!FIC: Those Three Words (John Cena/Carlito)

[arabfanboy]

Author: TheFanboy
Title: Those Three Words
Fandom: Wrestling (WWE)
Characters: Carlito, John Cena
Pairings: Carlito/John Cena. Mentions of Randy/John (friendship), Carlito/Maria
Summary: He was pretty sure he was only tired anyway.
Rating: PG (This story doesn’t contain Man!Sex. What a thought!)
Disclaimer: Dude, if I owned these guys, I would have sold them, thus becoming richer than Bill Gates could ever dream of being. But, I don’t. So, I’m not.
Feedback: Really? I’d love it. Even if it’s just a few words to say you enjoyed it. However, constructive criticism is even more loved and appreciated.
Author's Notes: The lyrics used in this story are clearly by Snow Patrol. The title for the song is "Chasing Cars".


He couldn’t sleep.

It was a mix of things. The news that he was going to finally make his return to television took up a decent portion of his thoughts. In many ways, it would likely be his final chance to show his doubters that all he needed was a chance. Even if the circumstances that led to the chance being granted were less than ideal. However, he knew that his anxiety over returning to Smackdown would pass once he was back on the road, and he knew that whatever nervousness he had about going back to work was nothing compared to the confusion he’d been feeling regarding his relationship with his roommate. What happened between them on this night didn’t exactly make things any easier to understand.

So, he padded over to the couch in the living room. The carpet he walked on was exceptionally warm on his bare feet, which he appreciated after getting out of a cold shower. He had hoped that sensing the frigid water on his skin would help cool his nerves and emotions, but the end result accomplished none of that. As he sat down, letting out a frustrated sigh, he thought of the old days and his life back in his Puerto Rico. It was so much easier back then; any anger or sadness he felt would be eased by a walk on the beach, or a drag of weed. Sure, the latter wasn’t very conventional, but it served its purpose well.

For Carly Colón, the old days of calming his nerves with a walk or an ‘extra circular’ activity were looking futile at best. He wished it was that easy though.

Leaning his head on the couch, he closed his eyes. He wasn’t completely sure of what he planned to do to relax, and judging by the all too familiar voice that addressed him, it didn’t look he was going to find out.

“Hey. I figured you were here. You still thinking about going back to work tomorrow?” The words were spoken clearly, and the light Boston accent could be noted in his tone, which appeared to carry concern within in it.

Carly looked up to see a face he had grown accustom to seeing since he joined the WWE four years ago. On screen, the two had a very complex history; between a ridiculous ‘stabbing’ story line, to being tag partners on two different occasions, and once again, being at each other’s throats last year, the San Juan native could say with confidence that he never had a feud quite like he did with John Cena. It was a rivalry that seemed to carry on with him through the highs and the lows of his career… it sure seemed like he couldn’t go a whole year without having to interact with Cena at least a few times.

The only issue was the fact that problems they had together off screen made their TV altercations seem tame in comparison.

“Uh, yeah.” He got out after a moment, keeping eye contact with Cena as the former bodybuilder went to take a seat next to him on the couch. The Massachusetts native was dressed in a plain black shirt and knee-length cargo boxers, unlike the last time he saw him a while ago. It seemed like Carly wasn’t the only one who couldn’t get any rest. “…That’s weighing on my mind a little bit.” He said, expanding on his answer as he switched the focus to the RAW superstar. “What’s your excuse for being awake?”

“Honestly?” John began, a grin forming on his face. “I don’t know, I think I couldn’t fall back asleep since that extra pillow of mine wasn’t around.” Carly nodded in response, slightly emulating the grin Cena had on his face. The “extra pillow” John mentioned was Carly’s upper body, which John had been sleeping on for the past couple of nights. It wasn’t anything John planned to do, but upon finding himself napping on Carly’s chest by accident once, he had to admit… it felt nice.

It wasn’t most regular things for two male friends to share a bed, and the afro-haired wrestler wasn’t oblivious to that in the least. But considering all the disheartening changes in their friendship, Cena using him as a head rest was actually welcomed, for the simple fact that (in spite of how unusual it may have been), it was an indication that Cena still wanted him around. He needed all the reassurance he could get about that, especially after their latest spat.

“So… I woke up, lifted weights a few times, and then I got cleaned up.” Cena said casually, adding, “Truth is I can’t really get myself to sleep.”

“You lifted weights?!” Carly said after a moment. His face more perturbed and even somewhat shocked rather than being downright angry. It was a pretty funny sight nonetheless.

“Yeah, I thought you would be a little mad about that.” He laughed. “They weren’t even that heavy. Don’t worry; I’m not gonna get myself hurt or anything. …You’re not gonna punch me again, are you?”

“Too tired to do that.” Carly replied as he turned to look at Cena. “Y’know, you could make the injury worse by doing shit like that.” His tone splashed with worry more than anything else.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I’m just… not use to sitting around and doing nothin’. That’s what makes this whole being injured stuff a lot worse.” Cena spoke, dismayed. If there was one thing that was always a constant about John Cena throughout most of his life, it was his exceptionally hard-working way of life. His haters liked to paint a picture of Cena’s life as being a privileged from the day he was born, but the reality was that he and his brothers often had to work through troubled days to make things better. That hard working philosophy never left him, and it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that it was more of a curse than a blessing in most cases.

“I envy you sometimes.” Cena said, after a moment of silence. “I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, but… you’re pretty good at being lazy.”

Carly raised a brow, as he couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at the way Cena seemed to be complimenting him for his lackadaisical attitude. “You keep saying that like it’s a good thing. I have to let it all go now that…” He cut himself off, looking down.

John studied Carly for a moment before he spoke. “You are happy that you’re finally gonna be on TV …right?” He asked, wanting to know. Carly’s ever-changing attitude about his job was well-documented, and something that had caused many arguments between them. At times, he felt like Carly just didn’t want to be there anymore.

He answered the question by looking up at John, and speaking with confidence. “Definitely. Not sure about working with Eddie, but… I’ll learn to deal with that. Don’t try to change the subject though; you shouldn’t be… lifting weights yet!” He said, hastily, before admitting. “OK. So, I dunno if it’ll actually get you hurt, but if I were you, I wouldn’t risk it.” It wasn’t hard to tell that he was speaking out of apprehension for John’s safety. As much as John hated to admit it, he could be just as hard headed as Carly was about things, and it wasn’t easy to talk him out of something he wanted to do.

John’s mouth formed a minor smirk, not particularly cocky or aggressive. It was more of an amused smirk. “Fine. I won’t do any heavy exercise until I get the OK from my doctor.” At least this was a promise he could keep, his next doctor’s appointment was coming up in a few days anyway.

Carly looked over at John, not taking the situation anywhere near as light as John was. “If you’re lying, the least you can do is try to hide it.”

“No,” John’s smirk continued to grow. “It’s not that. I’m just surprised you care so much. That’s all.”

There it was. The thing he hated knowing more than anything about their relationship was how unsecure it had become. It was the very same thing they had bickered about earlier, but even then, it wasn’t the first time John’s lack of trust in Carly had caused a dispute and wounded emotions on both sides.

“Alright, so… just because we had a fight, that automatically means that I don’t care about you?” He said, defensively. Trying to understand John’s logic wasn’t easy, but letting himself go past his own covered up emotions always proved to be that much harder. Growing up, he was in an environment where showing sentiment, particularly that of compassion or sadness was a sign of weakness. “You’re a man.” He remembered his father constantly telling him in an admittedly counseling tone. “You don’t need to be talking about your feelings.” His older man concluded.

“I never said that. Just think it’s weird that you would care about a bitch that isn’t supportive of you.” The three-time WWE champion drawled out, clearly sounding like he had some not so hidden resentment over what Carly said.

The Puerto Rican’s demeanor changed when he saw the affects his words had on his friend. It was so easy to forget that Cena wasn’t always the untouchable person he probably wanted himself to come across as, between the straight-up hard working guy to the off the wall, sex-loving jokester, it was hard for Carly to tell who the real John Cena was, and when they could just be themselves around each other or when the things he said would be crossing a line. He knew it didn’t count as an excuse to make Cena his verbal punching bag, but it would appear that he fell into the saying, “You always hurt the ones you…”

“I’m sorry I said that. You know how I get when I’m angry.” He said, as if he were trying to compromise instead of just swallowing his pride and apologizing. Not that another shallow apology would make much difference between them it seemed.

“I know. It just gets fuckin’ tired always having to guess how you feel when you say shit like that.” Cena stated, simply, fairly.

The infamous Puerto Rican temper was well-installed in the former Intercontinental champion. He was smart enough to realize that his tendency to lash out was natural given his even more frequent propensity to tuck away how he was feeling until everything was boiled up. It wasn’t always like that with him though, he could remember back to when he was just a normal kid, dealing with the same semi-life changing challenges every growing adult had to deal with. Being on the road altered a lot of the ordinariness in his life, and going by that, it wasn’t hard for him to see why, often times, he had a unique type of bitterness towards his decision to become a wrestler.

It didn’t explain the deterioration that occurred in the way he was acting towards John, the first (and perhaps) the only person that willingly reached out to him in order to make him feel like he wasn’t an outsider. It would have been one thing if John’s act of kindness had ended there, but it wasn’t merely an act of duty from a nice guy, and Carly wished he hadn’t become so skeptical of that in the last few years, skeptical of the fact that what they had was a friendship and not something that started (and was still about) pity for Carly on John’s part.

After all, given their respective statuses within the company they worked for, what would a “golden boy” like Cena be doing with a guy like Carlito, whose best hopes were probably getting a ‘mid-carder for life’ name tag, letting alone regarding him as a close friend? He noted how meaningless his observations were, but given how awkward thing had become between them, he did wonder. The difference between his lack of trust and Cena’s was that he never got very vocal about how felt, “avoiding conflict,” he’d always think.   …Shame the avoidance of conflict rarely ever occurred.

“I only called you a bitch because you were acting like one.” He said, with a light smile, in hopes that it would take away the harshness in his words. Cena didn’t respond.

The slight smile he had faded away as he saw that his attempt at a joke didn’t cause a change in the other man’s expression. “…Did you wake up just to make me feel bad?” He asked, defeated at how unresponsive Cena had become.

“Nah… I actually wanted to tell you how cool it’s been having you here with me this past week.” John said, matter-of-factly, looking at the younger wrestler.

“Oh.” Carly said, suddenly feeling like a douche. Finally, replying to what John said after a few moments of silence. “Y’know… it’s been pretty great living with you. Felt like it did a few years ago.”

“Minus all the fighting that happened today.” Cena interjected, dryly.

“Right.” Carly nodded. “Obviously, not counting today. …We couldn’t go a week without yelling with each other. Wow… it’s…”

“…Almost like we’re a married couple.” Cena finished the sentence for him, spoken with the same dryness as his previous sentence.

“I wasn’t going to said that, but… I guess it fits.” Carly retorted, the silence taking over again, momentarily.

“On the bright side, you could have Orton over for a few days.” He spoke, with mocked cheer, trying to his hide own dislike for Randy, and whatever jealously he refused to fully acknowledge within himself about the fact that Cena seemed to hold his friendship with Randy in a higher regard than any other friendship he had.

That idea gained a laugh from Cena. “Orton’s my best friend and all, but he’s a complete jackass. I don’t think I could stand having him here for too long.”

They spent another moment in silence as Cena spoke up; it was his turn to break the quietness this time. “Randy’s good for a laugh. I never felt like I could talk to the guy. Even when we kids. He had his own way of thinking, still does. We actually don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things.”

“And, you and me, we do?” Carly asked, the irony clear in his voice as he met Cena’s gaze. A part of him wanted to know where he fit in with John, if he wasn’t ‘the best friend’, was he the dreaded “other best friend” or were the locker room whispers about him being Cena’s ‘pet’ not all that far off? It was ridiculous for him to even give the latter option any thought at all, but after what felt like a billion fights, he couldn’t help his own second-guessing.

Cena took a second before beginning abruptly. “Look, what I said about you and Maria before…”

“You really think I’m mad about that?” Carly cut him off, anger, once again, ever so slightly coming out in his words. “You’re always… giving me advice. About how to do my job, about keeping my mouth shut, about my fucking move set.” The Puerto Rican concluded; the temper in his voice edging up before he added, “Which is ironic since you have like, five moves.”

“Hey, I was going to get around my sixth one eventually!” He said, in a fake defensive manner before getting more serious. “I know I tell you bullshit you don’t always wanna hear, but I know you. You’re better than the fucking half-assed springboard off the ropes and the sleep-walking you do in the ring. I still think you’re as underrated and talented as hell, but it just so happens that you’re lazy half the time. If you don’t want me to call you on it…”

“I want you to. Mostly. I don’t know. Maybe when you started telling me to do with my personal life…” Carly trailed off, sarcasm apparent in his voice.

“About you and Maria…” John said, returning to what he wanted to say before he was cut off. “I wanted to let you know, if you want to try and work things out with her, I’d be okay with that.”

Carly smiled at Cena, surprised. “So, you’ll stop telling me how stupid I am for still liking her?”

“Even after she dumped you for Punk then dumped Punk for you then dumped you and almost went back to Punk, and hey, who knows? That girl’s…” He was cut off, this time by the glare he was receiving from Carly. “Yeah, I’ll stop doing that.”

“No, you’re right. I think I should probably try my luck with another Diva. Always thought Mickie was hot.” He said, this time he was on the receiving end of a glare. “I’m just kidding… You can stop glaring now, Cena.”

This time, the stillness between them was much more relaxed, broken by Cena for another time as he began speaking, rather tentatively. “I-I’m really glad you… decided to move back in with me. I don’t know… if we’ll ever stop having these dumbass fights, but I want to know that it doesn’t change how I…” his lips broke into a smile, a grateful smile that he hoped would make up for his lack of ability to say those words.

I don't quite know,
How to say
How I feel

Those three words,
Are said too much
They're not enough.

“I mean, you know how much I…” He said, that dumbfounded smile still plastered on him as he looked at Carly.

“I know.” Carly said, trying not to be completely floored by what Cena didn’t say. He could tell how hard it was for him to even try and say it, reaching over and padding Cena on his back, gently. “I do too. A lot. I guess I could do a better job at showing it, huh?” He tried to stay as normal as he could be, but he was taken aback. He couldn’t remember the last time Cena was so speechless. Suddenly, his own lacking ability at expressing emotion didn’t seem so important.

“Yeah. I could do too.” Cena laughed in return. “You know I meant…”

“I got the idea, yeah.” Carly nodded with a slight grin.

“I’m not the best person with…”

“Really? Couldn’t tell,” Carly jabbed at him, lightly before admitting. “Don’t worry about it. I suck at that stuff too.”

Cena nodded, slowly bringing himself to loosen up again. “Well, it’s 3 AM right now.” He said, looking at the clock. “You should at least try to sleep for your big day.”

“I’ll be alright.” Carly said, nonchalantly. “If it’s cool with you, I thought we could watch a DVD or something. Celebrate my last night of being off the roster.”

“There’ll be other nights.” Cena said, mockingly. “That sounds good though. There are a bunch of DVDs over there.” Cena pointed, underneath the impressive-looking entertainment-system.

After a few minutes, Carly walked back to the couch to find that Cena was occupying most of it in a laying position much to the Puerto Rican’s chagrin. “You’re not gonna move, are you?” He said, already sounding, defeated.

“What did you pick? I’m down with anything but Scarface. The movie’s great, but I don’t think I can take three hours of you saying the quotes in a bad Italian accent. Again.” Cena said, ‘no-selling’ Carly’s question.

“I picked the Stewie Griffin movie. If you don’t move, I’ll put on Scarface.” He threatened, but sounding just as defeated.

“I love Stewie! But seriously, if you want to watch Scarface, it’s fine. I’ll just have to get my IPod to keep me busy.” He said, calling Carly’s lame bluff.

The younger wrestler sighed, rolling his eyes as he fell on top of John, not looking very amused.

“Compromise. It’s a great thing, isn’t it?” Cena said, smirking down at Carly.

“Shut up, Cena.” Carly whined, tiredly.

“Y’know, it’s not the first time you’ve been on top of me.” Cena smirked, knowing he was irritating Carly. Enjoying that for the most part.

“I was drunk that time.” Carly protested.

“I could get you drunk.”

“Or I can just throw up on you again.”

Cena made a disgusted face at the mental image. “The movie’s starting. I think that’s your cue to…”

“I’ll be quiet.” The cool superstar promised.

Time passed, and the silence that roamed would be broken occasionally by a laugh or a rare loud cackle from John. All the while, Carly would find himself absent-mindedly listening to the other man’s heartbeat in the quiet moments. How his breathing would speed up when a funny line he liked was about to come up. He’d even mildly note how relaxed he’d feel when John would place a hand on his back. Even if it was for just a moment. Come tomorrow, he knew all too well that he’d push whatever he was feeling aside, and convince himself that ‘he was just tired,’ that the fights and doubts would more than likely return. But for now? He was happy enough knowing he could admit (at least to himself) that being with John like this, however understated and unimportant in the grand scheme of things, meant that there was something there for both of them to think about.

He may not have known what that something was, and he was pretty sure that John was oblivious to it entirely. But Carly suspected that that something had to do with those three words that neither of them could say. Maybe it never had to be said though; maybe the happiness that he felt right now was enough for him to realize something about his relationship with John.

…Or maybe not. He was pretty sure he was only tired anyway.

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Comments, thoughts? Please send them my way.