Alright, so it took some time but here is the next part :) hope you guys enjoy reading as much as I did writing with my awesome co-author!
Randy watches Cole leave his side in silence, momentarily feeling abandonment before he was immediately clung around the waist from Cody's familiar arm and obnoxious plastic face mask digging into his side. Cody explains angrily that Ted is enthralled with the giant A-Zander fish on the lobby wall for their ice-fishing advertisement, and wants one for their house. He's angry and seething, and acting as if only Randy's body could remedy the situation…. Which it could half … Most of the time…. All of the time.
Ted pokes in on Swagger and Cena's conversation. Swaggers constant pining for a long-term boyfriend being the topic. Ted is sure he and Cena are sharing the same thought in their heads: Swagger's gravestone will one day read "JACK SWAGGER. STILL SINGLE." Maybe if he didn't spit on everyone during their date. DiBiase inches a little more behind Swagger rather than directly in front of him. "Let Cena get spat on…" he thinks to himself and attempts to change the subject before seeing Cody and Randy take off for Cole. What was so great about Cole anyway? Ted shakes his head and grumbles in that spoiled-rich-kid tone that annoys just about everybody but Randy and Cody.
Meanwhile, Riley has set to standing directly in front of Morrison, and moving each way that he did to keep blocking his view of Miz. "So, maybe you can wear some of those cool fluffy ear muffs instead of those awesome fedoras, right?" he sounds obnoxiously upbeat, for a football player, he held conversation like a cheerleader, everything had a question at the end, his words constantly going with a upwards inflection. "Those awesome furry snow boots? I have to get myself some of those, man? I'm gonna be out there all day? Showing you all these cool tricks?"
Miz doesn't bother a reply, maybe a nod here and there, and eventually walks away from Riley who follows behind him so quick that he trips into his back and nearly knocks him over if it wasn't for Morrison. "So, I'm not sleeping on the futon this time. I'm going to make Morrison sleep on it!" his voice is matter-of-fact with the same upward inflection, talking as if John Morrison hadn't even been standing there… looking much better with his straight hair and shaved face. He must have really wanted some vacation-action.
"Really? Really? This place doesn't have any latte's ready for me? Do they know who I AM?" Miz growls with frustration, turning to his personal assistant and demanding he go get, or make him one. And god help him if he forgot to bring a muffin with that. A blueberry muffin, or maybe one of those delicious sugar ones… Or both. His blue eyes scan the room momentarily, he certainly wasn't feeling friendly, but he did want the rest of the paparazzi roster to leave him alone for the duration of the trip - except for Cole of course, he always had time for Cole… he could listen to him talk about how great "The most must-see Superstar in WWE history" was; regardless, it gets Riley away for a few seconds by telling him to bother Swagger… And by bother, Riley had set to tell him and Cena about all the dates he's recently had - and not dinners out with The Miz at all of the fanciest celebrity high-profile restaurants.
Honestly, John was glad the dumb blonde of a brunette had wandered off.
Riley wasn't a bad guy, no not at all, but the kid was a rookie. Rookies need to understand they are at the bottom of the food chain. Morrison figured Miz may have given the kid the wrong idea by being a little nice to him. He rolled his eyes and flipped his fluffy brown locks over his shoulder. The action wasn't a normal gesture but he had the completely reasonable feeling that the eyes of a certain "must-see" faux-hawked man were on him. Flashing a golden smile, he sauntered past the watcher and winked. Now to wait in his room because he KNEW what was inevitable. Better lay out some new sheets for later.
Across the room at the welcome desk, the big man stood. "Okay, lady. No really- don't worry about it. Just give me our room key." Hunter wasn't as thrilled as when Shawn had first pitched the idea to him. A nice cozy winter getaway with his Shawn sounded as good as it got but then Shawn insisted they take Cole and Orton. No problem, but then Cena over hears and wants to come along. Whatever, he always comes, but then John tells all the other guys.
He gave into that as long as he and Shawn got their alone time. BUT the bouncy dirty blonde ruined everything when he brought Bret along. Gosh, if that man wasn't annoying! Not only does he talk, but he talks about nothing! Even now he was probably trying to talk about his youthful days to one of the younger guys. The thought made him look over at the man. And now he had to share a room with him. This was going to be a long vacation.
"Swagger, I guess you and I are sharing a room." John sighed, defeated; it seemed everyone was turning in now so he wouldn't want to be the odd one out. He could hear Jack mumble what he believed to be a disappointed retort. "Hey, at least you wont be sleeping alone tonight. You got me to cuddle up with, right?" The idea didn't sound that bad to him but Jack wasn't his...type. Maybe he'd find a way to sneak into the daddy's boys' room. He laughed to himself as he schemed and began to walk to the room.
Cole waited. When was Randy coming? He had already taken his shower and now he was just lounging in a chair. He had checked the fridge in the suite and found a bottle of wine; the date nearly 10 years before. The stuff was actually good now only if Randy would come in the place and confirm that.
Swagger is furious at the idea that he had to share a room with Cena, and storms immediately over to the front desk to give the woman a piece of his Sylvester-tongued mind; starting a scene until he had to be dragged away by someone. He doesn't take note at who drags him off, but he shrugs them off him violently and storms off to Cole's room, begging to stay there until he realizes he's harping in on Cole's plans for romance - not that he cared: because he didn't. Not at all. Care? Swagger? Not a chance… He's thrown out of the room by DiBiase walking in.
The All-American American storms the hallways, stomping with an childish tantrum. Maybe in the morning there would be a single person all alone in the big resort to romance with his medals, and charms, and trophies, charm, certificates and awards ….and charm. Even Swagger knows that he has more gold than he does the ability to woo someone… Maybe Riley would be up for some romance… he shudders at the thought and realizes his day will probably be riddled with Bret Hart telling him stories.
He heads off towards his room, announcing as he walks in "Have fun in MY room tonight, Cena. You're finding somewhere else to stay tomorrow," he growls, kicking off his shoes where ever they wanted to land, and searching for the remote to the - his - television. He feels the impending series of "probably shouldn't have done that" thoughts, and tries to settle to his own undeserved confidence.
Ted wanders around the hotel room quietly, picking up a few things here and there and setting them back down. How long was Cody going to stay mad at him for wanting to go ice fishing? Or whatever it was he was angry about. He knows he was being insensitive to his feelings about his love for fishing, but it was completely uncalled for. He flops down on the bed, just right of the middle in his usual spot where Randy would sleep, he sets the video game remote control next to him, moving it around randomly when he gets antsy about Rhodes coming in the room. He keeps it close, but decides maybe it's better left casually near by, until he wants it close again. He wanted to be subtle, but ingenious. He's glad Cole is in the shower while he's fussing around like an idiot - why did his dad get to have Virgil? Where was his Virgil to be doing these things for him?… Maybe he would have to make Swagger and Riley his Virgil's for the week. It was a pretty good idea in his mind, anyway. He turns his gaze over to Cole in the chair, and decides that he wanted that comfortable chair, but sets to grumbling about it on the bed until he feels the undeniable need to talk; as much as he was still getting used to his being around, but still very appreciative that he had Randy instead of Dave. He hits him up for conversation, starting casually but still holding his rich-kid voice of derision.
"I mean, you like to fish too… that's how this… mess," he gestures around the room, "started… It's not like I caused a mess like this by fishing. Why should Cody always be upset with me because I like to do that? I mean.. Jeeze. I know it's below my social class, but I still like to do it. It's …fun," he reasons as if he was talking to his father.. The man who "fished" by lounging on a deck folding chair in his bathing shorts and sunglasses while Virgil did all the real fishing.
He perks up at the knock on the door, about to get up when he settles back down from his mid-darting position and casually waves off Cole to answer it with some demeaning hand signal. Maybe that was just as bad as laughing at his idea that 10 Years was "finely aged wine" compared to the ones that he and his father had. Not that he hadn't had his own share of cheap liquor store wine from Cody's house; though with the way his own father courted Dusty, he did have some very vintage delicious choices.
Maybe Cody's common low-class upbringing was rubbing off on his high-class genetics… but of course, all that thought and all of his contained anger falls into the trash when he sets eyes on his dashing Cody Rhodes wrapped around his Orton's arm looking so gorgeous… He rolls his eyes for show, and looks away from them, trying to keep an upkeep of "don't care" on his face rather than his tongue rolling out in his Tex Avery type reaction that always seemed to happen when he set eyes on Rhodes…twenty eight years and he still had the same reaction to the common Cody.
Randy nods Cody from his arm as he walks in quietly, still feeling a little bad about mouthing off and acting like a jerk. He knows Dave taught him to be accepting in all situations, and just because he was gone didn't mean that his "training" was gone. He knew better than to treat Cole poorly. He smiles awkwardly, trying to look apologetic with out kneeling down in front of everybody… wondering quietly if that was enough for Michael as he huddles up submissively to him.
"Anything I can do for you?" he asks, his monotone voice sheepish. "I got these cookies that I know you like from the lobby, if that helps?" of course, he never liked them too much, and didn't particularly care for sweets unless he was eating them off his Legacy boys. Ted's obsessive love of chocolate cheesecake a la mode, and Cody's constant snacking on anything…. He grins at that thought but settles himself down quickly… when he glances over at them having an apology make-up session, he takes the opportunity to turn Cole's attention towards them, rather than himself feeling awkward and scared… They were hott.
Times like these were the reasons Orton had for convincing Michael that a four-way relationship was the only way that he could ever thrive in a relationship with anyone. He needed someone privately for himself, a husband that was there to protect and care for him, while he protected Rhodes and DiBiase… and with opportunities for various kinds of sex, how could Cole have even refused?
Randy licks his lips at the sight of Ted pulling Cody down on top of him, their lips meeting desirously until Cody's distracted by a video game controller just left of DiBiase's head in the pillow. He ignores him immediately, "Do they have Zelda? Or Kirby? All hotels have Kirby!" he grins excitedly, shoving off of him and foiling his plans completely as he sets to buying the hourly sessions on the television. Ted didn't come in hourly sessions, like most of his lovers, but Kirby sure did; and he wasn't one to keep the pink Nintendo character waiting, and Cody wasn't about to let down the good citizens of Dream Land.
Cole could only smirk at the dejected look that graced itself on DiBiase's face. So little rich boys don't always get what they want, huh? Feeling the warmth of the Missouri native beside him, he then turned his attention back towards the crisp baked piece offering his husband had supplied him with. Cookies. Never having too much of a taste for sweets, made it hard for anybody to give him much but only his Randy could get him the ones he adored. The man was such a softy for him. Maybe he'd have fun with that later on this trip...
He picked up a cookie and bit into it, Cole trying to start up a conversation of such. "Funny, fishing's kind of the reason we're on this trip." The questioning look he got from the boys made him continue. "I mean, Shawn and I where on a fishing trip when we decided to go on vacation. Though then I …didn't expect to be …here," He laughed uneasily.
Just in that moment his phone rung. He checked the caller I.D and decided to let it ring; not wanting to answer it. No body in their right mind would want to answer it. I mean when you're on vacation, who would take a call from Booker T? Certainly not this commentator.
He already knew what the overrated former star wanted. This was Cole's vacation time. There was no way he was going to come back to work SmackDown with him just to get talked about and degraded. He had bigger fish to fry- or catch- like bonding with Rhodes and DiBiase. Randy had been adamant about him spending time with them so right now he had his sights set on one thing; figuring out how to play Kirby.
Morrison strutted around the room like only he could in a towel, waiting as patiently as humanly possible. Maybe he was given the wrong signal. He was positive Miz was supposed to be in there already. He had quickly taken a shower and washed his hair, leaving it in a messy ponytail seeing as how he thought it would be pulled out by a certain someone. Whatever was going on, he knew he was freezing and he needed to get some warmth or he'd be miserable for the rest of the trip. Sighing heavily, he threw a big hoodie on and some pajama bottoms; the regular clothes would be less appealing to the eye but he wasn't trying to flaunt so much as keep warm.
There was a knock at the door and Alex stumbled in laughing obnoxiously and tripping all over the place. John shook his head in disappointment and walked down the hall, calling out. "Mike, how many times do I have to tell you: stop getting the rookies drunk!"
Cena sniggered from his place on the couch, seeing as how Jack had great pleasure in kicking him off the bed. You'd think that Jack would at least give him the thicker blanket- oh wait, this is Jack Swagger, so no one ever REALLY expects too much kindness from him.
John laughed to keep from sighing. Standing to his feet, he strolled over to the few things Jack laid out on the floor from his bag; metals, pictures, trophies. Did he think someone would steal from him or something? Why bring all of that with him? They were impressive no less- John wouldn't deny that. They were all so...shiny and as childish as it sounded, John loved shiny things. He was drawn to them, maybe that's why he always goes after the title, right? And Randy.
He smiled and picked the mementos of mediocrity- because lets face it, the old metals weren't as significant in the real world- up in his hands, enjoying the smooth cool feel over his hands. A call from Jack had him throwing the item back down and rushing back over to the couch. He dropped his head in shame at the warning glare he was given. "I just wanted to see 'em." He sunk into the seat knowing, tonight wasn't going to be so well for him.
"BRET! Could you bring me a towel!" The Hart raised from his chair in a elderly fashion. The guy was an old geezer, Hunter concluded. Why? Why? WHY? He dropped his face in his hands, the golden locks of his flowing around his face. Then he registered the request and stood, bum rushing Bret to get to the bathroom first. He threw in the towel and closed the door, sneering at the Canadian.
"What's your problem, Big Nose?" Bret smirked. Yeah, he loved getting Hunter all wound up. Force of habit from his younger days and everyone knew how much he loved to live in his younger days.
Hunter shoved him and moved back to his seat on the bed, "I'm not taking any chances on you, Bret. I swear to you- if you say one word, tell one story, look at my Shawn ONE time- I'll ski over you're face tomorrow and make it look like a bloody accident. It's not like Shawn will know the difference." The joking tone in his voice did nothing to hide how very serious he was.
Bret laughed dryly and took a seat. "Whatever you say, H."
Finally, the Priceless boys had tired themselves out trying to explain the basic fundamentals of how the game controller worked. Cole never felt so confused in his life then when he actually started playing and Cody began yelling screams of "No, press A!", "Press B! Press B!", and "EAT THAT! Don't hit it, EAT IT!" Since when did remotes have letters on them instead of numbers?
He shook the thought and joined Orton on the couch. The man had a front row view to all the chaos and the few hours in between could be characterized by his bellows of rare laughter.
Cole patted his thigh, "The boys are sleep and we could join them but... I'm hungry. You?"
"Oh, So you've FINALLY showered? Did you remember to shave too? Oh yeah... you did!" Alex grins like an idiot, his palms clasping against Morrison's cheeks and smudging them around his face as if he had been the man's grandmother. "You know, Miz thinks your REAL nasty when like, you totally look like... hairy and like... yeah..." he drifts off as Miz shuts him up with a slap against the back of his head that only aids in quieting him slowly - rather than the sudden silence that Miz had been aiming for. He stumbles off onto the nearest bed, collapsing down on top of Morrison's shoe, or some other clothes that get lost under his near three-hundred pound muscular body.
He gets up only moments later, allowing Miz only a mere, fleeting second with Morrison; having cozyed up close to his chest with a hand drifting down those perfectly sculpted abs, a finger doodling absently between them as his blue eyes focus on Morrison's, some not-so-apology drabbling from his vocals that isn't much of a "Well Riley was wrong" than it is a "Riley is so damn right."
Suddenly, he found himself regretting getting a drink anywhere near Alex; he had warned him that he didn't hold his liquor very well at all, but Miz hadn't listened at all. He was a talker, not a listener. He also hadn't put any bet on him being wide-awake and not passed out at the bar.
"Damn it," he cusses under his breath - which seemed more like shouting to everyone who wasn't Mike Mizanin. He catches Riley as he falls onto him, a clamoring pile of limbs as they crash onto the floor.
"Why are you, like, down there? Wait, I'm here too!" he smiles oafishly, getting thrown up off of him by Morrison and regaining his composure only slightly as he falls back down on the bed, "Can I get another beer?" he asks to the ceiling, reaching out randomly for anyone to help him up, though no one makes any attempt to help him.
Miz rises from the floor with Morrison's help, brushing himself off and enjoying the feeling of Morrison's hands brushing off his rear that comes to a short lived thrill - "What are YOU wearing?" he asks, his hand waving over the chosen outfit, "Take that off and put something else on! What would people see if they saw me with YOU dressed like… like a hobo!" he growls, "I'm a champion! I'm the most must-see champion in the history of every sport! I'm in papers and television and I'm all over the world! You want me to be photographed with you looking like this? You should hide in the closet while I call my personal stylist! She'll know what to do!" he screams during his girly-panic, running to his phone. "Oh god… no service? What am I going to do here with no service!" he cries out in frustration, demanding Morrison go change before he even set another hand on his body.
He turns his attention away from John, his shouting ceasing momentarily before starting up again, "Where is my latte! Why is it so cold in here? RI- Oh, what's the point!" he scouts the room quickly, his hands balled into fists at his side at his having to do everything himself as he searches for a thermostat to turn the heat up and settle himself back on the bed. "My nails look horrible," he pouts, sitting there with defeat, "I'm just going to go to bed," he says, shoving Riley off of him a third or fourth time, allowing him to pass out in the opposite bed while he starts to kicking his Armani loafers off and stripping out of his vest and shirt; struggling slightly with his tie.. He glances up for a second, listening to the familiar shriek of Swagger's ring through the lodge before shaking his head and rolling his eyes… Swagger was such an idiot.
The All-American American is completely unaware of his shouting ringing through the lodge, possibly waking everyone who had already been to sleep. How dare Cena touch his things!
Jack gathers his beloved possessions quickly, decorating his side of the room with them as he polished each one carefully from Cena's grubby fingers, "Keep your hands off of my stuff," he finally says when his voice lowers down, from much notice from hotel staff banging on the door minutes ago. "You can see my stuff when they open up the Jack Swagger Hall of Fame back in my hometown in Perry, Oklahoma! It'll be huge, floors and floors full of my all my accomplishments!" he states proudly as he sets up the largest trophy that he had brought along with him, no where near the real amount he had left in his father's safe keeping back home, and not even the largest by stature to the rest of the ones that he had back home.
He watches Cena carefully, being extremely vocal about hating to have to share a room with him, and very unwavering over the idea that he would search for a new hotel far, far away from this one for John to go to - and maybe miss his flight home while he was at it.
Strutting his long legs back to the bathroom, he finishes readying himself for bed in his Oklahoma University shorts that seemed more like women's booty-shorts and football jersey styled tank. He has a momentary panic attack as he dumps his suitcase out on the floor, searching for something amidst his pile of unnecessary junk, his heavy breathing and racing pulse making his search an obvious no-joke. He slides across the floors in his oversized crimson and cream giant-sneaker shaped Oklahoma U slippers, nearly failing to stop as he reaches his other suitcase at the door, dragging it back over to his bed and starting to dump clothes out again, obnoxious Hawaii print shirts and generic tourist gear toppling out before he gasps with relief… sighing happily and setting his searched for possessions aside as he repacks everything by stuffing it in one go into one suitcase. There was no way he was going to bed with out his faithful Boomer & Sooner stuffed ponies standing watch on the dresser.
Randy smiles, yawning and cuddling up closer to Cole, his tattooed arms unwrapping from their seemingly fixed hold on Cole's arm; he was quite the intimidating arm candy in front of his fellow announcers… especially when Michael felt the need to rile all of them up, start a fight, and have Orton finish it for him… but he doesn't mind… He actually enjoys it.
He thinks his words over carefully, much unlike Cole; though he does love how he never holds his tongue about anything… it's just one of those things that everyone hates about him that makes him absolutely love him. He shakes his head at himself, wondering if the voices floating around his skull thought he was just crazy for that as he did.
He narrows his eyes slightly, wondering if his announcer meant that… hungry? Food? The boys were asleep and he wanted …food? So much for all of those baby books… again… "Sure," he smiles with a unnoticeable hint of awkwardness as he gets up off the couch.
Again, he doesn't voice that he would much rather have those Caribbean sea-food kabob things, or make any mention of what food choices had been around here…. Nor was it his ideal place to start baby-making… at least that settled his obnoxious drive for offspring during their vacation.
Of course, he makes sure that Cody and Ted are properly tucked away in bed, and that Cody had his bottled water on the night stand as usual so he didn't have to get up and wander for it. They were adorable when they slept. Adorable…. Almost innocent. They looked innocent, well, Ted looked innocent, he almost always did, Cody just couldn't erase that inherited Rhodes naughtiness from his face no matter what he did…
"So… what do you want to go get?" he asks, his mind wandering to the tasty kabob sticks he loves, but ridding it from his mind quickly. This was far from the place to get one of those. He searches the room for his dress shirt, throwing it on over his wife beater and leaving a few buttons on top undone, "Do I look alright?" he asks, some self consciousness running through him, it was always so hard to impress Cole…
Cole could only stifle a laugh. "Are you kidding me? I don't need to answer that." He undid a few more buttons playfully and let out a soft sigh. It amazed him how such a big dominant guy could be so unaware of his own perfection. "How about you just get in bed and wait for me to come back with the food? I'll see if they have something warm and yummy, huh?" He kissed Randy's hand gently and grabbed his jacket. "Be back in a few minutes. You stay still, alright." Without waiting for an actual answer, he turned on his heels and left.
He knew Randy had to have been a little taken back by his request for a meal but that was kind of his purpose. The longer he made Randy wait the better things would be when the time came. It wasnt like he didn't see the flustered man always grooming through parenting magazines. He knew what Randal wanted but he wasn't too sure about the idea himself. Kids. With all the needless tormenting he got backstage about his and Randy's age difference, he was himself a little insecure about having youthful offspring. What if he was too old for hs children? He sighed as he reached the resturaunt downstairs and went inside the shanty little place. He'd get back to himself after he made sure Randy was taken care of.
"I cant take it!" John threw the pillow over his face in an attempt to ease his racing mind- as if the pillow would somehow block whatever was causing the thoughts to appear. He had been moving about the room all night for two reasons: one was the fact that he didnt exacty have a sleeping spot. The floor, couch, table, and bathtub were all about on the same level when it came to comfortability. There was only one place he knew he'd be at ease and that lead to the second reason he was about. Miz. Alex Riley had taken over the smaller bed completely by himself and the older of the two had more than enough room on the king sized bed. The empty place next to the loud mouth superstar was calling the master of parkour but he was all too cautious about waking up the princess and in turn getting a busted conflicted, he just tossed back his hair and eased down the wall in misery. Guess he'd pretend one of the dust bunnies was his object off affection tonight.
The halls seemed a bit darker now to the blonde Texan as he crept in fear through the corridors. He bit his nails sharply and let his eyes wonder to every room. Some had light under them, some were pitch black only causing more chills up Shawn's spine. He hated that he came down here now. Alone. It was scary but most importantly it wasn't his fault. In their room, Hunter and Bret got into a bit of an arguement and Shawn got the brunt of it. Neither would speak so when his request for companionship on his venture through the resort was on the floor it went unanswered. At the time he figured he'd be quicker going about on his own but now it didnt seem so bright. Literally.
Cena rubbed his head sadly. Since when was vacation so stressful? Swagger had kicked him out the room. Well not exactly but John was not going to sleep sitting in the shower just because Jack needed somewhere to keep his stupid trophies. Actually they werent really stupid. They were nice and shiny, so shiny. John snapped back and continued his quest to find a room to camp out in. He hoped one of the guys wouldnt mind him lying out on the floor. He even brought his own sleeping bag which was why he was limping at the moment. You see, he was walking while he was still in his sleeping bag and he slid down the steps on his ever round butt. It was big but not even he could fall down 2 flights of stairs unscaved. Why was he in his sleeping bag like some little kid, you ask? Well, he didnt really have any pajamas for the cold weather so he visited the store and they gave him sleep wear. Footy pajamas to be mre acurate. It was a bit embarassing to say the list but that wasnt Johs biggest concern. He needed a place for his head and just as he was about to give up and fall flat on his face to spend the night in the hall, he heard a voice call to him. Curiosity turned to cheerfulness and John hopped to his friend. "Hey Rands. What you doin out here?"
Cole sighed for the hundreth time that day as he nodded and tried to brush the leech of his side. Since Shawn had found him, they were basically attached at the waist. Guess he was gonna play baby sitter until either Hunter found him or he would drop him off on his way back to his room. Either way, he tried his best to soothe the frightened veteran. "Now why are you down here again, Michaels?" He listened to the sobbed answer and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do you really need chocolate at this hour?" Cole shook his head but looked up when they called his number to pick up his dish. Manuevering from Shawn's grip, he grabbed his bags and left the money, sneakily grinning as he nabbed a few coins from the tip jar. The employees didnt need it anyway. Its not like they deserved it. Shawn reprimanded him but Cole wasnt listening. He instead checked the food and smiled. Hopefully he'd suprise the man with the little taste of carribean.
Randy beams with modest excitement and joy at the thought of Cole loving the way that he looked. It was always something that worried him so obviously. His confidence had been broken before by Batista; and his new husband had built it back up so generously. He was proud to be the wife of Michael Cole.
He watches his second fashionista take care of the buttons with nothing short of expertise. His first fashionista was of course, Cody Rhodes, but Cole was a very second right behind him. He's about to protest to Cole leaving, all out of curiosity of course, but he is just rendered speechless by the request. He has never said "No" to him, not once, and so he sits quietly back on the bed… with a wild blush on his cheeks from such a romantic gesture as a kiss on the hand. Sitting still however, was quite the problem.
He does everything he could possibly do with in minutes, tidying the room needlessly, fixing the sheets for Cody and Ted, and running around doing chores. He wants everything to be perfect, making up for his awful over reaction to just how bad this trip was. His complaints about location, his body temperature and everything in between was more than enough to drive Cole insane, wasn't it? He sighs softly and looks around the room, blatantly ignoring the choice to just get into bed… although he does after ultimately settling in different places around the room.
He slips into their separate bed, adjusting himself to look more sultry, or at least trying to as he continues to change every position he can come up with, from sitting, to various laying positions.
At Morrison's outburst, Miz turns in his bed, just slightly making some amount of room that was just about sitting space as he sprawls, his arm falling off the end of the bed lazily… and begins to snore obnoxiously. He was even the pinnacle of annoying and loud when he slept. He mumbles something incoherent, maybe about waffles, or shoving a pinecone down Cena's throat the next day… that title belonged on his waist, not on Cena's. Even if John had decided to take use of the small space he had made, the moment he sat down it was more than likely Miz would have awaken, accusing Morrison of getting up and leaving in that instance.
Riley, on the other hand, is completely passed out face down on the bed, making no obnoxious sound as The Miz had been, but instead being the complete opposite. His body rose and fell almost unnoticeably with his breaths, his silence being almost a gift from God to make up for how atrocious Mike had been the entire day and night.
When Swagger wakes up at the interval set on his phone alarm, he's completely shocked to not find Cena sleeping nearby before, legitimately shocked. He throws the covers off of his bed and angrily slips into his Oklahoma slippers, storming around the room in search of him. Where the hell did he go? He was supposed to be standing watch so that no one had stolen his trophies, and do it all with out touching them with his grubby mitts. He runs over to the counter and swipes his keycard from the top, and getting into his WWE hoodie that was possibly the only thing he had that was not stamped with Oklahoma University propaganda. He leaves the room, looking around unsure and heading off in various directions that send him back to the room to check on his trophies every few minutes.
"How dare he just… just leave! Doesn't he know who I am?" he starts off to no one, being alone in the dark hallways and letting out an ear shattering scream when he bumped into a taxidermy bear. Now, embarrassed, and panicked, most of all thankful that no one had seen - aside from the non-English speaking woman who had opened her hotel door to look for the source of the screaming; he attempts to recollect himself on the floor. God he hated bears…
He brushes himself off, a fountain of swears just pouring from his mouth as he stomps off to find Cena, not before going back to check on his beloved trophies. He checks up and down the hall ways, and returns to the lobby where he ends up finding Shawn with Cole. He pulls the legendary man aside, telling Cole to be on his way as he starts off telling Michaels about his awful night, and how Cena had just abandoned his trophies while he was supposed to be guarding them, with out touching.
Randy stands with his arms crossed at the doors, his silver slit optics staring down in detest at Cena… Did he come all this way to hit on him here too? And just when he finds a good position to be seducing Cole in… he had to come and make noise outside his doorway. Assuming it was his beloved Cole, he went to the door to find out, and was unhappily surprised at his findings.
"What do you think you're doing out here… making noise like that?" he growls, stepping just outside of the room with the security latch to hold the door open so that he wasn't going to be locked out… he was the brains of the operation all of the time, "Do you want to make Cody and Ted wake up? …They are exhausted!" he hisses in Cena's face, his anger clearly evident. This just wasn't Cena's night…
He takes more of a look at him, glancing up and down and furrowing his brow, "And… what the hell are you doing in a sleeping bag …out here? Wait, …I don't want to even hear this …nonsense," he says, cutting Cena off just before he starts a response.
He rubs his temples with evident stress coursing through his veins before a realization dawns on him, "Are you… kidding me!" he yells out of nowhere, "Get out of here!" He glances up and down the halls in a panic, "Get out of here …NOW! Cole is going to be back here any minute! And he's going to see me! …Me! …Talking… talking to… you! Do you know what he's going to do? He's going to think I'm cheating on him and leave me! That's what! Get the fuck out of here before I put your skull through that wall!"
Meanwhile, Swagger is still continuing on to Shawn, having found somewhere to sit him down so he could properly complain while pacing around the chair. As if Shawn had not been around the entire time, he starts with himself waking up in the morning, and having to go through the rigorous task with his father to pack his trophies for traveling, and back to his father and how he was so proud of his accomplishments… which leads him back to his childhood. When he finally gets around to the current present time, after complaining of the plane ride, the people on it, and where it had landed… he starts right back up about Cena not watching his trophies, which of course, leads him back to how he got each and every one of them awarded to him.
If Hunter and Bret had gotten even a small taste of this one-sided conversation, they would have gotten on their knees and praised God for how quiet and out-of-the-way Shawn really turned out to be when compared to Swagger.
"I bet I could find some kind of trophy around here to win, too!" Jack states not-so-suddenly, taking some kind of athletic stance as he goes through a list of ideas he has in mind.
To say Shawn was nearly blown away from the way Jack weaved a story would be far from the truth. What really had entranced the veteran was how much spit managed to make its way in the box of rice he had planned on scarfing down. Its wierd how the lisp went from cute to utterly gross in a matter of minutes. He'd definitely tell Hunter to be weary of the man when asking for someone to say the prayer for the dinner they were planning for the next night. Shawn couldn't help but sigh as Jack continued his rant against his roomie.
Maybe it would be better for poor John to stay in their room. Not like it would be the first time Cena shared a bed with him and Hunter and from the way the man actually liked to listen to Bret ramble on, Shawn guessed they may have filled that generation gap so to speak. John made older guys attracted to him with that innocent dimpled grin and personality that balances out with his outstanding physique and..."Hey Jack listen, I'll take Cena off your hands for tonight huh? You just go back to sleep and you won't have to worry about John getting near you for tonight." He grinned, merely leaving after offering up the suggestion.
Cena waved his hands around frantically in defense as Randy spewed his disapproval loudly through the halls. "Randy no! Shhh! Its not like that. I just need to- I mean I want- just be quiet!" He looked around before bumrushing Randy to get in the room. He looked around desperately until he plopped on the bed.
Of course randy would protest but he couldve sworn that he heard Jack from the end of the corridor. He'd been grateful the man put up with him but he could NOT put up with Jack! The man was too big for the way he acted. He needed to be around the older guys. He loved their mature and more seasoned attributes. Randy and his boys were like that. I mean the boys were a little jumpy at all times but when wasn't Shawn? That's third generation superstars for you. Which reminded John why he was lonely in the first place. Stupid Dwayne. That of course was his secret and the reason why he had been flirtier than he usually was. The Samoan was playing games and he needed attention. I mean he was John Cena after all. He figured Randy wouldn't give him as much of that attention and not even entertain the thought since his focus was on Cole. So instead he'd steal the focus; a little trick he learned from Rhodes and Dibiase.
Cole started on his way back much quicker than usual. He'd heard his husband in distress, a sure sign from all the yelling that was usually avoided when the boys were sleeping. Randy knew better than to wake his premodonnas. He really hated to ruin their slumber- the looks on their faces were so calm and peaceful. Something had to be up.
He finally made it up the hall to see a glimpse of what he thought was Cena in a sleeping bag rush in the room. Why was the young man there? And why at this hour? Maybe Rady got a bit lonely. He didn't really know but that seemed the most logical. He was gone for a while and ever since their marriage they were attached at the waist so that all made sense. It wasn't like Randy and John were you know... messing around, right? No. He trusted Randy as his wife. When he told him he loved him it was all true. Randy wasn't mad enough to cheat on him. That was crazy to even think of. Shrugging, he kept walking until he approached the door, Randy having slammed it as soon as he got to it. Now he had food on his face...great.
Morrison finally found some resting place beside one of the doors at the end of the hallway. It was a bit disturbing but so was he in that instance. Miz wouldn't stop snoring his brains out and for as much as he wanted to choke him he wanted to snuggle up to him all the more. Freakin male hormones. Even then it didn't seem like such a bad plan to lie down with the quiet angel that was Alex Riley. The innocent serenity of the rookie made him feel too dirty to sleep near him though. The palace of wisdom would not approve. It would make him unworthy and that couldn't happen so he buckled down like the man he was and prepped for the night. Wait... Someone was coming this way. Swagger? Oh so this was Swagger's room. Maybe him and Cena wouldn't mind and finally let him sleep.
Unfortunately for the Showstopper, Jack was not about to stop his recollection of his own life-story, and was immediately inspired by the older man's accomplishments. Throwing his arm around him, not sensing at all that he had not been paying attention, or rather, or both, completely and utterly uninterested in his one-sided conversation, he rants on about how he is deserving of a DVD series and more merchandise than Cena had, because every person in Oklahoma wanted to support him with everything from shirts, banners, car decals, and everything in between.
When he's left alone after Shawn takes off, his agreement that Cena should go spend the night there instead was the best offer he had since his last try for a title. Unsurprisingly, on his way back to his own room, he is talking to himself, looking crazier than Orton as he plans out his next title with that thought fresh on his mind. That prestigious US Title being held by - well, whoever had it; what's-his-name with the hair and those pants… He doesn't care too much for the thought of the Superstar, other than he is not the All-American American, and is therefore undeserving of such a title. He keeps it in mind to ask Michaels if he would like to have the honor of inducting his All-American self into the hall of fame after that title win he had planned.
With Randy's silver eyes burning up with that dangerous red color, this was clearly not going to be Cena's best choice of a place to run. Randy throws the door back open, failing to have shut it on Cena while he was being brigaded; unnoticing his own lover standing there like a dope, and immediately sets to stalking down Cena… It was bad enough he was speaking to him, near his room, let alone in it… and that he had fell into the wall due to him.
His blood is boiling until his skin feels like that one time he fell into that pricker bush, or rather - was pushed into it. Making out with Ted only for his father to come to the door; the strict million-dollar man having no clue of their relationship… until he was telling Virgil to help the young Orton out of the bush. He doesn't need his Voices telling him to destroy Cena at the moment, and although he listens to them so perfectly, it's just instinctive at this point.
There was not a chance in hell he would let Cena near his prized Legacy boys, and hell must have froze over the way he had just sat there on the bed like that. Be quiet? Who was he to tell him to be quiet? With that demand in mind, he can't help but run over, throw him off the bed, and just start strangling him on the floor in such a natural and calm way that his burst of extreme violence almost seemed normal and relaxed. He's screaming almost incoherently, about how Cena was going to get him in trouble with Cole and cause him to be divorced a second time, and that he had no business going within a mile of where his family was.
With his fingers digging into Cena's neck, he is just crying and screaming over his relationship with Cole, and how Cena was an idiot. Was he seriously getting on his bed, thinking that he was just going to have sex with him? Randy Orton? The one who put his relationship with Michael Cole, Cody and Ted above anything in the world? How could he just insinuate something like that?
Wide awake, Ted and Cody just stand behind them, watching the scene taking place on the floor… Wondering aloud between themselves if Randy had successfully killed Cena, if they could be next in line for the WWE title - after Randy, of course… and then burst into a fight amongst themselves over who would get, and keep John's title.
Unfortunately for the pair, Randy eventually lets up on Cena, getting up and throwing him into the opposite wall, "Isn't it bad enough that I'm not Jack or Mike? You want him to leave me sooner than he really is? Get the fuck out of here before I DO kill you!"
Hurriedly, he rushes Cody and Ted back into their bed, desperately trying to get things back to normal before Cole comes back..
Swagger makes his way rather loudly down the hall, not with out, of course, stopping to chat up Cole for a minute on his way back to his glorious empty room, singing along to himself in such an awful tone-deaf way, "I'm a Sooner born, and when I die, I'll be a Sooner dead! Oklahoma, Okla- what the hell?" he blurts out upon opening the door, "Why are you in here? Are you stealing my trophies?" he gasps at Morrison, pushing him aside and setting to make sure they were all perfectly fine, which of course, they were.
"Nah!" he sighs with relief, pulling Morrison up under his arm, "You just want to know about 'em, huh? How to be great! Like me, of course! I know, you've been in that rut lately, and you need a champion's help!" he smiles brightly, dragging him over to one of the more smaller trophies, where everything had first started. "Hey, where is Riley and Miz?" he asks, doing his best to not let his awful lisp be so painfully obvious, "I'm sure they want to see all of my accomplishments, too! They're probably just shy, huh? Ya'll are welcome here anytime! Just not Cena… he's a touch-er… Y'know?"
This was the best vacation ever, if anyone wanted Swagger's opinion. Everyone so eager to listen and so interested in his accomplishments.
Cole couldn't help it. Watching Randy get all powerful like that- dominant outside of the ring- over him. Well it was pretty hot. The feeling of course left just as soon when he realized what emotion was spewing from his husband; what was actually said. Why would Randy think such a thing? Leave him? Randy, the boys; Why would he leave the best thing that ever happened to him? And for Swagger or Miz? No thanks. Sure he admired them but he was infatuated with Randy and he was even more attached to the boys. They were his sanctuary.
It was times like this that he really hated Dave. Randy should've had a whole heck of a lot more confidence than he did but no. It was diminished from the previous engagement. If only he could've been there first. He halted his wishful thinking as Cena was tossed so roughly out into the hall followed by his door being slammed. He wasn't surprised when he heard the "sorry"s poor from a much more sane viper. "Its okay Randy, really. I'm just glad you got rid of that loud mouth Cena." After taking the time to regroom himself he sat on the bed. He really needed to reassure his husband. But he all of that rooms occupants were groggy so maybe it could wait until tomorrow. For now, he'd usher his husband to bed and curl up under him; showing his emotions instead of saying them.
So now where was he to go? It was the middle of the night, he'd been kicked out twice, he was tired, and on top of all that, his sleeping bag ripped during Randy's assault. Just great. He sadly plopped on the stairs and curled up for some kind of warmth against the breath of this winter wonderland, when someone tapped his shoulder.
"Cmon Kid."
"Lord, is that you?" He swiped his eyes before he was hoisted to his feet. Of course, as he was met by a pink and black mingled he knew it was not the man upstairs calling but the Hit man. The guy was too easy to identify anywhere. He didn't know where he was being hauled off to but this was Bret we were talking about. The man wasn't exactly known for acts of violence against dimpled Massachusetts men. So he didn't care as long as he would get some type of- hopefully not eternal- rest.
No matter if he was on the mic or in person, Morrison found Jack's excessive blathering annoying. He wouldn't tell the tall muscle-bound blonde that. Not ever, no. Drew did that once and it did not turn out well. He remembered because that was the longest three hours ever looking for a long precious lock of McIntyre's hair. He didn't want the same fate. Creative already didn't want to push him and if he was to suddenly gain an obscene bald patch he'd be put further in obscurity than Kizarny. And that says something. So instead he smiled and gained interest in the immaculate trophies. Giving a "impressive" or "yes amazing" or Jack's favorite "that's incredible! I could never do that!" Whatever pleased the man and would allow him to sleep without the though of cozy cute Alex and the noisy object of his affection. Really though, the stuff was kinda creepy. Did the man really need a CD for the Oklahoma state song? Even California- land of big dreams, and sunny beaches- didn't get that much. Besides what made old dreary Oklahoma so special? Morrison smirked as he though about his home. All the red carpet events, showcases, culture, and big stars. Then he stopped thinking. He stopped doing everything to erase the previous thought. In the midst of thinking of some of the biggest stars he lingered on the loud mouth Cleveland native and right now he couldn't have that. He sighed and drug himself to the bed (or rather bathtub) to lie down. Sleep would not come easy tonight.
This is soo great! I gotta tell ya. writing with BeautyKillerRhodes is too cool, bro. i love her style ya know. Well hoped this part was worth the wait! please review!