Hi and welcome to another one of my fics! As always, I don't own any of the wrestlers in this story. They are all a part of World Wrestling Entertainment and a part of Vincent Kennedy McMahon's roster.
WARNING: If you don't like slash, please turn away now. Please remember this is only fiction and is not intended to offend in anyway.
Enjoy!
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As the sun poured through the crimson, translucent hotel curtains, Randy Orton began to stir, the light disrupting his sleep. Groaning to himself, stretching as he awoke from his slumber, he sighed, glancing over at the clock on the bedside table, next to where his Caribbean lover lay, still fast asleep in his own little dream world. Smiling to himself, the third generation superstar winced in pain, remembering just why his lip was sore and, perhaps more importantly, just why the man beside him was there at all...
Shaking his head, the youngest Orton rubbed his temple wearily. He was more than a little certain that when his supposed enemy had hit the moon sault the night before, he had done more than split his lip.
Laying his bruising body back down amongst the warm covers, Randy began to piece together his memories from the last evening. He remembered it was the Raw pay per view, Unforgiven, and he remembered most of the match that he took part in. As he let his eyes flicker shut again, everything came flooding back to him.
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"Good match, buddy." The King of Kings greeted, as his former Evolution team mate made his way back to the gorilla position. "You need that lip seeing to." he motioned, leading him to the evening's doctors office. "That's deep. How'd he do it again?"
"Moon sault." Randy spoke gingerly, spitting more blood from his swelling mouth, his fingers fumbling over the gash.
"I'll get Vince to have a word with him," Triple H decided. "That's the problem with them kind of moves. They can go wrong so easily."
"No." the Legend Killer mumbled firmly, his speech becoming a little unsteady. "It was only an accident."
"Ok." Hunter nodded, knowing there was no real point in his accusations if the man injured didn't feel inclined to do anything. "Sit here, the Doc should be back in a sec." the Cerebral Assassin concluded, forcing the younger man to sit down.
A couple of minutes later, the WWE doctor made his way into the room, pulling the latex gloves over his middle aged hands. "Ouch." he mouthed, opening his first aid box. "Looks like that's gonna need a few stitches."
'Great.' the third generation superstar sarcastically mused, rubbing a hand through his hair.
Ten minutes, one local anaesthetic and five stitches later, Randy had been treated. "Now, keep it as clean as possible," Doctor Rios began, pulling the gloves from his skin. "But don't keep touching it."
"What about kissing?" Randy spluttered incoherently, a cheeky grin spawning from his un-numb side of his lip.
"A big no no!" Rios chuckled, freeing Randy from his clutches.
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Collapsing on his bed, the youngest Orton had just showered back at the hotel. At the arena, he had just pulled some jogging bottoms and a loose t-shirt over his body. He couldn't be bothered with all of the unconcerned questions and comments such as 'oh, that looks nasty' or 'did the stitches hurt?'. To be honest, he just wanted to be left alone to relax and to go to sleep.
Dragging his phone from his trouser pockets, he flipped it. Fifteen miss calls it read. All from the same person; his Fiancé, Samantha.
"Great." Randy rolled his eyes. Not that he didn't want to speak to her, just that he knew what was coming.
"Why didn't you answer before now?" she cried, hearing a suave 'hi babe' on the other end of the line.
"Sorry, I was..."
"Busy?" she shook her head. "I was just concerned."
"I know. I'm sorry, really, it looks a lot worse than it is." he sat up, spying his bruised mouth in the mirror across the other side of the room.
"Well, I'm glad to hear it." she replied, very matter of factly.
"I said I was sorry, Sam, please don't be pissed off at me." he turned on his side, hoping that the conversation would soon be over.
"It's not a case of being pissed off, it's...it's the fact that you didn't answer." the youthful woman felt tears stinging her eyes, her imagination taking over his logic.
"Oh please." Randy breathed in exasperation. "It's only a cut!"
"So, you don't want me to worry about you when I see blood pouring all over the mat next time, huh?" she gasped in irritation, prying her hair from her cheek.
"Don't be so pathetic." the master of the RKO snarled, taking a sip of water, his face creasing up when the beverage hit his fresh wound.
"PATETIC? Bastard!" Samantha screamed, slamming the receiver down.
"Crap." the St. Louis resident tutted, throwing his mobile to the other side of the room, shaking his head in annoyance as he clambered into bed, switching the light off. 'I'll just say sorry tomorrow - that always works.' were his final thoughts before sleep took over his body.
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"Randy, are you in there?" a familiar, yet unwanted voice quizzed, his fist clenched as he banged on room 145, hoping that the occupant was still awake.
No selling the door knocking, the young Orton groaned when he realised that the other man outside wouldn't take no for an answer. Unwrapping himself from the cosy, silk sheets, he staggered over to the door, opening it a crack to inspect the visitor.
"What do you want?" he questioned, almost bitterly.
"To see if you are ok, that's all." the other man shrugged his shoulders, entering the dimly lit room uninvited.
Randy squinted, slamming the door shut behind the man cautiously preening his afro. "Couldn't you have done that tomorrow?"
"No - I needed to now!" the second generation superstar told, perching on the end of the cooling mattress, knocking his knuckled together.
"Ok, so now you have, would you mind going?" Randy asked in aggravation, twisting the door knob; all he wanted was a nap.
"Geez, I'm sorry, I know if I was injured I would want the person responsible to apologise straight away." the Latino screwed his nose up in confusion, standing to leave as the Legend Killer realised just what an ungrateful so-and-so he had been.
"You're right, I'm sorry." Randy sighed, trying to think of a peace offering. "Would you like a drink?" he inquired, spying the complimentary drinks cabinet in the corner of the room.
"Sure." the Caribbean spoke, returning to his seat as he watched the well toned Orton serve his drink of choice; a generous Tequila Sunrise.
"Thank you." he nodded gratefully, Randy sitting beside him. "It needed stitches then?" he surveyed the other man's mouth, seeing that a half frown covered his usual arrogant expression.
"Yeah." Randy looked down.
"I bet Samantha isn't happy about that - you won't be able to kiss her when you see her on Tuesday." Mr. Cool tittered, taking a gulp of his beverage.
"She probably won't want a kiss regardless of the stitches." Randy mumbled, the man next to him raising an eyebrow.
"Why?"
Explaining the argument, the smooth, lovable half Canadian listened with intent, something which the Legend Killer wasn't expecting.
"You know, that's just dumb. She needs to realise that you needed to get sown back together or you'd get blood on your handset." the serial apple eater teased, bringing an un-eager smile to the lips of Randy. "She'll get over it." he encouraged, finishing his drink, slamming the glass tumbler down on the bedside table, once again making sure his curly locks were perfect.
"Yeah. It's a pity that she isn't here. A kiss might make my lip feel better." Randy exhaled sincerely, his eyes heavy and sorrowful.
"She might not be here...but I am." the second generation star whispered, gently turning Randy's well chiselled face to meet his own. Their intense eyes locked; oceanic, tropical blue and the deepest, creamiest milk chocolate imaginable.
As their lips searched for the others, their eyes closed, wanting to saviour the moment. Their saliva's mixed, their tongues dancing to the beating of their hearts as their bodies fell back into a passionate embrace between the covers.
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Awaking once again, a grin crept over the face of the Legend Killer. Resting his hand against his head, he spied the man still sleeping next to him; his gorgeous, velvet caramel skin with his well conditioned body twitched gently from time to time, his breathing soft and mellow, just like the man himself.
"Thank you." Randy breathed effortlessly, planting a tender kiss on the side of his healers face; Carlito's face.
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Thanks for reading - I'd appreciate reviews as it is the first time I've ever used a different slash pairing to Shawn Michaels and Kurt Angle!