You're My Showstopper

Johnny held Randy's gaze for a moment, his eyes steamy before Randy walked away. He eyed Randy from behind before sighing. He knew that little speech was because of what happened to him. John hated himself for being so weak and stupid. He finished his snack before going to the room, waiting for his clients. He treated his clients with the best. But all the while, he imagined it was Randy he was riding. Randy he was blowing. That it was Randy who was spanking him. But every time, he opened his eyes to a disappointment. When it was over, and John was able to go to bed, he didn't. He showered, slipped on a silk robe and went to the kitchen to binge. It's what he did when he felt like shit. He hated fucking strange men, when he craved someone else. He just hoped he could keep the food down. If he got any sicker, Randy would surely fire him.

Randy went back to the club, heading back to his office. It was hard being him. Hard having to do all he did. He knew that he didn't have to do it, but it was already done, so he was determined to keep up with it.

Randy's days were long. He got up at 5 in the morning and went to bed at 3 or 4. He had a lot of work to do, and not enough time. He got no vacation, had no time to fall in love. He had no time for anything other than be a mob boss/PIMP. And he hated it.

Randy headed back to the mansion after closing and headed into the kitchen. "How are you feeling?" he asked when he saw John.

John shrugged. "That's really not the question that should be asked..." He said, licking the juice from an orange off his finger. "...Now is it?" He breathed.

"How are you feeling? That's the question that really matters. Because I doubt it's a question that gets asked often." John said, looking at him. He cocked his head to the side, some of his dark locks falling in his face. "So how are you feeling?"

Randy was momentarily stunned by the fact the someone had actually asked how he was feeling, though he didn't let his face show he was stunned. He gathered himself before saying, "It doesn't really matter. What matters is that you're alright." Randy wouldn't deny that John was attractive. Randy definitely wouldn't mind getting with him...

John scoffed. "There will always be a violent client after me, Randy. A dirty perve. A rude pimp. A bitchy co-worker. Illnesses, complaints, bruises... What I do is tough. But what you do harder. I get to sleep. You obviously don't from the bags under your eyes. And the tensity in your neck. The irritability in your voice. And you obviously have a lot of pent up sexual frustration. Not hard to figure out with the way you keep looking at me. I'm positive that the only time you get to relieve yourself is in the shower-- which probably aren't that long because you have to hurry to the next client, find out who needs to be killed next." He said, slowly walking around Randy.

"And from there, there's another problem. Maybe with your assassins. With your boys. So after all that, you get here. To your home, and all you wanna do is relax but you can't. Because there's still a shitload of paperwork to do, right? And you know that if you doze off for a second, you'll fall into a coma, which is bad because you need to be awake to answer your phone at all times."

John leaned against the island. "Now Randy, my day ends. Yours does not. How your feeling matters a helluva lot more than how my ass is feeling. Because we both know that even though there ain't not rest for the wicked, you're human and you're tired. And everyone sees it. I saw it the moment I came here." He finished quietly.

Randy knew there was truth in his words. And while he should respect that, it made him angry. He didn't like people psychoanalyzing him. So instead of turning and leaving, his eyes grew icy and his stance became offensive. "I do what needs to be done. I have been for years. I climbed my way to the top, and I've managed to stay there. You have no right to open your mouth and say what you just said to someone in my position when you're in your position. Life is tough for everyone, and everyone handles it differently. You do your job, and I do mine. I want all of your wages from this week. John will be sent to collect them. I suggest you learn respect," he said before turning on his heel and walking out. He knew the only reason he flipped on John is because he was right, and because he had feelings for the man. But that made no difference. He was still pissed, and that meant that someone was gonna die today. And someone was gonna get fired.

John watched him go. "Yes, sir." He sighed quietly, though he knew Randy probably wouldn't hear him. He was only trying to help... to get Randy to relax. He knew that Randy knew he was right. He didn't think Randy would get angry at that.

He sighed and sat down. John half expected Randy to hit him. And he was used to giving all the money he had. He rubbed his temples, and hoped Randy didn't blow this out of proportion.

Mike chuckled as he walked into the kitchen. "Told ya you should lay off," he said and put water on the stove for hot chocolate.

"Yeah." John murmured monotonously. He wasn't in the mood for an "I told you so" right now. He stood up and got himself a glass of water, trying not to think about it.

"A word of advice. Don't psychoanalyze him. Randy's a great guy, but not the most mentally stable. Something you see as help, he doesn't. He knows your right, and he hates you for being able to see through him. He hates himself for letting you see through him. Just give him time. He'll come back, apologize, and you can try and make another move. Just... be more subtle about it. The only thing you weren't doing was pouncing on him and ripping off his clothes," Mike said as he made his hot chocolate.

John chuckled a little at that. "Well I'm a hooker. I should be ripping off people's clothes. But you're right. I'll let him be. And I understand, sort of. He doesn't seem very... stable." He said, sipping his water. "I wouldn't think he's the type to apologize though. He had a right to be mad."

"He didn't, actually. He may have power over you, but he's not the type to flaunt it. And he does apologize. It usually takes a week or two, but he does. Trust me," Mike smiled, then looked to the door and straightened up.

Johnny nodded slowly. "Well I can already tell it's going to be a long few weeks." He chuckled. "And I'm used to people getting mad at me. Whether it was my fault or not." He shrugged. "I shouldn't expect any different here. And if apologizes... well at least there is a little humanity in this kind of life." He said before walking to his room.

A couple weeks past and John was making his usual wages, giving them all to Cena who gave them to Randy. He hadn't spoken to Randy, and hadn't really seen him. He was walked to the kitchen when he bumped into someone.

"Sorry..." John trailed off when he saw it was Randy. "I-I'm sorry." He quickly apologized again.

"Just the person I was looking for," Randy said. "Come and sit," he added, sitting at the table. "Listen, I know I went off on you before, and I'm sorry. I don't do well with people understanding me like you do. I prefer to keep to myself. It's something that will take getting used to. I'm stressed out most of the time, so I'm very irritable. And I'm exhausted. I shouldn't have gone off on you, you didn't deserve it. I hope you can forgive me," he said, sighing softly.

John smiled slightly. "Hey, I was never angry or pissed. But thank you for apologizing. I know why you snapped, and it hurt, but I understand. And maybe I did push too far." He ran a hand through his hair, and looked down at his lap. "I just know that... you deserve to feel happy." John said quietly. "You shouldn't have to do it all."

Randy smiled softly. "If I did it all, I'd be dead. If it weren't for John and Beck and Mike, I would have failed a long time ago. I owe them my life, and that's why I work so hard. To help them, and keep them safe. The work is hard, the hours are long, and I have close to nothing. But without them, I'd have no life. I wouldn't be here. Someone would have killed me, or I'd have killed myself from working so hard. Trust me. There's a lot I don't do. But there's a lot I have to do," he said and placed a hand on John's thigh.

John looked at Randy's hand and smiled internally. "You deserve to feel good, though. Mike probably gets his fix from John. I'm sure Beck has someone to make him happy. You may have them, but you're still alone in bed at night." He looked at Randy's ice blue eyes. "From what the guys tell me." He chuckled, his hand resting on Randy's. "You can work hard, but it won't kill you to relax every once in a while." He said, smiling slightly.

"You're at the bottom of this ladder, John. You can relax at the bottom. But not at the top. There's no rest for the wicked," Randy smiled and pulled his hand away. "Therefore I do not rest."

John quickly grabbed his hand. "Wait..." He trailed off. "Randy, look... You may not want to rest, but you're a man. Men have needs- I know this for a fact. You're meaning to tell me that you're perfectly fine with not getting any ass or satisfaction at all?" He raised a brow.

"I'm fine," Randy said, though he was lying. It was part of the reason he was so uptight. But he knew that if he had sex, it would exhaust him so much, he would pass out. And he didn't have time for that. "Thanks for caring, but I'm fine." He stood up. "I should go."

"Of course you do." John sighed, leaning back and crossing his legs. "You need to get laid and you need sleep, Randy. I know you're not fine." He grumbled and stood up. He lifted his shirt a little and scratched his stomach, revealing his abs just to show Randy what he was missing. "If you ever wanna relax, you know where to find me." He said and winked before turning and exiting the kitchen.

Randy sighed and collapsed onto the chair. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't attracted to John. He was. But he made it policy never to mix business with pleasure. It was just easier that way. But it John kept pushing him like this, he was gonna break. And it had been a very long time since Randy had sex. He had no idea what would happen if he broke and was just going on instinct.

A couple days later, John was in the kitchen, his shirt off as he had been sleeping. It was past midnight but he couldn't sleep. He had Randy on his mind. He wanted him, bad. More than a fuck buddy though. Randy deserved better than that. He sat down and sipped his tea, hoping he'd run into Randy again.

Randy walked around the mansion, sighing. He was avoiding seeing John. He would break the next time he saw the man, he knew that much. And it was hard to have so little control. It was hard to try and stay away from John, because he was pretty much the only thing on his mind.

He sighed and headed for the kitchen, and practically yelled out in frustration when he saw John, shirtless. It was too much for him. It was all too much for him.

John turned around and saw Randy. He blinked innocently, his sweatpants riding low on his waist. He was sucking on a strawberry but he quickly wiped his mouth. "Hey Randy. Why're you up?" He asked, bending over and looking for more paper towel in the cabinets. He didn't mean to tease Randy- well sometimes he was. But he was pretty oblivious at the moment and didn't know what he was getting himself into.