A/N: New person comes in here. I don't really care for Mr. Wonderful Paul Orndorff in fact...lol I think he looks nasty. But the three of them were together a lot and in this story he plays a big part. Just a fun fact: It is really true that Roddy gave the trademark nickname 'Ace' to Orton and "Mr. Wonderful" to Orndorff. I don't know about you but that said slash to me. Ace I can get, but what guy calls their platonic guy friend 'Mr. Wonderful'? Hm. Food for thought. And please if I ever get Roddy extremely out of character all of you yell at me because I feel very strongly about keeping him IC. Thanks guys so much for your reviews, favs, alerts, etc. Love yas! *plays celebratory bagpipe solo*
1984
Bob Orton hung back watching the promo with a small smile upturning his lips, with his strong arms crossed over his wide chest. The man he was watching was one he certainly knew of, his notoriety as both a superb villain and a fan-favorite was prominent with promotions such as NWA Hollywood Wrestling, NWA San Francisco Wrestling, Pacific Northwest Territory , Georgia Championship Wrestling, and Jim Crockett Promotions. He was an edgy character, some of his stunts well known within the industry—such as the one that had first got him noticed as a villain. That had been in the L.A. area where Piper had constantly mocked the Mexican community and had finally promised to make amends by learning to play the Mexican National Anthem on his bagpipes. Instead, he played 'La Cucaracha'.
Just as his character, his feuds were also storied such as one that lasted nearly three years against Chavo Guerrero and eventually the whole Guerrero family. But the thing which had finally gotten Piper noticed by the big man—Vince McMahon—was one hell of a match the likes of which had never been witnessed before. Bob had heard tell of the match and its brutality and could only imagine what kind of balls this guy must have. Apparently, he had been asked to come up with the most brutal stipulation he could think of, and Piper had came through with two leather studded dog collars connected with a loggers chain. Piper won the match against his opponent Greg Valentine but a fist wrapped in chain to the side of the head had left the Hot Scot with severe damage to his ear, impeding his balance and in ring ability, which was why Vince had made him a manager and the mouth piece for other superstars less than talented on the mic.
But Roddy, he really knew how to work that damn thing. Bob's smile grew wider as Roddy's rant grew more intense, his voice louder, and one of the camera crew was signaling to cut it out with a swipe of his finger across his throat. Bob wondered what kind of nerve Roddy had struck this time, and laughed. It was going to be fun working with this one, he knew that right away.
Moments later, Roddy was finished, and carelessly dropped his mic, walking away from the cameras and scratching at his hair, with the other man he was cutting the promo with trailing behind him. The other man trailing Piper caught up to his quick stride and hung his huge, muscled arm over Piper's shoulder, both of them sharing a laugh as they headed over towards Bob and Vince McMahon Jr. Bob glanced sideways at the later, McMahons' dark hair slicked back from his face which held a pleased smirk.
"You're great Rod, just great!" Vince boomed as Piper and his accomplice approached. He gave the Scot a hearty slap on the chest. "I could leave you in a room with four people and a camera for five minutes and have the best promo ever cut!"
"Well," Roddy ducked his head, feigning modesty. "What can I say boss, ha."
"Don't say nothin', you already said it all." The other man who looked like a fucking carved statue—and Bob was sure he knew who he was—added in with a deep laugh.
"Here boys, I want you to meet Bob Orton Jr. I'm sure you know of his father--" Vince started but Roddy interrupted him, stepping closer and extending a hand.
"Oh, yeah yeah yeah, I wrestled Bob Orton Sr. a couple times. Hey I hope you ain't as easy as your old man!" Roddy joked good naturedly and Bob grinned, taking his hand and pumping it a couple of times.
"As I was saying, I guess this man here doesn't need an introduction." Vince patted Roddy's shoulder and rolled his eyes. "And this is--"
Roddy interrupted Vince again and the boss threw his hands in the air, a sign of put-on frustration.
"This ugly son of a bitch is my pal—he's a good guy ya know…Paul Orndorff but I's calls him Mr. Wonderful myself. He's a good guy, he is!" Roddy was slapping the guys bulging bicep as Paul shook his head.
"Mr. Wonderful." Bob mused, flicking his eyes from the kilted man to the shirtless one in the curve hugging jeans. "Not bad."
"Ah, Roddy came up with it."
"Thank you, I am a genius I know!" Roddy bowed elaborately, bobbing his head and making his auburn hair fly around his face.
"Yep. Me and him debuted together January and he tagged that nick name onto me." Orndorff went on. "Just decided to keep it after that. I mean, I am pretty wonderful."
"Are you nit-wits quite finished?" Vince barked, inserting himself between the three.
"No we ain't Junior, and in fact, we don't need you! Go on and get out of here and push some paper or what ever it is monkeys like yourself do there…you and your big child bearing hips—ha!" Roddy waved Vince away as the boss glared. "He don't need no introductions anyway, no sir! I know what he's here for!" Roddy clapped Bobs' chest in excitement, which the Scot certainly never seemed to be lacking. "This here's my body guard! He's gonna be my new body guard, Paul." He said turning to Orndorff, as if all four men had not heard his raucous declaration the first time. "I think I'm gonna love my body guard!"
"Fine you three, I see I'm not needed here--"
"No, is he deaf?" Roddy asked the other two, scratching at his ear. "Are you deaf son? I told ya we didn't need you! Go powder your nose!"
The four of them shared a round of good laughter and Vince really did retreat, to powder his nose or do whatever it was that called him.
"Say, Mr. Wonderful and myself were just gonna head out for some drinks, do some partying Piper style ya wanna come along Ace?" Roddy asked, hanging on Paul's arm as the sculpted man nodded his head towards Bob.
"Ace?" Bob asked lowly.
"He likes to give out nicknames." Paul explained with a slight shrug.
"Great! I knew we'd hit it off right away you look like a good man there, Ace. Off we go to raise some hell!" Roddy exclaimed, and tugged Paul after him. Bob watched them for a moment, scratching his head and blinking, before following after them.
The three of them surely did raise hell and even got thrown out of a couple of bars. By the end of the night, Roddy was the worst off, and no he wasn't a crying drunk or a sleepy one unfortunately. He got louder and rowdier, something Bob would not have thought possible had he not been there trying to keep the hot-head under some form of control, as Paul threw himself at various men getting them all disgusted looks. Bob had one on each arm, still managing to stay calm, as he pulled them both back to the hotel. Paul was flirting with Roddy to the point it was becoming obscene, and even a couple of times he directed some of his lines and gestures towards Bob who turned red as a cherry and wished he'd wore his cowboy hat, if nothing else just to hide his face.
Roddy on the other hand was randomly yelling at passerby, hurling insults and names, racial remarks, lewd comments, all of it shouted at the top of his voice. Thankfully most of it was slurred together so it wasn't entirely recognizable. If he hadn't have been so far gone and stumbling over his own feet then Bob was sure he would have already wrenched free of his grasp and entangled himself in some brawl or another, probably with three guys all twice his size. Bob shook his head, laughing, as he hauled the two men into their hotel and down to his own room which was thankfully on the first floor. He didn't even bother asking them what their room number was, they were both too far gone to know, and he really didn't feel like frisking either one of them for the key as Paul would undoubtedly get fresh about it and Roddy might get too defensive and combative.
Once he'd wrangled them into the room, he heaved a sigh of relief, and went back to the door which he'd had to leave wide open to get them both inside. He shut it and locked each lock, then leaned on the dresser to pull his boots off and unbutton his shirt. He was just ready for those two to pass out so he could get some sleep, it was an ungodly hour of the morning and the three of them had things to do the next day which entailed traveling and then Bob debuting as Piper's body guard. He finished with his buttons and peeled his shirt away, it was soaked with sweat and beer because Roddy had spilled his conveniently over Bob instead of himself. It was then that he noted the room had gone strangely quiet. He cocked his head listening for the soft sounds of sleep but what he heard did not register as sleeping. As what was happening did register, Bob's eyes grew wide and he spun on his heel so fast he nearly threw himself to the floor.
Paul was half naked on the bed, his lap full of Roddy, his hands secured in the back pockets of Roddy's jeans as the younger man ran his hands up and down Paul's chiseled chest. But what Bob had heard was the sounds their lips were making, open and stuck together, exploring each others mouths.
"N-n-now wait just a fuckin' minute here!" Bob stuttered out, striding over to the two men and pulling Roddy out of Pauls' lap. His hands were secured around Roddy's waist, the smaller mans back to his chest, and Roddy was trying to urge Bobs' hands further down. "W-we-we're not havin' none of this…THIS…stuff…goin' on here!" Bob sputtered as Roddy moved against him and tilted his face upwards, studying Bobs' face.
"Come on Bob-a-roo." Paul dismissed Bob flippantly. "It's the eighties don't be so uptight." A slow, wide, smile spread across Pauls' face as he sauntered over to the other two and reached past Roddy to stroke Bobs' hot cheek. "Hm, but I bet you are tight…and…" Paul glanced down at the bulge in his own jeans and then back up to Bob. "Looks like I'm up too."
"Now, see here!"
"See where?" Roddy yelped, pulling away from Bobs' grip. "Look Ace, you're gonna be my guard body…er…body…well whatever the fuck it is anyway! It involves you and my body, apparently!"
Roddy curled his fingers around Bobs' belt as Paul slipped behind and ran his hands under Bobs' undershirt.
"I—now see—stop that!" Bob batted at both of their hands and retreated to the bed, tossing a pillow. "Nothin' frisky is goin' on y'hear. That's that! And especially not involving me!" He pulled the covers around him, opting to keep the rest of his clothes on, and if he was closer to his discarded shirt he would have grabbed that too and buttoned it up tight.
"I think we got us a fairyphobe!" Roddy shrieked to Paul as Paul roamed his hands over Rods' body, unbuckling his belt. "He's afraid of you my Mr. Wonderful." Roddy pouted, leaning into Pauls' touches.
Bob ducked his head under the covers, his eyes wide in the darkness. Sure, in this business he'd known of guys who had turned to each other for the kind of understanding and support only someone else in the business could provide, then again he knew guys who just swung that way period. He'd seen some flirting in the locker room, but never anything as open and intense as this. Not only was it awkward to be exposed to that part of someone elses life—after all for fucks sake that stuffs private!—but it wasn't completely disgusting. In fact, it was affecting Bob in a way he did not want to be affected. He chalked it up being apart from his wife for so long and being too shy and awkward to just drag any random girl back with him for a romp in the sack. He smashed his eyelids together, closing them hard, and tried to drown out the obscene noises and commands that were filling the room as the two other men sharing it ignored his stuttered stipulations.
After a few moments of hiding under the covers Bob cautiously lowered them. He told himself that it was because it was getting stuffy and hard to breathe under there, but that didn't explain why he was glancing over at Rod and Paul and rather enjoying what was going on.
"He's watching." Paul whispered against Roddy's ear, the action sending a visible shudder through the Hot Rods' body, which likewise sent an unexpected one through Bob.
"Well, Mr. Wonderful it seems like what we got here is a voy—a voy—ah…peeper! That's what we have here Paulie we got us a peeeeep-er!" Roddy laughed drunkenly as he stumbled towards the bed, his jeans which Paul had undone slipped from his waist and tangled around his ankles, revealing nothing else underneath to hide his aroused anatomy. Luckily Paul caught him before he fell into a cursing heap on the floor.
"Here babe lemme help."
Roddy gripped Pauls' muscled shoulders as he helped him out of his jeans. With a cocky smirk Roddy came closer to the bed and climbed onto it, the springs creaking as he crawled towards Bob and straddled his waist. He leaned close to Bobs' ear and growled huskily.
"Now you know what a Scotsman wears under his jeans, Ace."
Bob quickly swallowed the groan that threatened to slip out as Roddys' lips tickled against his ear. The mattress shifted again as the third man in the room mounted the bed and perched himself behind Roddy, both their weight securely holding Orton to the bed.
"Now, you see here!" Bob shouted in protest. Roddy played with the covers and pulled them from Bobs' clutching fingers.
"See where Ace?" Roddy teased as he drew the covers away from Bobs' still clothed body which was twitching and shuddering under his every touch. "Hm…it looks like you kinda liked our lil' show you're all nice and ejected—er—erected there aint'cha?"
Roddy crawled up his body as Bob gave up the battle to fight him away. It was past that now, the man had him in a bad spot, and his mouth was dry and wordless in anticipation of what might happen next. Roddys' hands gripped his shoulders, kneading them until they were relaxed beneath his palms. His head dipped lower, soft, pretty, hair fell into his glittering eyes, alcohol heavy breath ghosted warm against Bobs' lips.
Bob was only vaguely aware that a third hand which clearly belonged to Orndorff was cupping the bulge of his jeans, but those touches were barely felt, his focus was captured in those heated eyes and the lips that were so close to his. Bob gasped, and Rod stole the sound away pushing his lips roughly against Bobs'. Fire exploded between them, the feeling coursing through Bobs' body at the touch of those lips made every other kiss before disappear in his minds eye, all of them meaningless, none of them as right as this one. His groin may as well have burst into flames, the throb of it painful as he reared up uncontrollably, his hands grasping Rods' hair and forcing the kiss to keep going deeper and deeper until there was nowhere else to go and no air left to breathe. Reluctantly, Bob untwined his fingers from Roddys' sweaty hair and shakily laid them on the younger mans' shoulders. Bob studied Roddys' eyes and expression carefully, and even as drunk as he was, Bob could sense that he had also felt the same electric charge between them.
"Hm, I like you Ace." Rod slurred, leaning in again to nip at Bobs' lips which were now hungrily trying for more. "I like you a lot."
2005
"Dad?" Snap. Snap. Snap! "Dad!"
Bob blinked, taking a step backwards, noting his son was up in his face and glaring as he snapped his fingers in attempts to bring his father back to the here and now.
"Y-Yes son?" Bob managed to get out, as he wondered why his son was wrinkling his nose in disgust.
"You were watching us!" Randy spit out, his words acidic. "Unreal, I can't believe you…and you were enjoying it!" Randy and Bob both glanced down, both of them equally horrified at the proof of just how much Bob was enjoying himself.
"Randy, no son it's not--"
"You are a perverted old man!" Randy snarled. "If not for this damn storyline, if not for your name, I wouldn't be seen dead in the ring with you. You never did anything anyway. The word 'useless' comes to mind."
"You listen here you ungrateful--!"
"No Pop, you listen. I better never see you watching John and I ever again."
"Randal I wasn't--"
"We have to go. Your old flame is out there rambling like a demented old bat, and we're slated to crash his decrepit show." Randy backed off a bit when his fathers' eyes blazed with a heat he hadn't seen in a very long time.
"You leave him outta this, boy!"
"I can't believe you still care about him." Randy scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Pathetic. Come on, I have a RKO to hit."
Mumbling grumpily under his breath Bob followed his son out of catering. Moments ago he was looking forward to seeing his son RKO his old flame, but now, he wasn't so sure. He thought he might like it better if he was allowed to handle Roddy himself…and not in the squared circle. Stupid, stupid! Bob thought as he fixed his cowboy hat and smoothed his shirt. Randys' music hit and the both of them walked down the ramp. From afar, Bobs' eyes met Roddys' and even now, he thought he saw that same old spark…Hm…I like you Ace. I like you a lot.