smiling. He thought it was a smile, he was sure it wasn't a smirk.
Unknown to Randy, John and that little brat were behind him but unknown to them another participant had joined the party.
"Lets just say I was having a little fun before real business starts." He offered as a half ass'd apology and watched as a frown marred Randy's features.
"Fun, that was your fucking idea of fun." Randy seethed wondering what was with the sudden change in the other man's attitude. What game was he playing at?
"Yep and so is that." Finally averting his eyes, Edge looked towards the champ, locking eyes with him as a matter of fact.
Just then, John felt the presence of someone behind him but it was too late. Poor Evan was slammed into the wall by a heavy hand, slumping down to the floor as he watched with horror as John was picked up and Batista bombed through one of the spare tables. The sheer force behind the attack being felt by all.
John just laid there motionless as Batista bent down to one knee, glaring at him. "A fucking fluke, cause your nothing but a joke Cena and it's only a matter of time before I take back what's mine." With that he straightened up looking over at two laughing superstars and one in total shock. He smirked, kicking one of the champs legs before taking off back down the corridor.
"Ohhh, that had to fucking hurt" Christian cringed as he stared at John's still unmoving body.
"Yep, looks like you'll be taking care of your master tonight, Randal" Edge teased as he clapped the younger man on the shoulder before stepping away. Taking one last look back at the mess, he and Christian made their way back to their locker room, the show was over here.
Right about here is where I tell you I lied earlier. Mad, angry, pissed, livid, and exploding with rage; yeah those don't quite cut it when it comes to the feelings coursing through Randy's veins at the moment. He refused to believe what he just saw, there was no way in hell he just saw that. No way possible that Batista just bombed John through a table. No way fucking possible that damn brute just crashed his lover's body through a fucking table. Nope, didn't happen.
If it wasn't for Evan slowly crawling his way over to John's body, he probably would have stood there in shock all night. But seeing the other man struggle to make his way over to Cena, due to his own injury snapped something inside of Randy. He went completely dead. There was no emotion, not anger, frustration, shame or worry. Nothing at all. He was just dead, just cold inside.
With a face utterly blank, only his dark eyes showing any indication as to what he might be thinking, Randy slowly turned around. He watched, head cocked as the two blonds retreated to safety. Maybe, just maybe taking Edge up on a fight would be a good idea. Otherwise a certain animal might end up missing.
"Randy"
The high-flyer had carefully made his way to where the big man laid. As he crawled he tried not to aggravate his back too much. Thanks to that fucking animal, he would be paying for his troubles dearly in the morning while also trying to calm down a pissed off lover. It made him shutter to think about what Matt and Randy could cook up for Batista's punishment.
Once he'd gotten close enough he could see that John wasn't unconscious. His breathing wasn't very deep either and sounded pretty agonizing. Evan moved away the splintered bits of table trying his best not to jar the older man's body too much, knowing the pain had to be far greater than anything he could or would want to imagine. The man needed meds and a doctor, stat.
"Hey, Randy. I think we need to get John to a hospital like, NOW."
The urgency and despair in the tone was what brought Randy from out of his haze. He gazed once more down the now empty hall before bolting over to the other men. Bending over his lover he felt the first of his emotion's returning. Mainly guilt and remorse.
Now he wished he hadn't been so quick to retaliate, wished he had of taken his loss publicly but planned his revenge in secret. All he could do now was hope, for his sake, Batista's and John's, that there were no broken bones or other serious injuries.
He knew with time John would forgive him, just how much, well that was the kicker. He just hoped it wouldn't be too long because whether he liked to admit it or not, without John, he wasn't responsible for the viper's actions.
A/N: Now I guess I'll go work on that codiasi fic.....yeah.