Hey, Fire, this door has your name on it :)

13th advent

… a closer closeness ….

I swear I'm gonna break every single bone in your body if you touch him one more time.

It isn't his style to threaten people like that, but the worst thing is that he really would have done it if that guy had touched Randy again.

He has seen it come. A drunken Randy has always been a trouble magnet and it seems that his friend does his best to keep the tradition up.

"You're perfect in picking the wrong girls, Ortz," John mutters as he walks at Randy's side along the corridors of the hotel, carefully watching him in case that he does a dive to the floor.

The scowl on the other man's face doesn't go unnoticed by him.

"She hit on me," Randy slurs.

John huffs.

"Yeah, she hit on you but she has a boyfriend and you called him a fucker."

This time Randy huffs, although it is more of a belch that comes out.

"He pushed me and called me an asshole," the younger replies defiantly and collides with the wall as his feet decide to do some unnecessary steps to the side.

John is at his side immediately, but Randy manages to get his feet back under control.

"Don't baby me, Cena."

A pitiful attempt to sound biting.

"Then don't give me a reason to baby you," John says and steers Randy to lean against the doorframe as they reach his room. He holds his hand out and wiggles his fingers. "Your keycard, Casanova."

A lot of laborious fumbling in various pockets and dangerous swaying on the edge of the doorframe later, Randy eventually produces the keycard and hands it over to a mildly amused John, who opens the door with a slight shake of his head. As he turns back to Randy he has barely enough time to react as the other man keels over. He gets his arms wrapped around him just in time, stumbling backwards under Randy's weight, but somehow he manages to keep them both standing.

With a heavy sigh and another shake of his head he shifts his hold on him and begins to steer him to the bed. He feels more than he sees a sudden change in his friend's mood, notices how he tries to free himself of John's hands.

"Don't…"

John barely hears the mumbled word. Deciding to ignore it, he keeps his hands on Randy to steady him on his way to the bed.

"Don't touch me."

"Come on Ortz, don't be childish. I'm just trying to prevent you from a trip to the floor," he huffs and shakes his head lightly. "You really need to sleep, man."

In a blink John finds himself with his back against the wall, feels fingers digging into his shoulders. Randy stands close and his grey eyes aren't dazed like they have been on their way to this room, but sharp, piercing right through him, through his soul. Then he leans even closer and John watches in fascination as the grey morphs to only a thin ring as pupils dilate, as those eyes darken. John can't move and he's not sure if he… if he wants to move…

"I said don't touch me…" the younger man breathes, the alcohol heavy in his breath.

The tension humming between them is almost graspable and John is sure he can hear it. Or maybe it is his own blood, buzzing in his ears because his heart has begun to pound hard in his chest. It has happened before… when Randy has been close like this. The other kind of close than usually. And every time he has tried to tell himself it was because of odd circumstances or whatever.

Breathing suddenly becomes difficult as he keeps staring into Randy's eyes, a certain lightheadedness takes a hold on him while he does and maybe it is because he's a bit drunk, too… or maybe it is because Randy is… intoxicating. He only realizes that he can move again as his hands reach out to the other man, finding a place on his waist.

"Why?" he whispers, splaying his fingers… feeling the warmth under his touch. "What's wrong, Ran?"

Those enthralling eyes close at this and the breath that passes his friend's lips is shuddering. The hold on his shoulders loosens… the hands slowly trailing up to rest in the crook of his neck and the touch is so… so… infinitely tender… that his heart stumbles. He suppresses a heavy shiver that becomes a waves of goosebumps, running all over his body.

And then Randy's hands drop to the ones resting on his waist as he inches forward until their chests touch, trapping John between him and the wall. There is a touch on John's temple and he realizes that his friend is resting his cheek against the side of his head. And he could swear he can feel Randy's heart beat as hard as his own.

"I… I don't know," Randy whispers very close to his ear and the warm breath fanning over the skin of John's skin sends another wave of goosebumps over the older man's body. "Johnny…"

John's fingers dig in the other man's sides, whether to push him away to to keep him close he's not sure and he has no idea what it is he wants to say, but there are words stuck in his throat. They just won't leave his lips. For the briefest of moments he feels Randy press against him impossibly close, feels a delicate brush of fingertips on his arms… and lips on his cheek…before the younger man moves away from him.

"You should go to Nikki. She's waiting for you."

The statement is forced out and Randy turns his back to him, walks over to the bathroom without waiting for a reaction. Indecisive if it is a good idea to follow, John just stares after him. But it doesn't take him even half a minute until his feet carry him over to the bathroom, because he can't go like this and when he steps in, he finds Randy bracing on the counter with his head bowed. His shirt lies in the middle of the room and the tanned, inked skin is shimmering softly in the light.

It has become a habit, a ritual, to touch his friend to give comfort and that is why his hand already reaches to do it, but he freezes when he sees his friend flinch.

"Please, John, don't… I…" A bitter chuckle drops from his lips. "Just go, okay? Go to to her."

John's hand drops to his side as his eyes roam the tense shoulders, the contradiction between the way Randy has tried to get closer to him and the words he is saying now unsettling him deeply.

"You don't really expect me to leave you alone now, do you?" he says quietly and takes a step closer. "You know I can't do that."

I don't want to.

"Fuck, why can't you just for once do what you're asked for?" Rand snaps but it's desperate. "I need to be on my own, okay? I… I can't stand having you close right now. Just go!"

The desperation in the low voice reaches an alarming level, but the words are like a slap to John's face and he tries to fend the hurt off they are causing. He doesn't really mean it. He's not himself. It's what he tells himself as he gingerly moves backwards. It scares him to see him like that. And it scares him to leave him alone…

"Okay, if that's what you really want?" he whispers, flinching at the yeah the other man rasps. "Listen, I'm gonna keep my cell close the whole night. Call me if you need something… or someone to talk. Okay?"

No reaction.

"Okay?" he repeats a bit more insistently and eventually Randy gives the tiniest of nods.

He leaves and he wills his feet to move, because his whole body screams to stay. The tiny hope he harbors that Randy might call him back dies a little more with every step he comes closer to the door and when that door falls close behind him there is nothing left of it. Still he waits, standing frozen in the corridor. A minute. Two.

Eventually he makes his way back to Nikki, feeling for his cell in his pocket. This has been the last time they don't room together, John vows himself. By the moment he steps into the elevator his fingers are tightly curled around the small device. Nikki is patiently waiting for him at their table in the bar and it doesn't take long until he feels guilty, because he can't appreciate her efforts to distract him. Not even when he has her backed up against the wall with her legs wrapped around his waist, moaning his name… His mind is fixed on his cell, lying on the bedside table and his heart, it is unsettled by the way Randy has behaved. It is her face that he sees, her pretty eyes closed in bliss.

But it's Randy's unique scent that lingers in his nose, like a fragrant memory.

It's almost morning when he can't bear the lying wide awake in bed any longer, the staring into the darkness of the room. The waiting for the his goddamn cell to ring. He get's up and in the scarce light which falls through the blinds he can see her watch him as he throws on his clothes.

She doesn't say a word but he sees her nod at his whispered apology.

His pace quickens as he gets closer to Randy's room and while he's still thinking of a way of talking him into letting him stay, his fingers find something in his pocket as he stores his cell away.

It is the keycard to Randy's room. Almost like an omen..

Randy lies curled to a ball on the bed as he slips into the room. The door closes with a quiet click behind him and he waits to be sent away again. But the younger man doesn't, only switches the small lamp on the bedside table off and turns his back towards John. And although it is not quite an invitation, it calms John's inner turmoil a little.

Slowly he moves over to the bed, climbs onto it very hesitantly. Not because he expects Randy to push him away bodily but…

I can't stand having you close right now.

Words which are sharp enough to cut deep…

His hands touch the pillow and he feels a dampness were Randy has hidden his face in it before and it creates an ache in his chest. As he lies down behind Randy, his heart begins to run in his chest as the memory of their little… encounter… invades his mind. For a minute or two John just stays like this, lying behind him with a few hands-breadth space between them and he watches slight shivers run through the younger man. It's now that he notices how cool it is in here. Fishing for the duvet he pulls it up, takes a deep and quiet breath and inches closer, pulling the fabric over them both. He leaves a bit of space between them, leaving it to Randy to come closer or not.

Long minutes pass. And John is being caught between calming down and fighting against that strange feeling the closer kind of closeness to this man causes in him. He wants to reach out and touch him…

"I'm sorry…"

It's barely a whisper but loud in the quiet room, tugging at John's still running heart.

"I know," he whispers back. "Don't worry, 's okay."

And finally… Randy closes the small gap, scooting backwards until his back presses against John's chest and there is a sigh as the older man wraps an arm around him, holding him close. Reluctant fingers slip between John's and with a shuddering breath the body in his arm tries to get even closer.

It is back, that strange feeling, intensive, addictive, flooding him and the part that keeps questioning this new closeness, it falls silent, surrenders to the rest of his being... that craves for more…