Lazy Days

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Adam." John said, furrowing his brow. He leaned back against the cushions, absently running his hand along the leather. His other hand was gripping his mobile, eyes wandering distractedly. "You're going to have to figure that shit out, man. Sleeping with Reso and pining over Jericho doesn't seem like the way to go."

"Thanks for those inspirational words." Adam said, and the sarcasm in his voice had John rolling his eyes. "As though I didn't already fucking know that."

"Well then what are you going to do?"

God, he really hated getting sucked up into dramatic situations. As much as he wanted to be a good friend to the selected few who were close to him, he just had to be the one they all went to when they had issues. And it was really frustrating, because the things that he was told, the things that his friends got into, the situations that they found themselves in … well. John was just glad that he had a firm handle on life.

Adam was starting to say something, but John's cerulean gaze snapped up when he heard the rattling of the locks on the front door twist and, a few seconds later, Randy stepped through the threshold, a tired, somewhat pinched look on his face. In his hand was a few plastic bags worth of groceries. As though sensing his staring, Randy looked up and, after closing and re-locking the front door, he winked, making his way out of sight, probably to the kitchen to drop off those bags. Without even thinking – honestly, it all felt like instinct at this point – John stood and slowly made his way towards the kitchen.

It was as he entered the hallway that he realised that he still had his mobile pressed against his ear, Adam's voice finally registering and coming back to full volume now that his attention had returned to said man. He didn't know where Adam was going with whatever it was that he was talking about – it still had something to do with the Jericho/Reso situation, but yeah … – so John put in a "Uh-huh" to be sure. Maybe that'll make it sound as though he was paying attention to what was being said.

"I don't know. I guess I'll just have to sleep on it."

"Make sure you at least sleep alone." John said, voice firm. He could follow along with that comment, at any rate. "Call me in the morning and tell me where your head is at then."

His attention was drifting again, the sound of ruffling plastic bags drawing him closer and closer to the kitchen. He kept his steps slow, though, despite wanting to get in there. He was talking to Adam, after all, and it would be rude to just walk into the kitchen and not give Randy any attention after he'd been out shopping. Thankfully, though, the conversation seemed to be heading to an end.

"I'll do that. Thanks for listening, John." A small amount of guilt formed in the pit of his stomach, but John brushed it off. Tomorrow Adam would call back and John would listen to him talk on and on and on and on and on about not knowing what he was going to do about Chris Jericho and Jason Reso, so did it truly matter if he was trying to escape now? John didn't think so.

"No problem, man. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

After a quick – yet sincere, because John wasn't in that much of a rush – goodbye, John hung up the mobile and placed it on a small table along the wall. He hastened his pace to something normal and finally emerged into the kitchen, Randy coming back into view. He was still unloading the few bags worth of groceries that he got from the store, taking his time since Randy was a meticulous fuck, who enjoyed putting things just so in the cupboards.

"Hey," Randy said when he saw John enter, "I couldn't find that brand of beans that you liked, so I didn't get any period." He lifted a hand and light glinted off of the wedding ring on his left hand. John walked further into the kitchen and leaned against the opposite side of the island, getting a clear view of what Randy was doing across from him. "Also, I got two bags of these flavoured chips, so one is yours and one is mine. Keep your fucking hands away from mine."

John tsked. "It's not even noon and you're already throwing curses around."

"You expect nothing less of me."

"True." John cocked his head forward in consent. "What are those?" John then pointed to a bag that had yet to be unpacked. He raised a brow in amusement when Randy snatched it up and pulled it closer to his person, moving back and then turning to one of the cupboards above the stainless steel fridge.

"It's my chocolate," Randy replied, sounding somewhat defensive, "and you can keep your damn hands off of it, too."

"Doesn't seem like much of a problem since you're putting it on the highest fucking shelf." John replied blandly.

Randy's lips quirked up into a smirk as he moved back to the island, taking the empty plastic bags and tossing them into the re-cycle bin. "So who was that on the phone?"

John sighed and rolled his eyes, running a hand over his buzzed-cut hair. "Adam. He's fucking Jericho and pining over Reso." He narrowed his eyes then, pausing. "Or he's fucking Reso and pining over Jericho. I can't remember anymore."

John watched in amusement as Randy halted what he was doing and gave John a look, opening his mouth as though he wanted to say something, but then he closed it, shaking his head, pale, icy eyes going back to what he was doing. "Sometimes I think I want to know what's going on in that man's head, but other times, I just want to smack something over that hollow thing. Maybe then that'll get his head right. I mean … why – no. Never mind. I don't want to get involved in that shit."

Snorting in amusement, John laid his arms over the island, eyes watching as Randy moved about the kitchen, putting cans in the cupboards – labels in front, of course, because again, he was a meticulous fuck – and vegetables in the chiller. "I think that's probably why he calls me for this shit and not you."

"Yeah, he knows what he'll hear if he calls me with that drama."

John hummed. "So what do you want to do today? Clubbing, go out to eat, stay home and watch a movie …"

Finally finished putting up the groceries, Randy returned to the island and leaned against his, facing John from the opposite side. He pursed his lips and John watching in wait as Randy ran his hand absently over the tattoos on his left forearm. "You know," Randy started, causing John's eyes to move back up to his, "we haven't watched Game of Thrones yet."

"Normal people would probably bitch slap us, but we don't have the time to sit down and watch that show." John replied, grinning when Randy nodded his head, glad that he was understood. He wasn't a fucking wuss to admit to himself how his heart seemed to beat just a bit faster when Randy smiled back at him, amusement clear in his stare. "Okay, since we do have the time now, we'll turn on Netflix, order some damn Chinese – because if we're going to be sitting on our asses for a fucking marathon, I'm going to load up on carbs – and watch until we can't keep our eyes open any longer."

"I bought the makings for –" Randy started, but John shook his head fervently.

"We cannot have a cooked meal when we're having a marathon, R." He said, coming around the island to snake his arm around his waist. "It's kind of code. Watch Netflix, order take-out … it's kind of law."

"You mentioned that." Randy rolled his eyes and leaned into John.

He couldn't stop himself – he leaned forward and briefly pressed his lips against Randy's, savouring the flavour of the winter-fresh mouthwash that Randy used and the taste that was simply him. When he pulled back, he grinned and nipped at his chin before pulling away completely, his body feeling slightly cooler now that Randy wasn't touching him.

Deciding against that, John reached out and took his hand, pulling him out of the kitchen. "Grab some pillows and some blankets. I'll set up the Netflix."

"Because all you have to do is grab a fucking remote to do that." Randy tossed with a roll of his eyes, but he did what John said after a soft swat on the ass.

So easy, John thought with a grin.

Ten minutes later, John and Randy were sitting on the couch, surrounded by two blankets and four pillows, their backs pressed against leather cushions. The theme song for Game of Thrones filled the otherwise quiet room, and John couldn't help but glance over at Randy, a goofy grin on his face. Randy, with his feet propped up on the couch, toes pressed underneath John's thighs, was paying close attention to the opening credits, icy, pale eyes scanning the shot.

"Penny for your thoughts," John prompted before reaching over and gripping Randy's ankle, giving it a squeeze, "because I'm dying to know what you're thinking now."

Randy's contemplative look turned into a scowl at the grin on John's face. Randy was much like a storm in the way his expressions could swiftly change at a moment's notice. It was that behaviour, that tick that John was able to latch onto that had drawn John's attention to Randy in their early years. While others couldn't handle the raging storm, John enjoyed riding it, often times doing whatever he could to elicit more changes, more ways of causing Randy's eyes to light up in either anger or delight. He usually paid for it in some manner, but to John, it was kind of worth it.

He did marry the man, after all.

"You make it sound so fucking obvious that I'm about to voice my opinion on something."

"Babe," John dropped his head against the back of the leather cushions and gave Randy a surrendering look. He could tell by the way the music started to slow that the credits were coming to an end, and he would rather have complete silence while watching something he had never seen before. "Stop being an ass and just tell me what you're thinking. What's up with that face?"

"Well, it's a face," Randy replied, deadpanned, "it's not like I can do something about it."

"Fuck yourself."

"Only if you're watching," Randy replied without missing a beat before going so far by adding, "and video-taping it. That'll be enough to get the juices flowing, yeah?"

"Randy."

"Fine," Randy rolled his eyes, "fucking buzz-kill. I was just thinking that I don't like not knowing what's going to happen in a show, so I was questioning why I even wanted to watch this without at least having my tablet with me, so I know who dies or not."

John grabbed the remote and halted the television just as the opening credits ended and the show began. He sighed somewhat impatiently before putting the remote down and shifting his upper body to where he was looking more directly at Randy. Sometimes that man … "If you look up spoilers, Randy, I'm going to fuck you up."

"Wow, John. It's not even noon and you're already throwing curses around."

"I will re-iterate with a wholly 'fuck you'."

Randy grinned and nudged John's thigh with his toe before promptly forcing it back underneath. "I won't get my tablet. We'll watch the first season without spoilers."

John's eyes narrowed. "And why do I get the feeling that you'll spoil yourself after …?"

"I can't control what you're feeling, baby." Randy shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, which did nothing to soothe John's speculation of what the fuck was happening. Another important question to ask would be why the hell he cared in the first place. But that was an inquiry for another time. "… Why are you staring at me like that?"

"You cannot spoil yourself."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want you to," John started, "because I want to share this with you. I heard it is fucking crazy, man, and I will not be sitting on the end of this fucking couch, in the dark, while you're sitting there like a smug bastard, because you know I'll flip out."

"What are the magic words again?"

"'Please, Randy, baby, light of my life, fire in my loins, don't look up the spoilers for this season or any other season'?" John gave Randy a hard look, as though daring him to reject those words. He loved Randy with all of his heart, but sometimes the man was just a pain in the ass.

He should have known that the smirk on Randy's face – the one that was growing and turning all the more wicked – was a bad sign, but John was still shocked when Randy shook his head. "That's cute, J, but not the words I was looking for."

John closed his eyes. "I'll suck your dick."

"That's what I was looking for!" Randy exclaimed, snapping his fingers and punching John in the shoulder. "We'll watch the season and then you better suck me off like a fucking lollipop."

-x- -x- -x-

"I can't handle this shit, man. What the fuck happens next? God, I'm pissed that I actually have to leave and not be able to watch season two until next week! Holy shit, dude, I almost choked a few times. They cut off that fucker's head! They just stuck it on a fucking pike! And that little kid, Arya, is a fucking bad-ass, and Randy is just waiting for Little Finger to fucking take that Throne. God, it was insane, man. And Drogo –"

"Let me guess," Adam drawled, a bored note to his tone, "you're envisioning a threesome."

John rolled his eyes – a rather repetitive motion that was becoming the norm for him – and settled back against the cushions. "Why are you pissy?"

"It might have something to do with me calling to ask if I could come over to talk, but then you started going on about a show that's been on for how many years and you're just now getting into it." John could practically see the shake of his head. "Get with the times."

"You're a bitch. And why are you even asking? You live a block away."

"Is Randy home?"

"Why – would that stop you from coming over?" John asked, lifting his head from where it had fallen onto the leather cushions.

"Well, I don't want a lecture about my … problem."

"Get over here and grow a set."

The second he tossed his mobile onto the couch beside him, he heard footsteps padding into the room, and he glanced up just in time to see Randy with a tablet in hand. He didn't think much of it until he happened to glance at the screen as Randy passed to see Game of Thrones – Season Two as the title. John groaned in frustration, because seriously? Pulling himself to his feet, John followed Randy towards the kitchen and unlocked the front door on the way.

He got to Randy in the hallway, his hand reaching out and gripping the crease of his elbow. At Randy's confused look, he motioned with his head towards the tablet before taking it out of his hand and placing it on the small table along the wall. "Are you really looking up spoilers after we told each other that we would watch in suspense?"

"Wow, ye of little faith." Randy replied. He didn't pull out of John's grip, but he did lean back some – just until his body was pressed flush against the wall.

John had a feeling that it was done on purpose. Randy was absolutely gorgeous – it was the first thing that drew John to him, because he sure as hell was an asshole in their earlier years … well, more so than what he was now – but a Randy leaning up against the wall, his arms on full display, his shoulders stretching the fabric of his shirt just right, the way his body was arched at the perfect angle, making John just a little bit taller … well, it was a temptation that he couldn't look away from.

Closing the distance between them, John pressed his palms flat against the wall on either side of Randy's head, their lips slamming together enough to have Randy's head thunking against the wood. There was no distressed noise, so no harm done. Randy opened his mouth and allowed John to lick his way inside, no bother for build-up. He could feel his head spinning, his heart-rate already racing faster and faster, and the feel of Randy's hands gripping the fabric of his shirt against his hips had him taking a step closer, molding their bodies together.

Yeah, Randy definitely did that on purpose.

"You haven't forgotten your part of the deal, have you?" Randy asked when they pulled apart, looking up at him with hooded eyes. "You suck my dick if I don't look up spoilers."

"How could I forget something like that?" John asked in reply, huffing before nuzzling their noses together. He pulled away a bit more when he felt Randy pursing his lips. He raised a brow. "What?"

"Well, even though you're sucking me off, I feel as though I'm getting the shitty part of the deal. You're sucking me off one time to not look at spoilers for how many seasons?"

"You made the deal." John shrugged, peppering chaste kisses down Randy's neck. He tasted like heaven and smelt faintly of cigarette smoke, which caused John's head to spin even faster. "But I will raise the stakes: I'll suck you off after each season if you promise not to look up any spoilers. How does that sound?"

Randy hummed before turning his head slightly towards John. He could feel Randy's lips curving upwards into a smirk. He had had a feeling that Randy was trying to weasel more out of the deal, but honestly, he didn't care one way or the other. "I like that very much."

The doorbell rang a moment later, interrupting John's exploration of Randy's neck. Pulling away, he turned towards the door before casting his gaze back at Randy. He smirked. "Why don't you go answer that? It's a surprise for you, baby."

Narrowing his eyes in confusion, Randy pushed himself away from the wall and moved towards the entryway. When he pulled the door open, Adam Copeland stood on the porch, his eyes bugging out of his skull at the sight of Randy. Honestly, Adam should have known that Randy would have been home. To think otherwise on one of their days off was ridiculous and insane and just stupid, but the re-action that came with the realisation that it wasn't just going to be him and John was hilarious enough.

Turning around, the idiot thought he could just walk away from Randy. John laughed when Randy reached out and grabbed the back of Adam's collar, reeling him back onto the porch and into the house. The door slammed shut and Randy twisted the locks into place before giving Adam a hard look.

"Hey, buddy, how are you doing?"

Adam straightened his shirt and surveyed the room with a nervousness that was detected from where John was standing in the hallway leading towards the kitchen. He shook his head and grinned, crossing his arms, and leaning against the wall. Adam was going to get the shit lectured out of him and John wasn't going to do a damn thing to stop it.

He was such an awesome friend.

"Good, I'm good; you're good, too, right?" Adam stammered. "That's … good …"

"Yeah …" Randy wrapped an arm around Adam's shoulders and led him into the living room, pushing him down onto the leather cushions. "Let's talk about that little problem of yours now, shall we?"

Wow, I've been gone forever. I wanted to post this to let anyone out there who's still following me know that I'm still here! I have been thinking about Preparations and Fall to Pieces and Save Me. I really need to get those finished. But yeah, this one-shot is to let you know that I'm still here and that I haven't completely abandoned you guys. I hope you like this!

Check my profile for further details!

Also, there might be more to this one-shot ... it was fun to write and I could probably add to it. I'll think about that. But for now, it's just a one-shot. We'll see how it goes.