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John Cena Fan Fiction
23rd-Nov-2008 09:38 pm
Disclaimer: I don't own them, I’ve never met them, and this is clearly only real in my delusional mind.
Title: Everchanging [4/4]
Pairing: Cena//Jeff Hardy
Rating: PG-13
Summary: John and Jeff take it to the next level.
Author's Notes: Companion piece to Lots to Learn, Lessons, and Needs. You should probably read those first.

I’m sitting across from Matt Hardy, watching him fling little bits of friend rice as he had an animated conversation with Shannon Moore about The Hardy Show, and I shielded my face in a dramatically comedic way. With happiness came other things. Things like Matt Hardy. His heavily gelled hair left something to be desired, and he didn’t have a voice that could make people melt. But he was Jeff’s brother, and being accepted into the family was everything to me, even if it did mean flying rice.

It had been nearly ten months since I had taken Jeff back to my place after consuming far too much to drink, and showed how to fuck like a real man does. It’s been eight months since he came to stay with me, and a month before my billed return at survivor series. I was in North Carolina, just trying to get well, in mind and body. But N.C. gave something special to my heart. It let me relax more than Boston, or West Newbury ever could.

Being injured was nothing new, but being taken care of was. Having someone help me with rehab, and go to my appointments was completely foreign to me. I was sure how to deal with someone seeing my pain, and sharing in my determination. But it built our relationship, and a trust that I wasn’t used to giving was bestowed upon a man struggling with drug addiction. And I didn’t care, which was the weirdest part. But it felt uplifting.

Slowly, there were changes. He would stop doing it when he was at home with me, claiming that he didn’t wan it to come back on me. Slowly, I didn’t see him do it at all. The red rash under his nose relented and disappeared, and the residue that clung to the rim of his nose disappeared. And because of that, his personality began to show. I only fell further for him. I know the first time he said those three words that every guy shies away from I choked. I wanted to reciprocate, but I just couldn’t. I saw his face fall, and my ever so manly heart fell with it. Not that I was a woman, or anything. But I felt for him. Everyone’s been with someone who didn’t love him or her back.

I came out of my daze and glanced over at the exciting conversation which my boyfriend and the rest of his family were having, and I couldn’t help but this that maybe it was time for him to come home and meet my family. My parents were a huge part of my life, but a part that was still completely separate to the one I shared with Jeff. I had mentioned him to me parents, but never much more than that. They both knew his reputation, and were very skeptical of my choice. Not that I blame them; I was still puzzled by it at times.

I excused myself from the table, and went outside onto Matt’s front deck. The wood creaked under my muscular weight and the wind blew cool against my exposed arms. My tight Jeff Hardy t-shirt didn’t provide much in the way pf warmth, but that didn’t matter. I hit the silver button with a 3 printed on it, and my phone autodialed the number at the house I grew up in. my mom answered and a stern conversation ensued in which my mother stated she wasn’t sure she wanted Jeff in her house, and how she was “concerned.” I knew for a fact that the only thing she was concerned about was how good my image was to her friends.

I hung up the phone with a tentative date when my mother would be noticeably absent from the house, and I took a deep breath. I hadn’t brought someone home to my parents since I was in high school and I had been dating a beautiful blonde named Nathalie. She was sweet, and my parents had loved her. Fortunately, I had not.

[3 weeks later]

There had been a lot of tense moments in the last few weeks, most of them caused by conversations about my family. Our jaws would tighten, and all the words that went unsaid were more than obvious in our eyes. The meeting had gone decently until my mother had snuck into the house, and made a scene that she was normally good enough to save until Christmas. After my worst humiliation since I was booed out of the Hammerstein Ballroom, I didn’t know what to say or do.

But he did know. He filled our apartment with the smells of chili and nachos, along with renting an impressive collection of football DVDs that he hated with more passion than anyone thought possible. He curled up on the couch next to me, and spent several hours explaining how this wasn’t his first time being shunned by a “concerned mother,” and that no matter what, he still loved me. His eyes wore into my tanned skin, and his heart skipped a beat for the first time in years.

Instead of the words stinging like a slap in the face, they instead comforted me. It was almost as if after touching my ears, they spread straight through to my heart, warming it deeply. I smiled widely, and returned the gesture. His eyes lit up, and I knew he was happy that I had waited. He held my hands tightly; his small hands burned white and threatening to break through the skin.

I knew I was happy that I had waited until I actually meant what I was saying as well. The words hung in the air as a proud declaration of how the world was everchanging, and how different things could be from day to day. This man, who had started as nothing more than a means to an end, had turned into something very important to me. He had turned into the man that I loved.

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