Happy Birthday, Kitty!!
Author: Rkowhore79
Title: Sudsy Sunday
Pairing: Centon
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Fluff. And lots of it. This is so not my usual type of fic but since this was written for someone, I had to take into account their likes and dislikes. As much as it pained me to do so :P Oh, and no sex. *gasp* So I guess the rating is just for some language.
Disclaimer: John and Randy are really not this mushy and sappy. At least in my head they aren't!
Word Count: 4,318
*Author's Note: This fic was written for the lovely Kitty, goddessrockgeek, for her birthday today! I've never written a fic for anyone before, well I did, for Jane, but that was more of my type of fic. Bloody and violent and pornographic, so it was easy. But with this one I took into account the types of fics that Kitty leans more towards and came up with this. I really hope you like it because I am sooo nervous about posting it. It's been through at least three different people to get opinions and help on a few grammar issues and I am still not happy with it. But I guess that's just because it's not my type of fic, it's yours! Well, at least I hope it is! Ok, enough procrastinating...*takes a deep breath*. Onto the fic...
Sudsy Sunday
"Where the hell is John?" Randy muttered under his breath as he backed his Hummer out of the oversized four car garage and into the middle of the long driveway. He put the SUV into park and killed the engine, leaving the keys dangling from the ignition. 'It doesn't take fifteen God damn minutes just to throw some shorts on,' he grumbled to himself, exiting his truck and slamming the door. He walked back into the garage and started rummaging around in the large utility closet that sat at the back of the large space. "He better get his big ass out here," he warned, still muttering out loud to the silent garage. He finally found what he was looking for and emerged from the storage locker with two buckets, some sponges, a bottle of soap, a spray bottle of Armor All and one of Tire Sheen, a tub of wax and some dry towels. Everything they needed to shine the Hummer up real good.
His baby was going to be looking niiice. Randy nodded and smiled slighty as he set the armful of cleaning supplies down off to the side and went to bring the garden hose around to the front. He sidestepped one of John's basketballs, thought twice about it and then kicked it down the hill towards the sunken basketball court that took up the far side of the lawn. He swore, sometimes it was like living with a damn teenager. A teenager that knew how to suck dick better than any pro out there. Randy shivered in the cool, early morning air and shook his head to clear the dangerous thoughts that were starting to creep into his brain. He had to get rid of them before they infiltrated and took over his very core because if that happened? Shit, his Hummer would never get washed. At least not anytime today. And it needed it. Bad. With all the traveling they did every week, there was hardly ever any time to do the domestic things around the house, but today was a perfect day to do just that. The sun was shining and they had a whole Sunday ahead of them to get a few things done that they had been neglecting and then they could just relax and enjoy the rest of the day together. Watching movies, shooting some hoops, whatever.
Refocusing, Randy continued on to the side of the house where the hose was located, yanking it from the spool and dragging it behind him as he walked back to his truck, wondering for the umpteenth time what was keeping John. He had woken him up at least thirty minutes ago, telling him to get his ass out of bed and to meet him outside to help him wash the truck. Shit, he rode in it, too, the least he could do was help clean it. And if Randy really wanted to be picky, half the mess inside the damn thing was John's. Gym clothes, basketballs, suitcases, sneakers, at least two phones...the list went on and on and the more Randy thought about it, the more heated he got. He wanted to get this damn thing cleaned now, before it got to be 900 degrees out and he wouldn't be able to properly wax it. In which case, he thought, the only thing he'd be waxing today would be John's ass and then he'd make him clean the damn thing by himself afterwards.
He stomped into the garage and opened the door that led into the house. "Cena!!" he bellowed into the interior. "What the fuck's the hold up?! Get your fat ass out here and help me, God damn it!" He slammed the door and stomped back over to his truck. "Damn lazy ass," he grumbled, picking up the hose and aiming it into one of the buckets. Nothing happened. "Shit," he cursed, realizing that he had forgotten to turn the water on at the spicket. Why he was so grumpy all of a sudden was beyond him. Maybe it was because he felt like the grown up in the relationship and like John was just his spoiled child, constantly needing to be told what to do and when to do it. Nahhh, that wasn't it. John was definitely all man.
Randy sighed and made his way back over to where the hose was located and reached down, twisting the nozzle so that the water was fully on. He just needed to calm down and stop making such a big deal out of the smallest things. Shit, he was going to give himself a heart attack before he was thirty. Isn't that what John always said? John. His John. His John with the smile that could stop traffic, the man that was capable of lighting up a room the second he flashed those deep dimples and those pearly white teeth. If there was anything that was going to give him a heart attack, it would be that smile.
Randy's demeanor softened considerably as he thought about his boyfriend. As he pictured that radiant grin and glittering blue eyes. He could never stay mad at John for long. Not when that smile was aimed his way he couldn't. He'd hand over his first born just to see that smile for one more day and forget when John was mad at him. It was a blow to his stomach each and every time he was given that stony face, that grim set of John's jaw, the cold, flat eyes. He just couldn't even take it. Oh, he'd come off as nonchalant, like he could care less that John was upset with him but inside he'd be a mess. His gut would be twisted up in the fists of a thousand invisible fingers and his heart would wobble and shake inside his chest, begging silently for John to bestow that beautiful smile upon him. He needed his smile, needed it to feel whole, needed it to breathe, to live, to exist. That smile was his whole world, but he'd be damned if he let John know that.
And that was Randy for you. Stubborn to his very core. One of these days he'd shed that hard exterior, that crusty shell of his and really open up, expose himself for his one true love, but until that day came...well, John would just have to deal with it. With him.
"Cenaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" he bellowed up at one of the open windows, rounding the corner of the house only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight before him. While he was off daydreaming behind the house, John had come outside and had taken it upon himself to start washing the truck. He had the buckets overflowing and soapy water was running down the driveway in foamy rivers, pooling in the narrow gutters there. Randy didn't notice any of this though, all he saw was John bent over the front tire of the large SUV, his jean clad ass stuck high up in the air as he lazily rubbed circles around the tire with a huge, yellow sponge.
Randy swallowed his initial reaction, which was to bust out laughing. Those were not John's normal jean shorts. Oh no. These were short. Really short. Like he had taken a pair of scissors to one of the pairs he would normally wear in the ring and had cut them off practically at the crotch. His muscular legs bulged out from beneath the frayed ends, soapy water running down his pale thighs and onto his bare feet. Randy's eyes traveled up and practically popped out of his head as he spied the tank top that John was wearing. Only it wasn't..right. That, too, had endured the wrath of John's scissors and had ended up shredded, chopped off at halter top lengths. Randy struggled hard not to erupt into a fit of laughter as he got closer. Was he singing? Yep, to top if all off, he was singing. Fucking singing.
Randy felt as though his cheeks were going to burst with the pressure of holding his laughter in and when John raised his arms up, shook his ass in those obscene shorts and declared:
"At the car wash
Workin' at the car wash, girl
Come on and sing it with me!"
Randy just lost it. He doubled over, clutching his stomach as tears rolled down his cheeks and he panted and gasped for breath. John jumped at the sound and he spun around, one hand on his hip while the other snapped two fingers up over his head and he grinned like a maniac.
"Hey, hey heyyyyyyyy!" he yelled in a nasaly voice. That was it for Randy. He collapsed right there on the lawn, pounding the still dewy grass with his fist as his body shook with now silent laughter.
John grinned from ear to ear and gyrated his hips to music that only he could hear. He loved making Randy laugh; it was such a rare occurence that when he did accomplish such a feat he committed every nuance, every pulsing beat to memory. Just like he was doing right now. He took notice of every crinkle in Randy's face, every line that appeared around his lips as he laughed himself into a stupor right there on their front lawn. It was such a glorious sight; an absolutely clear moment of pure innocence and downright wild abandon and so unlike the Randal Keith Orton that millions of viewers had a front row seat to every Monday night.
This was a different Randy. The Randy Orton that John Cena loved and loved with all his heart. Oh, he was onto Randy's stubborn ways, his devil may care attitude. He was onto him and he was onto him good. He knew that Randy played the big bad guy on TV and tried to play the same role at home and with John. But John didn't play that. He knew that with one flash of his blindingly white grin he could have the great Randal Keith Orton eating out of the palm of his hand. That's just the way it was. But John wasn't stupid. He understood Randy's need to stay in character, to show the whole God damn world a rough and tough exterior and he was fine with that. Especially since he knew just how to bring Randy's playful side out. His soft side, his insecure side. His loving, caring and, dare John say, sweet side.
Yes, that was just the side of Randy that John adored and so he continued to shake his ass back and forth and to belt out the lyrics to the old Rose Royce hit, watching tears of laughter stream down Randy's face.
"Oh.My.Ga.God," Randy gasped out as he struggled to right himself, wiping his face with the back of his hand. "You really are too much, you know that?" He was breathing heavy, his bare chest heaving up and down as he tried to regain his composure.
"Of course I know that," John replied. "It's just part of my charm and all of why you love me. Ain't that right?" He cocked his head to the side, one hand on his hip and pursed his lips in Randy's direction. "You loooove alla this," he grinned, waving his other hand up and down in front of his body. "Admit it." He picked up the hose and aimed it in Randy's direction, his finger poised over the trigger, one eyebrow raised.
"Woah, woah there," Randy smiled, backing up and raising up his hands in mock surrender. "Don't shoot."
John grinned an almost evil like grin. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't," he said pursing up his lips and stepping closer, his trigger finger at the ready.
"Um, um..," Randy stammered. "Because I'm so damn sexy you could never willingly spray me down in cold blood like this?"
John snickered. "Cold blood? Spray you down? Sheesh, dramatic much, Orton?" he laughed, steadily walking towards the younger man. "And you got one part right, you are damn sexy but ya see, the way I look at it is....you'd be even sexier soaking WET!" John screamed the last word and turned the stream of water on full blast, hitting Randy square in the bare chest. Randy shouted out in protest, calling John every curse word under the sun as he took off running down the hill towards the basketball court with John in hot pursuit with the hose, showering Randy's back with cold water.
Randy's gym shorts clung to his muscular thighs, getting heavier by the second as he took off running away from John. "Fuck you, Cena!" he called over his shoulder as John switched the nozzle from spray to stream. The water pelted Randy's back like tiny bb's shot from a bb gun and he tried to get away from the relentless soaking. John's laughter echoed down the hill and throughout the surrounding yard as he chased Randy around their property.
"You'd think you'd just run in the opposite direction, dumb ass!" John shouted. "I mean, how far do you think this hose can reach anyway? It's like you want me to "spray you down"," he laughed, his breath coming out in short gasps.
"Fuck. YOU, Cena!" Randy swore again, doubling back to his truck, thoroughly soaked now. "I give, I give, ok? Just stop spraying me!" He ducked behind the back of his Hummer and waited for John to come around the other side.
"Shit, these shorts are really starting to chafe," John muttered, dropping the hose to adjust his obscenely short, jean shorts.
"Take this!" Randy screamed, jumping out from behind the back of the truck and dumping a full bucket of soapy water over John's head before snatching up the fallen garden hose.
"Uh...uh..ohhh..shit," John sputtered and gasped, wiping soapy water out of his eyes. "You are sooo dead, Orton," he promised.
"Yeah? Whattya gonna do to me?" Randy asked, holding both the hose and the other bucket still filled with water. "Cheer me to death?" he asked, nodding towards John's ridiculous outfit. "Gimme a G!" Randy yelled. "Gimme an A! Gimme a Y!! What does it spell? Gay, gay, gay!!" he mocked as John used the hem of his torn shirt to wipe the rest of the water from his face.
"Think you're funny, huh Orton?" John grinned, nodding his head a few times up and down. "We'll see how funny you think you are later on tonight when I've got you pressed up against the wall with my dick in your ass. Yeah, we'll see who's the funny man then." He dropped his shirt and it clung to his expansive chest like paper mache, winning him first place in the wet T-shirt contest that was currently taking place in Randy's head.
"Promises, promises," Randy winked, shifting the hose to his left hand so that his right was free. He stuck it out towards John. "Truce?" he asked, a wicked gleam in his eyes. He cocked his head to one side and waited for John to shake his hand, meeting John's narrowed eyes with his own devilishly twinkling ones.
John thought it over for a few seconds before finally stretching his hand out to meet Randy's. "Yeah, all right," he sighed, shifting uncomfortably in his now soaked through denim shorts and agreeing to the truce. But before his hand even had a chance to touch Randy's, Randy snatched it away as if it were on fire.
"Suckerrrrr!" he shouted, turning the hose on full blast and moving it up and down so that it sprayed over John's entire torso. John barely had a chance to react before he was completely drenched from head to toe. He didn't even try to escape, it was no use, he was already sopping wet so what did it matter if Randy kept spraying him? He wasn't going to get any wetter. And so he stood there, his hands on his hips, and let Randy have his fun.
"Ya missed a spot," he announced when the hose was aimed at his crotch. Randy raised both eyebrows in an "oh yeah?" expression and continued to blast away at John, making sure that every inch of him was soaked. "Having fun?" John asked nonchalantly after another thirty seconds or so as if this kind of thing occurred every day.
"Oh yeahhh," Randy snickered. "I'm having a blast." He laughed at his own pun and John just rolled his eyes, sighing heavily and waiting until Randy decided his punishment was over.
"Ya know, I can't get any wetter," he informed Randy. "So all of this now," he gestured to his dripping body, "is just you wasting water."
"Yeah, yeah...all right," Randy muttered, shutting the hose off and dropping it to the ground. They both looked at each other and Randy started laughing first. If John wasn't a hilarious sight before, he definitely was now. Soaked through, that outfit was even more ridiculous looking than it was before when it was dry. John huffed and narrowed his eyes.
"You laughing at my shorts again?" he demanded, jutting one hip out to the side.
"Oh my God, stop!" Randy begged, his laughter bubbling over again. "I can't even take you seriously in that get up!"
John looked at Randy with a look of mock hurt displayed across his face. "Would it help if I did this?" he asked and then proceeded to spin around, ballerina style, until he was all up on Randy, dancing around him and tugging on his arms trying to get Randy to join him.
"Get the fuck offa me, Cena!" Randy sputtered. "You're all wet!" He grinned and shoved John away, both men eyeing the forgotten hose.
"Don't even think about it," John warned. "You want to get your truck washed sometime today then you wouldn't dare." He stared Randy down, silently daring him to pick up the hose.
Randy sighed. "Yeah, you're right. Business before pleasure," he winked, the act releasing a swarm of butterflies fluttering around John's stomach and leaving him breathless. Randy picked up the full bucket and dumped it in the grass since the water had grown dull and the soap had all fizzled out and refilled it from the hose, adding a generous splash of the car washing soap.
"Well? Whattya waiting for, Cena? Pick up a sponge."
"Huh? Oh yeah, right," John muttered, snapping out of his daze and ambling over to the pile of supplies on the grass that Randy had dumped there earlier and grabbed the other sponge since Randy now had the one that he had been using before.
He came back and dunked it in the frothy liquid, squeezing the excess out over the bucket. "This is the way we wash the car, wash the car, wash the car," he started to sing as he went back to scrubbing down the front tire. "This is the way we wash the car so early in the mor-ningggg."
"Fuckin' hell, John," Randy mumbled as he lathered up his own rag. "What is it with you and these ridiculous songs?"
"Just tryin' to make ya laugh," John admitted. "I love it when you smile."
Randy's heart thudded in his chest and he stopped wringing out his sponge abruptly. He looked up at John. "What'd you just say?" he whispered.
"What?" John asked, turning away from the truck and facing Randy. "I said I was just trying to make you laugh."
"No, not that. The other thing," Randy replied, his heart still flopping around so uncontrollably that it was all he could do to not put his hand over his skin in a vain attempt to keep it at bay.
"Oh. I said I love it when you smile." John pursed his lips and watched Randy. "Did I say something wrong?" he asked, standing there in that absurd outfit and suddenly looking as though he'd just lost his best friend.
"No," Randy shook his head. "No, not at all. I just had no idea, that's all," he replied, his voice so low that John could barely hear him.
"Yeah, well..now ya know," John said, giving Randy a look of "okkk, what the fuck's wrong with you?" before turning back towards the truck. His outside demeanor came off as cool and casual but inside his heart was jackhammering so hard he could swear the mutha fucka was doing construction in there, drilling holes and digging down deep inside of him, mining his very soul and coming back with bags full of all the love that he felt for Randal Keith Orton.
'What was going on here?' That was the question burning through both of their minds at the moment, unbeknownst to the other. It's not like they had just gotten together last week or something. Why was this simple admission on John's part turning Randy's stomach upside down? He knew John loved him. And he loved John. But they didn't overly advertise that fact, nor did they say the words that often to each other. Sure, they lived together, worked together and were best friends in life and in love, but very rarely did they express their feelings to each other. It was just sort of...implied.
But to find out that the very thing of John's that made Randy's heart melt was the same thing that John also loved in him...well that just took his breath away. They could laugh and joke around and cuss each other out 'till the cows came home, but at the end of the day all that really mattered to them was making each other smile. Randy swallowed past the lump in his throat. He didn't deserve this man. He really didn't. He was an ass of the highest order and John? Well John just had the most perfect ass that he had ever seen. An ass that he didn't deserve. Randy watched as John steadily scrubbed down his tire, really putting his muscle into it, unaware that John's hands were shaking and his mouth was dryer than cotton. He stood up and made his way over to John. To hell with cleaning the truck. He had other things on his mind right now and they involved getting dirty.
John heard Randy approaching behind him and then saw one large, tanned hand cover his. "You're doing it too hard," Randy breathed into his ear, crouching behind John's body. "Here, nice and slow," he whispered, his hand joining John's as together they rubbed lazy circles around the tire.
"It's never gonna get clean that way," John whispered in a heavy voice as he allowed Randy to drag the sponge around the outside of the wheel.
"It's all right," Randy said softly into the side of his cheek. "That's what they have car washes for." He slid his tongue around the outside of John's ear and John could feel his balance wavering when Randy pulled his hand away and it settled on his bare, wet thigh. John's hand slid from off the tire and instinctively found its way up and around the back of Randy's neck so that he was pulling Randy's face down closer to him.
"Is that so?" he whispered, not even knowing what they were talking about anymore as Randy's tongue continued to swirl around the outside of his ear and to slowly make its way down the right side of his neck. John moaned and bent his head to the side, allowing Randy better access.
"That's so," Randy muttered into his skin, his mouth picking up the pace now and moving hungrily across John's neck, sucking and biting and leaving a trail of heat that was sizzling straight down into John's dick. "They'll even deta-," his voice broke off mid sentence as John abruptly spun around in his crouching position and silenced him with his lips. The bucket of water that was next to Randy dumped over and spilled onto their already wet feet but neither man noticed. They were slipping in the water and Randy was struggling to keep his balance and to not fall over backwards onto the hard pavement from the force of John's kiss, but John's mouth was insistent. It melded to his and demanded every ounce of breath that he had in him until finally he actually did fall backwards, the breath sucked right out of his lungs.
John broke his fall, catching him at the last moment. "Sorry, baby," he breathed, panting and gasping on Randy's breath as Randy inhaled deeply, trying to catch his own. John had never kissed him and made him feel like that before. It was as if he were seeing him for the first time and appreciating every new aspect of John that he found. What was happening to him? The day had started out normally enough. What was the deal with all this lovey shit? Randy's mind was racing and trying desperately to keep up, to make some sense of the different emotions that were currently coursing through it.
"C'mere," John said softly, holding his hand out. Randy started and glanced up. He had been unaware that John had even stood, so engrossed he was in his own revelations. He took John's hand and allowed himself to be pulled to a standing position. He wasn't in control here. This was new and he wasn't sure if he liked it or not but he was certainly about to find out. John led him off of the pavement and onto the soft grass beside it where he pushed him down gently. The blades were wet and mushy underneath Randy's body from the earlier soaking that they had received but he let John lay him down anyway and when John's mouth resumed its insistent ravishing of his own, the wet grass was the last thing on his mind.