(This is sort of a series of flashbacks explaining how my original person (Phoenix Carter) met Dean Ambrose/Jonathon Good for the first time and their odd 'friendship' as kids, how it changes through the years and stuff. I've seen a few of these kinds of stories around, I got inspired earlier, thought I'd give my own version a try. I'd been trying not to submit anything for the guy, because there's already so many way better ones here on the site, but the idea wouldn't leave me alone.
Reviews are loved people. If this little series gets enough reviews, I might be talked into submitting a fic I've been sort of working on lately, which they're both older, and they meet again.:) Just saying.)
July 1992
(Dean – 7, Phoenix – 5)
The little boy glared at the other boys as they snickered when he swung the bat. "You hit like a girl." one of the boys said as Jonathon Good tried yet again to swing the bat, and yet again, he struck out.
He braced himself as the taunts began again, anything from "You suck" to "I've seen girls hit better than you."
He sneered as something in him snapped and he looked at the ringleader and said calmly, "Yeah? Well how's this for ya?" before hitting him in the gut with the wooden bat and turning, about to walk off. But the other boys attempted to jump on him and if not for the grown up on the playground who'd seen the whole thing coming over, breaking it up, he'd probably have gotten his ass kicked 9 ways to Sunday that day.
But that wasn't the worst part of his day. The worst part was when he went home with the black eyes, the busted lip and the torn Roddy Piper t shirt, and his mom, who was exactly 3 or four sheets to the wind at that particular point in time took the belt to him and then called him fat, lazy and stupid because he'd actually gotten hit.
Sniffling, he managed to make it onto the fire escape outside his window where he curled up into a ball and bit his lip hard, so he didn't cry, so that nobody heard him. The last thing he needed was for somebody to hear him and hurt him or tease him again.
What he wasn't expecting was to hear noises down in the alley, look down over the edge of his fire escape rail and find a girl not much older than him, down in the alley, on a skateboard, doing tricks that he'd seen older kids doing when the tv was getting good reception and he could pick up MTV.
He didn't mean to, but he dropped his jacket down onto the ground, it slipped off the rail.
The blonde little girl looked up and then bent, picking up the worn and holey jacket, then kicked up her skateboard, tucking it beneath her arm as she made her way up the ladder to his fire escape.
"You dropped it." she said quietly as she held out the jacket, looked at him and winced, seeing the bruises and the scars, the dried blood.
He snatched the jacket, sneered at her, "Get lost".
A smirk filled her face as she giggled and said "Or what, crybaby?" and stood there calmly, her wide green eyes daring him to make her get lost.
"Or I'll hurt ya. I can ya know."
"But ya won't." the girl replied calmly, if anything, sounding a little annoyed at him, not afraid like most of the girls in his own grade were.
"And why not?" he asked, leaning in, angry.
"Because.." she answered quietly as she shrugged then held out her hand.
"What do ya want?"
"Just c'mon." she said quietly as she looked at him while the arguing between his mother and one of her many 'boyfriends' filtered from inside the apartment, and out into the dark night.
He took hold of her smaller hand and she practically dragged him up the next fire escape, then into what had to have been her own room. He looked around, then asked her one question, "Why did ya bring me here?"
"Cause. Just shhh." she muttered quietly as she peeked out into the hallway of her moms apartment, looked up the hall then down, into the makeshift den. Her mom – a nurses assistant at the local hospital's emergency room- was still working, and it was just her brother, his idiot friends smoking a joint in the living room while the tv played with none of them watching it.
She turned back to him and gently shoved him so that he was sitting on her bed as she held a finger to heart shaped lips and muttered, "Stay right here, 'kay?"
He nodded, too much in shock at someone actually being nice to him to really say or do anything to make that stop like he usually would. "Okay."
She hurried down the hallway and into the kitchen, grabbing a zip loc bag, some ice cubes, the stuff her own mommy used on her 'ouchies', a few of her favorite bright neon bandaids, and a bag of Oreos, two sodas.
A few moments later, she burst back into her room, arms full and put the stuff down, drug her hot pink and neon green beanbag chair over to the much taller boy, busied herself cleaning out the few cuts, wiping off the blood.
"There. That better." she muttered shyly as she looked at him, biting her lip a moment, before holding out the bag of ice, pointing to his worst black eye. "My mommy a nurse. She would wan me to help ya."
He sat stunned as he looked at her, then asked quietly, "Can I have a drink?"
"I got ya one." she said as she held out the canned soda to him, then pointed to the vacant spot next to her on the beanbag while she tore at the packaging on the Oreos with her little teeth.
"My mommy workin nights this week. You stay here, 'kay?" she said in a bossy tone of voice as she looked at him with her hand on her hip.
"I can't." he said quietly as she glared then said "Well ya at least wait til those mean men outta you mommy's place."
"Fine." he muttered, not sure how to react to someone not wanting to hurt him for once.
"What are ya watchin?"
"Skatin. You wanna watch somethin else?" the little girl asked as she smiled brightly then said "Here. You pick." and handed him a remote.
He took it warily, flipped through the channels, finally found one of his favorite wrestling shows on and raised a brow as the little girl giggled and said casually, "You like this too?"
"You watch?"
She nodded excitedly then added, "Broke my arm on the trampoline at daddys in California tryna do it."
He laughed a little then asked quietly, "Whats ya name?"
"It Olivia Phoenix Carter. I'm five. What's ya name?"
"Johnathon Good. I'm seven."
"I call ya Jon, 'kay?"
"Whatever."
"Ya can call me Ollie or Phoenix."
"Ollie's a boys name."
The little blonde girl shrugged then said "Girls can have boys names, silly."
"No they can't."
"Yes they can, darn it."
He got the feeling she'd just argue this all night, so he just sat watching tv, for once thankful for the quiet, not having to listen to his mother and her guest.
The light snore had him looking over, and he realized that the pixie like little blonde who'd snuck him into her room, cleaned and bandaged him and given him oreos and a soda was asleep, leaning against him.
He tapped her awake, ignoring the dirty look she gave at being awoken, and then said quietly, "I'm gonna go home. I should be okay. I, err.. Thank ya." as he took his jacket, hurried down one ladder, then up the one that lead to his window, diving into bed in a hurry.
He lie there wondering why the little girl next door was being nice to him. Nobody else ever really was.
Little did either of them realize that one night was the beginning of a really, really long and quirky 'bond' of sorts.