It Could Be Worse
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Notes: Sorry for the long time between updating!
Thanks to: iaera, Latisha C, aussiewrestlingfan, and randy-lover-4ever for the reviews!
Randy Orton glared downwards at the redheaded Diva before him. "No. Absolutely not," he said firmly. "Nada, nothing, zilch, zero…" he trailed off.
"Oh, come on, Randy," Lita pleaded, shaking the bottle of green hair dye in her hand tantalizingly. He raised his eyebrow, and she stuck her tongue out at him.
"Very mature," Randy observed. His eyes fell past Lita's shoulder, settling on John Cena, who was sitting on one of the queen beds, happily mimicking the conversation. Dawn Marie was in the shower, the last of the four to get in—and grumpy as hell about it.
"Randy, please?" she stuck her lower lip out, and Randy could swear her eyes melted and softened instantly. Behind him, he heard John's chuckle.
"Lita…" he threw his arms up in the air, and gestured down to his outfit; the mesh shirt and faded jeans she'd persuaded him to buy the other day. "I'm wearing the outfit, okay? Isn't that enough? I'm drawing the line at hair dye." As he looked down at her sternly, she stuck her lower lip out a little further. "The puppy eyes aren't going to work on me, Lita," Randy told her firmly. Lita stepped forward, hooking her fingers in the mesh shirt and looking up at him with the same pleading stare. Randy found himself intoxicated by the smell of her perfume surrounding him, her fingers seeming set his chest on fire. He struggled for words for a moment. "No," he said, but his voice was a little hesitant. She blinked again, her hazel eyes wide. Finally, he sighed. "Fine," she let out a squeal of joy, "But—tomorrow night I get to dress you up."
Lita responded to this by rolling her eyes and stepping away from him. She'd just use the puppy eyes again, and he'd be convinced otherwise. Men…so predictable. Of course, it would be a waste not to use that clingy red dress currently folded in her suitcase… The sound of the door to the bathroom opening broke her train of thought. Lita grabbed Randy's wrist with her free hand and half-dragged him into the bathroom, smiling wickedly. Dawn stepped out of her path quickly, her eyes snapping to John, who grinned, standing up slowly.
"Li is turning Randy into a Jeff," he explained shortly. He didn't personally know Jeff Hardy, but everyone in the WWE had heard the tales of the multicolored haired man, whether they knew him or not.
Dawn laughed, pushing her damp brown hair behind her shoulders. "You might need to hold him down," she suggested, and glanced at the clock. It was 3:30 in the morning, and they had to be at the airport by 4 for their flight at 5:45. "Is everyone packed?"
John rolled his eyes. He and Dawn had been traveling together for the past week out of convenience, and by now he already knew her paranoia about making a mistake when traveling. "Dawn, yes, we're all packed."
"Blue or green?" Lita had stuck her head out of the bathroom, glancing over at the two Smackdown! superstars. "I bought a blue, and, well…" she trailed off.
Dawn looked at John, who put his hands in the air. "Randy's a cool guy, I ain't deciding his doom."
Both of the Divas rolled their eyes. Men. "I'd say the blue," Dawn answered, and Lita smiled.
"Good choice," the redhead ducked back into the bathroom, where Randy was eyeing her apprehensively.
"This is temporary, right?" he asked nervously, and Lita was half tempted to find a bottle of the permanent dye, just to freak him out. She smiled to herself, and then answered his question.
"Yes, Randy, now lean over the sink," he paused, "now," she added, and he did as she said. Lita handed him a wet rag. "Put this over your face unless you want blue eyebrows," she commanded, and he complied quickly. She smiled and went to work.
Meanwhile, John and Dawn were lounging on the beds, flipping through the mindless, boring television shows. "There's never anything on at this hour," Dawn whined.
"That's because no adult in their right mind would be watching T.V. at 3:30 in the morning on a weekday," he answered in the blink of an eye.
"Smart-ass," Dawn responded and he smirked. The brunette glanced at the bathroom door, which had been closed shut firmly. She leaned back against the headboard of the bed she was sitting on, and looked across the room at John.
Obviously catching her drift, John opened his mouth, "Is it just me, or are they constantly flirting with each other?" he asked.
Dawn did another eye roll. "No, she just had her hands…inside...his shirt for no reason."
"Hey, I'm trying this woman intuition thing," John replied, hiding a frown. Dawn felt the urge to tell him that Intuition was a brand of shavers, but decided not to as a scream emanated from the bathroom. Both of them jumped to their feet and rushed into the bathroom. By the time that they got there, Lita had sat Randy down on the toilet seat, and was dutifully flushing his eyes with water from a Dixie cup.
"What happened?" Dawn asked curiously.
"Hair dye got in his eye," Lita answered, setting her hand on Randy's thigh to balance herself as she poured droplets of water into the affected eye.
No longer surprised and worried, Dawn's mind caught up with her. "Ohmigod!" she squealed, looking at Randy's hair. He opened one eye and glared at her.
"Not what I want to hear," he grumbled sourly.
"Raaandy," she sighed, "It was a good ohmigod, not an 'ew' one!"
"Translation?" Randy prompted Lita, and she smiled.
"You're scum, Orton," Dawn informed him. He didn't dignify her remark with a comeback.
"Dawn, sweetie, could you hand me my kit on the counter?" Lita asked. Dawn frowned as she reached for it. What did that have to do with anything? It was Lita's makeup kit--Dawn had borrowed some mascara from Lita with her permission in the morning, and there was nothing but makeup in there and—
Ooooh!
Dawn grinned suddenly, and handed the bag to Lita, who zipped it open. "Stay still," she commanded Randy.
"What are you doing?" Randy asked, trying to see what Lita was getting, but unable to as Lita pushed his head back again.
"Relax, Orton," she ordered.
"Relax? How the heck am I supposed to relax?"
"Randy, shut up," Lita said, rolling her eyes. "If you want a blue eye, fine by me. If not, shut your mouth and let me help you." The former Intercontinental Champion sighed heavily, but complied. The redhead shut a look back at Dawn and John. Dawn was matching her mischievous grin, and John was shaking his head, wondering how he had gotten hooked up with these two. Lita pulled her eyeliner from the bag, her grin widening. 'Perhaps it's a good thing that he's too prim to know that hair dye won't turn your eye blue,' she thought, uncapping the stick.
--
15 minutes later, Randy gaped at his image in the mirror. "What the hell?" Lita looked at his reflection, smiling smugly. Dawn and John had retreated just outside the bathroom: far enough away not to get caught in any argument but close enough to know what was going on. "I…" Randy was speechless. Behind him, Lita grinned. "I look like Marilyn Manson!" he exclaimed.
Lita couldn't help but laugh. "You do not. But, you know, if you wanted to it would only take a trip to the store and we could–"
"No!" Randy interrupted. He stared at himself in the mirror. If he didn't know better, he would've thought it was someone else's reflection. Slowly shaking his head, he addressed Lita. "I'm not going to the airport looking like this."
"Oh yes you are."
"No I'm not." Lita gave him the evil eye. "I mean, come on! What would people think?"
"You're going to the airport," she told him.
"Not like this I'm not."
"You don't have time to change."
"We can be a little late."
"We'll be fired."
"Vince will understand."
"No he won't."
"He would want me looking professional over…this."
"Hey, are you dissing that outfit?"
"No…well, yeah."
"That's a damn good outfit."
"Well, it can be a damn good outfit on someone else," Randy shot a look to John, who was trying hard to keep his laughter in. "Like Cena, maybe."
To his surprise, both Lita and Dawn slowly turned to look at John, seemingly sizing him up. John held up his hands, taking a step back. "Whoa, whoa, whoa… You aren't getting your hands on this body," he informed them.
Dawn looked over at Lita. The two smiled, looking back at John.
"Please?" he added pleadingly.
--
Lita, Dawn, Randy and John walked into the airport at quarter to five. Or, rather, Dawn and Lita walked in, dragging a reluctant Randy and miserable John behind them. "I can't believe you did this to me," Cena complained, for what seemed like the hundredth time.
"I can't believe you let them do it to you," Randy commented, receiving a death glare in reply.
"Ouch, burned," Dawn supplied.
"I let them do it to me? They threatened me! At least I didn't just give in to the puppy eyes," John shot back.
"Ladies, ladies," Lita said, and grinned impishly at the glares she got.
"Seriously, you guys need to just lighten up."
"I'm wearing mesh," John replied, glancing down at his own shirt. "This isn't helping my reputation."
"And it's helping mine?" Randy asked.
"I gotta admit yours needed some help."
"Oh, like your reputation is better than mine?"
"At least I don't walk around in $3,000 suits all the time."
"At least I don't look like a thug reject."
"At least I'm not kissing Hemsely's ass."
"Hey!" Lita interrupted. "Both of you: shut it; we have to go through security," she reminded them, as they were next in line.
Randy sighed, shuffling toward the metal detector. Rolling his eyes, he took the clip-on earrings out of his ears, followed by several chains that had been attached to his pants, and set them in the basket before stepping through the detector. A uniformed security personnel put his hand up to stop Randy when the alarm went off. Randy groaned. "Please step backward, sir," the man said, and Randy did so. "Are you wearing any watches, rings or anything metal that you forgot to take off?"
Randy looked over himself quickly and groaned upon seeing the metal hoops in his pants. He suddenly felt bad for the people who wore stuff like this. Did they have to go through this every time they flew? "Um…sir…" he motioned to the hoops.
The other man—Tony, his name card read—didn't look sympathetic. "Take the pants off."
Randy blinked. "What?"
"That's the only way to see if that's what is setting off the alarm."
'I don't believe this,' Randy thought to himself grumpily as he took off his pants, glaring at his three companions, who had all reduced to giggles behind him.
He didn't look long enough to realize two of them were enjoying the sight of Randy Orton in his boxers.
"Put the pants on the basket and step through," Randy was instructed to do so. He got through without the detector wailing at him. Randy stood in front of the table where another man went through his pants quickly. The former Intercontinental Champion looked back at Lita, who was getting checked now. When she caught his glance, she smiled bright.
Randy scowled for a second before replacing it with a smirk.
He would get his revenge.
Author's Note: I hope you guys liked this chapter! I know the metal detectors at the airport wouldn't likely go off for a few of the items; but whatever. It's fiction! Anyway, please review!