John/Randy Christmas fic!
Title: I Want A Hippopotamus For Christmas
Authors: eric_idle_rules
Pairing: John Cena/Randy Orton
Rating: PG
Summary: Once again, it's time for Randy to decorate for his all time fav holiday
Word Count: 2476
A/N: This was written as a Secret Santa gift for halfthewords over on wwegirls. Hope you enjoy! It is nice and fluffy, perfect for Christmas :)
Disclaimer: I don't own the WWE.
Christmas time was easily, hands down, no contest, without a doubt Randy Orton’s favourite time of the year. He loved it all: the sights, the sounds, the smells. Hell, even the snow (as long as there wasn’t too much of it, anyway). He had always loved Christmas, from when he was a young child too anxious to fall asleep while awaiting the arrival of Santa, to now when he could decorate the house to the nines. For as much of a badass he played on TV, he really loved seeing how much other people enjoyed their house when it was all done up with lights and decorations. Sure, he could rock out to Pantera with the best of ‘em, but he wasn’t about to turn down the crooning sounds of Bing Crosby, either.
Now John liked Christmas as much as the next guy, really he did, but no where near to the extent that Randy did. There was only so much Christmas music he could take. But he always assumed it was Randy’s retribution for forcing country and rap music upon him against his will.
So, when that time of year came around…
“Bitch! Get your ass over here!” Randy shouted at the top of the stairs, knowing that John was somewhere down there, most likely in the kitchen mixing up some protein shake, or some shit like that.
“What the hell do you want?” John shouted in reply, but before Randy could give his answer, he switched on the blender, mixing up the protein shake that he was, indeed, making.
Grabbing onto the banister, Randy shook his head, about to reply until he heard the blender going. “Asshole,” he muttered, waiting for John to finish. He heard the noise die down, and opened his mouth to speak, but then it started up once more. Huffing out a breath, Randy tried his best to be patient. The protein shake could wait. This could not. He heard footsteps coming towards him, and he knew that John was now satisfied with the consistency of said protein shake. “Finally.”
“What is it?” John asked, leaning against the railing of the stairwell, questioning eyes looking up at his lover. “This doesn’t look like some emergency.”
“To the contrary. Do you know what the date is?” Randy asked, tapping his fingers against the wood.
“November twenty fifth,” he replied. It was Thanksgiving, and both men were home for the holiday, happy to have a bit of down time (though this year, John had a bit more down time coming up than he was used to).
“Yeah, exactly. We’re a month away from Christmas and do you see our tree set up in this house? No,” he continued in his rant, “the tree is still up in our attic just waiting to be brought downstairs and decorated.”
“So, you called me here… why?”
“To help me carry the tree downstairs, you dumbass.”
“Wait, wait, you didn’t even want me to take the time to make my shake, because you wanted me over here instantaneously to help you bring down the tree?”
“A month, John, we’re a month away, and we don’t have any decorations up.”
John could tell by the tone of Randy’s voice that he was getting irritable, and an angry, pissed off for no real good reason was never fun to have around. He had no choice but to appease his husband’s wishes and help him bring the tree down from its storage space in the attic. “Ok,” he muttered as he headed up the stairs to meet Randy.
“Took your sweet ass time, didn’t you?” Randy said to him as they headed to the attic door.
“You’re impossible. The tree doesn’t have to be down right this second, you know.” Turning his head behind him, Randy leveled John with his icy stare, but John only went on saying, “That doesn’t work on me. You should know that by now. I’ve known you for too long. Your viper eyes fail to intimidate me.”
“I don’t care, you’re still helping me bring the tree down right now, so get your big ass up there before I make you walk backwards down the stairs,” he said, shooing John along.
“Fine, see, I’m walking…” He headed up the stairs, finding their Christmas tree amidst the piles of boxes of stuff they had managed to accumulate through the years, but had nowhere to display.
Taking the tree by one end, Randy on the other, the two began walking it down the first flight of stairs. Turning his head to look behind him, Randy turned the corner as he walked down the hall until they hit they second flight of stairs.
Finally the tree was brought all the way down stairs into their living room, where Randy had already placed the stand. As they tilted the tree upright to insert it into the stand, Randy asked, “So, John, what did you get me for Christmas this year?”
John sighed as he stepped back, quickly examining the tree before turning towards Randy. “Really? Were gonna go through this again?”
“Baby,” Randy started firmly, “we’re going to go through this every year. Now, you gonna tell me what I got for Christmas?”
“My love and affection,” he replied.
“Oh, cut the crap. I get your love, affection and your dick whenever the hell I want it. I’m talking about the material goods here.”
“Why, you a Material Girl?”
Randy shrugged, less offended by the comment than John thought he’d be. “You can’t fault her logic. We are living in a material world.”
Rolling his eyes (John swore his eyes were on constant loop whenever he was around Randy… which was a lot of the time), he said, “Sorry. You won’t get it out of me this year, either. Although…” he trailed off when he remembered that he did have something that he could give to Randy right then.
“Although?” Randy repeated, now curious.
“I can give you an early Christmas present.”
Like a little kid spotting a brand new bike on Christmas morning, Randy’s eyes lit up. “Oh, can you? What are you waiting for?”
“Gimme a second,” he said, turning around and heading out the room and back upstairs to their room. Stashed away in his closet were the things he was giving Randy, so he grabbed the box and was soon back in the living room. “Here.”
Eagerly snatching the box away from John, Randy set to opening it. He unwrapped the tissue paper from the first object he pulled out and raised an eyebrow at John. “You got me your snowman Christmas ornament?”
“For the tree,” John insisted. “There are more, keep going.”
“Did you actually buy these?” he asked as he pulled out the second ornament, his own viper.
“No, that was just some of the free shit they gave to me. Now, are you gonna hang them on the tree, or not?”
“Sure. But yours is going on the backside so no one can see it,” Randy told him with a grin.
“This is my Christmas gift to you, and you can’t even show me respect enough to put my own ornament right front and center, which is where I know yours is going?”
“Nope. Sorry.”
“I’ll move it, then.”
“You wouldn’t touch the tree with a ten foot pole. You’ve told me this before, that you hate all this decorating shit. Your words, not mine. You’re, like, the Scrooge of West Newbury, Mass.”
“Oh, whatever. I still let you put up all these decoration all over the house and yard, don’t I? It’s not like I’m banning Christmas from the house, am I? No. So-”
“Speaking of decorations, we need to get all those down from the attic, too. Rudolph needs to go outside soon.”
Raising a brow, John asked, “What do you mean ‘we’? Those are your Christmas decorations, not mine.”
“I mean you’re helping me lug boxes down here.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are,” Randy insisted.
“If I said something like that and told you that you needed to help me, you would say no, and still end up not doing it,” John told him.
“I know,” Randy said, nodding his head in agreement. “But, let’s face it, you’re not me, and that technique just doesn’t work for you. Sorry, John. Now, let’s get the rest of those decorations down.”
“Only if you tell me what you’re getting me for Christmas.”
“Ok. I’m getting you a new wa-”
“Son of a bitch, you’re actually gonna tell me, aren’t you?” John asked, shocked. He’d never told Randy what he was going to get him in all the years he had known him and all the thousands (hundreds of thousands, it felt like) of times that he asked.
“Once again, you’re not me. You asked, so I’m gonna tell,” Randy explained. “My methods don’t work on me, John. Hate to break it to ya. So,” he went on after a brief pause (through which John had been shaking his head and Randy had a smirk plastered on his face), “you helping me, or are you helping me?”
“I’ll help you get them down, but I’m not putting any of them up.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to, Scrooge.”
“You gonna quit calling me that?” John asked as they made their way up the two flights of stairs once more.
“I’ll forget about it eventually,” Randy told him with a shrug. “So, either by the end of the day or tomorrow morning,” he figured. “Now take this one downstairs,” he said as he slid one of the bigger boxes over towards John.
It took a while, but soon the boxes that were littering the attic were now littering the rest of their house, from the kitchen to the living room, there were boxes overflowing with all the Christmasy shit that Randy loved.
“Thank you,” Randy said as they hauled the final boxes downstairs. “You can go drink your protein shake now.”
“If I can get over to the damn blender through all this crap.”
“Scrooge. This is not crap.”
“Randy, we still have our Thanksgiving turkey in the oven. Right now. Thanksgiving isn’t even over, yet we’ve got Christmas decorations coming outta our asses.”
“What’s your point?” Randy asked, tilting his head just slightly. “If it were up to me, these would be up all the time. Christmas year-round.” He laughed when John’s face dropped. “I’m joking. Not even I can take Christmas decorations for that long. It would make decorating easier, though, if I never had to put things away.”
“No. It’s not happening. Ever. Not in any house that I’m living in,” John said in an attempt to lay down the law. “Never,” he added for further emphasis.
“Deal. Now, I’ll start putting all this up, you can go check on the turkey and make some mashed potatoes and… whatever the hell else you cook for Thanksgiving.”
“I am not your kitchen bitch,” John told him.
“It’s not like I told you to go make me a sandwich.”
“You’re impossible,” he said, throwing his arms up in the air before turning to go to the kitchen, almost tripping over one of the boxes.
“You love me!” Randy shouted to John’s back, earning him a one finger salute.
When Randy got into his zone, picking up an ornament from the box and finding the right spot on the tree, he could go on and on. He had no idea just how long he had been working on decorating the tree (calling John over before the man could even finish peeling one potato to hang the one ornament that they always hung up together, promptly dismissing him once the act was done), but he knew that he had gotten through the entire box, and John hadn’t even called him over to tell him the food was ready.
He stepped back, admiring his work, about to yell to John to come admire it with him, when he noticed on the floor that box that John had given to him earlier. The one with their ornaments inside. Bending down, he picked both of them up, finding hooks for them before placing them side by side underneath the ornament they hung up earlier together.
This time when he stepped back and took in the sight, he couldn’t stop smiling. Quickly turning the lights on, he then yelled, “Hey, John!” When there was no answer, he tried again. “Johhhhn!”
“What is it?!” came the returning shout.
“Get over here!” Randy yelled.
“I’m kind of in the middle of something!”
Walking out one of the doors closest to the kitchen, Randy peeked inside, seeing John in two big red oven mitts taking their turkey out of the oven. He watched as John looked around for a place to set the bird amongst the mashed potatoes and squash. “And you said you weren’t my kitchen bitch.”
“Do you think you could help me instead of just standing there?” John asked.
“Do you think you could ask nicely?” Randy asked in return, though he was already making his way over to move aside the couple plates and bowls that were blocking John’s way.
“Thank you.”
“At least I get a thank you out of the deal. Now,” he said, taking the oven mitts off John’s hands and setting them down on the edge of the sink (where they promptly fell forward, landing in said sink), “come with me.”
“Are you done already?” John asked.
“Yup. Come and admire my masterpiece with me,” Randy said, taking John’s hand and pulling him into the living room.
Standing side by side, John looked the tree over, nodding his head in approval. “It looks very nice this year, baby.”
“Let’s go look at the front of the tree,” Randy said, taking John to go to the part of the tree seen when entering the other door of the living room.
John followed, wondering if trees could even have a front seeing as they were, well, round. But he didn’t feel like questioning Randy at that time, just going along with it. His eyes roamed all over the tree, spotting the ornament he and Randy always hung together, then, right below that, he saw his gift to Randy. “You put mine in the front after all.”
“As if I’d do anything else,” Randy told him.
John smiled up at Randy, cupping his hand around Randy’s neck as he leaned up to kiss his lover. Their tongues met, caressing the other’s as their kiss continued. When they broke apart, the two stood side by side, John with his head on Randy’s shoulder, looking at the tree.
A snowman decked out in purple “You Can’t See Me” gear and a viper’s head. It was a strange combo. But for those two? It was perfect.
Authors: eric_idle_rules
Pairing: John Cena/Randy Orton
Rating: PG
Summary: Once again, it's time for Randy to decorate for his all time fav holiday
Word Count: 2476
A/N: This was written as a Secret Santa gift for halfthewords over on wwegirls. Hope you enjoy! It is nice and fluffy, perfect for Christmas :)
Disclaimer: I don't own the WWE.
Christmas time was easily, hands down, no contest, without a doubt Randy Orton’s favourite time of the year. He loved it all: the sights, the sounds, the smells. Hell, even the snow (as long as there wasn’t too much of it, anyway). He had always loved Christmas, from when he was a young child too anxious to fall asleep while awaiting the arrival of Santa, to now when he could decorate the house to the nines. For as much of a badass he played on TV, he really loved seeing how much other people enjoyed their house when it was all done up with lights and decorations. Sure, he could rock out to Pantera with the best of ‘em, but he wasn’t about to turn down the crooning sounds of Bing Crosby, either.
Now John liked Christmas as much as the next guy, really he did, but no where near to the extent that Randy did. There was only so much Christmas music he could take. But he always assumed it was Randy’s retribution for forcing country and rap music upon him against his will.
So, when that time of year came around…
“Bitch! Get your ass over here!” Randy shouted at the top of the stairs, knowing that John was somewhere down there, most likely in the kitchen mixing up some protein shake, or some shit like that.
“What the hell do you want?” John shouted in reply, but before Randy could give his answer, he switched on the blender, mixing up the protein shake that he was, indeed, making.
Grabbing onto the banister, Randy shook his head, about to reply until he heard the blender going. “Asshole,” he muttered, waiting for John to finish. He heard the noise die down, and opened his mouth to speak, but then it started up once more. Huffing out a breath, Randy tried his best to be patient. The protein shake could wait. This could not. He heard footsteps coming towards him, and he knew that John was now satisfied with the consistency of said protein shake. “Finally.”
“What is it?” John asked, leaning against the railing of the stairwell, questioning eyes looking up at his lover. “This doesn’t look like some emergency.”
“To the contrary. Do you know what the date is?” Randy asked, tapping his fingers against the wood.
“November twenty fifth,” he replied. It was Thanksgiving, and both men were home for the holiday, happy to have a bit of down time (though this year, John had a bit more down time coming up than he was used to).
“Yeah, exactly. We’re a month away from Christmas and do you see our tree set up in this house? No,” he continued in his rant, “the tree is still up in our attic just waiting to be brought downstairs and decorated.”
“So, you called me here… why?”
“To help me carry the tree downstairs, you dumbass.”
“Wait, wait, you didn’t even want me to take the time to make my shake, because you wanted me over here instantaneously to help you bring down the tree?”
“A month, John, we’re a month away, and we don’t have any decorations up.”
John could tell by the tone of Randy’s voice that he was getting irritable, and an angry, pissed off for no real good reason was never fun to have around. He had no choice but to appease his husband’s wishes and help him bring the tree down from its storage space in the attic. “Ok,” he muttered as he headed up the stairs to meet Randy.
“Took your sweet ass time, didn’t you?” Randy said to him as they headed to the attic door.
“You’re impossible. The tree doesn’t have to be down right this second, you know.” Turning his head behind him, Randy leveled John with his icy stare, but John only went on saying, “That doesn’t work on me. You should know that by now. I’ve known you for too long. Your viper eyes fail to intimidate me.”
“I don’t care, you’re still helping me bring the tree down right now, so get your big ass up there before I make you walk backwards down the stairs,” he said, shooing John along.
“Fine, see, I’m walking…” He headed up the stairs, finding their Christmas tree amidst the piles of boxes of stuff they had managed to accumulate through the years, but had nowhere to display.
Taking the tree by one end, Randy on the other, the two began walking it down the first flight of stairs. Turning his head to look behind him, Randy turned the corner as he walked down the hall until they hit they second flight of stairs.
Finally the tree was brought all the way down stairs into their living room, where Randy had already placed the stand. As they tilted the tree upright to insert it into the stand, Randy asked, “So, John, what did you get me for Christmas this year?”
John sighed as he stepped back, quickly examining the tree before turning towards Randy. “Really? Were gonna go through this again?”
“Baby,” Randy started firmly, “we’re going to go through this every year. Now, you gonna tell me what I got for Christmas?”
“My love and affection,” he replied.
“Oh, cut the crap. I get your love, affection and your dick whenever the hell I want it. I’m talking about the material goods here.”
“Why, you a Material Girl?”
Randy shrugged, less offended by the comment than John thought he’d be. “You can’t fault her logic. We are living in a material world.”
Rolling his eyes (John swore his eyes were on constant loop whenever he was around Randy… which was a lot of the time), he said, “Sorry. You won’t get it out of me this year, either. Although…” he trailed off when he remembered that he did have something that he could give to Randy right then.
“Although?” Randy repeated, now curious.
“I can give you an early Christmas present.”
Like a little kid spotting a brand new bike on Christmas morning, Randy’s eyes lit up. “Oh, can you? What are you waiting for?”
“Gimme a second,” he said, turning around and heading out the room and back upstairs to their room. Stashed away in his closet were the things he was giving Randy, so he grabbed the box and was soon back in the living room. “Here.”
Eagerly snatching the box away from John, Randy set to opening it. He unwrapped the tissue paper from the first object he pulled out and raised an eyebrow at John. “You got me your snowman Christmas ornament?”
“For the tree,” John insisted. “There are more, keep going.”
“Did you actually buy these?” he asked as he pulled out the second ornament, his own viper.
“No, that was just some of the free shit they gave to me. Now, are you gonna hang them on the tree, or not?”
“Sure. But yours is going on the backside so no one can see it,” Randy told him with a grin.
“This is my Christmas gift to you, and you can’t even show me respect enough to put my own ornament right front and center, which is where I know yours is going?”
“Nope. Sorry.”
“I’ll move it, then.”
“You wouldn’t touch the tree with a ten foot pole. You’ve told me this before, that you hate all this decorating shit. Your words, not mine. You’re, like, the Scrooge of West Newbury, Mass.”
“Oh, whatever. I still let you put up all these decoration all over the house and yard, don’t I? It’s not like I’m banning Christmas from the house, am I? No. So-”
“Speaking of decorations, we need to get all those down from the attic, too. Rudolph needs to go outside soon.”
Raising a brow, John asked, “What do you mean ‘we’? Those are your Christmas decorations, not mine.”
“I mean you’re helping me lug boxes down here.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are,” Randy insisted.
“If I said something like that and told you that you needed to help me, you would say no, and still end up not doing it,” John told him.
“I know,” Randy said, nodding his head in agreement. “But, let’s face it, you’re not me, and that technique just doesn’t work for you. Sorry, John. Now, let’s get the rest of those decorations down.”
“Only if you tell me what you’re getting me for Christmas.”
“Ok. I’m getting you a new wa-”
“Son of a bitch, you’re actually gonna tell me, aren’t you?” John asked, shocked. He’d never told Randy what he was going to get him in all the years he had known him and all the thousands (hundreds of thousands, it felt like) of times that he asked.
“Once again, you’re not me. You asked, so I’m gonna tell,” Randy explained. “My methods don’t work on me, John. Hate to break it to ya. So,” he went on after a brief pause (through which John had been shaking his head and Randy had a smirk plastered on his face), “you helping me, or are you helping me?”
“I’ll help you get them down, but I’m not putting any of them up.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to, Scrooge.”
“You gonna quit calling me that?” John asked as they made their way up the two flights of stairs once more.
“I’ll forget about it eventually,” Randy told him with a shrug. “So, either by the end of the day or tomorrow morning,” he figured. “Now take this one downstairs,” he said as he slid one of the bigger boxes over towards John.
It took a while, but soon the boxes that were littering the attic were now littering the rest of their house, from the kitchen to the living room, there were boxes overflowing with all the Christmasy shit that Randy loved.
“Thank you,” Randy said as they hauled the final boxes downstairs. “You can go drink your protein shake now.”
“If I can get over to the damn blender through all this crap.”
“Scrooge. This is not crap.”
“Randy, we still have our Thanksgiving turkey in the oven. Right now. Thanksgiving isn’t even over, yet we’ve got Christmas decorations coming outta our asses.”
“What’s your point?” Randy asked, tilting his head just slightly. “If it were up to me, these would be up all the time. Christmas year-round.” He laughed when John’s face dropped. “I’m joking. Not even I can take Christmas decorations for that long. It would make decorating easier, though, if I never had to put things away.”
“No. It’s not happening. Ever. Not in any house that I’m living in,” John said in an attempt to lay down the law. “Never,” he added for further emphasis.
“Deal. Now, I’ll start putting all this up, you can go check on the turkey and make some mashed potatoes and… whatever the hell else you cook for Thanksgiving.”
“I am not your kitchen bitch,” John told him.
“It’s not like I told you to go make me a sandwich.”
“You’re impossible,” he said, throwing his arms up in the air before turning to go to the kitchen, almost tripping over one of the boxes.
“You love me!” Randy shouted to John’s back, earning him a one finger salute.
When Randy got into his zone, picking up an ornament from the box and finding the right spot on the tree, he could go on and on. He had no idea just how long he had been working on decorating the tree (calling John over before the man could even finish peeling one potato to hang the one ornament that they always hung up together, promptly dismissing him once the act was done), but he knew that he had gotten through the entire box, and John hadn’t even called him over to tell him the food was ready.
He stepped back, admiring his work, about to yell to John to come admire it with him, when he noticed on the floor that box that John had given to him earlier. The one with their ornaments inside. Bending down, he picked both of them up, finding hooks for them before placing them side by side underneath the ornament they hung up earlier together.
This time when he stepped back and took in the sight, he couldn’t stop smiling. Quickly turning the lights on, he then yelled, “Hey, John!” When there was no answer, he tried again. “Johhhhn!”
“What is it?!” came the returning shout.
“Get over here!” Randy yelled.
“I’m kind of in the middle of something!”
Walking out one of the doors closest to the kitchen, Randy peeked inside, seeing John in two big red oven mitts taking their turkey out of the oven. He watched as John looked around for a place to set the bird amongst the mashed potatoes and squash. “And you said you weren’t my kitchen bitch.”
“Do you think you could help me instead of just standing there?” John asked.
“Do you think you could ask nicely?” Randy asked in return, though he was already making his way over to move aside the couple plates and bowls that were blocking John’s way.
“Thank you.”
“At least I get a thank you out of the deal. Now,” he said, taking the oven mitts off John’s hands and setting them down on the edge of the sink (where they promptly fell forward, landing in said sink), “come with me.”
“Are you done already?” John asked.
“Yup. Come and admire my masterpiece with me,” Randy said, taking John’s hand and pulling him into the living room.
Standing side by side, John looked the tree over, nodding his head in approval. “It looks very nice this year, baby.”
“Let’s go look at the front of the tree,” Randy said, taking John to go to the part of the tree seen when entering the other door of the living room.
John followed, wondering if trees could even have a front seeing as they were, well, round. But he didn’t feel like questioning Randy at that time, just going along with it. His eyes roamed all over the tree, spotting the ornament he and Randy always hung together, then, right below that, he saw his gift to Randy. “You put mine in the front after all.”
“As if I’d do anything else,” Randy told him.
John smiled up at Randy, cupping his hand around Randy’s neck as he leaned up to kiss his lover. Their tongues met, caressing the other’s as their kiss continued. When they broke apart, the two stood side by side, John with his head on Randy’s shoulder, looking at the tree.
A snowman decked out in purple “You Can’t See Me” gear and a viper’s head. It was a strange combo. But for those two? It was perfect.