Chapter: 4: Goodnight and Go
Author's Note: I wish I had a better excuse for getting this out so damn late beyond it feeling kind of like filler in comparison to what else I have to come, and thus, it caused me writer's block, ha. Well, that and getting dangerously distracted writing ample amounts of stuff for the upcoming chapters. I apologize profusely. In the realest way. Hopefully, the next chapter comes out as quickly as I plan for it to, but I make no promises because I know myself. In the meantime, I hope the pace of this isn't too weird. Haha. ALSO, BY THE WAY. I realized belatedly that I didn't mention the timeline for this whole thing AT ALL. So, since the story actually begins around late March of 2013, this particular section takes place over a span of time between mid-May and early June. Moving on! Hope you enjoy! =)
~Why d'ya have to be so cute?
It's impossible to ignore you.
Must you make me laugh so much?
It's bad enough we get along so well.
Say goodnight and go.~
True to his word, Colby does consider the offer to spend more time with Randy and his friends. So much so, honestly, that he actually ends up going out with them almost regularly, somehow winding up out at some bar, or diner, or even one of the others' hotel rooms until the wee hours of the morning at least once a week. And really, he thinks, it'd be much easier to turn the offer down if Dean and Roman were even the slightest bit curious as to where he's been running off to lately, but they seem to be more focused on the newfound privacy they've gained as a result of it, something they'd grown accustomed to having to do without while they're on the road. Normally, Colby's pretty sure he'd be significantly more upset that his best friends don't seem to care what he's doing, but it has been giving him more time to do what he wants, namely, explore the strange almost-friendship he's discovered in Randy, on his own. And really, he can't completely blame them, either. If he had anyone to have sex with, he'd want to have it as often as possible within their already tight schedule, too. At this thought, he huffs out a half sigh, unfocused eyes locked tight onto his drink on the table in front of him. He startles as he feels a shoulder knock into his own, jolted back into the present moment by a laugh sounding off next to him. He turns sheepish eyes on Randy, and then Cena across the table from him, Cody already tapped out for the night.
"Sorry, I guess I zoned out. What were we talking about?" he says, picking up his glass to take another drink. Before he can, though, Randy's reaching out and taking it from his hand, smirking as he dangles the half-full glass a few inches in front of his face.
"You sure you need any more of this?" the older teases, and Colby tries to grab it back, Randy moving it at the last second.
"Lucky for you, I don't have to drive, or I might actually listen to that. Conveniently enough, we're in the hotel bar for that exact reason. Give it back." Colby fires back, fingers just managing to brush the glass as Randy pulls it even further away. Colby shoots him a half-glare. Randy just grins harder.
"I'd hate for you to zone out walking back to your room. Knock yourself out in the elevator or something. Get yourself stolen by a rabid fan." he replies, swapping hands to hold the drink almost out in the aisle as Colby nearly grabs it. The high flyer smirks now and leans clean across the older, shoving Randy against the back of booth so hard in the process that he almost drops the glass altogether. He turns wide eyes on the younger, using his free hand to hold him at bay.
"Well, if I get that drunk, you'll just have to carry me back to my room." Colby tells him, and Randy swallows thickly, their lack of space sending a strange sensation churning in his stomach. He shakes his head.
"Oh, no. Not gonna happen. Your friends would think I drugged you!" he objects with a near nervous laugh, and Colby's gaze hardens.
"Give me the drink or I'll tell them you did, anyway." the high flyer half-threatens, Randy shaking his head again before the boy can even finish.
"You wouldn't do that. You don't hate me that much." Randy says, confident smile on his face even as Colby presses in closer, almost grabs the drink again. His eyes lock on tight with the Viper's, an almost daring look in them, and suddenly, Randy can't breathe.
"Try me," Colby tempts him quietly, barely breathes it, but before Randy can even think of an answer, John Cena the Buzzkill is cutting in once again.
"Children. Do we have to do this in public?" the older scolds, reaching across the table to take the drink from Randy himself and set it on the table in front of Colby. The two of them instantly separate, blushing as they turn to the table. John just smirks, watching them carefully.
After a moment, Colby clears his throat, downing the rest of his drink in one movement. Setting down the empty glass, he turns to look at them with a timid smile.
"On that note. You do make a good point, Randy. I probably have had enough to drink for tonight. I'm gonna go ahead and get going." he tells them, nudging at Randy to let him out as he moves to stand. The Viper doesn't budge, shooting him a look that almost qualifies as a pout.
"Aw, come on. I'm sorry, kid. You don't have to leave just because I was being an ass." he offers, grabbing Colby's arm as if to physically keep him sitting.
Colby just laughs, taking the older's hand and removing it from his arm. His grip lingers, though, Randy's hand heavy in his, and he speaks to avoid focusing on the heat radiating from it, the way Randy doesn't pull away. Cena raises an eyebrow as he looks between the two of them. Well, this is new, he thinks. He watches Colby turn shy eyes on Randy, smile still pressed onto his face as he shakes his head.
"Nah, it's not that. I just need to be getting back. We're on the road kind of early tomorrow." Colby explains, and Randy sighs, finally taking his hand back and sliding out of the booth.
"If you have to." he grumbles, and Colby laughs again, patting the older on the back as he slides out as well.
"Sorry, I do." the high flyer replies. He turns to John with a wide grin and a wave, and John smiles back. "John. Nice to see you, as always. Randy, I'll text you tomorrow. Have a good night, guys."
Then, he's gone, making his way out of the bar and into the lobby of the hotel. Randy watches him walk away, and John watches Randy follow the boy with his gaze, even as he drops back into the booth. There's a strange emotion in the Viper's eyes, something that's been there anytime Colby's been present as of late, something John knows he's seen before, but he struggles especially now to put his finger on it. As Randy finally turns back to his friend, he shifts around almost restlessly, like it's difficult for him to get comfortable again. He's red-faced and kind of half-scowling, and as John runs his gaze over the younger, it suddenly clicks. Well, shit, he thinks, that's definitely new.
XXXXX
Colby is turned on. Very, very turned on, he realizes as he walks toward the elevator, trying to put more distance between himself and the source of his current problem still seated in the hotel bar. He really needs to get laid, he decides, if Randy is managing to turn him on. And when had he dropped the older's last name?, he wonders. He shakes his head, because he wants to think about that even less than he wants to think about his current predicament and how he got there, so instead, he focuses on getting back to the room and praying that his friends are already asleep tonight so that he can just take care of things and go straight to bed. No such luck, though, he realizes with a soft curse when he opens the hotel room door to find the two of them sprawled across their bed, wide awake and grinning at the TV instead. They both turn the grins on Colby as he makes his way in, Dean sitting up and coughing out a laugh as he meets the younger's eyes.
"Well, I'll be damned! Look who's back early for once!" he jokes, and Colby fights the urge to look guilty. "And where is it that you've been fucking off to all the time lately?"
Colby barely restrains himself from outwardly groaning. Of course he wants to know that right now. The high flyer scoffs, plastering a grin on his face as he thinks of every horrendous, gross thing he can think of to tame his erection, eyes locked onto Dean's to keep him distracted.
"I've been hanging out with other people, Dean. What, I can only be friends with you guys now?" he fires back lightheartedly, still full of sarcasm from the last few hours. Still, he catches the light flash of hurt that crosses Dean's eyes, quick, and then it's gone, and then the older is smirking back at him (and that definitely does the trick, because now instead of focusing on his dick, Colby's pretty focused on feeling like one).
"Oh. Oh, no, I get it. Hey, Roman," Dean says, dropping his head backwards to look at their companion still laying on his stomach behind him. "Colby's been hanging out with people who are cooler than us."
"No, hey, it's not like that!" Colby tries to object, freezing right in the middle of kicking off his shoes at the foot of the bed.
Dean tilts his head back forward to meet his friend's eyes, amused smirk set on his face.
"Yea? Then what's it like, Colbs? How come we never get an invite to hang out with your cool, new friends?" the older teases, and Colby relaxes the slightest bit. Evidently, Dean's not too upset. He continues to remove his clothes down to his underwear, flopping down onto his stomach on his own bed before answering.
"You never asked?" he offers, hoping Dean will take that answer at face value. Quickly, he adds, "Plus, you seemed to be taking enough advantage of the alone time..."
And Roman coughs at that, suddenly very, very focused on the television and very much not focused on the coversation happening next to him. Dean grins and elbows him, but he doesn't look up, turning up the volume instead. This only manages to send Colby into a laughing fit on the other bed, sending a rush of red across Roman's face even as he tries his damndest to ignore the two of them.
In an effort to save his friend from any further embarrassment, Colby says, "That, and I didn't really figure you'd want to go. It's not like it's anyone you'd like."
Dean fixes him a with a look that almost makes him squirm at the addition, and for a terrifying moment, Colby worries that he's going to ask 'who', but there seem to be some small miracles left on his side, because Dean tells him instead, "Well, I would still appreciate the invitation to turn down next time."
"I'll keep that in mind." the high flyer replies with a laugh. Then, before Dean can say anything else on the subject, "So, what's on TV?"
He's overly relieved when Dean lets the matter drop, lets Roman answer Colby and settles into a much easier topic of conversation. He's still the slightest bit turned on, and he'd prefer not to think about that at all, prefer to try and forget about who he'd been with to even get that way. As they fall back into their usual light banter, Colby manages to almost push the whole thing to the very furthest reaches of his mind.
Still, when his friends finally drift off to sleep, Colby sneaks off to the bathroom, way too relieved to handle the problem that's been nagging at him all evening. Jumping into the shower, he focuses solely on sensation alone as he masturbates, determined not to think about anyone in particular. When he comes, though, he can't stop the visions of tribal tattoos that dance before his eyes, making his orgasm that much better.
Fuck, he thinks, slumping against the cold tile of the wall to catch his breath, I have got to get laid.
XXXXX
"So, at what point are you going to admit that this is now officially more than you just wanting to be friends with Colby?" John finally asks Randy somewhere around two months into the boys' weekly (and sometimes bi-weekly) hangout sessions.
Randy is caught so off-guard, he drops the shirt he was about to put on, and John barely manages not to laugh. To his credit, though, the Viper tries his damndest to hide his shock, gaze darting immediately to the fallen t-shirt as if he's clueless as to why it leapt from his hands in the first place. As he leans down to pick it up, he coughs, clears his throat before responding.
"I'm not sure what you mean, John. Why else would I be hanging out with him?" the younger fires back, trying entirely too hard to open the shirt up and get it over his head before John can answer the question.
He's lucky the shirt is over his head before John does answer, because he can't even stifle the reaction as John says, "I dunno, maybe because you want to fuck him?"
"What the fuck?" Randy practically sqauwks, and this time John can't hold the laughter back, throwing his whole body into it as he nearly cackles at his friend. The Viper tries, "Wh-why would you think something li-dammit, John!"
John can't stop the laughter, Randy's face growing more and more red by the second just spurring him on further. He finally manages to calm himself down enough to catch his breath, wipe his eyes and look across the locker room to find his friend's.
"Sorry, sorry." John half chokes out, still brushing the remains of tears from his eyes. "It's just, come on, I see how you look at him. Like you're undressing him with your eyes, man. And you're always touching him, like you can't even help it. Seriously, you're too obvious."
Randy won't look at him at all now, face dripping in embarrassment as he struggles to think of some kind of retort.
Before he can, though, John fixes him with a smirk, crossing his arms over his chest as he asks, "And tell me honestly, how long has it been since you've gotten laid?"
"That has nothing to do with anything." Randy snaps in a way that suggests it actually has a lot to do with it, angry eyes turned back on his friend, so John can't stop himself from prying.
"You sure?" John says, and Randy shoots him a glare. John shrugs. "Just sayin'. It's a thought. Maybe it hasn't crossed your mind consciously yet, man, but trust me. It's an option."
There are a few long moments of silence as they both move to finish preparing for Raw, Randy letting the words roll around in his head. Suddenly, it's like something clicks, because he stops lacing up his boot to fix John with an overly curious look.
"Wait, what makes you think it's an option?" he asks, and John smirks, walking over to lean on the locker next to Randy as the younger finishes up.
"The same reason I know you want it, Randal." and Randy bristles at the name, glares at his friend. John knows better. But, the older doesn't care, still smirking as he explains, "I'm not blind. And hey, maybe he's in your completely oblivious boat, and he hasn't realized it, either. All I'm saying is, the way you two sit around eye-fucking each other, maybe it's about time to get to the actual fucking."
Randy's so flustered that when he opens his mouth to respond, no sound comes out, and he feels an immediate blush heat his face. Thankfully, he's saved from any further comments by a knock on the door, luck on his side for once as it's someone to fetch John for the ring. Still, it's like he can't resist fucking with the younger, because just before he leaves, he grips Randy's shoulders, gets right in his personal space.
"Seriously, Randy. Think about it. Never know, it might do you some good." Cena tells him, almost overconfident smirk set on his face.
Then, he pats Randy on the back just hard enough to almost throw the younger off-balance, and he's gone, letting the door slam shut behind him. The Viper rolls his eyes. His idiot friends, he thinks. Where do they even get this shit? He and Colby? Sex? Yea, right, he thinks with a scoff, tugging a shirt over his head. There's nothing to think about, because it would never happen, and for good reason, he reminds himself. Lots of them, really, so right, he's not even going to consider it, he decides, finally heading out to join the rest of the locker room for a while, watch the show. (He convinces himself that it's not because he kind of hopes to run into Colby lurking somewhere so they can talk alone before they have to go hang out with the entire group tonight, because there is nothing to think about.)
III
Except he does think about it, a lot. Can't help it, really, especially with the way he hadn't noticed until this moment right here just how comfortable they've gotten in one another's personal space. John had superconveniently bailed on their plans for the evening when they figured out Cody couldn't come, leaving Randy and Colby alone to hole up in the older's hotel room, racking up a ridiculous room service bill and arguing over what movies to watch. Currently, they're a little over halfway through one of the Harry Potter movies (Randy forgets which one they've made it to, having had them forced upon him by the younger the instant he'd figured out Randy'd hadn't seen any past the first), and the high flyer is pretty much completely zoned out, pressed right up against the Viper where they sit propped up by the headboard. Randy's arm has somehow become perched on the younger's shoulder, fingers subconsciously toying with the hair at the base of his neck, and Colby almost leans into it, eyes transfixed on the screen. Every once in a while, he reaches across the Viper's lap to grab more food off the plate on his other side, accidentally brushing against Randy's abs occasionally as he does.
It's not until one of the light brushes sends an unintentional shiver up the older's spine that it hits him: he's hard. Almost painfully hard, and Colby has been this close to discovering it the entire time. The movement, however, disturbs the younger enough to make him look up at Randy, shoot him a confused look, and all he can do is shrug, because honestly, he doesn't even know what's got him so worked up, on edge. Surely, it's not the young aerialist next to him, right? Colby just offers him an amused smile, shaking his head a bit, but not looking away, some of his hair falling from behind his ear in the process. As Randy leans slightly closer to tuck it back, Colby exhales, breath ghosting across the older's face, and Randy realizes that if he tilts his head forward just enough, he could probably catch Colby's lips in a stolen kiss. The way the younger is looking at him right now, he almost thinks he could actually get away with it, too.
Just as he's about to throw caution to the wind, curiosity finally, finally getting the better of him, there's a loud commotion on the TV screen and Colby startles, eye snapping open wide. Their close proximity seems to settle over him a moment later, because then the boy is nearly jumping away from Randy so fast, it's like he's been burned, almost falling off the bed entirely. Randy reaches out unthinking and grabs his wrist, balances him again at the last second, and suddenly, Colby's wide eyes are focused completely on that point of contact. Randy reluctantly lets go of him in the same second that the high flyer moves to tug the wrist back, neither of them looking at one another.
What feels like hours pass, but it can't be longer than a few seconds judging by the noise drifting from the TV speakers, before they're both finally turning to face each other, opening their mouths to speak at the same time. They both freeze, unsure of who should speak first, and Colby's eyes dart away as he licks his lips, suddenly even more nervous than he had been. The older can't help but follow the movement with his eyes, zero in on it as he repeats it subconsciously. He's so busy watching the high flyer's lips that he doesn't notice the boy staring back at him for a moment, gaze fixed on him much the same way as his own had been. When Colby realizes he's been caught, however, he fixes the Viper with a startled look once again, but this time, Randy thinks, fuck it, and dives in, hoping he hasn't read the last few minutes completely wrong.
Colby has to grab onto Randy's arms so he doesn't completely topple off the bed entirely from the force of the kiss, but he doesn't retreat, so the Viper considers it a win. The young high flyer tastes everything and nothing at all the way Randy had been imagining he would (and fuck, he realizes, maybe John's right if he's actually been imagining this, but now is so not the time to think about that), a whole lot like the food they've been eating with this hint of something sweeter the older can't quite put his finger on. Whatever it is, it intrigues Randy and he decides he wants more of it, shifting closer to the boy and trailing a quick tongue along his lower lip in an effort to do just that. Colby begins to relax against him the slightest bit, mouth falling open just enough as he edges his way closer to the older as well, and Randy almost grins into the kiss, repositioning himself a bit so that he's fully facing the younger. In the process, he manages to accidentally brush against Colby's dick, drawing a soft gasp from the boy and- wait a minute, Randy thinks, is he hard, too?
Randy doesn't get any more time to figure it out, because Colby seems to snap back to reality with the touch, shoving away from the older with such a force that he actually does fall off the bed this time, Randy too stunned to catch him. When the Viper leans over the edge to apologize, he's met with wide, panicked eyes that make his stomach turn. Instantly, Colby is reaching shaky hands in front of him to grab his shoes from where he'd discarded them next to the bed. Randy opens his mouth to speak, he realizes he can't find any words, torn between too many different things all at the same time. Colby is never speechless, though, even now as he struggles to tie his shoes.
"I, uh. It's late and. I just, I need to get back. Dean and Rome, y'know. They're probably wondering..." Colby trails off, jumping to his feet and stomping the right one on the ground a few times to get the shoe the rest of the way on. Randy's never seen him so flustered, fully unable to form complete sentences. He tries to stop the younger, says his name softly, but Colby just talks over him as if he hadn't heard him at all. "I'll text you later, alright?"
Then, he's gone, slamming the door a little bit too hard on the way out. Randy huffs out a loud sigh, dropping to lay on the bed instead of running after the high flyer, who's left his jacket, he'd been in such a rush. No chance in hell he'll be coming back to get it tonight, Randy figures. From the TV, he can hear the pretty Granger girl screaming, "You ruined everything!" and currently, he'd really have to agree.
XXXXX
Colby winces at how loudly the door sounds when he shuts it, especially for the incredibly late hour. He hadn't really meant to slam the damn thing, but he's just so frazzled. He can't for the life of him wrap his head around the fact that he's hard, again, but this time it's actually from kissing Randy, and Jesus, how the fuck had that even happened? He's making his way hurriedly to the elevator, ready to just be back in his own room forgetting the last fifteen minutes ever happened, when one of the doors is yanked open right as he passes it.
"Y'know, asshole, some of us are trying to- holy fucking shit." a way-too-familiar voice shouts behind him, trailing off the second realization dawns on them as to who they're yelling at. "Colby?"
Colby barely keeps from cringing when Phil says his name, pulling himself to a halt. He wants to cry when he realizes he must have left his jacket in Randy's room, and no way is he going back to get it now, so he's got nothing to hide his erection with. Praying his friend simply won't notice, he turns to greet Phil with a near-nervous smile.
"Hey. What's up?" he offers, giving the older a small, shy wave as a means of distraction. Phil's not having it, though, smirking as he drops to lean against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest.
"Not a whole lot. I just came out here to bitch at Orton, and instead I get you." Phil replies with a curious look to match the smirk. Colby swallows against how dry his throat has suddenly become, trying not to look as guilty as he feels, especially as his friend looks over his whole face, takes in his disheveled hair, red cheeks, the ragged breaths slipping from kiss-swollen lips. Then Phil, all tact, asks, "So, are you two...?"
"What? No! No way! Wh-why would you think...?" Colby practically squawks, and he's pretty confident that that's the least masculine he's ever sounded. Phil just laughs, though, shakes his head at the younger.
"You're right, my bad. If you were fucking, I'd hope he at least wouldn't let you leave with a hard-on." the older says, and the high flyer can't stop the groan that comes out at the words, which only makes Phil laugh harder.
For a moment, Colby wishes that a hole could somehow spring up out of the ground and swallow him whole just so that tonight wouldn't have even mattered. He can barely process what's happened, much less think of a way to handle any of it. For now, he tries to ignore it, moves to slip away down the hall the rest of the way to the elevator while Phil attempts to gather himself. He only makes it two steps before the older is calling his name, halting him again.
"Colby, hey, no, wait, I'm sorry!" Phil exclaims, making Colby turn back to at least hear his friend out. He hopes the conversation is brief, though, especially now that the older is visibly aware of his uncomfortable situation. "Seriously, though, why not?"
And that one's new, the high flyer raising an eyebrow as he asks, "Excuse me? I thought you hated Randy?"
"I mean, I'm not especially fond of the guy, but I feel like if you're going to be sneaking around with someone at all hours of the night, and leaving their room with a- I'll say it- raging boner, you might as well at least stick around long enough to have sex with them. Or get off somehow, geez." Phil explains to him, and Colby sucks in a breath, shakes his head at the thought of it.
"No way. I am not talking to you about this." Colby says, about-facing and finally heading toward the elevator. He tosses over his shoulder as he tries to flee, "And I am not fucking Randy Orton!"
Phil outright howls with laughter at this, almost doubling over in an effort to catch his breath. Before Colby has a chance to make it all the way to the elevator doors, the older calls after him, "I'd at least consider it! Maybe you wouldn't be so damn uptight!"
"Fuck you, Phil!" Colby fires back, mashing his thumb down on the button repeatedly, as if it will make the damn thing come faster.
Thankfully, his friend decides to give him a break, turning and heading back into his own hotel room. The elevator dings a moment later, and he steps inside, resting his face against the doors the second they're shut. The cool metal is a sharp contrast to his overly flushed face, almost certain he's never been so embarrassed. He can't believe he kissed Randy. He can't believe Phil caught him coming out of Randy's room. He can only hope now that Dean and Roman have already exhausted themselves so that he doesn't have even more explaining to do. Either way, he thinks as he exits the elevator on his floor, at least Phil managed to kill his erection.
