"This is your room? 512?"
"Yeah, here, I got the key."
John and Randy stood at room number 512, Randy leaning against the white drywall, John standing in front of the navy blue door. Reaching into his back pocket, Randy slipped out a keycard and quickly handed it over to John. John reached up, and then his fingers lightly brushed against Randy's, and Randy's hand recoiled back like he had touched fire. He looked away, his pale eyes focusing on the floor, and John turned to slide the keycard through. A loud click rang out as the door unlocked itself, and then John pushed it open. Randy stood up, and John held his arm out, beckoning towards the inside of the room. Orton scowled deeply, but he reached out, placing a hand on John's thick arm to steady himself as he walked inside. Sneakers dragging across dull blue carpet, John and Randy slowly limped in, the injured man wincing noticeably as he shuffled forward.
"You ok?" John asked quietly, looking out of the corner of his eye at the younger man.
"You don't need to baby me, Cena." Randy scoffed, forcing himself forward, "I'm not made of glass."
"Yeah, sure, whatever you say Randy." John rolled his eyes. He didn't know why Orton was putting on the macho act, but he was going to end up hurting himself even worse if he didn't start to accept the fact that the Nexus did a real number on him.
"Just help me to the bed, then you can leave me alone." Randy muttered, his scowl deepening.
Cena did as he was told, carefully steering Randy towards the queen sized bed that stood in the center of the room. It was neatly made, the floral patterned comforter tucked in at the sides, the large fluffy pillows arranged in an orderly fashion along the head of the bed. The rest of the room was unremarkable; a few suitcases lined the wall, and there was a small kitchen on the far side of the room. To the left was what looked like a sizeable bathroom. Gripping John's arm, Randy turned and lowered himself down onto his bed, grimacing at the pulsing pain that rippled through his abdomen as he sat down. John remained standing, looking down at the seated Viper, his sapphire eyes clouding with worry.
"What?" Randy snapped, eyes narrowing as he looked up at John. He had one hand over his side, rubbing himself tenderly through the black fabric of his t-shirt.
"They got you good, didn't they?" John murmured, frowning down at Randy.
"What do you mean?" Randy asked, his voice taking a suspicious tone as he tilted his head to the side, looking up at John curiously.
"Here." John's hand reached up, and he drew his thumb lightly across the bluish bruise on Randy's jaw, "Who did that to you?"
"Hey!" Randy jerked his head away, cringing, "That hurts you know!"
"Sorry." John dropped his hand back down, eyes still staring down at the Legend Killer.
They went quiet then, Randy glaring up at Cena. The suspicion was still there, but not so much the animosity. Reaching up, Randy traced the bruise on his jaw, fingertips skirting the darkened flesh. It was a little swollen, definitely tender to even the lightest of touches. Cena was watching him so carefully Randy couldn't help but feel like he was being examined. Dropping his hand, Randy suddenly began to feel extremely self-conscious. He didn't know why John would think it was ok to touch him…would he do it again? Randy chewed on his bottom lip, feeling very skittish all of a sudden.
"Barrett." Orton said quietly, looking up and meeting John blue gaze.
"What?" John shook his head as if he wasn't really paying attention.
"It was Barrett." Randy repeated, reaching up and tapping his jaw slowly, "The others held me down, and he punched me. Hard."
John's hands curled into threatening fists, and he finally looked away, his stare dropping down to the floor as he spoke, "I'm sorry."
"Whatever." Randy shrugged, scowling once again, "It's not your job to protect me. I don't need your help anyway."
"I…I shouldn't have let them do that to you." John continued, frowning sadly.
"Look, I just want to forget it happened, so drop it." Randy hissed angrily, shifting on the bed.
"Ok, fine." John shrugged his ripped shoulders, "I should get going. Barrett's probably throwing a fit because I'm not back in the Nexus locker room…"
"Does he…does he know you're with me?" Randy asked slowly, tilting his jaw up as he looked up at the standing man.
"No, he doesn't know where I am." John replied. Randy immediately looked relieved; he sank back down into the bed, looking more relaxed than before.
"Good. He'd be pissed if he knew…wouldn't he?" Orton smirked slightly then, a handsome grin clouding his face as he crossed his tattooed arms across his chest.
"Yeah," John chuckled, his face twisting into a dimpled smile, "He'd be absolutely furious if he knew I was blowing them off for you."
"You should go, then. Wouldn't want your little team leader to get too angry with you." Randy uncrossed his arms, leaning back slightly, his icy eyes still focused in on John.
"Yeah, right." John rolled his eyes once again, "What about you? Are you going to be ok? You need help like taking off your shirt or something?"
"Are you asking if you can undress me?" Randy smirked arrogantly, leaning back on his forearms, his abdomen stretching out across the bed. He didn't know why he said it, but as soon as he did he could feel his heart start pounding in his chest. Teasing John Cena wasn't something he was really all that used to…
"Do you want me to undress you?" John fired back, laughing slightly, placing his hands on his hips.
"I want you to leave me alone so I can go to sleep." Randy grumbled, leaning back so that he was lying down on the bed, body stretched out lazily.
"Yeah, yeah, I hear you Randy." John smiled down at Orton. It felt strange, acting so light and natural with Randy. They'd never been friends, so talking so casually to Randy Orton felt weird to John. It certainly seemed like something he could get used to.
"Hey, throw me your phone." Cena said, holding out his hand.
"Uh…no?" Randy snorted, shifting on the bed, the comforter soft against his back.
"The faster you give me your phone, the faster I'll leave you alone." John reasoned, grinning down at the frustrating man before him.
"Fine." Randy replied. He reached into his jean pocket, hand shuffling around, and then he pulled out a sleek black cell phone. Flicking his wrist, he tossed it to John, who caught it effortlessly in his waiting hand.
"I'm putting my number in here." John said as his fingers worked nimbly across the touch screen, "If you ever need any help…or if you ever get into any trouble, give me a call." As he finished he tossed the phone onto the bed. It landed next to Randy's hip, sliding across the sheets and towards the Viper's still frame. John turned around then and started heading toward the door, shoes padding silently across the cheap carpet.
"You really think I'm going to call you, Cena?" Randy yelled out as he sat up, blue eyes focusing on John's retreating body.
"Well…at least you have the option." John shrugged before disappearing behind the door.
As soon as he vanished, Randy laid back down with a deep sigh. Staring up at the ceiling, he couldn't help but think about John Cena. He didn't know why John wanted to help him so bad…he didn't know why John was so adamant about being there for him. It was strange, definitely something Randy wasn't used to. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't deny that John had been immensely helpful. Randy's side hurt more then he cared to admit…the Nexus had been more successful in their attack then he'd like people to know.
Rolling over onto his stomach, Randy had to bite his tongue to stop himself from crying out in pain. Taking slow, deep breaths, he willed himself to ignore the agony, to remain strong. He came from a family where pain was a weakness, and he wasn't about to show anyone—especially John Cena—any kind of weakness. Despite how helpful he had been, Randy couldn't help but wonder if he could trust John. He'd been kind, friendly even after Randy made it quite clear he wasn't going to reciprocate. What if John had only helped him because Barrett was ordering him to spy on Randy? He wouldn't put it past the Nexus leader to do something like that…but John's concern for Randy had seemed so real…
Kicking off his shoes, Randy crawled forward on the bed, muscles in his arms flexing and stretching as he pulled the blankets apart. He didn't care that he was in jeans, he just wanted to sleep, just wanted to get a few moments away from the pain. Sliding under the blankets, Randy reached up and tugged his shirt off. He and John Cena had never gotten along…but somehow, this night, they'd managed to be civil with each other…and it wasn't all that bad. Well, Randy thought as he laid his head on the pillow, no matter how nice Cena was to him, he wasn't going to back off. He was going to do whatever it took to keep his championship…and if John tried to help Barrett, well then Randy would have to take him down too. Even if he didn't want to, he'd have to make sure Cena didn't cost him the championship.
Eyes feeling heavy, he began to drift off to sleep with one final thought on his mind:
If Wade Barrett ever found out how much it bothered Cena to see him in pain…Randy would find himself in a world of trouble.
Wade Barrett stood in the Nexus locker room, leaning against the wall, his eyebrows knotted in concentration. It had been almost an hour since he'd seen John Cena and Randy Orton leaving together…and his patience was growing thin. He knew John would return, it was only a matter of time, he just wished the so-called Champ would hurry his treacherous ass up. The rest of his team were growing more and more frustrated with each passing minute.
David Otunga was leaning on the wall opposite of Barrett, a small frown crossing his dark face. He had his arms crossed over his massive chest, and his legs crossed at the ankles. He'd sighed with annoyance when Barrett told him they were waiting for Cena to return, but he hadn't complained. That was one good thing Barrett could say about Otunga; he had his temper far more in check then the younger members of the Nexus. Heath Slater had showered and changed, and he was sitting on a bench, resting his pale chin on his fist. The redhead had been vocalizing complaints every few minutes, and he had been growing more and more irritating as time passed by. Justin Gabriel was pacing back and forth, shoes moving across the tile floor, his dark eyes narrowed, clearly displeased with the time it was taking Cena to return.
The door opened quickly, and everyone went still as John Cena himself—clad in his purple and yellow ring gear—stepped into the room.
"About damn time." Justin snarled, reaching up and running a hand through his black hair.
"Where the hell were you?" Heath asked angrily, sitting up straighter as he looked up at Cena.
"Back off," John growled in response, taking a defensive stance, "My life doesn't revolve around you guys. I had shit to take care of."
"We've been sitting here waiting for your slow ass!" Justin sneered, jabbing a finger into Cena's chest.
John took a step back, clenching his jaws so hard the muscles in his cheeks bulged. He turned, cold eyes staring at Wade, who hadn't yet moved.
"You better tell your little lap dog to back off, Barrett, or he's going to end up picking his up teeth off the ground." John hissed, turning red in the face with anger.
Justin took another step forward, clenching his hands into fists, "You think you fucking scare me—"
"Alright, Justin. That's enough." Wade replied quietly as he stood up and away from the wall, his long, lanky form stretching to its full length.
Justin closed his mouth, but his smoldering brown eyes made it quite clear he wasn't happy with Barrett's commands. He turned around and stormed away, deciding to lean against the wall next to Otunga. David must not have liked his space being invaded, for he frowned deeply as the slightly smaller man approached. He kept his mouth shut though, fortunately.
"Now, like Justin said, we've been waiting for you Cena." Wade continued as he slowly walked forward, eyes trained on John, "Care to explain where you ran off to so quickly?"
"No, I'm not going to explain. It was personal." John snapped, folding his arms across his chest, tilting his jaw upward defiantly.
"Right. Personal." Wade smirked toothily, taking yet another step closer to Cena, "Well then, let's get to business: Bragging Rights. You know your job, right Cena?"
John scowled deeply, his eyes darkening, "I know you want me to stop Randy from beating you."
"Yes." Wade nodded, halting a few feet in front of John, "To be more precise, I want you to ensure that he does not walk away with that championship."
"Look, I don't think I can attack someone that doesn't deserve it." Cena sighed deeply, reaching up and rubbing his eyes tiredly.
Justin Gabriel groaned loudly, rolling his eyes, "Oh for fuck's sake…"
"Sorry I don't like cheating as much as you do." John snarled, turning his furious gaze towards Gabriel.
"Fuck off, Cena." Justin spat back, pursing his lips in an angry pout.
"Don't think of it as cheating, Cena," Barrett said slowly, directing the attention back to himself, "Think of it as keeping your job."
"I'm sorry," John shrugged, his shoulders heaving up and down, "But I just don't think I can hurt him without a good reason. I'm not that kind of guy."
"Alright Cena." Wade replied evenly, brown eyes focused on John, "Let's make a deal. You don't have to hurt him, just make sure he doesn't win. Throw him out of the ring, whatever, that's fine. I'm not asking you to beat him up, just make sure he doesn't walk away with that championship."
John's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he remained silent, mulling the thought over.
Wade Barrett had too much power over him…he couldn't afford to disobey him, not if he wanted to keep his job. On the other hand, he really didn't think he was capable of hurting someone without good cause—especially Randy. John didn't know why, but watching the younger man writhe in pain on Raw had set something off in him. He didn't like seeing him in pain, didn't like seeing Wade Barrett put his hands on him. Yeah, that was probably what it really was…he didn't like watching Wade Barrett touch Randy—even if it was in a violent manner. He detested Barrett, and Randy…well, he really didn't know what he thought of Randy. He thought they were rivals, thought they might've even been enemies, but something about the younger man struck a chord for John…especially after tonight.
Wade Barrett was offering him a way to keep his job, not hurt Randy, and not allow Barrett or the rest of the Nexus to put their hands on Orton. He couldn't really find any reason to say no…
"You won't hurt him? Won't let them hurt him?" Cena jerked his thumb at the rest of the group.
"As long as you hold up your end of the bargain, I will as well." Wade nodded.
"Ok. Deal." Cena replied slowly, not taking his eyes off Barrett, "I'll make sure you win…just don't let the others touch him."
"You have my word." Barrett grinned darkly, his brown eyes flashing.
"Is that it? Can I go now?" Cena grumbled.
"That's it. Feel free to leave." Wade nodded once again, gesturing towards the door.
John Cena didn't need to be told twice. He threw one last dirty look at Justin Gabriel before turning around and quickly exiting, disappearing behind the locker room door. Silence filled the room then, Gabriel and Otunga still leaning against the wall, Slater still seated on the wooden bench.
"Now, the rest of you, listen up and listen good." Wade Barrett turned toward the rest of the group, his cocky smirk dropping into a dark scowl. Immediately everyone in the room straightened up. Heath Slater stood up, hands curling into fists, ready for action. Justin Gabriel and David Otunga both straightened up, Gabriel's mouth tilting in a smirk, Otunga's eyes brightening with renewed interest.
"I don't want Randy Orton walking away from Bragging Rights with the championship…in fact, I don't want him walking away at all." Barrett snarled, pointing a finger at his team, "I don't give a fuck what Cena wants, I want Randy Orton barely able to crawl back to his locker room. Is that clear?"
Heath Slater and Justin Gabriel both nodded, eager, twisted smirks crossing their faces. David didn't look quite as pleased; he frowned deeply, eyes falling to the floor. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but he must've thought better of it, because he clenched his mouth shut and looked back up, giving Wade Barrett a small, jerky nod.
"You're all dismissed." Barrett muttered, turning away from the others.
He didn't look at them, instead choosing to stare at the tile floor. As soon as the others were gone, as soon as he heard the door slam shut and silence paint the room, he pulled out his cell phone. Scrolling through his contacts, he quickly found who he was looking for. He held the phone up to his ear, grinning widely when he heard that familiar voice answer.
"It's Barrett. Listen, you still want in?" Wade's smile grew more sinister as he heard the man's response, "Good, good. You're going to have to earn it though…and I've got just the way for you to do it. It's simple enough…I just need you to pay someone a visit…"
Thank you to all my reviewers, ya'll are what keep me writing. Going on vacation for the weekend, so no update till Monday or Tuesday probably.