Wednesday was husband day.
Easy to be him.
Being perfect wasn't simplicity, breaking his nose was.
Derrick lacked a bull, used only the hammer instead.
Another scar, another trail of blood leaking down his face.
another smile.
But he wouldn't be his true love forever, had no reason or interest in being...ugh...intimate with the Enemy.
He felt ashamed he'd been fooled so easily, Cena wasn't the enemy at all, it was that nasty, useless...
Derrick hid behind the wall seperation and glared.
Enemy and his sidekicks.
The skirt wearing one that talked with a Sheamus clone accent, the Canadian Indian.
The enemy, his Enemy, a medium sized mass of freckles and bouncing energy and terrible noise.
Derrick made a sound, rumble of thunder before a storm.
He knew what this Enemy was.
A vampire.
Because he'd SEEN them together, HIS husband with this waste, spied on their backstage grope fests, noticed the tiny sharp teeth, teeth of bats, they both had.
Derrick had his carved out wooden stake ready, ready for weeks, sharp pointed, ready for the time to take a life.
To END one.
But for now, he was Wade.
No damage yet.
Now he'd watch, in the shadows, watch and observe, check for weaknesses.
He held the stake.
Jabbed it into his leg.
Laughed a bit.
No pain at all.
He was Perfection.
He was royalty.
He was his beloved husband.
It was mid week and Derrick was Wade.
He was a vampire and he'd draw first blood.