So it has been a very looooong time since I've updated this story and I apologize for that. I lost my muse a bit here but I felt a spark of it recently and decided to try writing these characters again and feel it out. I hope you like what I came up with because I feel pretty good about it. This is shorter than my normal chapters but I needed to work my way back into this particular groove and I thought quality over quantity. Hope some of you are still interested. Let me know your thoughts, hopes, dreams, etc. Thanks!
Jon woke slowly, squinting against the intrusive light. His mouth was dryer than the Mojave and a group of bucket players from the street had taken up residence inside his head. He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes and wincing at the soreness in his throat. When he pulled his hands away and took in his surroundings he frowned. Instead of the hotel room he was sharing with Colby, he found himself sitting on a plush bed in a room with blush colored walls. The comforter on the bed was black with big, pale pink flowers. He had no idea how he got there. He tried to think back but couldn't remember anything after finishing off a bottle of tequila with Win.
His stomach felt like an empty cavern and the stinging in his throat led him to believe he'd lost his dinner and he hoped he hadn't completely embarrassed himself. The clothes he wore to the party were gone, replaced with sweatpants and an old Moxley shirt that he hadn't seen in ages. There was a hole at the neck where the seam was coming apart. When lifted the front of the shirt, inhaling softly, he knew exactly where he was. Underneath the laundry detergent was a hint of lemongrass that he would recognize anywhere. He had to be at Avery's house.
Bottles of aspirin and water sat on the small mirrored bedside table. He popped two of the pills, gratefully downing all of the water. He stood, reaching out to touch the wall when the floor lurched beneath his feet. His head was swimming and he stayed close to the wall, tripping over his shoes discarded by the door. He found the bathroom a few feet down the hall, used a spare toothbrush, and then splashed some cold water on his face. The water did nothing to stop his head from spinning like a top but at least his mouth felt better. When he walked out of the bathroom, he turned away from the room he'd slept in, heading the other way down the hall, passing a linen closet before he found his destination. He stopped at the doorway to her bedroom, painted the same color as the spare room. He found her curled up under the covers on her big king sized bed with its elaborate, velvet tufted headboard. He thought back to that cheap Ikea bed they put together when they first met. This looked like a significant upgrade.
"I am going to make you pay for that."
"For winning?" Jon smirked.
Avery held his gaze with an ice cold glare. There was something especially sexy about the look in her eye when she was all fired up like this. He tossed a chip into his mouth and started gathering up the dice."I didn't take you for such a sore loser."
"Oh cut the shit, anyone who's ever met me knows I'm a sore loser," she returned.
That was true. He beat her at glow in the dark mini golf on their first real date and he couldn't resist teasing her about it. She slapped him so hard on the arm that she left a welt. He'd felt softer chops from men almost twice her size.
He didn't know how many dates they'd been on anymore. After 5 he didn't see any point in counting. He didn't have to dance around suggesting plans or 'ask her out' anymore. They both just knew that their rare days off would be spent together. Many of their nights were spent together, even if they didn't have time to even speak to each other during the day.
They were getting used to each other's quirks. He consistently forgot his phone at home or neglected to charge it which left him hard to get in touch with. She joked about getting him a carrier pigeon but she didn't complain about it much. He found himself showing up at her place whenever the mood struck him and it seemed to happen more and more as time passed. Most times he didn't call first and that drove her crazy but she was always happy to see him. Paige didn't love it but she'd gotten used to it too.
Avery had her own set of idiosyncrasies. She was basically the town flirt of NXT. She loved attention and got a kick out of knowing when someone had a thing for her. She would never admit to it and would probably insist that she was just being 'southern' or 'friendly' but he could tell. Sometimes it drove him crazy and other times he got a good laugh out of watching her smile and wink at someone just to dash their hopes moments later when she found him across the bar and excused herself to saunter over to him. He would hold out his arm and she'd tuck herself in to his side, her hand sliding into his back pocket. He knew he had her. Besides, he'd made it clear to the rest of the NXT locker room that he'd have the head of anyone who looked her way.
He supposed they were both a little annoying to put up with.
Annoying wasn't the right word. They were messes but they were...special. And he was beginning to think maybe they had something sort of special together.
They must have because it wasn't often that he found himself sitting on the floor on a Saturday night playing Yahtzee. The rest of their friends were out at the bar since they actually had the weekend off but Avery was nursing a bad knee and trying her damnedest to hide from the trainers. That left her stuck at home doing the old R.I.C.E. routine and Jon volunteered to stay in with her. She was used to being the life of the party; the center of attention. She would go crazy with FOMO if he left her home alone. He couldn't say that he minded having her all to himself.
"Listen, I only beat you because I respect you so much," he smiled. "You don't want a boyfriend who lets you win all the time. A guy who treats you like that doesn't believe you can win on your own."
He arranged the dice into a neat little row and looked up to find her eyeing him. Her right brow arched and an amused smirk played at her lips. It took him a moment to figure out why she was looking at him like that.
Boyfriend. He said boyfriend. He didn't even realize it until he saw that Cheshire grin. Nothing got past her.
"You wanna play again?" he asked, challenging her to bring up the topic. He wasn't going to be the one to do it. If she did, they'd talk about it. If she didn't, they wouldn't.
"Since when are you my boyfriend, Good?" she playfully over-pronounced the word. He liked the way it sounded as it passed through her full lips, even if she was being a dick about it.
They hadn't made things official with any labels yet but they both knew what was going on. No one else had caught his eye since the day he met her. He couldn't get enough and he was positive that the feeling was mutual.
"I've been your boyfriend since the day we met," he winked at her. "You just didn't know it yet."
"God, you are so cocky," she laughed, shaking her head. "I don't know how I put up with you."
"I think you like it," he smirked. "You haven't told me to leave."
"If you weren't so damn good lookin', I'd probably hate you," she joked.
"Well thank God I was born with this mug, then," he stuck out his chin.
"I'm pretty glad you were," she beckoned him toward her with a crook of her finger. "Now about this boyfriend thing..."
He sat on the edge of the couch beside her outstretched legs, "What about it?"
"Well, I am taking applications and I can put yours under review if you'd like," she began.
He leaned closer to her as she spoke, delighting in the way her words slowed while her breathing quickened. She tried to continue being quippy and coy but when the tip of his nose brushed the side of hers, she grasped his shirt and pulled him forward. It was a searing kiss that sent a jolt of electricity through him. In a frenzy, the ice bag on her knee was launched across the room. Her shirt was tossed to the floor while his still somehow hung around one shoulder. He pulled her over onto his lap, groaning deeply as she rolled her hips. He slipped his hand into the back of her panties, holding her firmly against his rock hard length. She gasped, hands stilling on the sides of his face. She kissed him with the same hunger he felt coursing through his veins. He was ready to rip the panties right off of her when he heard her breath change. It was small and sharp, only lasted for a moment but he caught it.
Straddling him was probably not the best way to rehab a bum knee.
"You okay?" he tried to catch his breath when he pulled back.
She smiled, her teeth catching her bottom lip, thumb running over his cheek, "Aww, look at you, being all sweet."
He rolled his eyes, putting a firm hand on her back and standing up, essentially tossing her over his shoulder. He took the familiar route to her bedroom as she giggled.
"You know, your ass looks great from this angle," he remarked, giving her a rough smack.
"My ass looks great from every angle," Avery declared as they reached her room. He stopped, deciding to dump her unceremoniously right on that perfect ass in the middle of the bed. She stared at him in surprise but he could see the anger fade when he undid the button of his jeans. She got up on her knees as he stepped closer and just as she got her hands on his zipper, Jon heard a strange, faint noise followed by a loud CRACK.
Avery yelped as the foot of the bed lurched, hitting the floor. Jon wrapped his arm around her, keeping her steady. He lifted her up, guiding her to stand with of him in case the bed moved again.
"You broke my fucking bed!" she exclaimed, giving him one of her patented rough slaps on his shoulder.
"God damn it, woman," he rubbed the spot she hit. He couldn't help but laugh. The look on her face when the bed fell had been epic."I wasn't even in the bed. You broke the bed."
"You threw me on the bed," she tried desperately not to join in his laughter, planting her hands on her hips.
"I told you this shitty IKEA bed wasn't going to last long with me around," he shrugged.
"Well you're going to have to get me a new one," she declared.
"Me? Why?" he laughed.
"Because you're my boyfriend," she rolled her eyes, "Duh."
Avery's white hair was stark against the dark material of her comforter. She had the corner of it tucked under her head, on top of her pillow. He could never understand why she did that instead of just using two pillows but she always ended up like that. He couldn't pinpoint exactly why but he found it deeply comforting to know that she still slept the same way. It probably had something to do with the fact that he woke up with the world spinning in the wrong direction. Maybe it was just nice to see something he'd seen hundreds of times.
She was mad at him at the party, he remembered that. She figured out that he told Randy about Fergal and she came at him, ready for a fight. There was more static clouding his memory. He could see her in front of him in a bathroom and feel her fingers brushing over his cheek. Then there was an especially hazy flash of the two of them getting into a cab while someone who sounded a lot like Ashley complained about something being 'a giant load of bullshit'. Then he could hear himself drunkenly demanding his shoes back followed by Avery telling him to sit down before she shoved his shoes up his ass.
She took care of him.
She'd always taken care of him.
She may not have been thrilled but if he knew Avery, she'd insisted on being the one to do it. She knew him. She knew how he would act and what to do to get him to behave when he was too far gone. She knew everything.
As he stood there, watching her, with his wretched headache and painfully empty stomach, all he wanted was to lie down beside her. Her hair was all over the place and he could see eyeliner smudged under her eyes. Her red lipstick had left a faint stain. She would have called herself a mess but he thought she looked so beautiful. Warm and peaceful and perfect. He wanted to smell her hair and feel her warmth and stay in bed for a few more hours, possibly more than he'd ever wanted anything. He was so tired and possibly still a little drunk.
She stirred, nuzzling her comforter, and John decided he would deal with the consequences later. He sleepily padded into the bedroom, crawling into bed beside her. She wore a Tennessee Titans shirt and a pair of bright red shorts that didn't even begin to match. He reached out, looping his arm around her waist and pulling her back against him. He rested his head against the back of her shoulder, closing his eyes as he breathed her in. The spinning and lurching, the hunger, everything stopped when he held her. Sleep began to overtake him almost instantly. He faintly heard her say his name. Then he felt the blanket being pulled over his legs as he drifted off to sleep.