A Gilded Frame
Summary: Dave Batista and Orianne Thomas are finally together, believing they are free of his ex-girlfriend and her husband. They now find themselves in the aftermath of her decision to leave her husband and must face the consequences of that choice. The question is no longer about hiding their relationship but if they will make it together as they weather announcing their relationship, dealing with her impending divorce, and a surprising strike from the cruel hand of fate.
The incomparable Rae (Queen of Kaos, ID: 802246) has created a banner for this fic and can be found on my myspace page (url on my profile page here) in case you're interested. A million thanks, my dear!
Also, a HUGE thanks to Clare (WandaXmaximoff, ID: 747588) for betaing and offering her honest opinion. Love ya, chick! There would be some really stupid mistakes in here without her.
Rating/Warnings: The rating system isn't all that great for this kind of story but the majority of it is PG-13 or T. However, there are certain sections rated M. I'll leave it up to the reader to decide what to do with it.
Disclaimer: I do not in any way lay claim to any name or character in the WWE. This is not-for-profit fiction. The only profit received is pure entertainment. Original characters of the Thomas, Anderson, and Batista families (with the exception of Batista himself—which is a damn shame), Cara Whitfield, and Cedarius Cooper, along with other various peripheral characters, belong to Disco Inferno1, 2006-07.
Notes: (1) As a married woman, I am sensitive to such issues as affairs and want readers to know that I do not take marriage and affairs lightly. This is simply a plot I am exploring in writing. Also, I have my opinion regarding military occupation in foreign countries but this is not the place to voice that. The point of this is that I mean no disrespect to anyone by this story. Personalities presented within are not necessarily those of the characters in real life nor are the views presented within necessarily those of the author.Poetic license has been taken with character personas and television canon.
(2) Even though the fic is based on "reality," I have not used wrestlers' real names or their families' names (which I have subsequently made up). I am highly uncomfortable doing so since it feels as if I am writing a fic, for instance, about Sean Bean instead of "Boromir."
Prologue
There was nothing left to do but wait for the sealant to dry. She couldn't put it back together until then. After that, the restoration would be complete…almost. Orianne Thomas rose to her knees and pulled the sheet of plastic to cover the disconnected wooden sides of the picture frame and secured it over the bricks that elevated it above the frame. Standing, she glanced at her hands to see the sealant staining them. She couldn't stain or paint a thing without getting it everywhere. The deck didn't have a drop on it thanks to the numerous newspapers covering it but her fingers were less fortunate. Having known better, she picked up the bucket of paint thinner she had set out and headed down the steps to the backyard. She turned on the water spigot and began pouring the thinner over each hand. Getting the sealant off was much easier than ridding herself of the residual smell of the paint thinner. Drying off her hands, she headed back up the steps and stood looking down at the frame. She had been working on the restoration for months now without a clue as to what she was going to put in it. Only a month before finding the frame, she walked out of Sloan Anderson's life and back into Dave Batista's. If she thought her life had become chaotic when she met Dave, she had no basis for comparison of the turmoil that had come next in choosing to return to him. Restoring that intricately carved frame, from stripping the gold paint, filling in the chips and cracks, and sealing it, had been her way of restoring her life amidst the chaos. The finishing touches were all that were left, which was deciding what went in the middle. What it held inside was how it would be identified.
Chapter I: No Secrets, No Lies
The light barely filtered in through the closed blinds and Orianne, hardly cognizant of the time, was tempted to snuggle deeper underneath the covers. Stretching, she realized that Dave wasn't in the bed beside her. The woman pushed her dark hair out of her face as she sat up and noticed that it was one in the afternoon. She was known to sleep in but never that late. Still not wanting to get up, she chose to anyhow, thinking about who was waiting for her…somewhere in the house. She stumbled into the bathroom and brushed her teeth before running a comb through her hair. The smudges under her eyes were enough to tell her that there wasn't much she could do for her appearance…like that was something Dave commented on anyhow. She was a disaster last night and if he took her in then, he would hardly care today.
Orianne had shown up on Batista's doorstep hours after tossing her husband out on his ass. She had to know if there was anything left to salvage between her and Dave. Not checking the weather before catching a flight to DC, she had nothing to protect her from the rain as she sat on his doorstep, waiting for him to return home. No one had come or gone from the townhouses on either side of his and, despite freezing and being drenched, she was glad of that so she didn't have to explain herself.
Instead of asking questions, Dave had ushered her inside. He picked up her luggage and camera bags—once again, she had to thank the photography gods for gracing the world with waterproof bags—and carried them up the flight of stairs, settling the suitcase on the chest beneath the window. "It's soaked through," he said, unzipping it. She rifled through it and agreed. "My t-shirts are in the top drawer over there and there's some things of yours in the bottom drawer that you left and I didn't find until…" he trailed off and then stepped into the adjoining bathroom to quickly pick up some dirty clothes that never made it into the hamper. Noticing a pair of running shoes by the bed, he kicked them underneath.
Orianne wanted to tell him to stop it, that neither one of them were ever this neat. Yet, she couldn't find the words. They seemed to be dancing around each other, both wanting to speak but not knowing what to say given what had transpired that day. Where did they start after three months apart? After she had chosen her husband over him?
"I'll just jump in the shower," she stated, picking up her toiletry bag.
"I'll get you a towel—"
"It's okay. I know where they are," Orianne quietly replied.
Dave ran a hand over his hair and stuffed both hands in his jeans pockets. "Yeah," he said with a nod. After a moment, he turned to go but then quickly turned back around. "I'll just go start these drying," he stated and zipped up the suitcase before dragging it behind him. In the laundry, he started stuffing her clothing into the dryer but then considered the DC rain and started checking the labels before dropping them into the washing machine. He was embarrassed by going through her clothes but there something so ordinary about it, so right that it was almost scary.
What if she ran again and took this away? He finally had her back; she was his and he wasn't sharing her with anyone else. But what if Sloan came back? Would she go back to him again? He had faith in her—she had made her choice. If there was one thing he had learned the night he confessed that he loved her, she stuck by her choices. As ordinary as doing her laundry was, the fact that she was upstairs in his bathroom was surreal. He wanted to tear up there, slip in behind her, and show her how much he had missed her but he couldn't. She was too exhausted, too emotionally drained and he could see that.
Knowing he needed a shower himself, Dave peeled off his own wet clothes, adding them to the load of laundry and taking out clean ones from the dryer. As he stepped out of the guest bathroom, he could hear the shower stop and knew she would still be a bit longer. Knowing they both could use a cup of coffee, Dave set some to brew and leaned up against the counter, thinking of Orianne's every move. She had a routine after bathing and she had to be clean before she could sleep. It hardly mattered to him—he could drop and be out like a light any place, any time…before their broken affair. He could see her in his mind's eye with a towel wrapped around her head like a turban and standing naked in front of the mirror. She'd brush her teeth—so much for the coffee—and then work lotion into her skin, starting with her feet. He had to stop thinking about it or he would rush right in there.
The washing machine signaled that the load was done and Dave left the kitchen to switch the clothing over to the dryer before returning to pour both of them a cup of coffee. Ascending the steps, he heard the hair dryer stop and, as he stepped into the bedroom, the man noticed the soft curve of her breast as she dropped his Capitals shirt over her head. When she turned around, she didn't seem surprised to see him standing there and gave him a small smile as he held the coffee mug out to her.
"Thanks," Orianne whispered and took a sip.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.
Finally, she nodded and replied with a hoarse, "Yeah." She had three months of explaining to do, culminating in her acknowledgement that she loved him. They ended up settled on the bed, him leaning against the headboard and she against the foot of the sleigh bed. That is until she finally got to admitting her stupidity and how she finally realized what was right. The woman rushed into his arms and began crying again. He stroked her hair—god, he had missed touching her hair—and whispered calming words. She finally fell asleep laying against his chest and he was grateful that she didn't move when he rose to turn off the lights and then settle in beside her.
Orianne wasn't going to lie and say she wasn't disappointed to not find Dave in the bed beside her in the morning. Still, she knew he had to be around and started down the hall, glancing into the rooms. She had to stop and chuckle when she found his 'wrestling' room. The woman knew that he was planning on doing up one of the extra bedrooms with his wrestling memorabilia and what she jokingly called a shrine to himself. By the time they had ended their relationship, he hadn't done anything to the room, refusing to let the interior decorator get hold of it. There were shelves of figures and DVDs and posters hung on the wall. WWE T-shirts were piled up on the single bed, which sported a blanket and sheets that had his face and several other superstars on it, along with a stuffed bear with his tattoos and had on his wrestling trunks. Where was one of these when she needed something to hug? It hardly mattered now that the real thing was around here somewhere.
The rustle of newspaper alerted her to his presence and she found him, in only a pair of shorts and his hair wet. He was sitting at the breakfast table in the kitchen, a glass of what she assumed was a shake in one hand and his nose buried in the morning paper. She quietly slipped in and leaned across the table to pull the paper down. "Hi," she said.
"Hi, yourself," he replied with a toothy grin.
"Wha'cha been doing this morning?" she asking, sitting on the table and swinging her legs around to rest beside him.
"Went for a jog, had a shower, now I'm learning about the crime rate in DC and how they've changed security at Dulles Airport again," he stated in an arrogant, educated tone and then sniffed.
"I hope it's those new x-ray machines so security can quit feeling me up," she lightly commented and slipped a leg over his thigh, settling herself on his lap between him and the newspaper.
"I suppose I could get a job as a screener and feel you up," he casually replied.
Orianne could hold in the laugh no longer and she wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him close. "I've missed you so much," she said into the crook of his neck.
"Me, too," he replied, holding her tight, last night's tension between them finally gone.
She pulled away and pushed her hair out of her face, making a disgusted noise. "I think I'm gonna cut it. A new life, a new hairdo."
"Don't do that," he immediately replied and ran his hand through the tresses that were another inch longer since he had last touched them.
"You know I can't do anything with it," she stated, tucking a hank behind her ear. That was exactly why she wore those handkerchiefs; they were the only thing that would hold her hair back and stay in place without a ton of hairspray.
"And that miraculously changes when you cut it?"
"You've got a point," she replied and they lapsed into a silence, just staring into each other's eyes. "Dave, are you sure you want this?"
"This?" he asked. "You mean am I sure I want to be with you?" She looked away and then back at him. That wasn't exactly how she wanted to phrase it because it was too true.
"I still mean what I said to you that night. I'm not in the same circles as—" Dave's eyes narrowed to remind her that that conversation was settled—he didn't care that she was not in the same societies as Gabrielle. "Nothing's changed. I will always have problems with my leg."
"Orianne, stop it, just stop it." He fixed her with a stare that made her want to crawl under the table. "I—don't—care. We're together and that's all that matters."
She nodded and leaned in for a soft kiss. Sitting back up, she mused, "Randy's going to be pissed when he hears."
"You aren't going to believe this but I think he won't have a problem," Dave replied and then relayed how Edge had locked the two of them into the lockerroom together until they settled their differences. He also told her what Randy had said about Olivia.
"I don't know about that," she warily responded in regards to her sister.
"I think you should give him the benefit of the doubt on this one."
She gave him a suspicious cock-eyed look and then sighed. "Maybe so but I'm not going to tell Olivia. She's finally over him and I'm not reopening that wound. But this doesn't mean Randy and I are going to friends or anything."
"I wouldn't ask it," he said and cupped her cheek.
She closed her eyes, savoring the feel of his rough hand. "Dave, what are we going to do next? What comes next?" she asked, her voice wavering.
"We have to take it day by day. I'll help you find a divorce lawyer if you want."
She slowly nodded. "But what about work? I don't know what you went through but it was pure hell to have everyone staring at me like I was a plagued harlot. Can you imagine what they'll say when they find out I left Sloan for you? First I cheat with you and then I go back to my husband and then I kick him out for you. How sordid can you get?"
"Ori, you've just got to let it go. If this is what you want, then it doesn't matter what they say."
She sighed when he used her nickname. She had missed his voice but, most of all, she missed hearing him saying her name. "Can we maybe not tell anyone this weekend? Just let it be us before the cat's out of the bag?"
Dave glanced down and then back up at her. He didn't want to hide the fact that they were together. They had spent so much time in secrecy and now they didn't have to. It didn't help that that primal man inside him wanted to tout the fact that he had won out—Orianne was now his. He wanted to stand on some big ass rock, beat his chest like a caveman, and proclaim his victory. Instead, his 'prize' was nervously holding her bottom lip between her teeth, waiting to hear his answer. "I suppose."
"You think we could maybe wait until the divorce is final…"
"Do you know how long that could take? No, no secrets, no lies, not anymore. If we had just been honest with each other in the first place we could have saved everybody a lot of heartache. We're not gonna make it if we can't be honest with each other."
Orianne shifted in his lap, his gaze was discomfiting. "I know. Why were we so stupid?" He shrugged in reply. "Okay, let me get through this weekend first. But no more secrets or lies ever. I promise to be completely honest from here on out."
"I concede," Dave replied with a chuckle and slipped his hands up her thighs and underneath the shirt. "So, if we're being honest, tell me what's on your mind? And you can't lie."
"Well," she began but lost all ability to form words as one hand closed over her breast and his fingers slipped beneath the edge of her panties at her hip. Running her hands down his chest, she leaned in and teasingly ran her tongue along his bottom lip.
"Wanna take this upstairs?"
"Uh-huh," she barely got out as his hands found her folds beneath the satin. Dave wrapped his arms beneath her and stood from the table. "Wait," she said and he paused, brow furrowed. "Is that my phone?"
He could hear the faint ringing. "Not mine."
"That's my mother calling. I have to take it."
"How do you know?"
"Because I have a special ring tone for her."
"She can wait," he said and nipped her ear.
"She knows I'm at work right now and never calls," Orianne explained but then the ringing stopped.
"Too late now," he replied and started for the stairs but the phone sounded again.
"Something's wrong. I have to take it," she insisted and he set her down. "Where did we leave my phone? It was in my canvas bag."
"By the door," he answered, trying to hold in a groan of irritation. It had better be good to interrupt them. He was this close to having what he had only dreamed of in the past several months. But then again, for Orianne's sake, he hoped it really was nothing. As she answered the phone, he slipped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.
"Orianne Isabelle Anderson," her mother began and she instantly wondered what she had done this time but then she caught onto which names Marian had used. She knew about Sloan. "Young lady, you get yourself on a plane and get to Prescott now and straighten this situation out with your husband."
"Mom," Orianne began but she was cut off.
"I'm not asking any questions and I don't want to know. I want to see you here by tonight."
"Mom—"
"I'm not asking, I'm telling."
"Mother!" Orianne shouted into the phone. Dave didn't know how to take the anger in her voice and began gathering her hair behind her neck before massaging her shoulders. "It's over and it can't be fixed."
"You're going to have to. Are you with him now?"
"I'm not going to dignify that question with an answer," her daughter retorted.
"Orianne, you are married whether you like it or not."
She couldn't talk to her mother when she was this worked up. "Is Dad around?"
"Your father is with Sloan right now, getting him settled into the guesthouse."
Orianne managed to hold in an expletive and slipped out of Dave's grasp to start pacing. She didn't want to talk to her dad with Sloan around. "Is Orrin out?"
"He's in the barn. What does he have to do with this?"
"Just put my brother on the phone or I'll call him myself."
"Orianne, I raised you better than this," Marian lectured as she glided out of the house and towards the barn. "I can forgive you your prior indiscretion because Sloan did but this has gone too far."
Her mother suddenly stopped and Orianne could hear her father's voice. "Just put Dad on the phone."
"It's your daughter," the woman stated and passed the phone off.
"Baby girl?"
"Dad," she sighed, "what's going on? Mom called me and started preaching at me."
"Just a minute," he said and she heard some mumbling between her parents. "Sloan showed up here about thirty minutes ago, said that the two of you were separating, and asked if he could stay here for a while."
"Did he say why?" Orianne asked, running her fingers through her hair.
"No, I was hoping you could explain," he said, asking only for the information rather than judging her.
"It's a long story, Dad. It's been a long time coming. Could you do me a favor and keep Mom at bay? I don't need her lectures while we work through this."
"I'll do my best, baby girl," he softly replied, his voice making no promises, "but you know your mother."
"I don't know what to tell you," she sighed and leaned up against the wall in the hallway.
"You probably should come home."
"Dad, this is not all my fault and I'm not going to chase after Sloan to settle it. It's your choice as to whether or not he can stay at the guesthouse."
"Baby, he had nowhere else to go, I'm not going to turn him out," Carter explained, wanting her to see his side of the situation.
"It's whatever you want. I have to go," she lied, tired of this conversation. "Love you."
"Love you, too, baby girl."
Orianne ended the call and tossed her phone on the couch. "Sloan went to Prescott," she angrily stated to Dave who was casually leaning up against the living room doorjamb and waiting for her to finish talking with her father. "I don't know what his agenda is but he's up to something."
Dave was too angry at Sloan's actions yesterday to defend him but he couldn't blame the man from running to the only family he knew. "Just let it go. You can't change anything from DC."
"I'm just so angry that he'd go straight to my family and turn them against me. It's not like they all hate me except for Olivia," she ranted as she continued to pace.
"Ori, let it go," he said and strode across the room to grasp her shoulders to stop her from wearing a path in the carpet. "You know what, I've got something to show you, take your mind right off of things. Get dressed."
"I was hoping that we could stay in until we left for the weekend. I didn't really want to have to explain—"
"No one we know will see us, I promise. Go on," he replied and swatted her on the butt to send her in the direction of the laundry room. He was highly disappointed that they were interrupted but he knew better than to try again. The phonecall had put a damper on their libido. He was so proud of his gym that he couldn't wait to show her and now would be a good time.
TBC…