Authors Note: Update time. In answer to a few questions, there's going to be a little less drama between Trish and Randy this time. I promise to be a little easier on them in this story...but not too much. Doesn't conflict make the story more interesting..?

I've had a couple of PMs from you guys (which, by the way thank you, it was very cool to get them) about my future on FanFiction. I totally plan to keep on writing, and in the wrestling catagory to boot! I've inspiration for a whole bunch of stories which I will work on involving other wrestlers, as well as stories in other catagories.

I think though, after this story, I will take a break on Randy/Trish for a while, as I don't want to burn myself out writing their relationship. As it was my first Randy/Trish pairing, I had this whole vision of where I wanted the relationship to go, and I couldn't just leave it where it was in the previous two stories, which is why I imagined the entire 'triology' for lack of a better term. So, I will continue writing, and more wrestling stories, I'm just taking a little sabatical from Randy/Trish stories, but this isn't my last !

I hope you guys enjoy the chapter, please read and review. And as ever, I disclaim :)

"Stupid…muthafuckin' cheep ass flight."

Randy's growling voice was distinctive, not only because of the expletives it had been laced with, but also due to the tantalisingly low tone it held, a pitch exclusive to the young 'Legend Killer'. Trudging down the connecting corridor of the airport, lost in a sea of people, his limp was more than noticeable as he made his way into the airport itself, a look of exhaustion plastered across his chiselled features. With one hand placed firmly on the strap of his duffle bag resting on his shoulder, the other hand causally massaged the lower regions of his back, which were unbelievably tight, causing him more irritation than he would admit.

Being over 6 foot four, with a large frame, sitting in anything other than first class accommodation on a flight left Randy with gnawing cramps in his lower back, because of the way he was forced to contort his body.

And as ever, he had decided 'maybe this time would be different' as he selected economy class for the flight, along with Candice Michelle and John Cena. Most of the trip had involved Randy moving his legs in awkward positions to allow the over-sexed couple past him from their bank of seats so they could get to the bathroom on the plane and proceed to fuck each other senseless. On more than one occasion, Randy had smiled apologetically at the air steward, ineloquently forming him his friends had 'the shits' and would spend most of the flight dashing to the bathroom.

Three trips later and he gave up lying.

The worst part of the whole trip was that the position he had been sat in had caused his lower spine to contract awkwardly, leaving Randy with an irritating cramp which was refusing to work itself out as he walked into the terminal. Hunched forward, randy couldn't see himself as the being the gorgeous 'lady killer' he was considered to be. If anything, he resembled something closer to a bad imitation of the Hunchback of Notre Dame.

And behind the sea of people, Candice and John were following in Randy's footsteps, albeit at a much slower pace due to their stops to grope one another along the way.

Finally stepping out of the feeder tunnel, Randy's eyes adjusted to the raised lighting level in the airport. Groaning with effort, he extended to his full height, sending throbbing waves up and down his spine. Inhaling into the put of his chest, he was taken aback by the huge glass windows which filtered in bright rays of morning sunshine, filling the space with a light, fresh feeling. Just what anyone could wish for after an uncomfortable, cramped flight. Narrowing his crystal blue eyes slightly, Randy's gaze swept over the airport arrival area, searching for a sign of his Canadian wife.

Almost giving up hope, Randy was Forced to perform a double take, as both crystal blue eyes widened considerably as they registered where Trish standing. Randy had nothing but respect for the way Trish presented herself. She knew how to be sexy without slutty, and the clothes she wore accentuated her beautiful figure perfectly. However, Orton didn't know what to make of her current 'ensemble'. Far from her usual 'sassy' demeanour, Trish was dressed in out-and-out diva style.

Trish's ample chest was displayed proudly in a crisp white shirt, buttoned down to just below her breasts, exposing a tantalising hint of her beautiful cleavage and the lacy black bra holding it in check. The shirt was covered with a black sweater, with a deliberate 'V' at the front, giving more attention to her exposed chest. Trish's lower half was clad in the tightest, white hot pants that Randy had ever seen, matched with the knee-high white go-go boots covering her legs. The huge faux-fur coat Trish had encasing her tiny form gave her the impression of some kind of 'Pimp', with the large dark sunglasses covering her eyes completing the look.

Her hair hung around her face in large waves of loose golden curls, which tossed from side to side as the Canadian barked animatedly into her cell phone. Everywhere in Trish general vicinity, her 'people' skittered around, as if fawning over the woman. Randy raised an eyebrow at the sight. He knew that Trish tended to travel with a team now as she had so much to do during a day, but he hadn't expected to be greeted with Trish holding court in the middle of an airport.

Obviously frustrated at whomever she was talking to, Randy watched as Trish snapped her cell phone shut, handing it to a woman that Randy recognised to be his wife's personal assistant, Phoebe. At the same moment, Trish seemed to notice Randy as she stopped suddenly, as if shocked into silence. All at once, the grin spread across her face as she removed her sunglasses, exposing the soulful chocolate brown eyes to which Randy was so in love with.

Giggling, Trish sped forward, the heels of her boots clattering across the polished marble as she tore towards Randy. Unable to suppress his own smile, Randy shrugged off his duffle bag, extending his arms into an open invitation, to which Trish accepted whole heartedly. In one swift movement, she launched her self into the air, flinging herself into Randy's open arms. Pulling his wife into a tight embrace, Randy growled slightly as he felt her legs wrap easily around his waist whilst Trish lips attacked his own.

In a ferocious battle of burning kisses and dancing tongues, each Orton lost themselves in the taste of the other, as Randy's hands slid down to cup Trish pert bottom, as her own hands clawed their way through his hair and down his back, her nails grazing his skin as they did so, leaving tiny red marks dancing across the flesh.

Feeling light headed at the lack of oxygen, Randy pulled his lips back slightly, as he looked down into Trish's flushed face.

"Missed me?" The grin which broke across his face was reminiscent of the 'Legend Killer' character which Randy was famous for. There was a time when Trish found such a look the most nauseating thing on the planet. Now, however, it made her want to throw him on the floor and ride him with abandon, regardless of where they were or how many people were present around them.

Settling for stealing kisses from his pouting limps, Trish smiled warmly as she replied, "Really, really badly."

Making a sympathetic if slightly playful 'aww' sound, Randy rubbed his nose against Trish's in a tender 'Eskimo kiss'. Giggling in response, Trish relaxed the grip of her legs on her husband waist, as he gently dropped her to her feet. Falling into step beside Randy, Trish's hand automatically found his as their fingers mixed with each others, making their way through the airport towards the exit.

Randy had mentioned about his bags, but her soft assurance that one of her 'people' would deal with it was enough to silence Randy. What grabbed his attention more than anything, were the photographers in the airport, all snapping pictures of what he guessed was his wife as she replaced her sunglasses onto her face. Sighing in her obvious disgust, Trish raised her hand in front of her face, as if shielding it from the prying views of the camera lenses. Her pace quickened considerably, forcing Randy to increase his own pace to keep up with her.

Breaking into a near run, Trish barrelled through the entrance doors to the outside, the photographers in hot pursuit. Perplexed, Randy could only be dragged along as Trish's team brought up the rear, trying to protect her from the zealous paparazzi, flashing the shutters of the cameras ferociously.

Exiting the airport, Randy eye's bulged as he was confronted with a state of the art Hummer Limousine. It was a deep shade or dark red, contrasting sharply with the deep blue sky resting all around it. The door of the vehicle rested open, held by the suitably attired driver. Realising that the limo was waiting for Trish, Randy found himself being ushered into the seat after Trish who had already clambered into the vehicle. No sooner had he hauled himself into the backseat than was the door shut firmly, protecting them with tinted glass from the photographers crowding on the side of the vehicle.

Exhaling in disbelief, Randy felt as though that had been some kind of set up. He knew what it was like to be chased by fans wielding camera, but he had never in his life experienced that kind of attention. And clearly, the fuss was not over him - rather exquisite wife, who was currently grumbling expletives as she tore her sunglasses free of her head, slinging them down the length of the vehicle.

Watching the path of the eye-wear, Randy's breath caught in his throat as he finally took in the sight of the interior of the vehicle. The seats were made of white leather, completed with a darker grey piping, that stretched the length of one side of the car. At the opposite end rested a state of the art sound system, currently playing Janet Jackson's newest album. The floor was made of polished wood, given an enticing pink glow from the lighting glowing out from beneath the seats. The roof also gave off a source of light as the roof had been covered in hundreds of minute fairy lights, twinkling in ever changing patterns ranging from baby pink to brooding red. To top off the look and feel of the interior, on Trish's near left rested a bottle immensely expensive champagne and two glasses.

Forcing himself to shut his gaping mouth, he stared in bewilderment at Trish, who was still ranting about the photographers.

"Fucking rude, intrusive bastards! Do they have no sense of a person's privacy? I swear they must have me 'LoJacked' or something. Ever-fucking-where I got, they are there with those snapping cameras and stupid flashes! It is really starting to get on my last nerve…what on earth are you staring at?" Trish eyed Randy with knitted eyebrows as she couldn't quite see what he was so engrossed with.

With a grunted response, Randy motioned around him with his hands. Realisation flushed into Trish eyes as she realised what he meant.

"The hummer?" she grinned, "like it? It's courtesy of the company that market my designs. They gave it to me a few weeks ago. My own personal transport, complete with driver and sound system. Hot isn't it?"

"It's amazing," Randy added, feeling in awe of the expensive vehicle, "what was all that bout back there? All those photographers? I've never seen so many paparazzi in my life."

Sighing dejectedly, Trish rested back against the seat. "I know, it's gotten really bad recently. Everywhere I go they are just there. Airports, hotels, studios…even freakin' grocery stores. They are just there all the time. I know its publicity or whatever, but I am gonna end up 'Chick Kick-ing' one of their heads off."

Sensing his wife's frustration, Randy reached his arm around her shoulder, pulling her body against his. "Relax baby girl," he purred into her ear, "they don't matter now. We can fly home and just lock ourselves away fro a few days."

Trish moaned as she arched into Randy's touch. "I wish. I hate going so long without seeing you."

"So come home with me," Randy whispered, nipping at her earlobe, "we can just lock the doors and stay in bed. C'mon Trisha, come home with me." Giggling at the thought, Trish forced herself to sit up to look at Randy fully.

"C'mon baby, don't tease me," she pouted, "that sounds so awesome, but I can't take time off and neither can you." Trish stopped, eyeing Randy suspiciously as he tried to avoid her eye contact. Whether he was lying by omission or otherwise, Randy Orton could not hide it. He looked like a ten year old school boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Raising an eyebrow, Trish shot out in a controlled voice - "What?"

"Nothing." Randy replied, smiling innocently at Trish, who only folded her arms across her chest. "Okay, okay. Something. But nothing you need to worry about."

"Don't think I won't beat it out of you Orton." Trish grinned, her eyes glinting with unspoken intent, "and not in the good way."

Chuckling, Randy ended with a sigh as he realised he had to come clean with Trish sooner or later. "I've got the next…two weeks off." So he was being economical with the truth, he wasn't exactly lying in saying he wasn't going to working.

Unfortunately for Randy, Trish wasn't buying a word of it. "Why are you off for two weeks?" Her look held reservation, as she wasn't sure if an honest answer was what she wanted from her husband.

"Don't flip out Trish, but -…" Randy stopped mid sentence as Trish cut him off, her voice rising in pitch as she became flustered.

"You can't begin with 'don't flip out' Trish, because that clearly means I have reason to flip out. I suggest you tell me what is going right now." Giving the best authorities look she was capable of, Trish began to stare down Randy.

"After last night's event…I kind of had a disagreement with Hunter… A physical disagreement which ended up with him having a few stitches above his eye…" Randy trailed off, feeling a wave of ice hit his stomach as he registered Trish's cold expression.

Gravely, she finished the sentence for Randy. "…and you got yourself suspended for fourteen days." Sighing is disappointment, Trish let her eyes roll back into her head, as her head dropped into her hands, "baby what were you thinking? Or were you even thinking at all? Picking a fight is one thing, but with the boss' son-in-law? You know how much trouble that will land you in. Fuck Randy!"

Trish threw her hands up in resignation, shifting slightly on her seat so her back presented itself to him slightly. Her voice was soft, making it all that much worse for Randy. "Why? What did it get you Randy? You're on the verge of becoming a full time main-eventer, and you go and pull bullshit like this. I thought you'd grown out of stuff like this two years ago."

Feeling the need to be diplomatic leave him, Randy couldn't sit in silence and be lectured by his wife "He was being a total dick. And he hit me first."

Trish turned back to face Randy, not showing the slightest trace of sympathy. "Do you think Vince gives a shit? And so what if he hit you, you shouldn't have hit him back. It's unprofessional. You should have just been the bigger man and walked away."

"Fuck off Trish," Randy exclaimed, incredulously eyeballing Trish at the idea he could have just walked away, "just turn my back and look like a total pussy in front of the boys? You know it doesn't work like that. I don't care who his father-in-law is, no-one disrespects me like that."

Trish laughed bitterly at her husband words. If there was one thing she would never understand, it was the male preoccupation with status and position. "Don't start with that egotistical testosterone shit. You should have just walked away. No-one would have thought any less of you, especially as it was him!"

"I would have become a joke Trisha," Randy countered, his voice low and laced with bottled up anger as he spoke back to his wife. He didn't want to engage in a confrontation with his wife, but he had a low anger tolerance and Trish was pushing all the right (or perhaps wrong) buttons, "I've worked really hard to build my reputation with the boys backstage. And I feel like I've gotten it now -…"

Again Trish jumped in on Randy's sentence - "By proving you're a man, who was above childish squabbles! You're not that punk-ass kid who pisses everyone off. But incidents like this just pushes you back down again. You're your own worst enemy Randy."

"I didn't come here for a lecture," Randy spat, clenching both fists at his sides. "I thought at the very least you'd understand why I did what I did, god forbid you actually support me." Wasn't that how a marriage was supposed to work?

"Oh of course I support you," Trish sighed, once again throwing her arms into the air, feeling more than a little offended at the insinuation that she wasn't as supportive of Randy as she should be, "and I am always on your side. But that doesn't mean I have to agree with what you do. Nor does it mean that I won't kick your ass for being stupid."

"Good," Randy forced a smile through gritted teeth, trying his hardest to allow his anger to ebb away so he could think rationally. However, its grip seemed far too strong for Randy to just 'let' the emotion go, "so you can come with me tomorrow night when I've got my disciplinary with Vince tomorrow."

"Fine," Trish breathed sinking back into the leather, letting her arms fall loosely across her lap. She had really thought Randy was past moments like this, acting out in such manners. She had even thought that he had grown into a man. And yet, he had somehow managed to go right back to where he started.

"I just need some time off to cool down baby," Randy assured, softening his tone as much as possible, "just a couple of days at home with you and I'll be good to go. Even if it means apologising to Hunter."

"I already said I couldn't fly home with you Randy." Trish replied, rolling her neck so her face turned to look at her husband. His pouting lips and raised eyebrows told Trish without words that he wasn't happy with what she said.

"Why not? Why can't you come home with me? I need you." Randy felt like he was whining, but he wanted Trish to come home with him, even if it was him being a little selfish.

"Think this through Randall. I've already pushed my schedule back to be with you until Thursday. I couldn't take any time off even if I hadn't pushed my stuff back, there's just too much to do. I'm sorry babe." Trish reached for Randy's hand, but he recoiled, huffing as he stamped his foot.

"Sorry to inconvenience your schedule. I'll remember to book you in advance next time." Now Randy knew he was being hurtful, but he didn't care. He wanted to have his wife there for him, not designing underwear.

"That is not fair. You know I'd come home with you if I could, but it doesn't work like that in the real world. I'm trying to build a career for myself. Sometimes I just have to do my job, just like you have to do yours," Trish's eyes pleaded for understanding from Randy, but his huffing told her he wasn't interested, "well if it bothers you that much, why don't you travel with me?"

"Fine, maybe I will." Randy retorted as nonchalantly as possible. Inside, he positively aglow with the idea of spending time with his wife even if she was working. However, he was too busy being stubborn and refused to let Trish know it. And with both folding their arms, with their backs turned slightly to each other, the rest of the journey to the hotel was driven in silence.