Disclaimer: I do not own, or lay claim to, any of the WWE Superstars/Divas etc referenced in this work. I own Iseult and any other additional original characters that appear throughout this story.

A/N: Thank you Sinistergateslegend, Thoughts in Chaos, Awake-the-Dark, Violets in the rain and Jodzter for your reviews and encouragement. Honestly, it really helps me to stay motivated when y'all get involved in the story!

I hope that you have enjoyed reading this, as we enter the final chapter. Let me know what you think!

"Oh God, that cake was incredible," Iseult moaned, as she rubbed her tummy.

"Iseult, you ate it over an hour ago, and haven't stopped talking about it since," Stephen admonished. "Get over it!"

She punched him playfully on the shoulder. "Careful, or you'll be charged with crimes against good taste. That cake was insanely good. Better than sex."

He raised his eyebrows at her as they followed the large group of pro-wrestlers that led the way to the karaoke bar. They had just finished dinner after a house show in Louisiana, (she had started to appear as Sheamus' valet during his matches with Randy),and everyone was eager to blow off some steam.

"Jesus. You must be going through a dry spell."

"Farrelly!" She gasped, punching him on the shoulder again. Despite it being the truth, she was still embarrassed by his frank comment. "I do alright…"

"Is Orton still sniffing around? He looks at you the same way that you look at cake."

She guffawed, thinking that her dry spell may be due to said guffawing.

"Uh, no. We're strictly onscreen make-out buddies. I mean, there was potential for a fling there, but I had to shut it down. Career comes first, and I didn't want anything messy in my first year."

"It's probably for the best. I can tell that he likes you, but we all know about his reputation. I even warned him off you, just to underline the point."

"You did?" Iseult was surprised to learn this. "How did he react?"

"He told me about a very uncomfortable position that I should go and put myself in," Stephen snorted, stopping outside the bar.

"He said that he didn't just want to sleep with you, but that could just be more bluster. You're like my little sister, Iseult. I don't want to see you getting hurt, or distracted. You have way too much potential to get sidetracked as Orton's latest plaything."

She was shocked to hear that Randy had more in mind than just sex with her, but decided that Stephen was probably right – Randy had obviously encountered arguments about his true intentions before, and probably had a book of lines at the ready to counter with.

"Let's just forget about it," she said brightly, as they walked inside. "What will you be singing first? Danny Boy…?"

It was Stephen's turn to smack Iseult, but she managed to skip out of his reach. His mates still found his rendition of the Irish classic to be the funniest thing in the world, and would play the YouTube clip at every available opportunity.

"Iseult! You're up first!" Nikki yelled from the corner, where the group had commandeered several tables.

Normally, she would be horrified at the prospect of singing in public, but the two glasses of wine that she had enjoyed with dinner had left her nicely uninhibited.

Having flipped through the song choices in a flash, she stepped up on to the stage to a massive cheer, and proceeded to belt out 'Teenage Dream' by Katy Perry. She was having so much fun, and realised that it had been a very long time since she had allowed herself to relax and enjoy life.

The Divas and a few of the Superstars were dancing like devoted fans in front of the stage, encouraging her and singing along.

Her performance came complete with full-on actions and a lot of laughter. When the chorus kicked in, she slipped out of her heels and jumped up and down, much to the delight of her friends.

As she sang enthusiastically about skin-tight jeans, her eyes locked on a familiar pair of aqua blue ones. Randy was in the crowd, sipping on a beer and watching her every move. He looked divine in a tight navy t-shirt, revealing his tattoo sleeves and well-defined biceps.

Still enjoying the liberating effects of Sauvignon Blanc, she maintained eye contact and sang the rest of the song directly to him. As she took her bow, he smirked a little and applauded, his tongue running over his lower lip, appraising her. That one little peek of his tongue reminded her of how it tasted, and how its owner knew exactly what to do with it. A little shiver streaked down her spine at the memory.

"You just had eyeball sex with Orton!" Nikki burst out breathlessly when Iseult stepped offstage, heels in hand.

"Nikki! I did not!" she insisted, a less than innocent look on her face. "I'm going to get a drink, anyone want anything?"

"A gingerale!" CM Punk piped up from his seat.

"No problem, Punk!"

Iseult weaved her way toward the bar, and collapsed on to a free stool. Damn, she thought she was in good shape, but all of that cake, wine and three minutes of singing had really taken it out of her.

"A white wine and a gingerale, please," she told the bartender, relaxing back into her seat.

"That was quite a performance up there," a voice whispered in her ear, causing her to jump. She looked behind her to find Randy standing there. He eased on to the stool beside her and ordered two shots.

"Well, it's important to be versatile these days, just in case the wrestling thing doesn't work out," she laughed. "Also, you really are a snake, aren't you? You can slither out of nowhere and take your prey by surprise."

He shrugged casually, "Just living up to my reputation. I never got to compliment you on your other performance this week – our little stunt practically caused Twitter to melt down. You're quickly becoming the golden girl around here."

She blushed a little, twirling a stray strand of hair around her finger.

"Thanks. I was so happy with how it went, nobody saw it coming. I hope I did a decent RKO – there was a lot of pressure to really sell your signature move."

"You did pretty damn great," he drawled, as 'Like a Virgin' by Madonna began to play in the background. "I was stiff the next morning, which is always a good sign. Stiff in my neck, that is."

"Always an innuendo at hand, Randy," she smiled, handing over cash to the bartender and grabbing her drinks. "I better head back, Punk will be crabby if he doesn't get his gingerale ASAP. See you later!"

Iseult settled back in her seat between Stephen and Punk, sipping contentedly on her wine. Her first real interaction with Randy since their talk hadn't been as awkward as she had expected. Maybe they could manage something resembling a friendship.

If it had really just been about sex to him, then there wouldn't be any messy residual feelings to address, and they could move forward. Her heart still skipped a beat whenever she saw him, but that was just something that she would have to learn to deal with. How difficult could it be?

She looked up to see a tanned brunette, wearing the shortest dress that she had ever seen, singing along to Madonna onstage. The song apparently suited her down to the ground, as she gave her best O Face while thrusting her hips to the suggestive lyrics.

When she had finished, it was mostly the males in attendance who hollered and whooped.

"Ugh, I'll wash, but I'll never be clean," Iseult joked, surveying the looks of incredulity on the faces of her friends.

"Wow…just, wow," Punk chipped in. "I like crazy chicks, but I did not like whatever that was."

Iseult watched the woman make her way to a table in the middle of the room, before leaning down and slinging her arms around the guy sitting there. That had obviously been a very public form of foreplay for her. Iseult could only see the back of the man's head, but guessed that he had a big smile on his face.

She quickly turned her attention back to the stage, where Dolph Ziggler had started to throw some shapes to 'I'm Too Sexy.' Of course that would be his song of choice.

She made a point of taking a mental photograph of the people at the table, reminding herself to savour and enjoy the rare moments when she let her hair down.

Things really seemed to be looking up for her.

Two hours (and three more glasses of wine) later, Iseult was feeling the happiest that she had in a long, long time. She had danced her way through the initial mellow, bubbly phase of drinking, and was now quickly marching toward being full on affectionately drunk.

Her heels were posing a serious threat to her wellbeing, with her legs now resembling jelly. But she didn't care. She was beyond caring about how her hair might look after a dance-off with Nikki Bella, or whether her lipstick had migrated to other parts of her face. Life was so, so good.

Her co-workers (would she dare to call some of them friends? Why, yes, she would) were the best people. Her heart bloomed with love for each and every one of them, as she wandered through the nightclub that they had wound up in, offering hugs and effusive words of praise as she went. She was already aware of the fact that she was a lightweight, but was now learning that she was basically a drunken version of Bayley from NXT, after several glasses too many.

Stephen was being a good friend, keeping a watchful eye on her as she meandered around in her bubble of love and enthusiasm. Leaning against the bar, she finally decided to give up on the heels (ha, ironic, because that's what I am – a heel, get it?), replacing them with a pair of flats that her sober self had wisely packed earlier that evening.

Realising that her bladder was now dangerously full, she loped over to the corridor where the bathrooms were located, high-fiving Stephen along the way. Why had she never tried drinking to excess before? It was so much FUN. All of that self-restraint and focus over the years had deprived her of knowing the joy of letting go.

Having taken care of her business, she paused for a moment to scrutinise her appearance in the mirror. Her hair was a mess, cascading down her back in a sea of tangles. Her eyeshadow was smudged, and her lipstick had faded long ago.

But, for all of the cosmetic disarray, she rather liked her appearance at the moment. Her skin was glowing from all of her exuberant dancing, her cheeks were flushed to a healthy rose, and her pupils had practically swallowed her irises. She looked happy. She looked alive.

Instead of wasting time repairing the damage, she swiped at the eyeshadow with her fingertips to re-blend it, bit down on her lips for a natural infusion of colour, and ran her fingers through her hair to banish the more manageable tangles. Who cared what she looked like, really? It wasn't as if she was out to impress anyone tonight.

Self-consciousness, and arguably her dignity, had been discarded about an hour ago. On that note, she pointed her thumb and forefinger at her reflection, winked and made a clicking noise with her tongue. There were no witnesses in the deserted bathroom. Not that she would have cared at that point. She hummed to herself as she slung her bag over her shoulder, and made her way back out to the corridor.

Her limbs had been light earlier in the evening, but even in her currently euphoric state, she had to admit that they were slowly becoming heavier and more awkward to control. She concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, her hand gripping the wall as she slowly moved along.

"Left, right. Left, and then the right."

A frown creased her brow as she concentrated on the simple actions, before dissolving into giggles for no particular reason.

Yawning widely, she suddenly slid down the wall to the floor, landing with a soft thud. Iseult looked around helplessly, unable to summon the energy to get back up. Shrugging, she began to play with the hem of her dress, continuing to hum an off-key selection of the Backstreet Boys' greatest hits.

The door to the men's room swung open several seconds later. Randy casually glanced around as he emerged, preparing to stride back to the main section of the club. His eyes fell on the most unusual sight. Iseult was on the floor, tugging at her dress and humming softly to herself. Iseult - the girl who was always in complete control, at all times.

Well, whenever I'm not there to make her forget herself, he thought smugly.

He had kept his distance as best he could since her little rejection speech, but hadn't been able to resist the temptation to compliment her at the karaoke bar. She seemed different tonight, more open. He was certain that alcohol had had a major part to play in the appearance of the suddenly carefree woman before him.

Despite her insistence that they should keep it strictly professional between them, he acknowledged the fact that he would always want more from her. Regardless of all that, he knew that he couldn't just leave her here. Who knew what would happen if some creep found this beautiful girl, who was currently oblivious to anything bad in the world, at his feet in a deserted hallway?

"Fuck it," he hissed.

Running a hand over his tightly cropped hair, he turned back and crouched down beside her.

"Hey, Iseult," he said quietly, pushing back a swathe of soft blonde hair from her face. "How are you doing?"

Her eyes had glazed over, but suddenly re-focused at the sight of Randy.

"Hiiiiii," she smiled lazily, reaching out to touch his arm. "Have I ever told you how soft your skin is? It must be all that baby oil. I know you're a manly man, all muscly and hard, but Daniel Bryan was right – you are so pretty."

He bit back a laugh, enjoying the sensation of her fingers tracing the lines of his tattoos.

"You're not so bad yourself, sweetheart." He knew that he should hold back on using that particular term, but one look at Iseult told him that she wouldn't remember much of this conversation in the morning.

"You're just the prettiest," she insisted, placing her hands on his knees to steady herself, as she leaned forward and buried her face in his neck. Inhaling deeply, she let out a happy sigh. He smelled divine, so dark and masculine. She nuzzled her nose against his warm skin, before resting her head on his shoulder. His beautiful, solid, muscular body made her feel so relaxed and safe and…turned on.

Randy remained very still, unsure of what to do. If she were sober, he would have had her pinned to the floor in a heartbeat. But she was clearly out of it, and he wouldn't take advantage of that. He wasn't that much of an asshole.

"And your body," she continued, her lips brushing against his neck as she spoke. "I mean, you can always see your abs. Even when you breathe. They're really real. They never disappear. That is just AWESOME."

Okay, he couldn't not laugh at that one. "I'm glad you think so," he murmured, easing himself into a sitting position and gently taking her with him. She scooted closer, draping her legs over his, and wrapping her arms around his neck as she replaced her head on his shoulder.

He was surprised by how forward she was being, but reminded himself that it was the alcohol at work, as he rubbed her back with one hand. Sober Iseult would never have uttered a word about his prettiness.

"My body, on the other hand," she mused, running a single finger down the length of his throat. "These things are so big, that I haven't seen my abs or feet in years."

Jesus Christ, she was hilarious when she was drunk. Her forlorn expression only added to the moment.

"My boobs, Randy. I was talking about my boobs."

"Uh, yeah, I got that," he said, clearing his throat. He should probably get her back to the hotel, before someone with a smartphone added to her already impressive number of YouTube views. "Had a little bit to drink this evening, sweetheart?"

She smiled, nodding her head proudly. "I enjoy the feeling of false confidence that it gives me. And the sex glow. It makes you look like you've just had sex. Look!"

She pulled back, resting her hands on his shoulders and watching him with an earnest expression.

He had to admit that she was spot on. She really did look like a freshly fucked woman. Her flushed cheeks, swollen lips and blown-out pupils were a complete turn-on. A line of regret ran through him, that he wasn't responsible for how she looked right now.

Without warning, she swayed forward and began to kiss along his jawline. He stilled for a moment, trying to ignore just how fucking good it felt.

"Sweetheart, we gotta get you out of here and back to your bed," he said, wincing at the strained rumble in his voice. A sure sign that he needed to stop this, right now.

"That sounds like an excellent plan," she whispered.

Her mouth fell down to his pulse, running her tongue over it, before sucking on the smooth skin that covered it.

"Just look at you," she mumbled, moving back to run her eyes over him approvingly. She squeezed his biceps and groaned contentedly, enjoying the feel of the rock solid muscle beneath her hands. He was so firm. Her body would fit perfectly against all of his hard angles.

Resting her head against his chest this time, her tone became more pensive. "Why did I push you away? You're perfect."

Randy's hand faltered midway up her back, suddenly ceasing the comforting little circles that he had been rubbing up and down her spine. This had just got even more interesting. He realised that he was holding his breath, curious to hear more of this train of thought.

Her fingers were dancing along the curve of his pec, lightly caressing his nipple through his shirt. She let out a deep sigh, letting all of her weight fall against him.

The silence was more than he could bear, as was her teasing touch. Did she even know what she did to him?

After a few minutes, he glanced down at her. She was sound asleep, her breathing deep and even, a little smile on her lips.

Groaning softly, he scrubbed a hand across his face. He needed to hear what else she had to say. Iseult had seemed so certain when she insisted that they would not be pursuing this thing between them. It was his experience that a little juice could loosen the tongue and reveal a whole lot of truth. Had that just happened? She said that he was pretty, but that was a universally known fact. He was more interested in her question. She seemed doubtful about her decision. Fuck, why did she have to fall asleep right at that moment?

Moving slowly, he got to his feet and carefully scooped her up into his arms. She was such a little thing…well, except in the chest – not that he was complaining. He paused for a second, cradling her to him and studying her sleeping face. It was a nice change to see her like this – completely unguarded and relaxed. He hoped to see more of this side of Iseult in the future.

Hearing the door open at the other end of the hallway, his legs carried him forward, easing through the double doors. He came across Stephen, who was frantically searching the room, a worried look on his face.

"Hey, Farrelly," Randy called out. "She's right here."

A relieved expression washed across his features as he spotted Iseult safely nestled in Randy's arms.

"Oh, thank God," he breathed out. "I've been lapping this place for the last few minutes, trying to find her. I thought I missed her coming back from the bathroom. Shit, she's really out for the count."

"Yeah, I found her singing to herself outside the bathrooms," Randy replied, tenderly shifting Iseult in his arms so as not to wake her. "She mumbled a bit, and then went out like a light."

"Thanks for bringing her back to me, man," Stephen said, moving forward to take Iseult from him.

Randy's primal instincts immediately reared up, hugging her tightly to him and frowning at Stephen's intentions. A second later, his caveman urges retreated with a whimper, as he reminded himself that Stephen was a closer friend to Iseult than he was. It was natural that he wanted to take it from here.

He slid her into the Irishman's arms, instantly missing her warmth.

"I'll get her back to the hotel. Thanks again. God only knows what would have happened if you hadn't found her."

"Glad to do what I could," he said smoothly, feigning disinterest as he casually glanced around the club.

"See you later, enjoy the rest of your night." With those words, Stephen headed for the exit, Iseult still dead to the world in his arms.

Randy watched them leave, continuing to stare long after they had disappeared from view.

He was brought back to reality by a hand sliding up his chest from behind, coming to a stop over his heart. He felt a soft body mould itself to his back. A familiar feminine drawl soon followed.

"If you're all done playing hero, can we pick up where we left off, darlin'?"

A.N: Only joking! This was not the last chapter. Sorry, I was feeling a little mischievous.

I would love to hear your thoughts. In particular, if you have been keeping up with this story and have never reviewed before, I am curious to know what you think – please feel free to speak up!

I have a busy few weeks coming up, so may not be able to update as regularly as I would like. However, a healthy number of reviews might be able to convince me to keep up my pace…just sayin'… :D

Feedback is extra welcome today.