Sorry for the extreme delay in this, but a glaring continuity error forced me to rewrite the entire rest of the story.
Rhododendrons
"Marky, what time is it?" James whined
"About five minutes later than the last time you asked me!" Mark peered over a copy of the WWE magazine he'd stolen from Cooper's room. The cover story was an article on the most dominant brother teams in WWE history.
"Can you believe this?" Mark waved the magazine at James. "Glenn 'n I are number two."
"So?" James resumed pacing.
"Aren't you even curious who number one is?"
"Not really, unless you want me to kill them." James answered, peeking over Mark's shoulder. "The Hardys?"
"Yeah... how can they me more dominant than me and Kane?" Mark slammed the magazine down on the coffee table.
"I dunno Marky... they've held the tag titles how many times... seven? Eight?" James asked
"Nine." Mark replied
"And maybe the fact that they ARE actually brothers have something to do with it?" James sneered "What time is it?"
"Why don't you go buy a new couch instead of bothering me?" Mark reached for his reading again.
"Already did." James huffed
"You did? When the fuck did you manage that?" Mark asked
"I called Julie at Likansuk and had her do it." James answered "It should be arriving later today or tomorrow."
The doorbell rang.
"And that will be the pizza." James announced happily.
Mark rolled his eyes. Sometimes it was jut too frustrating to put into words how living with James really was. This was one of the those times. But at least the three extra-large pizzas piled high with his favorite toppings would make the next few hours bearable, providing he wasn't asked what time it was every two minutes.
...
The arcade was nearly deserted, so in less time than it took to ask if anyone had seen a multi-haired gamer, he had found his man.
"That was quick." Jeff didn't even look away from his game. Some shooting thing. "Bang bang baddies!"
"I got a way with words." Tom shrugged. He was actually surprised how little time it had taken, but if he could keep people thinking he could pull miracles out of his ass, the more stroke he could possess. "You wanna stay here or start driving back?"
"Lemme finish this game." Jeff blew up something that looked like a cross between a giant cockroach and Luke Gallows.
"Okay, I'll be out in the car." Tom stepped outside. Yet another weird day in the world of Tom Hardy and, to make it complete, it was looking like there was more snow in the forecast.
He had just climbed in and turned on the heat when his cell rang. By the ring, he knew it was Matt. Good news travels fast.
"Future."
"What the hell did you do?" Matt shouted
"Are you asking that in a good way or a you're going to kick my ass way?" Tom held the phone six inches away from his ear just in case.
"Randy just got off the phone with his dad." Matt answered
"And... c'mon, if you're now pissed off with me, then spill it. I told you I would try, nothing more. I can only do so much..."
"Thank-you." Matt interrupted his brother. "We're meeting with him tomorrow. Hang on, Randy wants to talk to you."
"Hardy." To everyone else Randy sounded gruff, but Tom had known him long enough to know that was normal Orton.
"Hey, Viper... I hear you got some good news." Tom stated
"Yeah. You know it ain't my style to get real touchy-feely over stuff, stop laughing Matt, but I owe you big time." Randy answered "I don't know what you said to my dad, but I think things are going to work out."
"I hope so." Tom answered, seeing Jeff exit the arcade, puzzled. Tom waved him over and gave him a thumbs-up. "But as for owing big time, we'll call it even. Without you, I'd be in jail right now."
"But..."
"Orton, Jeff and I consider you family, and I'm sure Matt feels even stronger. We Hardys stick together." Tom stated, feeling a blast of cold air when Jeff climbed into the car. He shivered, then nuzzled against Tom, who held him close. "It will take your dad some time to get completely used to you and Matt..."
"I know. Matty just finished telling me that." Randy interrupted "Maybe we get together sometime and celebrate?"
"Work out your schedules and let us know. Jeff and I have all the time in the world right now." Jeff was pressed tightly against Tom, desperately trying to warm up. Tom flicked the heater on full with his free hand. "Call me after and let me know how things went, okay?"
"Yeah, bro." Randy replied
Tom blinked rapidly. "Bro? Did you just call me bro?"
"Uh... yeah?" Randy answered "Is that a problem 'coz you said we were like family and..."
"Stop rambling, Orton. Bro is fine." Tom answered, rolling his eyes at Jeff, who giggled nestling into the crook of Tom's shoulder. "We'll talk to you later."
Tom hung up. "Looks like big brother hasn't lost his touch. Now let's get outta here before my balls freeze." He put the car into reverse and began the drive back to Chicago.
"I can warm them up when I get home." Jeff purred "It's been a while."
"I'm counting on it." Tom sped up. The speed limit meant nothing right now.
...
"Are you sure about this?" Now it was Mark's turn to repeatedly ask the same question.
"Marky, this asshole said come alone. The day I can't handle one goon is the day I send Connor to do my dirty work!"
On cue, Connor and Snoopy ran into the living room, leaving a trail of dirty boot and paw prints on the carpet.
"Connor Michael Lawson, how many time have I told you to take your muddy boots off and wipe the dog's feet before coming inside?" James yelled
"Fifty-seven, daddy." Connor answered
"And you're probably going to have to tell him fifty-seven more." Mark muttered, staring at the brown splotches on the floor. Looks like I get to spend the rest of the evening cleaning up after a Lawson anyway.
"No ice cream for the rest of the night. Now go to your room!"
"But daddy..."
"NOW!" James roared
"Meanie! I hate you!" Connor screamed and ran up the stairs, Snoopy at his heels. James heard the door slam.
"That was a little harsh, wasn't it?" Mark asked
"I coulda sent him to Cooper's room." James shrugged
"True." Mark answered "You got your cell phone?"
"Marky, nothing is going to happen." James answered "Those two think that they can threaten a member of my family and get away with it. Hiding behind some motherfucker that owns a club and his hired goons isn't going to help either."
"Just take the Goddamn phone." Mark held it out. "Why do you have to make a federal case out of everything?"
"'Cause I like to. It brings joy to my life." James answered
"I thought I brought joy to your life." Mark mumbled "Or do you just love me for my body?"
James laughed "Goddamn right. And once I come home, that body of yours is going to bring joy to mine over and over and over."
...
Randy pulled up to the old farmhouse and stared at it for several long moments before finally shutting the motor off. "Thanks for coming along." He said
"We're in this together, love." Matt scratched at his beard thoughtfully. "Do you want me to come inside with ya?"
Randy looked at Matt, then back at the house. "I gotta do this on my own." He said "Thanks, but I gotta take this slow with my dad."
"I'll wait here for you if you need me." Matt stuck a Pearl Jam CD into the car's player.
"Thanks." Randy kissed Matt and got out of the car.
"Good luck." Matt called after him.
Randy nodded, sprinting up to the front door, pausing when he got there. He looked back at Matt, who gave him a thumbs-up and that seemed to embolden Orton. He banged on the door right away before his case of limber-tail got any worse.
"Hi, mom..."
"He's in the den." Randy's mother looked nervous.
His own jitters returning, Randy followed. Matt waited anxiously, praying that their lives together wouldn't be ruined in the next few minutes.
...
James pulled into the parking lot of the Wolfepack, surprisingly deserted for a Friday night, but Patrick had bullied his cousin since they were younger to get what he wanted and this time was no exception.
He parked his bike in the deserted lot and strode to the door. Despite the lack of customers, two large men still guarded the entrance.
"He's waiting for you." One of them opened the door, while the other continued to stare straight ahead.
James glared at the man, hoping to intimidate him as he did anyone else, but he was the one to break eye contact first. "Whatever, fuckwads."
James stepped inside the almost pitch-black interior. If the fucker thinks he is going to scare me, then boy will he be surprised.
"Show yourself, Asshole!" James bellowed. "I'm sick and tired of playing games! If you gotta problem with me, then come out here and try me!"
An eerie chuckle reverberated across the club's sound system. "Oh, I have a problem with you, but that's the fun part. I know who you are, but you don't know who I am."
Like that matters. If I had a list of everybody who wanted to make a name for themselves at my expense...
A spotlight over the dance floor suddenly went on, bathing James in a bright pale glow.
"You see, James Paul Lawson, right now you are at my mercy. I hold all the cards..."
Obviously you've never played poker with me. Time to bluff.
A second spotlight switched on; pointed directly at James' face, it did nothing more than blind him and really piss James off. Instinctively, he reached for his knife.
"Get him boys!" That same voice broke into loud cackles just before the first blow landed on the back of his head.
"You're gonna have to do better than that." James retorted, his knife and fists starting to fly against the threat from all sides. If this keeps up, Marky's gonna be able to say 'I told you so.' Fuck, I hate it when he can do that.
...
"You think the Cowboy's gonna come around?" Jeff nervously twiddled his fingers during the car ride home.
"I'm sure he will." Tom patted his brother's shoulder. "Deep down, Bob loves his son. It's just a matter of getting used to the idea that The Viper won't be giving him grandkids in the usual way."
"Sometimes I wonder how we ever lived without you Tommy." Jeff snuggled into Tom's neck.
"Beats the hell outta me, but you'd probably still be lusting after John Morrison, Matt and Randy wouldn't be in the mess they're in, we wouldn't have Evan Bourne and Jack Tyler making our lives a living hell every chance they get, Mark wouldn't... man, I sure do cause lotsa trouble, don't I?" Tom turned into the driveway of their home, where a Jeep Wrangler 4X4 was parked in the driveway.
"You expecting company?" Tom asked
"Nuh-uh." Jeff answered
Tom slid his Viper in beside the strange vehicle. "Whoever they are, they better learn to park in the street." He got out of the vehicle and approached the other car, banging rapidly on the window. "Whoever you are, you better move this thing before I call the cops..."
The door suddenly opened violently, sending Tom sprawling in the grass. Jeff watched, scared, as whomever opened the car got out and stood over Tom, who seemed more than a little stunned.
Thinking fast, Jeff slammed on the horn, hoping to distract whomever it was. He almost died when the unknown man turned his face toward him. It was John Morrison.
...
Sitting in the den with his father, Randy was brought back to the times as a kid when he'd be called in to discuss something with the Cowboy. Usually, it wasn't good news. A bad grade on a test, or something else related to his then-undiagnosed I. E. D. was usually the reason behind it, but it always ended the same... punishment followed by promises from Randy of better behavior.
Awkward... His mind repeated over and over as he waited for his Dad to say something, but apparently the Cowboy was waiting for Randy to start the conversation. Or was he?
"Where's Matt?"
"In the car." Randy replied
"Wouldn't it have been a good idea for him to be here? It does concern him, doesn't it?" Orton leaned back in the leather chair, his gaze never leaving Randy's face.
"Yeah, but right now he doesn't concern you." Randy answered, perhaps a little too sarcastically for his Dad's taste because Bob jumped right down his son's throat.
"How can you, of all people, sit there and say that it doesn't concern me..."
Fuck this shit. Randy started getting out of his chair.
"...I'm not done talking to you."
"I heard enough of this at the hospital." Randy retorted "I thought you said you made a mistake, but now I see that's all a lie. I'm thirty years old... I don't need you to approve my life and if you're not going to accept me for the way I am, then maybe it's best if we end this relationship right now."
Bob Orton cracked his knuckles together.
"The fans accept me, Matt's family accepts me, and most of all Matt loves me. If you can't see that, tough." Randy was out of his chair and almost to the door, preparing to walk out for good when the Cowboy finally spoke.
"You really love him?"
"I do."
"And you're happy with him?"
"I am."
You probably think I am being old-fashioned too, right?"
"You are." Randy kept his answers short. Less chance for his Dad to find some ammunition to use against him.
"And there's no changin' your mind about this?"
"Not a chance. Now may I go?"
"I guess," Bob waited until Randy was at the door before continuing. "but don't you think it might be a better idea to bring, I hope, my future son-in-law in so I can meet him?"
"What?" Randy couldn't believe his ears. "You mean that?"
"I know I'm old-fashioned, but in my day it was just common courtesy to bring the person you're dating in to meet the parents." Bob was smiling; always a good sign.
"I'll see if he wants to meet you." Randy responded "After what you said to me, he might not."
"If he loves you, he will." Bob settled back in his recliner.
Just like being a kid again. Randy jogged down to the car where Matt was tapping his fingers to the radio.
"That was fast! Everything still alright?" Matt switched off the tunes.
"I think so, but Dad's been usin' some of his Cowboy Bob ring psychology against me, He wants to talk to you too." Randy shrugged "If you don't want to, that's fine but..."
"If I wanna spend the rest of my life with you, I'll have to learn to make nice with the in-laws at some point." Matt yanked the keys from the ignition and followed Randy back into the house. "But you gotta tell me, does he still wear his cast?"
...
It was difficult for Tom's mind to process the fact that a supposedly dead man, and a man who'd almost caused all three Hardys to go to jail, was standing over him looking very much alive and very much pissed off.
"You son of a bitch!" Tom scrambled to his feet, not breaking his gaze from John's.
"I take it you're not happy to see me then!" John smirked, leaning against the front of the Jeep.
"Whatever gave you that idea?" Tom was torn between pounding the piss out of Morrison or letting Jeff do it personally then both of them boogieing on his grave for a while.
"Lucky guess." John crossed his arms. "Aren't you gonna ask me what I want?"
"No." Tom answered "I'd rather you get your ass back in your car, get off my property and drive away. Maybe you'll do us all a favor and go off a cliff for real this time?"
"How would that look? 'Already dead wrestler drives off a cliff a second time'... that seems like overkill to me..." The rest of JoMo's explanation ended in a surprised YAWLP when Jeff jumped on him and threw him to the ground, hitting him in the head with his fists.
"You dead!" Jeff shouted "You made me almost go to jail... bad bad bad bad bad Morrison."
"Simmer down, Jeffro." Tom's tone seemed to contradict those words, however, but Jeff did obey his husband. "Maybe we should let Johnny try to talk his way out of this... the key word being try."
Jeff grumbled to himself, but he did get off Morrison. He stood safely next to Tommy, hands on hips, while John slowly scrambled to his feet.
"Well, we're waiting." Tom exhaled loudly, wanting nothing more than to have John Morrison once more out of his life. "And don't expect us to invite you in for coffee, 'coz it ain't gonna happen!"
John rubbed a small cut over his one eye. "If you really wanna answers, I'll tell you everything I can, but is there any way we can not do it out here... in the open." John's eyes were scanning. "I mean, I will if you want me to, but..."
"Morrison, you're such a drama queen." Tom rolled his eyes and headed back inside.
"I saw something I shouldn't have and I've been in protective custody ever since." John spilled out.
"Bullshit." Tom muttered "You gotta come up with something better than that."
"It's the God's honest truth, man." Morrison replied
"Then why did we," Tom pointed to himself and Jeff, "almost end up incarcerated? If you were in protective custody, why did the police make such a big thing out of it?"
"They had to. Look, I'll tell you everything you want to know, but not out here." John answered "Please?"
Tom looked over at Jeff, who shrugged. "Okay, but if this is some sort of set-up..."
"It isn't, I promise."
With more questions than answers, and not a lot of trust, going through Tom's mind, he walked inside, followed quickly by Jeff and John.
"Before we go any further Morrison." Tom folded his arms, glaring at the former Friday Night Delight. "Strip."
...
"Is that all you got?" James roared. Midway through the fight, the lights in the club had gone out, leaving James to fight in near-total darkness. This hadn't stopped him from beating up everyone that had dared attack him. The few that were still standing all had bumps and bruises on them, and those that weren't were either knocked out or currently bleeding to death on the dance floor of the club.
From one of the alcoves high above, Patrick stared down at the mess. Things weren't going as he'd originally hoped.
"Tim!" He shouted "You said these guys were the best!"
"They were." Tim whined from the corner. "How was I to know that one homicidal maniac could take out fifteen of my best guys?"
"That's the last time I let you take care of anything!" Patrick yelled, crossing over and slapping his cousin with enough force to be heard down below. "From now on, you just do what I tell you!"
"I still don't get why you want this guy so badly!" Tim cupped his swollen cheek.
Patrick just glared at his cousin, and that was enough to end the Q and A session. He stormed off, a new plan for dealing with James already starting to form in his mind.
From the floor below, James finished by kicking a few of the already-unconscious bodies, just for good measure. He was now absolutely sure that this had been a trap and was now seriously pissed off for having fallen for such an amateurish trick.
If Marky says I told you so, there's gonna be more hell to pay. James kicked open one of the doors and stormed out into the night.
From his new vantage point, Patrick watched him leave. I may have miscalculated. Next time, I come prepared.
...
"Satisfied?" John demanded. He had stripped to the skin and his clothes had been meticulously searched by Tom. For what, John didn't know and wasn't about to ask.
"For now." Tom responded gruffly. He had been convinced that Morrison was wired by either the police, or some other agency, out to entrap Jeff for the attempted murder. Unless the mic was stuffed up John's ass, and there was no way Tom was going to do a cavity search (at least not while sober) so, for the moment, JoMo was on the up-and-up. "Put your fuckin' clothes on and start talking."
John reached for his underwear and slowly stepped into them. He did the same thing with each individual piece of clothing; not once did he remove his eyes from either Hardy brother.
"Stop Googling us." Tom barked "You said you'd tell us everything, so start talking."
John threw his shirt over his shoulders, but didn't button it right away. "You probably won't believe me, but this is what happened."
...
Despite asking Matt to come inside, the only thing Bob Orton had done was glare at him like he was an unwelcome insect that needed to be squashed. Being ogled like this was not very pleasant.
"Dad, you asked me to bring him in, now aren't you gonna say something?" Randy fidgeted nervously.
The Cowboy turned his head slightly to gaze at his son, then, again without saying a word, returned to staring at Matt.
"For fuck's sake, Dad, stop staring at him like you've never seen him before and say something." Randy slammed his fist into his open palm in frustration.
"This is a mistake." Matt whispered "I think we should..."
"You'll do no such thing. I am merely trying to figure out exactly what my son sees in you and honestly, I haven't got a clue." Bob finally spoke. "But I guess he sees something there, and I'm not gonna lose my boy 'coz I don't get it... you boys join me in a drink and maybe you can help the old man out?"
Randy looked at Matt, who shrugged.
"I guess so, sir." Matt answered
"Haven't you told that boyfriend of yours anything?"
"He hates it when people call him sir. It makes him feel old." Randy whispered in Matt's ear.
"Okay... Mr. Orton?"
"How about we start with Bob and take it from there... Elaine, can you bring us a few beers?"
"Right away, Bob." Elaine called from the other room.
"Siddown boys, we got some talkin' to do." For the first time since Matt had walked in, there was a smile on the Cowboy's face. Yes, it was a start.
...
If James had been in a bad mood when he left for the club, then he was in an absolute foul one when he came back home. Kicking the door off the hinges, he punched two holes in the wall, and poured himself a quadruple shot before Mark could even ask how things went. Not that he didn't have a damn good idea already.
"I guess I don't have to ask?" Mark hid a sneer behind his magazine.
"No, you fuckin' don't." James pounded down the liquor and immediately refilled his glass. "It was a fuckin' setup and don't you dare say I told you so."
"Like you expected any less." Mark replied, setting his magazine down. "You wanna tell me all the details before or after I take you upstairs and try to make you forget?"
"Fuck off, Marky. I ain't in the fuckin' mood." James really just wanted to get drunk,
"You said when you came home that this body of mine was going to bring joy to yours over and over and over and usually when you're this angry, my ass ends up sore for a week. For once, I am offering it to ya and you're refusing. Christ, what happened out there?" Mark was shocked, stunned, and more than a little bit surprised at his lover's refusal. It had to be more than just being attacked.
"I don't wanna talk about it, I don't wanna deal with it, and I just wanna be left alone to get really fuckin' drunk right now. I'm sorry if that ruins your plan to be nice, but..."
Mark was not one to take a no for answer, especially not this time. There had to be something really bothering his man.
"I'm not gonna pretend to figure out why you even bothered going out there. I know you barely know who Evan Bourne and Jack Tyler are, much less give two piles of shit about them. The James I know would've told them to go to the newspapers, the tabloids, and anyone else they wanted to with this story, then killed both of them in a very vicious way. This creeping around, meeting some guy who for all we know isn't involved, is not like you." Mark gently took the glass out of James hand. "So... what is going on?"
I wish I knew. James poured himself another. Then I'd be doing what I do best.