Again a Sunday post
Just finished it and because I'm in a hurry (off for Mom's B-Day) I'm gonna keep it short.
Thanks to you all for being faithful souls! I hope you'll like it! Tell me if or if not ;D
Oh and for all those who're patiently waiting for our boys happy-time… at the end of this part there is an A/N. I thought I should say a few words about it. For all those who don't want spoilers and be surprised, don't read the A/N, okay?
Have fun folks!
The next day started out early for John because after waking up around six a.m. he couldn't find sleep again and when he climbed out of his nest about an hour later the house still seemed to be shockingly empty. With a ridiculous feeling of utter loneliness he sneaked over and into Randy's room, finding the younger man still asleep. Squatting down beside the bed he watched him for a moment, relishing the beautiful sight of a peacefully sleeping Randy. A sight he'd been achingly missing ever since their last night together at the hospital. Just as the sound of his breathing and it took John all his willpower not to touch him. The worry lines had faded somewhat but the past days had left their signs, John noticed. The lines were still there, although almost not visible and he looked somewhat drawn, even in his sleep. With a soft sigh Randy shifted and turned over a bit. John's eyes caught the scars on Randy's skull and again he had to hold back as his fingers again itched to touch the younger man… and the scars.
After a few more minutes he wrenched himself away from Randy's side and after his morning routine he went down and decided to go for a run. He needed to. He hadn't done much lately and his body demanded some training. And so he went out, hoping that Randy would be fast asleep for the next hours.
The cool air outside felt good and cleared his head a bit but with every single step he felt painfully that he had let things slide lately. He couldn't recall the last time when a simple run had been so damn hard. He struggled to keep on running, focused completely on it and after a while the turmoil of his thoughts lessened and… fell silent. For the first time in days… weeks… his mind was blissfully empty. There was only the will to keep on running, the urge to go forward, to feel his body struggle and fight. He ran… until his heart was hammering against his chest like a base-drum and every step brought a tearing, biting pain with, until his lungs burned and screamed for air. Then suddenly something inside his chest uncurled, setting a wave of lightness and odd colorless calmness free which flooded his whole body. And when he finally came back to his house, he braced his hand against the door and began to laugh hard and that laughter soon turned in ragged breathing and choked sobs. Sinking down to his knees he began to weep quietly. It wasn't sorrow… it was pure and utter relief as the tenseness of the past weeks fell off him. Long minutes he stayed like this until he was able to wipe his face dry and get back up.
The first thing he did was to go up to Randy's room to make sure he was okay. He was and he was still sleeping peacefully. A long shower later he stood in the kitchen, fixing Randy's breakfast. The lightness he'd felt during the run was replaced by that kind of heavy contentedness a training leaves behind. And maybe it would be a good thing to go to the gym while the physiotherapist would be here. It was around ten when he went back up with the breakfast and coffee. Just when he wanted to sneak into the room he saw that Randy was awake and already sitting propped against the pillows.
"Have you been awake for long?" he asked as he made his way over to the bed, eyeing the younger man intently as he placed everything on the bedside table and sat on the edge of the mattress.
"Your marathon shower woke me, thank you very much," Randy muttered.
The shower had woken him and… it had made him feel good, lying in his warm bed, snuggled into the pillows and the blanket, listening to John roaming around the house. And it wouldn't have hurt anyone to admit that, yet again it was the bitchy part of him who had taken over. And then John's slightly amused hum made Randy narrow his eyes.
"What?"
"You know, I'm just wondering who I'm talking to right now. Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde?" John replied, the amusement lacing into his voice and the blind eyes narrowed a bit more.
"Fuck you," Randy snapped and cursed silently for it.
"Oh, I see, Mr. Hyde."
"What is your problem, Cena?!"
Goddammit, why can't I just keep my damn mouth shut?!
John chuckled lightly and thought that the run had been the best thing he could have done this morning. Somehow he felt so… freed.
"I don't know, maybe I wanted to know which Randy I'm talking to. Lately there are two of you and one of them tends to deal heavy blows and I thought it would be a good idea to be prepared, just in case I have to duck."
John had to bite back the next chuckle as a slightly confused expression appeared on the younger man's face. Randy's confusion resulted partly from John's reaction and partly from the fact that he couldn't control himself. He felt like a goddamn bastard for being like this.
"However, I brought you a nice breakfast. Pancakes, scrambled eggs and bagels and some coffee and don't tell me now you're not hungry, you didn't eat the sandwiches yesterday," John said then, reaching for the coffee and the plate. "Hungry or not, you need to eat."
He placed the plate on Randy's legs and took one of Randy's hands to hand him the coffee.
"John…" Randy began quietly, but he was cut off as John spoke again.
"Okay then, the plate's right in front of you on your legs," the older man explained, guiding Randy's free hand to the plate. "I'm gonna leave the door open. Call me when you're done, okay?"
He was about to get up when Randy repeated, this time more insistently: "John…"
Randy's free hand reached out for him, feeling around until it found the older man's shirt and he buried his fingers in the fabric.
"Thank you," Randy mumbled, tugging lightly at the shirt, making sure John stayed where he was. "Uhm… I, uhm… would you… stay?"
Swallowing hard as he waited for John to say something, he felt like a complete idiot for acting like he did. First he snapped at John and then he begged him to stay. John's comparison of him being Jekyll and Hyde carried some truth… and the Hyde-part of him was pretty much active… And just as it seemed that John wouldn't agree, Randy felt the mattress dip as John shifted and the shirt slipped from his fingers. A light sigh followed and again the mattress dipped.
"John?"
With another hum John let himself fall back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling, legs dangling over its edge and because he knew that Randy couldn't feel it, he settled a hand one of Randy's leg. Feeling him through a blanket was better than not feeling him at all.
"Sure, I'm staying," he replied yawning. "Just got a bit comfy." And because Dr. Jekyll was back he added: "How're feeling today?"
He watched as Randy sipped at his coffee, before the younger man reached out, feeling were the bedside table was and then placed the mug on it.
"I have a bit of a headache," Randy said while carefully feeling what was where on the plate. "Apart from that good I guess."
Only that I don't know what to do… with myself…
John heard him, but it took a few seconds until the information sunk in. But then his head snapped around to Randy.
"A headache?" he asked alarmed and Randy stopped chewing on a pancake.
"Yeah, a headache," the younger man repeated and then it dawned on him what John thought. "Hey, no need to worry, okay? It's not that kind of headache. It's probably just afterpains of the surgery and I haven't slept very well lately."
Because I miss you, Johnny…
He continued with his breakfast. But John was still alarmed and he made a mental note to call Dr. Green and ask him about it. It was the lingering silence that made Randy stop eating again.
"John… really, stop worrying, it's a simple headache. Believe me, I know the difference very well, okay?"
Sighing a yeah John rolled onto his side and braced on an elbow, gazing at Randy who reached out for the coffee. There was still awkwardness between them and a certain distance. The distance Randy had created and which he kept holding up with all his might. Yet compared to what had been after the surgery and even yesterday this moment now felt almost normal.
After another moment of pancake-filled silence, Randy muttered: "You're staring at me again, Cena."
"Yup. You asked me to stay and… you know, it feels good to talk to the real you and…" John breathed out audibly, thinking that it might be better not to go there now. So he settled for a different topic. "How about a haircut? A few more days and you look like a member of the David Hasselhoff fan club."
And then John learned that even blind eyes could send scorching glares.
"Fuck you," Randy growled.
The older man pursed his lips and stated: "You're repeating yourself, Fluffy."
"Knock it off, Cena!"
Those words were another growl, but it held no real complaint and… it made John smile and with that smile on his lips he said: "Make me."
A blink later a piece of pancake flew in his direction. Randy had aimed astoundingly close to his face.
"Oh, yeah, very impressive, Orton. What's that supposed to be? A lethal pancake attack?"
Bantering. It was new and good, because it wasn't tainted with awkwardness or any seriously negative emotion.
"I swear, one day I'll kick your ass for it," Randy muttered and the moment the words were out his expression darkened a bit and he fell silent.
Under different circumstances it would have been a random comment, but right now… it meant more…
One day I'll be able to walk again. And on that day you'll be there with me.
A small part of him that he'd kept hidden in an obscure corner of his mind believed this, wished it and that part of him had used the chance to escape and step into the light. Randy swallowed thickly because he knew that John would get the message. And he was right. For a long moment the silence lasted and John watched as Randy placed the mug back on the table, pushing the plate a tad away.
Moving to sit beside him on the edge of the mattress, John took the plate away, setting it beside the mug on the table. He didn't dare to take Randy's hand, but he settled his own close to it, fingertips touching in a feather light touch and the younger man made no attempt to pull his hand away.
"I have no doubts about it, babe," John said softly and sighed as he noticed his slip of calling him babe. "I'm sorry for calling you that. I didn't mean to…" he muttered but was hushed by a slight shake of Randy's head.
"It's okay, I…" Randy replied slowly, thinking that there was just another piece of his will drifting away… for good, just because John had called him that. "It's okay, really. Don't worry."
His hand seemed to move on its own accord as it settled on John's, his thumb brushing back and forth a bit. Two hearts jumped happily at the contact but neither John nor Randy admitted it, the reasons being as different as they were the same.
… I don't want to scare you away… I can't give in to it… I love you too damn much…
Sometimes mind and heart can be like the sea, smooth on the surface yet alive underneath with thoughts and feelings like tiny waves, or even bigger ones here and there. And you want to dive into it because it seems so harmless, innocent. But there is a current hidden beneath and reaching into that current with only a single finger is enough for being swept away by that current, for getting caught in it and then all you can do is hold your breath and hope that you're strong enough to fight your way out… or surrender…
Although neither of them really wanted to let go of the other, their moment ended eventually and the awkwardness returned. And it stayed… while Randy took a shower, alone… while John prepared the living room for the physio… After the shower John gave Randy the promised haircut and only a few minutes later the younger man ran a hand over his short cropped hair. A feeling he was used to and ridiculously enough it gave him a good feeling.
The remaining time until the physio therapist arrived they were sitting in silence in the living room, a certain distance between them as they sat on the couch, because every time John tried to start a conversation he got only a yes or a no in response. After a while he gave up and switched the TV on, not able to stand the silence any longer. Randy couldn't blame him for it. He wanted to talk to John, really, but… he couldn't.
Around two p.m. the physio therapist arrived. John explained the man Randy's anamnesis, waited in silence while the man got a picture of Randy's current state and listened as he explained the therapy plan. And then John excused himself, stating that he would go to the gym for the next two hours. Randy flinched slightly at John's words, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of his stomach and he knew all it would take was to say: please stay. He knew John would stay and he wanted him to stay but again… he couldn't. And John noticed it, hoping that the younger man would hold him back but when he kept silent John said his good-bye and left.
The two hours turned out to be longer than two hours should be. While doing his workout, John found himself drifting off in his thoughts instead of concentrating on what he was doing. His mind was still at home with Randy because he was feeling bad for leaving him there alone with someone he didn't know and with every minute his unease grew. Back at home Randy endured the physiotherapy, more or less in silence. Although the guy was okay, Randy… he wanted John doing this. It felt awkward enough to have the guy mobilize his legs and it felt even more awkward having helping him with the exercises but at the end of the physio the therapist suggested a massage and that massage… it felt wrong.
Two hours. Two hours of counting down the minutes…
Randy was just getting back into his wheelchair with the help of the therapist as the front door opened and John came in. The sound of it flooded Randy with relief. The therapist said his good-bye and went to John, telling him that even though Randy had done good for the first session he needed some workout for his arms and upper body, gave him some tips for the daily routine and left. The unease John had felt the whole time died away and he took a deep breath before making his way over to the younger man.
"Hey," John greeted him as he sat on the couch close to Randy. "The physio therapist told me you did great."
Randy averted his face and muttered: "Yeah, great… huh…"
Oh yeah, he'd done great. Indescribably wonderful. It had felt simply amazing to have a person he didn't know work on him while lying on his back like a fat seal, to realize that even the easiest exercises had almost been too hard to do them. Or to have a stranger giving him a back-rub. It didn't feel right. In fact it felt fucking wrong and odd and… almost disgusting. And the fact that John hadn't been around made it even worse. Randy knew that all it would take was to say it, tell John what he felt. Please stay with me the next time. Please… I want you to do the physio again. I don't want to have a stranger touching me.
"Ran?" John asked slightly worried.
Randy's thoughts stayed only thoughts as he slowly turned his face back towards John, doing his best to pull up a carefully blank expression, but he failed and it was the unhappiness he felt which showed up on his face. Seeing it made John immediately regret his decision to go to the gym, no matter how much he needed the work-out and he was about to apologize for leaving him alone when he noticed a crooked smile on the younger man's lips.
"Don't," Randy stopped him before John could even say a word. "I know what you're thinking but you need the training and going to the gym while someone was here with me was the best option, so stop thinking what you do think. It's fine, really. Okay?"
And please don't listen to me and stay here the next time. Please…
Blue eyes roamed the unhappy face and no, John didn't buy that. The expression didn't match the words but this wasn't the right moment for a discussion. In a few minutes Randy's mood would hopefully change to good.
"I know it's hard, but it'll get better soon, Ran. He said that you did really great after everything that has happened," John said quietly, intertwining his fingers only to prevent himself from laying a soothing hand on Randy's. "Oh, uhm… I've got a surprise for you."
A frown added to the unhappy expression as Randy murmured: "A surprise?"
He wasn't sure if he was up for a surprise right now but knowing John there was no way to delay the surprise.
"Yeah, well… I wanted it to be a goody after the physio and that's why I didn't say anything," the older man replied as he scooted a bit closer, smiling as the picture of Randy and Ally in the hospital park invaded his mind. "Sam and Ally should drop in any minute."
The smile was wiped away in a blink as he watched Randy pale, as his eyes widened and the lately always tense features on the handsome face became smooth, not in happiness but in… fear? And it was because John's words did send a jolt of fear through Randy.
"No," Randy breathed, moving the wheelchair away from John, away from here, thinking of a place where he could hide. "No, god, no! How could you…?! I… I don't want her to come here!"
Getting up from the couch John followed him in confused surprise about the reaction, stopping the retreat by stepping in front of the wheelchair and holding onto the armrests.
"Hey, stop! What's wrong?" he asked worried. "Why don't you want here to come here? I thought you would be happy if she…"
"No, John, I am not happy!" the younger man snapped and gave the man in front of him a hard push. "I don't want her to see me like this, you goddamn asshole! You had no right to do that!"
Stepping back up to the wheelchair John grabbed the armrests tight again, giving the wheelchair a hard shake… instead of the man sitting in it.
"Oh yeah, great, Orton! You know what? You can try hiding from me, from us, but you have no fucking right to be a coward and hide from your daughter! You have the goddamn duty to be her father, no matter if you can see or not, so stop feeling sorry for yourself and get a grip!"
Underlining his words by giving the wheelchair another shake and then a push backwards and away from him, he muttered a fuck and walked out of the living room and to the front door, where he glanced back at Randy who looked… startled. A guilty little smile tugged at John's lips. It was obvious that Randy's reaction resulted from fear and it would have been a vain attempt to tell him that there was no need of being afraid that Alanna saw him like this. And so… he'd tried a verbal blow.
It was like pushing buttons, hoping to catch the right ones at the right moments...
Startled, yeah. Shocked. Very much so. That was how Randy felt and it overweighed the being afraid that Alanna would see him like this. It always shocked him beyond words when John wasn't the calm and patient man for once. Hearing that usually warm and tender voice become loud, harsh and aggressive was shocking. Scaring. And more important, Randy didn't want to hear the voice he loved so much being directed at him like that. Less if not only the tone was uncomfortable but the words being spoken, too. And opening his mouth he wanted to say something, anything, maybe that he was sorry, that John was right or maybe even… help me… but whatever words were creeping up his throat, they got stuck there and after taking a deep breath he tried it again…
And just then he heard the door being opened and through it came the sound he loved so much yet feared this very second. It was Alanna's light laughter, that so very beautiful laughter that usually made his heart sing. But not this time. He breathed a no as his stomach cramped, knowing that it was too late to get out of this…
Greeting Sam with a curt nod John squatted down and with a happy Uncle John Alanna flung her little arms around his neck. With the little girl in his arms he straightened up, facing Sam, who handed him a bag.
"Her tea-time set, a children's book and a few colored crayons and paper," he said quietly. "I'll pick her up in about two hours."
Frowning he asked: "You don't want to stay?"
She sighed, tightening her lips to a thin line and looked up to the ceiling, before she locked gazes with John again and her eyes wore a wary expression.
"No. I don't think it would be a good idea, John," she said then hushed, shifting her stance, crossing her arms over her chest and her whole posture spoke of utter resignation. "This man isn't my husband anymore. He changed and chose you and it is obvious that you did something I never really could. You were there for him at his worst times and you pulled him out of his hole." She sighed again and John was about to cut in and say something, although being much too surprised to know what to say at all, but she shook her head no and continued: "No, wait. I'm not done and believe me, it was hard to admit all this to myself and accept it. There is more between the two of you than just friendship. I know it, even if you try to tell me something different. I don't know though what made him… do that but it doesn't change anything. It doesn't change that he's not gonna come back to me. Look, I know we had our differences and maybe we'll never really be friends but… gods, I can't believe I'm really saying it… Randy is where he belongs. Cease-fire?"
Puzzled by the unexpected speech he could only stare at her for a long seconds, before he sat the bag on the floor and held a hand out to her. Hesitantly she took it, giving him an equally hesitant smile and he guessed that this woman standing in front of him was the Samantha Randy had married back then. With a gentle tug he pulled her closer and letting go of her hand he wrapped his arm around her shoulders in a loose embrace.
"I… I don't know what to say, so… thanks, Sam," he said very quietly. "I want you to know that you're always welcome, okay?"
And then she answered his embrace, pulling herself a bit tighter against his chest as she whispered a thank you.
When she stepped back John watched her wipe away a tear and he felt sorry for her, yet he respected her courage for make the first step. And for letting her husband go.
Reaching out to smooth a hand over Alanna's hair she tried a smile, murmuring: "Uhm… I haven't told her about it, John. I had no idea how, so…"
He nodded understandingly. Although he would have preferred not being the one to tell Alanna what was going on with her dad, he could also understand that Sam had no idea how to explain the facts to her daughter.
"It's okay, don't worry," he replied reassuringly.
With another sigh she leaned in to breathe a kiss on Alanna's cheek.
"Be a good girl, okay? Have fun with Daddy. I'll be back in two hours, Honey."
Alanna waved at her mom as Sam left and when the door closed John shifted his hold on her a bit so that she faced him. Thinking it would be better to explain it to her before going back in to Randy he tried to think of the best way to say it, but he had in fact no idea what would be the best way.
"You remember what I told you about your dad being really sick?" he eventually asked her, settling for the straight way and he received a nod from her. "You know, sometimes things get worse before they get better again and your dad… well, he can't see anymore."
"What can't he see anymore?" she asked as a cute little frown appeared on her sweet face.
"Everything, Honey. Your dad is blind," he explained softly and when the frown was replaced by big and watery eyes he added quickly: "It'll get better again, so don't worry. Your dad will be okay again. Promise. Okay?"
Alanna nodded and rubbed the tears away from her eyes.
"Okay, Honey, and now we're gonna go to your dad because he needs your help to get better."
In the living room Randy sat frozen in his wheelchair, hands gripping the armrests so very tight that his knuckled were whiter than a sheet and the edges of the armrest were cutting into his fingers. He'd heard them. Every word. And every single word had made his stomach clench and his heart drop, causing him a queasy feeling deep in his guts. His heart was beating rapidly and he was breathing fast and shallow and he knew he should calm down, but his body was acting on its own will. This was his own daughter and he shouldn't be afraid that she was here now, he fucking knew that and there was John and he fucking knew that he didn't need to be afraid of anything as long as he was there. But he was. He goddamn was afraid.
The sound of steps coming towards him made him snap out of his thoughts and if possible his grip tightened even more. The steps belonged to John. He'd come to know that sound already a while ago, long before he lost sight. The steps stopped not far away from Randy, followed by a quiet rustling and a whispered go. He had practically no time between the first light steps and the moment Alanna jumped onto his legs, wrapping her arms around his neck.
Alanna laughed her crystal-clear laughter and Randy… began to cry. There were no sobs, no shaking of shoulders. There were only silent tears running down his face. He never saw the sorrow written all over John's face as he watched the scene and he never knew about the ache it unleashed in the older man's chest because he wasn't allowed to soothe the grief Randy was feeling. Still laughing Alanna pulled back and the second her little hand touched his face Randy had to close his eyes. Those little hands wiped the tears away and her sweet voice was telling him not to be sad, that he would be okay again, because Uncle John had promised it. And the ridiculous thing about it was… that Randy believed it. A big hand settled on his shoulder, giving it an encouraging squeeze and in that very moment Randy finally found himself able to let go of the armrests and his arms came up to pull his little girl into a loving hug. Finally…
After Randy had finally been able to let go of Alanna again she immediately hopped down from his lap and stated that they were late for tea-time and John watched in awe how carefree she dealt with the fact that Randy was blind. She handed him various important tea-time objects like cups, the teapot or things like that, telling him where to move his hand or even put her little hand on his, guiding him. It was almost like she didn't know it any other way than having a blind dad.
Randy was torn between being happy and proud of his girl and giving into desperate sadness and John saw it, felt it and every now and then when he handed something to John or the other way around there was a soft brush of the older man's fingers on his. And for John those tiny touches were also a sorry. Sorry for putting you in this situation. His intention had been to make Randy feel better and lure him out of his shell and he still hoped that his plan would work out, even if it now wasn't looking that way. He wouldn't have expected such a reaction from the younger man.
The tea-time was over and they were just 'driving' through the house, just like back then on the lawn, when John noticed the first signs that Randy relaxed bit by bit and with him John felt himself relax, too. It was easing the boiling guilt in him a little. And John also noticed how often Randy touched his little girls face, almost as… as if he wanted to see her... It took more than an hour until Randy felt this stomach unclench finally, until he was able to breathe easier again.
But it wasn't supposed to last long.
The ease which had settled over them ended the very moment Alanna jumped from her dad's lap, demanding that he should read her a story from the children's book, holding it out to him. And Randy couldn't move because once again he was reminded that he wasn't the daddy she knew, that he probably never would be the daddy again she needed and he couldn't say anything because the sudden lump in his throat stole his voice… The guilt John had felt and the sorrow came back with a pang. He watched as a pout began to form on her lips as Randy didn't take it and before the pout could become disappointed crying John took the book from her hands, sat Alanna back onto Randy's legs and kneeled down, sitting back on his calves beside the wheelchair.
Opening the book he placed it on her legs so she could also look at the pictures in it and said gently: "Honey, your dad can't see, remember? So how about we read your dad the story?"
It would have been something a dad would do. Read a story to his daughter. From the corner of his eye John saw Randy suppress a wince and out of reflex he settled a hand on the younger man's. No unwanted touches. It was what John had promised. But this one, this touch… it was wanted because Randy was grateful for that tiny bit of comfort…
"Okay, which one do you want to hear?" John asked her and when she stopped at a picture of a mermaid and pointed at it, John began to read, his hand never leaving Randy's. "The little mermaid was all alone. She was sadly sitting on a rock, considering her lonely reflection in the water…"
It could have been perfect. And for Alanna it was a perfect moment, with her dad, with a story about mermaids and with Uncle John who was turning out to be an amazing story-teller. But the perfect moment wasn't granted to Randy who really did his best to dive into the moment, to be happy because Alanna was here. Yet he failed and with every single minute the drifted closer to the point where he couldn't stand it anymore. Somehow he managed to keep appearances up until the story ended and he was grateful when John asked Alanna to go and paint a picture.
"But Daddy can't see it," she said frowning.
"Well, you can tell him what you painted. And I told you that your Daddy will be able to see again sooner or later. We're gonna pin it to the wall until then, okay?" John replied and with an assiduous nod she ran over to the coffee table and began with painting.
John looked at her for a few more seconds to make sure she was completely absorbed in her task, before turning his attention back to Randy, studying his face. Pale, strained, the grey eyes suspiciously glassy. No, this wasn't what John had wanted…
"I'm sorry," he whispered guiltily. "I thought it would do you good to have her around. It wasn't my intention to hurt you."
Randy knew that and he wanted to say that he wanted him to stop feeling guilty, because he was sure John did feel guilty, but all he managed was a tiny nod. He felt John squeeze his hand.
"Sam should be here in a few minutes."
Again a nod.
"You want me to distract her until Sam picks her up?"
Randy shook his head no and John sighed.
"Okay. Okay… How about some fresh air? It's warm outside," John said then, expecting the younger man to shake his no again, but instead he got a nod.
He stood up and pushed the wheelchair out to the middle of the patio, stopping at the sunniest spot. Immediately Randy closed his eyes, tilting his head back and half a sigh, half a groan dropped from his lips. The sun felt good, not too warm but soft and bright in its warmth. It dried the tears which had threatened to fall and it even raised an oh so small smile.
"Feels good," he murmured and heard the older man hum behind him.
They stayed like this for a minute or two and while Randy enjoyed the feeling of the sun on his skin, John enjoyed that his friend actually smiled.
"You should smile more often again. It suits you. You just need to permit yourself to do it, Ran."
"Yeah, sure, because it's so easy, right?" Randy replied and puffed a tiny laughter.
"Right now all you do is sitting in the sun and you smile, so yes, I guess it is so easy," the older man stated. Softly he added: "Have I ever told you how beautiful your smile is?"
No, you haven't. No one ever has, Randy thought and because John's own smile was audibly in his voice, Randy wondered if his friend's smiled bright enough for those dimples to show up.
"Wow, that's sappy, Cena," he chuckled, smile widening a bit and he tilted his head a little more back, opening his eyes, wishing he could see John's smile and maybe even the dimples.
"Yeah, maybe but it is the truth." Leaning a bit forward John studied the younger man's face, seeing that Randy's mind was busy with something else and asked: "What are you thinking about?"
Sometimes it was scaring Randy a bit how good John knew him already after that short time. Better than Sam knew him… John read him like a book and he even read what was between the lines. Just like that… And the very moment he was about to muster the courage to reach up and touch John's face to feel the smile he knew was there… the doorbell rang and John went to open the door.
As John went in he saw Alanna already running towards the front door, the picture she'd been busy with in her hand like a flag and a happy mummy on her lips and when he opened the door it was Sam standing there, holding a big bag in her hands.
"Uhm… I brought some of Randy's personal stuff and his clothes," she said quietly as she stepped in, handing the bag to John before picking her daughter up.
"Hey, Ally, did you have fun with Daddy and Uncle John?" she asked and received a happy yeaaaah from her daughter, who held the work of art towards John.
"This is you and me and Daddy and we're playing in the yard," she explained and while John looked at the picture it felt like something wasn't right with it.
It took him a moment so see what it was and for another long moment he wasn't sure how to ask…
"But you are not done with it yet, Honey, are you?" he asked then quietly, pointing at the Randy-figure who… had no legs and no eyes.
"I am done," she stated with the seriousness of a proud artist. "Daddy can't walk and he can't see and that's why he has no legs and no eyes."
John had guessed it already but it didn't make it any better. He couldn't allow Alanna to tell Randy this. No way. And when he glanced up to Sam, it seemed that she thought the exact same thing.
"Listen, Honey, How about we don't tell your Daddy what you painted, then he has something to look forward to find out about it when he can see again? Like a surprise, you know?" John said, hoping she would play along and as he gazed at her, he found that frown he'd seen already today while she seemed to consider his suggestion.
But then the frown became a grin and to his relief she nodded.
"Good girl," Sam praised her daughter and sat her down. "Now go and tell Daddy good-bye, okay?"
With another nod Alanna took off and John hoped she would really keep it to herself…
Randy heard that they were talking but he couldn't understand about what and he hoped that Sam would stay at the front door, because he still felt guilty beyond words for leaving her like he'd done and to be honest, he had no fucking idea how to apologize for it. It had been the right thing to leave her, yet the way hadn't been fair.
That night came back to his mind, when he had been lying in bed with Sam, realizing that it was John he wanted to be lying beside him. The relief he'd felt when John agreed to pick him up, when he allowed him to crawl into his bed and held his hand. Despite everything. And with it the memory of that goddamn bite mark arrived.
Jealousy reared its head…
Alanna jolted him out of his thoughts by jumping once again on his legs and before he could really react she'd given him a smack on the cheek and with a bye Daddy she hopped down from his legs again and ran back to her mum.
"Bye, Ally…" he whispered, lifting a hand to touch the spot where she'd kissed him.
He could have called her back, maybe even should have, but he was kind of glad that Sam was here to take her home, no matter how much of a bastard he was for thinking that. But it had been enough for one day. He was alone again. Alone with John and at the moment that alone was almost too much for him to handle. Tilting his head back again he gazed at the sky and tried to imagine it… a bright sun, little white clouds, a bright blue sky…
Like his eyes…
He heard the front door being closed and John's steps as he came back out to the patio, stopping beside him. He waited for John to speak because he felt that the older man wanted to say something. And he was right.
"I'm sorry, Randy. I'm so sorry, really…"
"Don't be. I know you meant well but…" Randy murmured but he stopped mid-sentence, a heavy sigh escaping his throat and that sigh made John's heart drop painfully.
"I love you, Johnny," Randy said so quietly that it was more a whisper than anything else. "And that's the point. I know what you did for me and what you're still doing and… what you're willed to do in the future. And because I love you I won't allow that it's gonna break you. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself. You deserve to be happy, John, and you'll never be as long as you're with me. You'll only get hurt even more. All I want is you to be safe and happy, Johnny, why can't you understand that…?"
Randy's voice trailed off as he spoke those last words and he dipped his head to hide the tears welling up in his eyes. But it was too late, John had already caught them and inching closer to the wheelchair he cautiously lifted the left leg up to flip the footrest out of the way. Then he sat down in front of the wheelchair, his back towards Randy, before he settled the left thigh on his shoulder, holding onto the lower leg. Just like back then on the hospital lawn, the day Randy had agreed to the surgery. And maybe he hoped that it would happen again, that Randy would again change his mind to do the right thing, just like back then. Although knowing that Randy couldn't feel it, he started smoothing his hand up and down the lower leg, gently, slowly… because it soothed him to feel Randy.
"What are you doing?" Randy asked confused and hesitantly he reached out.
The second his fingers touched a broad shoulder he quickly pulled his hand back. And he remembered the last time John had been sitting like this and he vividly remembered his own inner battle and the feeling the realization that he wanted to fight had brought with. That he wanted to fight for Alanna. And…
John…
Randy's heart began to beat faster and again he reached out, but not all too far. He wanted to touch that familiar shoulder again, wished he could, but he… didn't dare… but he felt the warmth… Hearing John sigh he let his hand drop to the armrest and closed his eyes.
"God, no! No!" Randy growled desperately. "This has to stop! Stop trying to manipulate me and stop trying to be Super-Cena! There is no we anymore and maybe there never was a…"
… we.
Randy never finished his sentence. John knew what he wanted to say and something deep inside him snapped and he was up in a blink, pushing the wheelchair back into the house towards the front door and all the younger man managed was a startled gasp.
"Now, you want this to stop, huh?! You really want it?!" John hissed as he opened the front door and pushed the wheelchair into the doorway. Then he grabbed the bag that still sat beside the door and tossed it onto Randy's lap who sat silently and frozen in shock, growling: "Okay, then GO and be alone! Go ahead and destroy both our lives, you goddamn selfish bastard!"
With that he walked over to the stairs and sat down heavily on the last steps, burying his face in his hands as hot tears began to run down his face because this was so damn frustrating and his own words tore at him, at his heart and he was afraid that Randy… that he really could leave… And he prayed…
… don't do it… god, please don't…
A/N
Sooo, spoiler ahead. I know we had to watch the boys suffer a lot and this chapter was not much better. But I always try to have the plot close to reality (as far as possible ;-) and I don't think that things get better in an instant, so we had to go this way. I know you all want some Centon-happy-time and believe me, we're soon getting to it. Promise. I dare say… in the upcoming chapter ;3