Where the Love Light Gleams

Disclaimer: As usual, I own no one!

A/N- Yes, the self-proclaimed Grinch is writing a holiday fic. Just for those who are curious, the title comes from the song; I'll be Home for Christmas.

Part: 1?

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Randy Orton glanced to the bouquet of white roses. He hoped the flowers would make Trish forgive him.

It was Christmas Eve. His job with WWE had kept taken him to a snowy region. Due to snow, he had been stuck in the airport.

It was only by a stroke of luck that he was home.

As he approached his house, a brown Victorian Manor, he could see his very pregnant wife, Trish outside. She seemed anxious, checking her watch every few minutes. He wasn't that late…was he?

"You okay?" he called the window of his black pick-up. She nodded, rubbing her belly. Slowly, she waddled up to him. It took all his will power not to snicker.

"I'm fine. Your dad's inside and he's making me nervous," she admitted. She chuckled softly. "Holly's got the hiccups,"

Randy slipped his arm around her waist. He smiled, unable to believe how lucky he was.

Until meeting Trish, he had the reputation of a playboy. He went through women frequently. He never stayed with a woman longer than a month.

Then, he had met Trish.

Trish Stratagias was…perfect. Every smile, every laugh, everything she DID, had drawn him in. The man who had never been in love before was suddenly smitten.

Unfortunately, Trish wasn't so easily smitten. She knew of his reputation. She had comforted many of her girlfriends, distraught over losing him.

"It's Christmas!" Randy exclaimed, handing her the bouquet of flowers. "Dad can't be that bad." Trish planted her hand on her hip, and glared at him.

"Randy, your dad is worse than my mom!" she said. "Trish, do you really need that coffee? Trish, isn't it too warm in here? Trish, did you know that since the celery you're eating hasn't been organically grown MY granddaughter could have two thumbs?" Randy snickered.

"He did not say that!" he exclaimed. She nodded vigorously. "Relax," Glancing up, he couldn't help but laugh. "It's snowing!"

"Oh joy! Because of the crap, you almost missed Christmas," Trish was due in the beginning of January. Since entering her third trimester, Trish was moody and unpredictable.

"I'm home. That's all that matters," he said. Something didn't seem right with his wife, but he knew better than to point it out."Hello, Dad!"

"Trish, it must be twenty degrees outside. That can't be good for my granddaughter," he said. Grumbling something, Trish stormed inside. "She's been acting funny all day,"

So, he wasn't the only one to notice it. What could be wrong?

"How so?" he asked. Bob sighed.

"She keeps looking at her watch and mumbling about snow causing problems. I assumed it had something to do with you getting stuck at the airport,"

A small idea began to form in the back of Randy's head. Shaking his head, he struggled to shake off the thought. She would have told him-wouldn't she have?

"TRISH!" he called, rushing inside. The screen door slammed. He didn't care that his father was looking at him like he was crazy.

"What?" she snapped, crossing her arms over her ample chest. "Why are you staring at me?" His eyes drifted to the hardwood floor beneath her feet. A small puddle was visible.

"Are you okay?" he asked, struggling to relax.

"Yeah, my water broke." She said. "I've been having irregular contractions all day,"

"You weren't going to tell anyone?" Randy asked. "Is your fluid clear? How far apart are the pains?"

"I was waiting. Yes, it was clear. They're irregular," she said. "Relax. You're beginning to sound as bad as your dad,"

Randy took a few deep breaths. He was beginning to panic. What was so frightening about his wife having a baby?

Randy gently eased her shirt up. Her bulging belly caught his eye. Was that really his little girl? Was he really going to become a father?

"It seems surreal, doesn't it?" she asked. He nodded. Reaching out, he prepared to touch her belly. Although he had done it many times before, something about touching her belly startled him. "Don't worry," She took his hand by the wrist. "You won't hurt me."

"I didn't think I would," he admitted. Her eyes sparkling, she shook her head.

"You've always been a horrible liar," Her voice was soft. The only sign she was in discomfort was a distant look in her eyes. Randy couldn't understand.

The contractions were painful. They had to be. Why was she being so tough?

"Another one?" he asked. She nodded. "Did you call the doctor?"

"This morning. She told me to come in when they were five minutes apart or my water broke,"

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked. She nodded.

"A little nauseous. I had a bit of diarrhea before I called the doc, but she assured me it was normal." She admitted. "Hello, Bob!"

Randy turned around. His father was standing in the doorway. Had he heard what was going on?

"Your granddaughter's on her way!" Trish declared, heading upstairs.

"She's in labor? Shouldn't she be in the hospital?" he asked. Randy sighed.

"Dad, Trish and I have it under control," Randy said. He glanced around and saw the tree. He couldn't believe his daughter would be born on Christmas.

He could see the pregnant marshmallow ornament he bought her as a joke. She claimed to hate it but when she thought he wasn't looking, she had put it up.

"Rand?" Her voice resounded through the quiet house. "It's snowing, I just puked, and I'm in labor. Let's hit the hospital,"

Randy turned around. He had to snicker. Whatever she was wearing made her look more pear shaped than before. Shaking his head, he grabbed his car keys.

"Dad, can you spread the word?" he asked, helping Trish with her duffel bags. She clutched her pillow beneath her arm.

"Of course," Bob said, looking slightly awed. "We'll meet you at the hospital,"

Shaking his head, Randy set out to the car.

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