Okay, finally I can post part 5 to this. Yay!
It's not like this is long overdue... or so... Uhm, well.

;D

Enjoy!

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The first thing John did when he came back home was to go to his guest room to clear the closet there out and all the other stuff he'd stored in the room. It took him about an hour until he was done and all the time he was absorbed in his thoughts that were evolving around the events of the day. Every time his mind jumped back to when Randy had agreed to move in, his heart started to beat furiously and a tingle of joy filled him, making him antsy. And his own reaction confused him…

He'd neglected his guest room lately, since he hadn't had guests who stayed overnight in the past months, so when he sat down on the bed and took a look around, the room seemed a little unglamorous. This had to be changed. A new painting? He should ask Randy what he needed beside bed and closet. Maybe his own TV? He could go and get one after his visit at the hospital tomorrow… Right, and he had to ask him what he liked for breakfast and which kind of food he preferred in general despite tomato mozzarella sandwiches.

While John sat there he had to smile about himself. Randy had just woken up from coma and it would take a while until he could move in, maybe weeks. There was more than enough time to get the room back in shape. Oh right, and there was the second bathroom that also needed closer attention.

Closing his eyes, John let himself fall backwards and drifted for a moment in the quietness. It had been a good day. Well, except for the fact that he was jobless. His job had been his life, ever since… but still… when Vince told him that he would not get his time-out for an indefinite time, his decision had been easy. And he didn't feel even the tiniest bit of regret. No, this had been really good day.

If someone had told him a week before that he would sit at Randy's side, talking, even suggesting moving in with him AND quitting his job for the man's sake, he would have called the men with the white jacket. He'd even touched the younger man without being rewarded with a black eye.

John sighed happily. He got through to Randy, finally, and it felt good. It felt right. Warmth spread in his chest as the image of a smiling Randy popped up. It had been a simple smile but nevertheless a beautiful one. A smile he wanted to see every day on the younger man's handsome face from now on…

In a blink John sat upright.

I haven't really thought this, have I?

It wasn't that he didn't want to see Randy smile but since when did he find him handsome? John groaned. This had to stop.

The image of a Randy with milk on his upper lips invaded his mind and John had to smile. And then he lifted his hand, looking at it. He still could feel the Randy's beard stubble under his thumb. It had felt so naturally to just touch the younger man that way. It had felt damn good.

Okay, we only had that a minute before, this had to stop. Shaking his head, he got up from the bed and made his way down to the kitchen. He was so damn screwed…

When he arrived there, his eyes fell on his cell. It blinked. Flipping it open, he found a message from… Randy. His heart jumped a bit in joy as he hit the read-button. It was the address of Randy's hotel. And that he'd informed the hotel that his things would be fetched. John started to type an answer.

Okay, I'm gonna get your things tomorrow. Something else?

He sent it and put the small device aside, starting with the dinner. But not even half a minute later the cell beeped. Again a message from Randy.

Yes, there is something else, John. I appreciate what you do. Really. Thank you.

John swallowed and stared at the message for a while. It was the first time Randy thanked him. He hadn't expected a thank you, since Randy had never asked for his help and it had been thanks enough for John that Randy had let him get through his well-built walls. And this message now… it wasn't just a simple thank you and he could imagine that it must've been pretty hard for Randy to send this after all the time he'd tried so hard to keep everyone away.

Warmth spread in his chest as it once more hit him that he'd made it. That he was the one person Randy had finally let in.

And thank you for letting me do it. Now have some rest, okay?"

Having his answer typed, he rolled the words silently on his tongue. It sounded somehow weird and those words weren't the ones he wanted to write, but he didn't want to overrun Randy with things like, thank you for letting me be your friend. They weren't back at being friends. Not yet. And he didn't want to thank Randy for letting him help him. John was sure that the younger man didn't want to read the word help. It indicated that he needed help and a Randy Orton didn't need help at all, right? All being Mr. Pride. John smiled as he sent the message and got Randy's answer immediately. A smiley…

With a soft laugh he continued with preparing the dinner, while his thoughts kept evolving around the events of the day… and the future.

x

Point seven the doorbell rang and John jogged to the door, a bright smile that threatened to split his face in half lighting up his face. Cheerful he opened said door and beckoned his guest to come in. Phil looked him over, his brows rising to his hairline.

"Hello, sunshine," he greeted John. "I guess your day turned out to be good?"

John's smile only got wider, if possible. Phil held a six-pack root-beer towards him but John only grabbed his arm, pulling him inside.

"So you're not gonna talk to me tonight?" Punk asked incredulous. "I'm not prepared for an evening filling monologue, you know?"

John remained smiling and silent, pulling Phil with him into the kitchen, where he took the six-pack out of the other man's hand to put it into the fridge and threw an already waiting cold one over to him. Grabbing one for himself he sat down at the kitchen table. After a brief moment of hesitation Phil followed and sat down on the opposite side, carefully watching him as if he could suddenly grow a second head or something.

"John, believe me, I love to just sit here and look at your cheerful face, but despite the common opinion I'm a very convivial person and that includes talking with one another, you know?" Phil said slowly, tilting his head to the side. "I've had bad grades at mind-reading in school. So how about you tell me what happened? Come on, let's try together…"

Digging in his pockets, he produced his cell and scrolled through the short messages, until he found what he searched for.

"Message from John-Boy to Phil: He's awake," he read aloud and looked back up to John who frowned amused at the name under which Phil had obviously stored him in his contacts.

When no other reaction came, Phil pursed his lips and looked back down on his cell.

"Message from Phil to John-Boy: Good thing to hear. But don't let him tear you apart, okay? You promised a dinner for tonight," he continued and went on to the next message. "Message from John-Boy to Phil: The extend of your worry is heart wrenching, Brooks. See you at my place. Dumbass."

John chuckled.

Phil squinted his eyes at John, threw his cell over to him and said: "Message from Phil to John-Boy: It is dinner time and I still have nothing to eat and I'm sitting in the kitchen of a lunatic grinning man who's not talking to me. So how about you tell me how your day was until I finally get my food?"

John threw the cell back to its owner and replied: "Message from John-Boy to Phil: The lunatic grinning man is a nice guy, he just wants to annoy you a little because your reactions are very much amusing."

"Oh my, wow, he can speak!" the other man snapped. "You're very funny, Cena. Haha, very funny. Now, spill, what happened?"

And John did. He started at his last message to Phil, over his little conversation with the doctor, to the water-incident, up to his coffee-break and the following conversation with Randy, including his offer to move in.

What he kept to himself was his conversation with Vince and the fact that he'd just quit his job. He wasn't up for a discussion about it right now.

When John ended his report, the big smile returned, all dimples and he looked at Phil, waiting for the man's reaction on the new facts. Phil for his part just sat there, unmoving, lips pursed and eyes wide.

Then: "Oh good God, the poor guy never had a chance."

John mock-glared at him.

"What? I'm the poor guy here. He threw water at me!"

"And you quasi threw yourself at him," Phil replied, tapping his lips with his fingers.

"Well… yeah," John admitted, grinning sheepishly. "I apparently did."

Then Phil's stomach piped up with a growl and both men looked in the main direction of the younger man's belly.

"Uhm… I don't want to be an all too demanding guest, but I'm starving here, John-Boy."

Glancing at his watch, John got up from his chair and to the oven.

"Good timing, Brooks. Food's just ready."

"Uhm… I hope it's nothing made out of plushy and beady-eyed animals?" Phil asked carefully, craning his neck to get a glimpse on the food and earned a laugh from John.

"What? Stop laughing. As much as I like you, you are a Neanderthal, insofar it wouldn't be unlikely to find dead animals in your oven," the Straight-Edge Savior shot back.

"Calm down, it's vegetarian lasagna," he called over his shoulder while taking the food out of the oven. "I know you, Brooks. I wouldn't even think of serving you dead animals."

"I love you, John-Boy," his friend sighed devotedly as a plate full of steaming and mouth-watering lasagna appeared in front of him.

x

Forty companionable minutes later they still sat with root-beer in hand and empty plates in front of them at the kitchen table.

Suddenly changing the subject, Phil asked: "Any progress concerning your being into a man-thing, John-Boy?"

John paused, shocked about such a question out of the blue, his root-beer halfway up to his mouth. Putting the root-beer back on the table, he leaned back in his chair, a frown etched to his face.

"What are you talking about?"

"Aah, we're back at denying," the younger man stated. "Come on, you know exactly what I mean."

"I like Randy, so what. That doesn't mean I'm into men," John replied, his voice carefully blank. "I'm straight."

A nod was the answer to this.

"John… is it possible that you are… a tiny bit homophobic?" Phil asked slowly and he watched John's reaction careful.

John stared at him for a moment, before he got up and started to clear the table without even one word. Phil kept watching him thoughtfully. John for his part avoided his gaze.

"No," he replied eventually in a very neutral voice, turning his back towards Phil as he put the dishes into the dishwasher. "Why?"

Arching an eyebrow and pursing his lips, Phil made a slightly amused tststs-sound. He pushed his chair a bit backwards and made himself more comfortable on it, crossing his arms over his chest. The arched eyebrow stayed in place as John turned around to him.

"What is it, Brooks?" John asked clipped. "Spill it."

"I just wonder how you'll handle your crush on Randy when he moves in. When your body will do strange things the moments Randy will be very close, and we both know he will be because you'll be the one to help him the whole day in every imaginable awkward situation," Phil explained, not without a bit sarcasm lacing his voice. "Will you be okay with it because, hey, you know you have a crush on him and that's okay? Or will you freak out over it?"

John pressed his lips to a thin line and squinted his eyes at Phil while listening to his speech, before he eventually turned away from him with a huff, focusing his attention back on the dishwasher.

"I don't have a crush on him and I'm not homophobic," he snapped. "And I don't have a problem with a man being close to me, not even naked."

Stuffing the dishes into the device, he silently cursed himself for being such an easy prey for his friend. It was so unlike him to be like that. Having the things sitting in the places he wanted them to, he straightened up and turned around… and came nose to nose with Phil who stood right behind him. He swallowed hard on the startled gasp that wanted to slip through his lips, but he managed to hold it back. He had no idea how Phil even got there so fast and without a sound. But he was there. Very there…

Involuntary he tried to step back but he was stopped immediately by the kitchen counter and found himself being trapped between it and his friend, who gazed at him with strangely sparkling eyes. And those eyes roamed his face and stopped very obviously at his mouth. With a small smirk tugging at the younger man's lips, Phil began to chew at the ring that graced his lower lip. And John couldn't help but watch him do it. The sight drew him in. When the smirk grew, he wrenched his eyes away from the spectacle and found Phil staring at him with a soul-searching expression in those still sparkling eyes. And then Phil moved even closer… if possible. Again John swallowed hard as their chests touched lightly, feeling warmth radiate from him, feeling the fast pounding of a heart and it dawned on him that it was his own.

"You don't have a problem with a man…" the younger man murmured huskily, dipping his head slightly forward until their lips were only separated by an inch or two. "… being so close?"

John found himself unable to move and bring some space between them, not even by leaning back a bit. His arms hung useless at his sides. All it would have needed was to lift them and give Phil a push. He couldn't… And then Phil took hold of his hands and guided them to his waist, holding them in place with his own. The older man's heart skipped a few beats and then some… as he realized that heat coiled up in his stomach. His fingertips tingled. For a blink he felt the urge to tighten his hold and lean forward to close the gap, but then it hit him what he was just about to do and he stopped before even one of his fingers twitched.

"No, I don't have a problem with this," he murmured back, not trusting his voice to speak louder.

To his own surprise it wasn't a lie. He did not have a problem with it, at least not in a homophobic way…

Shit.

With the tiniest of nods Phil drew his head back, but did not move otherwise.

"What is your fucking problem, Phil?" the older man then hissed, but it lacked of intensity.

Finally managing to get a grip on his self-control, he used his hold on the other man's waist to push him backwards a bit, gently though, creating much-needed space and pulled his hands out of Phil's.

"I wanted to know what kind of a guy you are when it comes to this. And, you know, I still try to figure out what's driving you when it comes to Randy," Phil explained. "Since you claim to NOT have a crush on him."

"And what the hell has this shit to do with Randy?"

"Everything, John-Boy, because all I get from you are bits and pieces of information and emotions and ideas and I try to build a picture out of all this. And there are still spots in this picture that need to be filled and since you don't give me the answers, I need to get them myself."

His speech reeled, Phil crossed his arms over his chest and waited for John to say something.

"I just want to help him, is that such a wrong thing to do, Punk?"

"Oh, good, he's Punk-ing me," the younger man said to the world in general and to John in particular: "No, it is not wrong, it's just interesting to watch how much effort you put into this construction site of a man. And I really wonder how you got Vince to give you a timeout for as long as you want, need or whatever. Really."

Silence fell and John averted his gaze. Why had Phil to be so damn good at putting his fingers on things he tried to hide away?

Damn shit…

"John?"

Phil's voice was low and questioning and then he stepped into the older man's view. And John breathed out audibly, knowing that he wouldn't get away with it.

"I quit," he stated flatly.

He saw a strange expression cross Phil's face and he saw, too, how the sarcastic remark the man wanted to throw at him literally got stuck in his throat. Eyes widened… a gasp followed. Brows furrowed and then Phil gave him an impressive imitation of a fish. It was almost funny to watch the facial goulash his friend presented him. It was more than clear that he'd gotten the message. And that he was at least a tiny bit surprised. So to say.

For a few more seconds the Straight-Edge Savior stared at him slack-jawed before he sputtered: "Are you nuts?! Oh wait, right, you're John Cena! Why am I surprised anyway?!"

The older man rubbed his hands through his face and replied decidedly: "I need the time. And I'm not going to discuss this. Period."

Pushing past Phil, John made his way to the fridge, getting himself a beer and walked over to his living-room with the other man close on his heels, where they both sat down on the couch, Phil facing John with an unreadable expression plastered to his face.

"You know what, Cena? Sometimes…," Phil began and huffed a bitter chuckle. "Huh… sometimes I'm not sure whether you're simply very stupid or very courageous. Or maybe both, I mean the difference between stupidity and courage is very marginal AND we're talking about you, right? I know I'm repeating myself, but if you're not careful this will tear you apart. Do you really, and I mean really, think that it's worth it?"

John face darkened at Punk's words but in fact it wasn't only because he was pissed that Phil said them, but because they strung a chord deep within him that agreed with the man. His nostrils flared as he took a deep breath to calm down but his eyes narrowed as he met Phil's honest and sharp eyes.

"You know, Phil, in such situations is the only thing that counts how much heart you put into it, no matter on which side you end up," John growled back. "And whether you call it stupid or courageous, fact is, yeah, I think it's damn worth it. He's worth it. And if helping him will tear me apart… so be it."

The last words though were spoken very quietly and Phil searched John's face for a few seconds. Then his eyes softened and a small smile grew on his face.

"Okay. Good. That's all I needed to know, John," he then said gently, ignoring the urge to push the admit-it-you-have-a-crush-on-Randy-button again. "If you think he's worth it, then I'm gonna be at your side, okay?"

Looking down at his hands, John tried to blink back a hot burning in his eyes. A heavy weight was lifted off his chest as those words were spoken, a weight he hadn't even realized being there.

"Thanks, Phil," he whispered relieved, keeping his gaze fixed on his hands.

A second later he felt the couch dip as his friend scooted closer, settling a gentle hand on the broad shoulder and John closed his eyes at the soothing touch. For a while they sat in silence and Phil's hand stayed on John's shoulder the whole time. Then a question invaded John's mind.

"Phil, back at the kitchen, did you…" John then asked quietly, but he had no idea how to finish his question.

Did you really want to kiss me? Are you… gay? No, he couldn't ask that… Phil seemed to sense what was on his mind. Squeezing the broad shoulder lightly, he made John look up eventually.

"John… I really like you, so I guess you deserve the truth. I'm bi. Don't worry, I'm not going to jump you or something like that. I just wanted to test you back in the kitchen. Uhm, this is something I normally don't tell people, so please keep it to yourself. I'm not ashamed of it, but you know how people tend to react to such news. And I really hope you don't kick me out of your life, now that you know it…"

Softly shaking his head no, John said: "No. Never."

Again silence fell for long moments, in which they simply watched each other, before the younger man eventually tried to get a conversation going, choosing a save subject. And for the rest of the evening it was what he did, distracting John, making sure that their conversation stayed on neutral terrain, while John was still trying to become accustomed to the fact that for once he was the one being taken care of.

And for once… he let himself fall…