Hi guys! I hope you all had a merry christmas with lots of presents ;-)
Another chap to this story for the old year. And I want to thank everyone for reading my stories and reviewing!
Wish you all a good start into the new year! Kisses and hugs to all of you!

xxx

For some people the night might be a friend. For John it was hell. For hours he kept tossing and turning, torn between wanting to sleep and being afraid of falling asleep. He was so incredibly tired but every time he closed his eyes those pictures came back. And in the time he didn't sleep Phil's words haunted him…

Phil. This man had always a surprise up his sleeve. For years they had been working side by side and yes, they were friends. But he would never have guessed that Phil cared so much… about him. Since that night Phil had shown a side of him he'd kept hidden very well to the world. Why? Why would he now show it to him? He probably should ask him that. But first of all he should tell him that he was grateful for his support.

And why had this man to be so damn sensitive? He'd noticed John's… whatever it was… for Randy.

Oh god damn, his soft spot, his… crush… on Randy. Whenever he thought about him, when he saw him, he got a strange, lighthearted feeling. Although Randy was pushing him away with all his might… he wanted to be close to the younger man. Spend as much time as possible with him, talk to him. Be his friend.

He would be content with being friends. He had no right to ask for more. And John was sure that over the time his crush would lessen anyway. Really, he was straight as an arrow, how serious could his crush on another man be? Not very… right? Right.

Serious enough to risk everything… a small voice in the back of his mind reminded him.

"Nah, fuck!" he exclaimed and punched his pillow.

Sighing he rolled out of the bed and padded down into the kitchen to get himself a glass of water. His eyes fell on his cell. Pursing his lips he grabbed it and flipped it open. Was five a.m. too early to call people? Probably. He started to type a short message to Phil.

Hey. How about dinner tonight at my place?

He hit the send-button and at the same second he mentally smacked his head. That sounded like an invitation for a date.

A moment later his cell beeped. An answer from Phil. It was only one word.

Sleep!

John smiled and typed: Tried to, mom, but I can't.

Another moment later his cell rang and the caller-ID showed Punk. He answered the call.

"Hey, Phil. Sorry if I woke you."

"No it's fine, you didn't wake me," Phil reassured him. "But YOU should be sleeping. Shall I come over and make you hot milk and read you a story?"

"Oh, yeah, that would be great!" he chirped happily while padding over to his living-room, where he dropped down on the couch.

The only answer he got to that was an amused chuckle from the other end of the line.

"Uhm, listen… I wanted to say thank you for being there for me. For being a friend," John said, all serious.

"Anytime, John," Phil replied quietly. "Soooo, you invite me over for a date?" he continued after a few seconds of companionable silence, amusement back in his voice.

"Tsss… yeah. Oh, and get yourself all dolled up, okay? I don't date people with baggy looks," John joked back. "Around seven?"

"Seven is great. Oh, and John?"

"Yeah?"

"Sleep!"

John heard a faint snigger before the line fell dead. Tossing his cell aside he leaned his head back, resting it against the couch. Funny. To hear Phil's voice worked somehow calming on him. He yawned and closed his yes. And while he thought about what they would have for dinner he slipped into a dreamless sleep…

x

The first thing he did when he woke up around 11 a.m. was to drive to the company where he fetched a few things from his locker. On his way out of the changing room something at Randy's locker caught his attention. Something small, sticking out between the locker door and the frame… Something important… Nodding to himself he pulled it out and pocketed it. Then he went to Vince's bureau and wangled enjoyably easy two more weeks off out of his boss.

The next thing wasn't as pleasant. He made his round and apologized to his friends for not answering their calls and short messages. To his big surprise no one was miffed about his ignorant behavior. On the contrary. Between all the "How are you?"s and "Good to see you!"s there were lots of hugs and everyone was looking forward for him coming back.

John was surrounded by his co-workers, talking and joking when the call came. He froze and although he saw his co-workers talk to him and one another the world around him fell silent. All that he heard was the voice on the other end of the line, telling him that Randy… was awake. Finally. A wave of pure relief washed through him.

"I'll be there in a few minutes," he said, his voice sounding somehow distant to his own ears.

Flipping his cell shut, he gazed into the round and slowly the voices came back, asking him if he was okay. Yeah. Yeah, he was okay. More than okay.

Randy's back…

A smile spread over his face.

"I'm fine. I… sorry, I gotta go. Randy woke up," he explained.

The news didn't have the same effect on them as they had on him. Their expressions changed from happy to politely, telling John that they had no interest to hear how Randy was doing. And that it would be a long way to repair the damage Randy had caused among his co-workers.

But this was something he would see to later. Now he had to get to the hospital as fast as possible. Excusing himself he all but ran to his car.

His ride to the hospital seemed to take endless minutes yet when he arrived there it felt like only a few seconds. And now he sat in his car, his eyes fixed on the building and he couldn't even recall the way he'd chosen to drive here. He was nervous, insecure. This was so absurd. He was a grown man, he shouldn't feel like this. Almost giddy. Especially not when Randy's reaction wouldn't be nice. He knew it wouldn't be nice.

Gnawing at his bottom lip he took out his cell and typed a short message to Phil, playing for time.

He's awake.

The answer followed immediately.

Good thing to hear. But don't let him tear you apart, okay? You promised a dinner for tonight.

John snorted.

The extend of your worry is heart wrenching, Brooks. See you at my place. Dumbass.

Five minutes later he stood in the corridor in front of Randy's room, waiting for a doctor to come and tell him about Randy's current status. Pacing up and down he wondered what he should say to Randy. First and foremost he had to come up with something that hindered the younger man to kick him out immediately. Which was most likely going to happen before he would say even one word. Maybe he should just walk in and chain himself to Randy's bed. Waaait… too suggestive… Maybe the heater would be the better choice…

No, really, he had no damn idea what to say. Oh, hey, how are you and by the way I saved your life? Nope. I know you hate me but hey, let's be friends? Uhm… no. At which point had he become so ineloquent?!

"Mister Cena?"

John spun around. A white dressed, very important looking man stood behind him.

"Oh, hey doc. How is Randy?"

"He is surprisingly fit for someone who just woke up from a coma," the man explained and somehow his patience seemed to be taxed. "Almost too fit, considering his injuries. Since he woke up the nurses try to persuade him to drink, but he refuses to. And he threatened to take legal steps if we put him back on the I.V."

The doctor frowned.

"Maybe you can talk to him?"

John looked at him and tried not to laugh, because a) this was so very Randy-like which was good because it meant that his health was actually better than expected and b) yeah, Randy would sure as hell take advice from him. He nodded nevertheless.

"Gonna try my best."

The doctor looked up when the door to Randy's room opened and revealed a very exhausted nurse. She walked down the corridor, shaking her head.

"If you excuse me?" the doctor said, walking up to the young women.

John strolled over to Randy's room, thinking how a simple white door can suddenly appear like the entrance to the lion's den. Or the Viper's den in this case…

Okay… let's go in, John. How bad can it get? John thought and caught himself by fiddling at the hem of his shirt. Nice, we're back at being a giddy school-girl…

Opening the door he braced himself, walked in and was greeted by peaceful silence. For about three seconds. Then the silence was ripped in pieces by a bad-tempered voice.

"I told you to fucking stay out!"

Yep, definitely Randy's voice, though it wasn't as strong and full as usual. A little breathless, weak. Hoarse. Randy hadn't noticed John being the unwanted visitor, because he was occupied with a coughing fit resulting of his loud speaking.

"Aah, nice to hear your lovely voice again!" John chirped, walking up to the bed.

The coughing stopped and a scorching glare hit John.

"You!" the younger man exclaimed.

The coughing fit came back and John raised an eyebrow.

"You shouldn't bitch around so loud. Not good for your lung, you know?"

His eyes caught two cups and a bottle of water on the side table beside the bed and he grabbed one of the cups, filling it and waited until Randy finally stopped coughing.

"Get out," Randy choked.

John shook his head no and held the cup right in front of the younger man's nose. Randy glared at the cup and back at John.

"No. Drink."

The cup was slapped from John's hand. So Randy's right arm was working pretty good. The doc had been right, he was very fit for someone who had been in a coma. Shrugging his shoulders, John filled the second cup and held it towards Randy. It was slapped from his hand, too.

A furious "Get THE FUCK out!" followed.

Again shrugging his shoulders John set the bottle back on the table and left the room.

Randy closed his eyes and sighed satisfied. Finally he was alone. How could John dare to come here? He hissed at the thought of the man. The last thing he remembered was their fight in the pub and then he woke up in a hospital, in pain and people telling him he that he'd been in coma for days… and NOW that brazen person comes here… Groaning he rubbed his temple. Everything was so confusing…

His thoughts were interrupted when the door jumped open and revealed… John. John, who was carrying three more bottles of water and lots of plastic cups. Unbelieving Randy watched him walk up and put the stuff on the table, before he grabbed himself a chair to sit down beside the bed. Then John grabbed one of the cups, filled it and held it towards Randy.

Randy gaped at him in utter disbelief. And slapped the cup out of John's hand. John filled another cup and it was slapped away. And again and again. And again. Until the blanket, the floor and partly John, too, were dripping wet.

A game of patience. Randy felt incredibly tired but he refused to show it. He wouldn't show any kind of weakness in front of HIM. And John, being John, refused to admit even for a second that this could be a hopeless case.

"There are hundreds of those cups out there, Randy. Just drink some water and everything's fine," John suggested, cocking his head.

Randy was acting like a pouting child and to his own surprise John had a hard time to stay calm about his behavior.

"What is your fucking problem, Cena?! I don't want you here, don't you get it?!" the younger man hissed. "What the fuck do you want?!"

"I just want to talk," John replied and he felt anger coil up in his stomach.

"But I don't want to talk! Get out!"

John pinched the bridge of his nose, squinted his eyes and whispered: "Fine, you don't need to talk. Just listen…"

"NO!"

"I don't even expect a thank you for saving your ass, but at least listen to me, Orton!" John suddenly exploded, shooting up from the chair and leaning on the edge of the bed, one of his fists punching the mattress hard.

Chiding himself for losing his self-control he sat back down on the chair.

With a cold glare Randy tried to cover up that John's words got him by surprise. He had no idea what happened after he'd left the pub. All he knew was that he had been involved in a car accident. No one had told him about the details. Why would John say something like that…?

"What the fuck do you mean, you saved my ass?" Randy growled.

"I was the one who pulled you out of your damn car," John said, not without a certain amount of sarcasm he simply couldn't hold back, because he could not grab him and shake some sense into him but he knew very well that information would sting the younger man. "Now, will you listen?"

Randy couldn't believe it. Of all people, did it have to be John? Brows furrowed over cold grey eyes as Randy pressed his lips together to a thin line and John wasn't quite sure if this was a strange way to agree and if Randy just had a hard time to keep his mouth shut just for once or if this was a I don't listen to you-face. And once more John wondered how one single person could be filled with so much bitterness. Either way, since Randy actually was keeping his mouth shut John used the chance and said what he wanted to say.

"I should have done something. Anything," John continued. "Huh… I shouldn't have told you to go to hell in the first place. I didn't mean it, you know? I didn't mean any of those fucking insults I threw at you. Not one word. All I wanted that night was talk to you, like we did in the past. Just talk. Because I miss that. I should have tried harder to make you stay. Yeah, I know, you would have left anyway, but only a few moments longer in the bar and you wouldn't be here."

Randy stared at John and it was all he could do, just stare at the man, frozen and taken aback by words he never would have expected to hear from him.

Moments swept by until the younger man finally managed to shake his surprise off.

"What do you want? Absolution? No dice, Cena!" he spit, back to his old self, again ending up in a coughing fit.

John remained still and the lack of reaction from the older man pissed him off. And it pissed him off that he couldn't push the unwanted guest out of his room. His fingers itched to start a needless attempt to get this man out here nevertheless.

And then John made the next move to surprise him. The older man opened one of his hands and revealed something that made Randy freeze like a deer in the headlight. A pink and light blue striped hairband…

"I found this in the changing room, it stuck to your locker," John murmured. "It's one of your daughter's hairbands as far as I know. At least I saw you wear it on your little finger outside the ring."

While he spoke, he took hold of Randy's good hand and put the hairband around his little finger and the younger man was too surprised to even give any kind of resistance.

"I thought you would like to have it close to you." When the hairband was in place, he let go of the hand and looked back up to Randy. "I know that there is nobody left to look after you and yes, I know that you say that you want to be alone. Honestly, is that what you really want? Randy, please, give me a chance to show you that I really want to be a friend for you."

And then he took the nurse-call and gave it to Randy.

"Now, if you want me to get out of here, go ahead. Call a nurse, tell her that you don't want me here and I promise to go and never bother you again," John said quietly, his voice deadly serious.

Randy scowled at John, utterly confused. He wanted to hate that man but how could he when he dared to say and do things like that? No. He couldn't let this happen…

His eyes swept down to the nurse-call, to the hairband and back to John. Finally. Finally. He could be on his own again. All he had to do was push that damn thing and he would finally get rid of this man. No more interference, no more annoying questions, no more… John Cena. Who tried to make him believe that he actually cared, who tried to help him without being asked for help. A humorless smirk grew around his lips. And then he pressed the button. John sighed silently but didn't move a bit. He should have expected this.

They kept staring at each other until the door opened. A nurse came in and Randy gazed over to her.

"Could you please tell Mister Cena… where he can get me a new blanket? I dropped my water on it."

And while the nurse explained that she would get him a new blanket immediately, John gaped at the younger man, too surprised to say a word. That was until the door fell shut. Randy's humorless smirk turned into a smug one and John couldn't help but chuckle.

"You are an idiot, Orton," John remarked, very much relieved and without any reproach.

"Look who's talking, Cena."

John sat down on the edge of the bed, studying Randy's face. He had pushed his luck by handing Randy the nurse-call and suggesting to call someone to kick him out. That brought up the question why the younger man didn't use the chance to get rid of him.

"What changed your mind?" he asked quietly.

That's a good question, Randy thought. What changed my mind?

Maybe he was curious where this would lead or how long John would put up with him until he would strike the flag? But why now?

"Honestly? I don't know," Randy answered truthfully.

John nodded slowly. He could live with that, at least for now. It was a start and a step in the right direction. He filled another cup with water and handed it to the younger man, who took it and drank at last.

And maybe it was the fact that John stubbornly refused to give up that changed Randy's mind. It wasn't easy to admit but it felt good that someone honestly cared… Sipping the water he watched the older man put away the wet blanket and he didn't miss that John flinched when his gaze fell on the splint on his right leg and all the bandages that showed out from under the silly gown he wore.

The door opened and the nurse came in, giving a new blanket to John. She murmured something and the older man nodded. He took the empty cup from Randy, set it on the side-table and started to spread the new blanket over the bed, stopping at Randy's hip.

He sat back down on the edge of the bed and after a few seconds of hesitation he dared to reach out and touched Randy's chest lightly, letting his fingers ghost down to the younger man's belly. He felt the thick bandage that was wrapped around his upper torso through the gown. It hurt to see him like that.

Randy remained stock-still, holding his breath. That touch went far beyond everything that he'd allowed anyone else in the past months. He wasn't sure what to say. Stop that? No… The expression on the older man's face, compassionate, almost pained, and the gentle touch… It wouldn't have been fair. This, his touch was okay. No. It was… good.

"Does it hurt badly?" John whispered.

His hand still hovered over Randy's belly, almost like he tried to heal the wounds by sheer will power.

"No. The painkillers are doing a great job."

John pulled his hand back. The low rumble of Randy's voice sounded tired, weak. A pang of guilt hit him, reminded him that Randy's injuries were severe and that he shouldn't stress him like he'd done earlier.

"You need rest," John said, got up and pulled the blanket up to Randy's shoulders. "Sleep a little, okay?"

John gave him a small smile and made his way to the door. For a second Randy was tempted to reach out to hold him back. He didn't though. Somehow he didn't want John to leave but he couldn't bring himself to just say it. Instead he watched him leave.

When John reached the door he looked back at him and almost as if he had read Randy's thoughts he said: "I'm gonna come back later if it's okay?"

"Yeah," Randy replied. Please, he added in his mind and frowned at his own thoughts.