Stay
A/N: Hey, guys. So this song is based on a song by the same name by a band called Sugarland. If you're a country music fan, you probably know the song. Anyway - I don't know for sure where the Randy and Candice pairing came from in my mind - I haven't read them together in anything before, but it seemed to make sense. I hope it does to you, too. As of right now, this is only a OneShot with no intention of being anything more. Enjoy!
In the silence of a room cloaked in midnight, the occasional sounds from outside were irritating to her. Doors opening and closing in the hallway were like angry gongs against the stillness of their cocoon. There were voices out there, hushed, desparate whispers attempting to disrupt the perfect portrait they created, lying in restful slumber together. Inside, the air conditioner hummed a soft tune, like a radio on it's lowest setting. The water wooshed through the pipes of their room and the ones around them each time one of his teammates used a shower or a toilet.
If she closed her eyes, though, she could focus on the sounds that did bring comfort. The beating of his heart as it pulsated like a lusty bass line beneath her ear. The soft hiss of his breath as it spilled over his parted lips, just before it brushed the crown of her head. The gentle grunt that eminated each time he shifted his aching limbs and tightened his grip on her waist. The high-pitched, barely audible sound of her moaning when he pulled further into his warm skin.
There was one sound, though, she couldn't bare to hear. Most of the time, she didn't have to worry about it. Most hotels on the road only had digital alarm clocks on the bedside tables. Most of the time, she didn't have to fight the sounds of the ticking, screaming at her as it wiled away the last few precious moments she would have at his side. Most of the time, the only reminder she had of her limited time with Randy Orton was the voice in the back of her head. Tonight, it seemed to sing in happy unison with the percussion of the time piece on the wall.
The only thing more heartbreaking than the punctuation of the clock was the anticipation of the music. The only thing that could truly disrupt the beauty of their time together. The shrill, insistent sound of the ringtone that signified her call. The one that he seemed incapable of leaving unanswered. The one that would drag him from her bed and send him fleeing like a thief into the night.
Tears pricked the back of her eyes as she rolled away from Randy's embrace and placed her feet atop the plush, brown carpeting of the room. The starlight twinkled from beyond the sheer curtains of their shared utopia, but she knew that the sunlight would chase them away soon. Too soon.
Standing from the bed, she draped herself in one of his tee shirts and padded to the chair across the room. With her legs drawn to her chest, Candice rested her chin on her up-turned knees and studied his form in the glitter of the moonlight. When had she become that woman she had always pitied? The one who bought into every 'I'll leave her soon' promise. The one who tried to believe it was enough. The one who pretended she could live as the 'dirty little secret.' The one who knew better. How had she become 'the other woman'?
She could barely remember now a time when they had been friends. When they had laughed together while their teammates shot them strange looks at the bar table. Nobody else had to understand it. Randy and Candice got each other. Beyond the laughter, they understood the unspoken glances backstage, the pouted lips and the intense stares. Over time, it seemed to evolve into something neither of them had seen coming. She found tingling for hours after he would put his hand on her back or brush against her shoulder. He would beam like a kid when she teasingly smacked his backside before a match.
And then they were here. Seemingly overnight, Candice found herself wrapped around Randy in the darkness of her hotel room. He was draped over her like a blanket and something in her chest just screamed that she had come home. She was exactly where she was supposed to be, and nothing else mattered. Nobody else mattered.
Until she called. At five thirty the next morning, she called to wake him up. Just like she always did, he explained. Powerless to stop him, or explain why her heart ached to, Candice watched him walk away that first morning after. And every subsequent morning after. Over time, as she felt her heart plummeting into a love she couldn't explain, one that she knew better than to entertain, she couldn't stop herself from asking him not to. She didn't want to be pathetic, but seeing his retreating form evoked something deeper than pride in her gut. It twisted her insides. It forced her to do the one thing she swore she would never do for a man: beg.
Upon confessing her affair to her mother, she was promptly told that the affair had to stop. Not because of the moral issue, as most mothers would accentuate, but because it was taking away her power. "Men are only as strong as you allow them to be, Mija." She was giving Randy the power to decide the boundaries of their relationship, and if she ever wanted more than his body, she would have to put her foot down, to earn his respect.
But Candice wasn't so sure he would give her that. She wasn't sure that he wouldn't just walk away and never return. That he wouldn't stop looking at her across the cafeteria, wanton desire in his baby blue eyes. That he wouldn't put all thoughts of her, and everything they had shared to this point, out of his head and move on with the woman that he had pledged to love for life. Or worse, that he wouldn't find someone else to keep him company when his wife wasn't around. And she just wasn't sure that not having him at all was better than not having all of him.
Mickie told her that it didn't matter if Randy did leave his wife, that he would just do the same thing to Candice that he had done in his previous relationship. "Once a cheater, Candi. I don't care if your hoo-hah is lined with platinum and solid gold. It's not enough for a guy like that." She'd heard it a million times. If he cheats with you, he'll cheat on you. But she just couldn't seem to wrap her head around the idea that she couldn't be everything he needed her to be. He was searching for something he hadn't found yet, and that something was her. If only he would open his eyes and see it.
The soft sound of Randy snorting in his sleep disturbed her thoughts as she allowed her wet eyes to drift to his docile form. With one toned leg covered by the sheets, the other lay bronzed against the white bed clothes. Allowing her gaze to fall on his foot, nearly hanging off of the king-sized bed, Candice dragged her eyes over his firm calf to the explosion of his muscular thighs, the ones that had cradled her so tightly, as if refusing to let her roll from his bed. Over his exposed hip, where her fingers so often hypnotically danced over the dent between his abdomen and his waist. The abs that had glistened as recently as last night beneath the moisture from her tongue now constricted with each deep, lazy breath.
She ran her manicured nails over the hollow of her throat as she watched his chest rising and falling, conjuring the feeling of his peaked nipples brushing against her skin on those nights when he would hold her and brush her curls from her face. The Adam's Apple that begged for her mouth's attention moved slowly up, and then back down, as his soft tongue jutted between his lips and travelled the length of him before his long arm lifted from the mattress and propelled him onto his side, exposing even more of his perfect flesh to her eyes.
But Candice couldn't watch. She couldn't see the name adorning the inside of his right arm, not while she could still feel the echo of safety of that same arm always provided draped around her body. She couldn't watch his strong jaw tightened as he clenched his teeth and relaxed his face again. Not when she knew that it always did the same thing in response to her mouth on his most intimate parts. She couldn't watch the lazy smile that would spread over his lips as he awoke to the sound that he had become so accustomed to over the years.
Turning her head, she caught the first pink hues of the sunlight as it played peek-a-boo with the new day. It was coming. Too soon. He was going to be awake, and he was going to be gone. Squeezing her eyes shut, she fought the tears that were building as she hugged her legs closer to her body, willing the ache in her heart to ease, fearful that it would rip her chest apart otherwise. That couldn't be right, could it? It shouldn't physically hurt to love someone. At least, she didn't think it should.
But there was no other way. Not until he was ready. Until Randy realized that she was the only one he needed, this was the only way she could have him. Besides, she reasoned for what seemed like the millionth time, anything worth having was worth fighting for. She loved Randy. He was worth having. So he was worth fighting for. Struggling for. Suffering for. It would pay off soon enough.
The whine of the phone didn't startle her. She had been expecting it. And the way that he rolled over, scratched his fingers over his chest, and then flipped the tiny cell open without opening his eyes wasn't surprising, either. The soft clearing of his throat, followed by the mumbled "'lo," was just as it had always been. So was the smile that spread across his full lips and the way that he moaned at the sound of her voice before his blue eyes fluttered open and focused on the ceiling. "I'm up," he insisted, a chuckle, a groan, and a pout all evident in his voice.
With her chin on her knees, Candice felt her gaze drifting back to him against her will. This was the Randy she didn't understand, the one that she didn't like. He was the one with a stupid grin on his face, like he had never told Candice all of the headaches that woman had given him. He was the one who laughed with her, as though he hadn't laughed at her the night before. He was the one refused to look away from the ceiling or the floor, refused to acknowledge the fact that he had woken up in someone else's bed. He was the man who, regaurdless of a million whispered mid-coitus promises against the neck of his mistress, ended each call with an "I love you," for the woman to whom he had pledged his eternal love. The part Candice hated most, though, was the fact that this Randy was the one who meant it.
She told herself that he couldn't possibly love the other woman, not when he was obviously sincere in telling her the same thing. He couldn't possibly want to go to her. He was just keeping up appearances. He was trying to figure out how to break the news to her, to his parents, to his friends. He knew what he wanted. He just needed to figure out how to let everyone else know. His reputation was important to him, she understood that. She could wait for him to get it together. He loved her. Randy loved her. She knew that he did.
After disconnecting the call, Randy rolled from the bed and growled a soft curse under his breath. Though she had lowered her legs to cross them Indian-style in the chair, Candice turned her face back to the window. He was hurting from the night before. He would pull a pill bottle from his suitcase, take three painkillers to the bathroom, drink them with a splash of water from the sink, and then start the shower. He would pee while he waited for the water to warm up, and then he would step inside, shampoo his hair, and then wash the rest of his body. After rinsing his hair, he would stand under the stream for another five minutes, smacking himself in the face occassionally to get going. He would step out of the shower, wrap himself in a towel, wink at his own reflection, and then step back into the room with a smile on his face.
As though she had been in the room with him, Candace sensed the door opening a split second before it happened. His waist wrapped with a towel, Randy smiled in her direction and she forced a grin of her own onto her lips as he moved toward the bed. The chuckle that accompanied him realizing that she, yet again, had his clothes waiting for him on the rumpled covers of the bed they had shared. Next to his jeans, his carry-on was packed and zipped, and just beyond all of it, his suitcase lay open, awaiting the addition of his shaving kit.
Moving to her in a few swift steps, Randy dropped a kiss on Candice's forehead and held her satiny cheeks in his hands until she met his crystal stare with a warm, mocha one of her own. "Thanks, baby," he whispered before crushing her lips with a quick kiss.
As he pulled back and turned toward the bed, Candace rested her hand over her heart and willed the aching away again. She didn't have to like that he was leaving, but she knew that he was. She knew that she wouldn't see him again for, at the very least, three days. If she was lucky, he would be able to get out of St. Louis and back to the road, and to her, early. But it was no guaruntee. Every time felt like a final good-bye, like it would be an eternity before they saw one another again.
Steeling herself against another threatening round of emotion, she made her way to the opposite side of the bed and tucked his leather toiletry bag into the valley she had created just for it in his suitcase. With the zipper secured, she hoisted the heavy bag to the floor and wheeled it toward the door as Randy shoved his wallet into his back pocket and straightened the hem of his tee shirt.
This was the hardest part of all. His place in her heart felt empty before he ever reached her sagging shoulders at the door. "Hey," his deep voice whispered as he caught her chin with his hooked finger and drew her eyes back to his face. "It's only a few days, right?"
In an instant, she knew that controlling the tears was a wasted effort. As she felt the heated drops beginning to fall over the apples of her cheeks, she reached her hand out to grip the one on her shoulder. There were so many things she wanted to say to him, so many things that needed to be addressed. "Randy," she started.
A bustle in the hallway drew his attention and she knew that the bubble was burst, at least for now. Their co-workers were beginning to move about the corridors of the hotel, and waiting any longer would only draw suspicion. While some of her friends knew about the affair, and she suspected some of his did, too, neither were ready to broadcast it onto the waves of common knowledge. Not until they were free to be fully together, no secrets and no more lies.
Instead of the ten thousand things racing through her mind, Candice just turned her face and pressed her lips against the palm of his hand. "I wish you could just stay," she whispered.
Wrapping his arms around her waist, Randy nodded and rested his forehead against hers. "I'll call you as soon as I can, okay?" The intoxicating aroma of his soap, aftershave, and cologne, combined with the taste of his minty fresh lips, threatened to leave her tipsy as Candace gripped idley at the loops of his belt. Still feeling the effects of the kiss, she nodded when Randy pulled back. "Look at me." She raised her eyes again, taking in the fullness of his beautiful features. "I love you."
A red flag shot up in the back of her conscience. A small voice in the back of her mind screamed that he didn't, that he couldn't. The warning sirens overlapped each other. But none of it mattered. None of them could drown out the sound of his voice, speaking those three little words that she so desparately longed to believe. "I love you, too," she answered, accepting one last kiss.
Before she realized that she had released him from her grasp, he was gone. Sliding down the wall at her back, Candace held her face in her hands, her fists entrenched in her hair. The pain in her chest was exploding as the signals grew louder, more undeniable. 'You can't live like this forever.'
"I had a really good time tonight, John," Candace smiled brightly from the door of her hotel room. She had heard murmerings for awhile that John Cena had been wanting to ask her out, and by the time he got the time to actually ask, she couldn't bring herself to turn him down. Not when she didn't have one good excuse not to have dinner with the former champion.
Oh, she was supposed to have something to do. She was supposed to have plenty. She was supposed to have her hands full of Randy. It was her anniversary, and she wanted nothing more than to spend it with the man she loved. She wanted to show him how much their time together had meant to her. She wanted to hear him say the same thing.
Since his championship run had started, Randy was far busier than either of them expected him to be, so their time together had been severely diminished. They still managed to get a night or two in every couple of weeks, but Candace felt like she was going through withdrawls, and she was counting on the anniversary weekend to show Randy just how much they needed to be together.
And then he had shown up at the hotel with her. His wife, apparently, decided that she could afford to take a couple weeks off of work. She explained that, since Randy had become champion, he had barely been home. She felt their relationship was suffering from the lack of time spent together, and that it was best for them to ammend that. You don't say? Candace had thought as she plastered her most phoney, friendly smile on her plump lips at the explanation.
By the time she got to the elevator, she was ready to rack Randy in the head with her own championship belt. And that's when John had slid into the lift and asked her to dinner. She had accepted immediately. Partially out of a vindictive hope that seeing her with someone else would hurt Randy as much as he had hurt her by ruining their anniversary. Partially out of fear that she would spend the whole night crying without a distraction. Partially because John smelled like sex and smiled like the son of a mythological god.
She could feel John's eyes on her now as she watched the toes of her boots. It had been nothing fancy, just wings and beers at a local sparts bar, but it felt good to be out with someone. Someone who could put an arm around her shoulders while they walked down the street. Someone who could come back into her hotel room while their friends still wandered the halls, and exit with her hand in his the morning after. It felt good to be with him.
When she finally raised her eyes to his, she couldn't helpt the blush that filled her cheeks. She wasn't the kind of girl to get all giggley or giddy around men. Back home in Milwaukee, and on television every week, she was a seductress. Guys had never intimidated her or scared her in any way. But the intensity of his blue orbs was staggering. They weren't leering, like the fans she met on a daily basis. And they weren't lustful, like Randy's usually were. There was something else there, something far more innocent. Something akin to adoration.
John reached forward and pushed a strand of her dark hair behind her ear, his thumb gently caressing her cheek before pulling back. "I want you to promise me somethin', okay?" He couldn't help letting out an amused laugh when she caught her pouty lip between her teeth and watched him carefully. "You realize Orton's not gonna be the guy you need him to be, you call me, 'kay? Cause I had a great time with you tonight," he bent and pressed a kiss to her forehead before stepping back and withdrawing his own room key from his pocket. "But when I dig someone, I don't share."
With that, he turned and walked toward the elevator, leaving his date to fight her tears alone in the hallway. For a brief moment, she couldn't process what had just happened. She didn't want to believe that John knew about her relationship with Randy. All night, she had been contemplating how this thing with John would make Randy see that he really wanted her, that he couldn't lose her to someone else. This was going to make things better for her and Randy. She knew that it could. But not if John was in on the plan. Not if he wasn't willing to play by the rules.
Finally, she shook her thoughts from her head and unlocked her door. It was ridiculous. She knew that much for sure. She couldn't force John to feel the same things she had been feeling with Randy for the last year. She couldn't ask anyone to be okay with that. She wouldn't. She was not going to become that person. For anyone.
"Have fun?" a deep, sarcastic voice spoke from the bed.
Dropping her purse to the floor, Candace jumped and shrieked. "What the fuck," she started, her hand flying to her chest when she realized that Randy was reclined against the headboard in the darkness, his long legs stretched in front of him as he held the remote toward the television and killed the power. The look on his face was anything but affectionate, and in contrast to one she had just seen on John, it was downright unattractive.
"You scared the shit out of me," she hissed, leaning against the dresser to regain her composure. "What are you doin' here, Randy?" she asked finally. It had been a long night, and it was bad enough that she had to deal with the guilt of contemplating using a sweetheart like John. It was now compounded by the fact that she felt bad for going out with someone else behind Randy's back.
Stretching his arms over his head and then dropping them to his sides, he shrugged. "Wife had a headache," he stated simply. "Hit the sack early, so I thought I'd come see what my girl was doin'," he added. His eyebrow shot up as though he was expecting an explanation.
As though she owed him one. And in an instant, Candace felt her anger rising. How dare he? How dare he come into her room and make her feel bad for doing the exact same thing he'd been doing for a year? How dare he act like she owed him some sort of loyalty when he had been cheating on her with his wife for as long as she had known him? Just who the hell did Randy Orton think he was?
She crossed her arms over her chest and met his eyebrow with one of her own. "Yeah, well, your girl had a date tonight, and now I'm a little drunk and extremely sleepy. So you're just gonna have to go back and watch television in your own room," she spat. It wasn't the first time they had fought, and she knew that it wouldn't be the last. For as much of a doormat as her family and friends thought she was, there were certain things that Candace just wouldn't stand for. And being treated like a back up plan was one of them.
"D'ya have fun?" Randy asked, the sarcasm still evident in his voice. "Bein' able to go out with somebody instead of hiding out in a hotel room?"
Even as he spoke, he stood and moved closer to her. Did he know? He couldn't possibly know. Candace continued to stare at him, giving him her best 'You're in deep shit,' stare, but he wasn't deterred. He knew. In that moment, when his lips pursed and his hands met her waist, she knew that he knew exactly how to get to her. He knew that she couldn't stay mad if he was touching her, if he was licking those perfect lips, and gazing on her with that lust-drunk stare of his. He knew, and he was using it to his advantage.
For months, her friends had been telling her that he was going to run just as much game on her as he was running on his wife. It was the same thing he'd done since the day he'd entered the company, since way before either Candace or his other woman had come along. Randy Orton was never going to change. He wasn't going to 'get better.' She couldn't 'fix' him. "Don't touch me," she shot, wiggling out of his grasp and moving across the room, the king-sized bed separating them in the increasingly warm room.
"Candi, come on, Sweetheart," Randy whined, his voice climbing as he continued to pout like a punished child. "I didn't invite her to come along, okay," he started in, knowing full well that the real reason behind this tension was the presence of his wife. "She just wouldn't let up, yappin' about all this bull shit. Next thing I know, she's packin' her bag and tellin' me she's takin' a vacation to spend time with me." His shoulders moved steadily upward as he held his hands out, as if to say there was nothing he could do about it. "I wanted to call you, to warn you, but I couldn't. There was no time."
A year. She had spent a year of her life falling in love with a man who was never going to love her back. A man who couldn't even understand why she needed him to. She told herself that she was different to him, that he didn't see her as a lot of hair extensions and some spandex pants. That he saw beyond the implants, and loved her for the heart underneath, for the one part of herself she hadn't shown in Playboy or soft-core porn. Worse yet, she'd spent a year convincing herself that she loved him, too.
Her mother told her that one-sided love was impossible. That you could be in love with the idea of a person, but if they weren't giving you their heart, and their attention, in turn? It was just an illusion. Candace had laughed and shook her head and told her mother that she was silly. But now, as she watched him shift his eyes from her to the mattress and back to her face, she knew. She was his 'for right now,' not his 'forever love.'
Though it was difficult to look in his face, knowing what she had to do, she couldn't back down. She couldn't show him weakness. Couldn't let him know how desparately she wanted to jump onto the bed, leap into his arms, wrap her legs around him and never let go. "Randy, your wife is down the hall," she pointed to the door.
"Baby girl," he spoke easily, with a smooth voice. The one he knew she couldn't resist. Making his way around the bed, he stopped in front of her and trapped her cheeks between his huge palms. "This is hard, ya know? We both knew it would be. But I promise you," he started, rolling his shoulders as he spoke.
She watched his tongue glide along his lips, taking in his body language. It was the same stance, down to the lowering of his head toward hers, that he always used to calm her fears. It was the posture that told her not to worry about anything, that he would take care of it. He had it under control. He would take care of her.
Except that he wasn't taking care of her. He couldn't. Not while he was recklessly using her heart to fulfill whatever ego-stroking he was using her for. But she was tired of being used up. Of knowing that she was being used. She was tired of pretending that she wasn't being. "No," she shook her head and put a finger to his lips before she realized what she had done.
If Candace was surprised by her actions, Randy was downright shocked. His crystal eyes grew wide and he released her face. "Baby," he started.
"Randy, you have a wife," she repeated. She had known it for a year, but she had never met the woman until the previous day. She had pretended that it wasn't real and that it didn't matter. Her conscience had been gnawing at her for months. But seeing the young woman with a million love-struck stars in her eyes had only driven the severity of her situation to the forefront of Candace's mind. She couldn't pretend anymore. Randy was someone else's husband. He was someone else's. "You can't have both of us," she muttered softly.
Even as she said it, with every intention of letting him go, she couldn't seem to fight the hope that rose in her chest. Maybe she had been wrong. Maybe Randy really did love her. Maybe she really did love him. Maybe her time hadn't been wasted. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe they were right.
"Don't," he started, his voice dropping to a pleading whisper as he reached for her waist again. "You know I love you, baby. You know I do. I just . . . I need more time. . . Just til I figure out how to end it." His low voice broke slightly, and Candace almost thought that she saw a tear gathering in the corner of his eye. "Don't make me choose, Candi. Not yet."
Sucking in a decisive breath, she shook her head and rested her hand on his cheek, her brown eyes filled with warmth and compassion. Even if she didn't really love him, not the way that she needed to in order to build a future together, he had been an important part of her life. Knowing that it wasn't meant to be didn't make it easy. "I don't want you to choose, Randy," she spoke softly, her head shaking back and forth as she spoke honestly, sincerely, the words painful as they passed her lips. "If you loved me, if this was right," her thumb passed over the forming stubble on his jaw, "There wouldn't be a choice to make."
He stared, dumbfounded, at the place she had just been as Candace walked around him and to the door. With her hand on the lock, she waited for him to join her. To her, it felt like an eternity that she stood alone, knowing that she had done the right thing and doubting it just the same as if she hadn't. The clearing of his throat shattered the falling silence, and his footsteps against the carpet sounded as though they weight a ton each.
"Candi," he started again. "Baby, I don't know what to. . . " He stopped short, as if searching for the right way to say 'good bye.'
But there wasn't a right way. There was nothing right about the moment, about the situation. There was nothing right about them, and there never had been. Sure, it felt good, but it had never been right. "Don't say anything, Randy," she pleaded. "Let's just do the right thing here, okay?" He made no movement, only watched her dark eyes fill with tears yet again. For a moment, she wondered if she would ever usher a man out of her hotel room without breaking into sobs once he was gone. "Go back to your wife. Stay with her. Cause trust me," she chuckled and sniffled at the same time, her eyes rolling to the ceiling before meeting his face for the last time, "watching you walk away sucks. She deserves better than that."
As Candace pulled the door open, Randy touched the back of her hair, a sincerity in her eyes she barely recognized. "So do you," he whispered before puckering his lips and miming a kiss.
Before he was gone, she shut the door and flung herself onto the bed. It hurt like hell, but she couldn't take it back. She would probably want to a few times, at least for a while. She would still have to see him at work, still have to hear about him, and still have to think about him from time to time. But she knew that it would fade eventually. She would stop wondering if he was telling the woman he married the same things he had told her. She would stop caring if he was laughing at her the way he had laughed at his wife with her. She would stop falling asleep and waking up to thoughts of him. She would be okay without Randy Orton. Eventually.