Author's note: Hey there! Thank you so much again for favoriting, following and reading. You are great! I'd appreciate it if you dropped me a few lines at the end of this chapter. Also, as always a big shout-out to the fabulous UntilNeverDawns for betaing not only one, but two of my stories.

Saying goodbye to him was ridiculous. Well, not that it was particularly funny or that they behaved ridiculously, it was just especially hard this time around. The fact that she wouldn't be able to see him face to face for a whole week, though it was a comparatively short time span, seemed too horrible to be true. Couldn't she just come along? She could pretend she was... Well, she couldn't pretend she was a diva or a valet. Despite his frequent reassurances concerning her looks, she didn't think that would quite work out. And since he already had a manager, she guessed she'd better stick to her normal daytime job.

She started thinking about him leaving from the moment she woke up next to him, which was pretty early and a pretty stupid thing to do, because it could potentially ruin their last moments together.

He was up a couple of minutes later. She could tell thanks to the way his finger so discretely poked her in the side.

"Stop it," she told him sternly and captured his hand with her own. "Is that a way to wake up the woman you had really incredible sex with yesterday?" She was trying for an authoritarian tone, but she was still rather drowsy from sleep, so it sounded about as authoritarian as an impossibly cute Disney character. Something small with big round eyes.

She rolled around so she came to face him. His hair was messy and tousled, his face relaxed and still somewhat tired. She blinked the sleep out of her eyes and his face became clearer and clearer. Despite being poked in the side, waking up like this was not so bad at all. Underneath the covers his index finger traced up her side and followed the upward curve of her left breast, making her suck in a breath and very much aware of the fact that they both were still naked. Actually, who was she kidding? This was a brilliant way to wake up.

"Is that more agreeable?" he asked ironically, almost as if he had read her thoughts.

"Slightly," she smiled, purposefully not telling him how great that had just felt. His ego was already bloated enough.

His reaction to her comment was sort of odd. He turned his head a little to the right, narrowed his eyes and looked at the bedside table clock. She frowned, not able to comprehend what he was getting at.

"I'm only checking the time because I have to leave in roughly 40 minutes," he explained.

"Oh, all right," her face fell. "I have to leave in an hour. But I can drive you over to your house," she offered, despite the fact that she felt disappointed and she'd rather have him stay here for an indeterminate period of time, at best forever.

"Hmmm..." That sounded thoughtful. "OK. What I have planned should be feasible, but we're working on a tight schedule. I suppose we could always incorporate agenda item one into agenda item two... In other words: Let's move," he swept back the blanket and got up.

"What?" her eyes narrowed, especially because he suddenly was so eager to get out of bed. A bed in which she was still lying. Naked, one might add. His behavior struck her as rather odd, considering those two things and how eager he had been to get her out of her clothes and have his way with her in said bed last night.

"Come on, sweetness, time's a wasting..." He made an impatient gesture with the hand he was holding out to her. Involuntarily her eyes travelled up and down his athletic body that was all nude, so there was a lot to see. Yesterday she hadn't really had the chance.

"Thank you for the appreciative staring. Now move your bum," he told her, for once smiling at her. She reached out her hand to him and he more or less hoisted her out of bed with one arm. Wow, he was strong and rather eager to get to wherever it was he wanted to go with her!

She soon found out where that was - the bathroom, or to be more precise, the shower.

"So item one and two are showering and having sex?" she asked sort of apprehensively. In her experience those two things didn't mesh. It had always turned out pretty unsatisfactory, because sex in shower cabins always required a certain level of athleticism or a lack of inhibition. She wasn't so sure she possessed either. He probably did on the other hand. Apparently he was just as straightforward and unconventional about sex as she had expected, which of course challenged her on many levels, because during her marriage her sex life had become a very predictable routine.

The look of apprehension on her face didn't deter him. "Precisely," he grinned and gently maneuvered her in the direction of the shower cabin. He put up a very convincing argument what with his right arm resting across her belly, his left hand cupping her butt and his mouth kissing her shoulder. All those different, extremely pleasurable sensory inputs filtered into her brain and she could already feel her resolve beginning to crumble and on top of everything else she was getting weak in the knees.

"Are you sure that's going to work?" she asked, her hands left and right of the glass shower door. His hands glided over her sides. They quickly reached the front of her body. One moving upward and the other downward. She gasped, especially when the latter one found its destination. His body was now pressing up against hers and she could feel his excitement and enthusiasm about the prospect of having sex with her underneath the warm shower spray.

His mouth was close to her ear and his voice made her sigh and shiver when he spoke. "Anything speaking against it, luv?"

She shook her head and was consequently gently pushed forward by him. Being inside that enclosed space with him was very up close and personal. Her breathing was shallow when she turned around and saw him standing in front of her in all his naked male glory. Her eyes travelled up his muscular legs and then inevitably lingered for a second or two on his groin area before they continued upwards. When they reached his face, she found him smirking at her.

"Like what you see?"

She nodded.

"Me too."

He advanced on her and backed her up against the cold tiles. His lips were warm and demanding, but the wall behind her oh so cold. She emitted a soft squeal. He broke the kiss and chuckled.

"Cold tiles..." she explained.

"Don't be such a sissy."

"Yeah, I'm a sissy. Let's switch places then," she suggested, which he of course took as a challenge.

"Gladly."

She returned the favor by making sure to press him against the tiles as she kissed him deeply and passionately. To her disappointment he didn't even flinch. Of course he wouldn't.

"I hate you," she muttered in between kisses.

"I have it from good authority that you don't, darling. Or else we wouldn't be doing what we're just doing."

She pulled back a little and gave him something resembling a reproachful look. "Don't be so full of yourself," she told him, discretely reaching for the tap left of him, the cold water one in particular.

"At this point of time I'd prefer it if it were you who was full of me," he smirked and she decided she needed to teach him a lesson. With a quick flick of her wrist, she turned up the shower spray and took a step back, so only her legs would be occasionally hit by some drops of ice-cold water.

He spluttered when the water hit him and let out an irritated growl. She got to bask in her victory for precisely 2 seconds or so, before he pulled her under the spray as well, which elicited high-pitched sounds of displeasure from her that were quickly silenced by his mouth on hers.

Not everything inside this shower cabin was cold. The water was, but his body and his mouth definitely weren't. She molded herself against him like a second skin and that seemed to put him in a more peaceable mood, because he adjusted the temperature of the shower spray to a pleasant lukewarm.

Again she was pressed against the tiles back first, but this time it was not so unpleasant. He slowly broke the kiss letting it fade out into a series of smaller ones. She looked at him expectantly.

"So do you feel up for this?" he asked, betraying the thoughtfulness behind his brash exterior.

"What's this?" she asked stupidly, which made him sigh and shake his head.

"How about a little sneak peek?" he murmured gently kissing her neck, as if to convince her and appease her equally with the gesture. She nodded numbly, so he took a step closer and pulled her into him.

"Lay your arms around my neck," he told her in a low voice and she complied like she was under some kind of spell. "Good," he praised her and kissed her cheek. "Now this goes up," he smiled and gently pulled her leg up by putting his hand in the hollow of her knee. "And this goes in," the word 'in' basically turned into a sigh, because it was accompanied by the action as well. Her head lolled back and she tried to get her breathing under control. All the while water was running down their bodies. She was standing on tiptoes to make up for their height difference. He noticed and adjusted their positions by cupping her bum with his hand to gently lift her up a little further.

Inevitably their contact deepened. She sighed his name and he smiled.

"That about all right?" he asked.

"Very much... Thanks for asking," she breathed, trying to smile at him but ended up biting her lip, while her hand moved downwards to squeeze his butt and draw him further into her.

"So you want me to move then?" he said knowingly. His mouth was nipping at her skin planting a long and wet kiss on her neck as he pressed her back against the wall. All she wanted at this point of time was melt into him, die because this felt so good, possibly never let this moment go.

"Well, you don't have to if you don't feel like it," she teased him, but any kind of mischief left her when he decided he had enough of messing around and slowly started moving.

He eventually ended up lifting her up entirely. And she only noticed a couple of moments after it had happened. She was too distracted by everything else. The look on his face, his strong arms, the contractions of his abdominal muscles each time he pulled her closer.

"I'm too heavy," she breathed eventually, "Put me down..."

"You're not."

"But..."

"Just shut up," he whispered to her.

"No," she whispered back challengingly and pressed a fleeting kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"Yes," he insisted and pulled her into him, which made head fall back and a moan escape her lips, loud enough for the sound to echo from the tiles walls of her bathroom.

"On second thought..." his rough voice made her look at him abruptly, "Don't shut up."

She kissed him passionately and he backed her further into the wall, sandwiching her between his hot and wet body and the somewhat cold tiles. It didn't take long until the sensory overload of this continuous and wonderful stimulation overwhelmed her and she called out his name like a mantra.

So shower sex was amazing: that was at least the lesson she took away from the experience this time. She was still smiling when they rubbed themselves dry with two of her towels. Her smile fell however when she thought about the fact that their remaining time together must have shrunken down to a few minutes in the meantime. A relationship with a timer. It was so curious, strange and new. He would always have to go away and she would wait. Those were their predetermined roles. Of course one had to assume such roles willingly and right now there was no talk about that yet. It was just that he was going and she hated it.

They were both fully clothed now and it was time to leave, so without making much of a fuss, she drove him over to his house. She could have dropped him off there, said a couple of nice words and been on her way, but that didn't seem quite enough. She got out of the car, rounded it and hugged the dear life out of him. For a moment she didn't care that he probably wouldn't like it. She inhaled the scent of his t-shirt, while her fingers clutched at the back of it desperately. He reciprocated the embrace by tightly wrapping his arms around her waist. His nose was pressed into her hair. "Darling," he said softly and the gentle timbre of his voice almost made her shiver.

"I hate that you have to leave," she said stubbornly.

"Well, I'm gutted that I have to go too," he admitted. "But I told you, just a week this time. Actually not even a week strictly speaking. You can come to Smackdown on Wednesday. The show's taped over in Orlando."

Later that same day Natalie stood behind the reception desk. There was a crease between her brows. She was sore and trying to pretend like nothing was amiss and her mood was spectacular, all part of her job. Well, her mood was good, although a little dampened by her discomfort. But she shouldn't have expected anything else really. Going for a year without sex and then going at it again twice, with added enthusiasm, tended to have those side effects. She really needed to slip into the staff room and take an Advil.

There were always two people manning the reception anyway, so she excused herself and whisked away. On her way out her cell phone started buzzing in the inner chest pocket of her blazer.

It was Stuart. She smiled and lowered her voice, since she was still inside the foyer.

"Hello, gorgeous," he greeted her. It sounded like he was calling over a hands-free-car-kit, because she could hear the soft swooshing of other cars gliding by in the background.

"Hi," she suppressed the term of endearment for now. She was almost away from the public eye. A couple of steps and she would slip through that inconspicuous door labeled "staff" and get away from the majority of potential ears that could be listening in.

"At work?"

"Driving to the next show?"

"Yes," she confirmed.

"Yes," he replied.

"Anyone in the car with you?"

"Would I run this conversation through the car's stereo if I wasn't alone?"

"I don't know."

"I'm alone," he finally replied and she could hear the amusement in his voice. "Miss me already?"

It was pathetic to admit to it, but she had started to become a fan of the truth, so she went for it. "Yes."

"After only a couple of hours?"

"Well, I suppose you missed me too or else you wouldn't be calling, right?" she shot back, not ready to be teased by him. Predictably there was a longer pause and then a bit of swearing, followed by a grudging "yes". He couldn't argue with her logic. It was bulletproof.

"See that wasn't so hard now, was it?" she joked and continued walking down the corridor towards the staff room with her locker.

"Feeling chipper today, huh? I wonder who put that little extra spring in your step..." he drawled mockingly.

"Actually there is no extra spring," she winced a little as she came to stand in front of the staff room door.

"How come?" She could imagine his frown before her mind's eye. How clearly she could do that was actually a little disconcerting.

"Hang on a second, please," she said stepping inside the room which consisted of one aisle of back to back lockers, two wooden benches and a table with a couple of chairs. Before she spoke again she made sure the room was actually completely empty. "There's no spring... because... erm..." she chuckled nervously, "I'm actually a bit sore."

"Because of what we did?" There was a subtle trace of preoccupation in his voice. Also it was pretty clear that the personal pronoun in his question could have as well been understood as an "I" instead of a "we".

"No," she even shook her head, pity he couldn't see it over the phone. "It's because of... well... hmmm... I've been out of commission for a while?"

"Aha. I see. Cobwebs in the basement. I gave it a nice dusting, didn't I?" His smirk, doubtlessly a rather self-satisfied one, transported nicely over the line.

"Stuart!"

"I'm sorry, sweetness. Well, if it's any kind of reassurance, you didn't seem that rusty. Maybe occasionally shy..."

"I so didn't want to hear that," she growled as she started rummaging in her locker for those Advils.

"What did you want to hear?"

"Something less macho..." she informed him.

"Hmmmm," the bass in his voice got right under her skin. "I'm sorry you're sore, darling." He was being sincere now. She could tell.

"Thank you," she replied simply.

"And I think we should go about this slower next time. I don't want you to be hurting after."

Woah! Had he really just said that? That was almost nice. And sensitive.

"Happy now?" he concluded.

"Better. Not happy. Happiness is about a week away."

"Ewwwww, please! None of that crap!"

"Do you really want to contradict me?" She arched her left eyebrow.

"No, I just wanna ruffle your feathers a little bit. You need it. Keeps you on your toes and prevents you from dwindling into being dull and sappy," he replied with a smile on his lips.

It was the evening of the Smackdown taping.

"Admit it, yer lookin' forward to seeing her again," Stephen grinned.

Stuart turned his head to look at him. His upper lip curled slightly upward in an impressive scowl that almost made him look like a snarling dog. But the threatening impression on his face had lost its effect about half a decade back, at least on the Irishman.

He just slapped him on the shoulder and shook his head in amusement. "Kind of nice how ye try to pretend yer not in a good mood. But unfortunately the fact that ye spared a hello te Eva-Marie is tell-tale. Ye know the girl's whose mere existence an' ability te survive in the WWE, let me quote ye here, 'puzzles' ye?"

"Shut up!" Stuart just growled.

"I tink yer crampin' up yer style, mate. Especially since ye held open the door to the Nikki Bella. Next thing ye know people will start thinkin' yer a nice bloke. Now that would be tragic... A fatal mistake that could cost some unsuspecting strangers life and limb..."

"Farrelly..." the Brit looked at him with narrowed eyes and his fist clenched at his sides.

"What?"

"Shut up! Or better yet: Why don't you go and finally get yourself that long overdue spray tan?" he growled maliciously.

"How 'bout ye go an' get yerself that long overdue heart transplant?" the Irishman shot back, his voice tranquil and nonchalant, while he threw his friend a shit eating grin.

"Gentlemen, if I may interrupt for just a second..." Both men's heads turned into the direction of one of the show's producers who had materialized next to them. He was wearing a business suit and was several heads smaller than them. Backstage of the arena, where people ran around in sports clothes or their wrestling gear, he stuck out like a sore thumb.

Stuart impressively suppressed the urge to say "And what the bleeding hell do you want?" and opted for a much politer version instead. "Sure, what's up?"

"Actually I wanted to speak with you about new idea for tonight coming straight from Mr. McMahon himself." All right, so one of the boss-man last minute ideas. It could be anything, ranging from completely insane and slap sticky to brilliant and groundbreaking.

"He wants you to align yourself with Paige."

Align himself with Paige? He didn't like the ring of it. He crossed his arms over his chest and fixed his conversation partner with narrowed eyes. His demeanor quickly produced the desired effect. The suit started squirming almost immediately.

"Align myself with Paige?" Stuart chose to speed the conversation along.

"More like start a romance arc with her..."

Stuart rolled his eyes, less than overjoyed by the news. He would have his girlfriend here tonight. His girlfriend who was not exactly the most confident person in the world when it came to relationships and who would probably not be jumping for joy to see him kissing another woman on stage. But he was in no position to argue with a decision that came straight from the owner of the company he worked for, so he only nodded with a scowl on his face.

"Good. Someone will drop by and hand you the new script for tonight in a couple of minutes," he was informed by the suit who disappeared as quickly in the crowd of people that populated the backstage area of the arena as he had emerged from it. Great, now he had only 20 minutes to learn his new lines on top of everything else.

"Ye don't look too happy there," Stephen needlessly summed up the situation standing next to him. Stuart just held up his index finger and got out his cell phone, only to end up on Natalie's mailbox.

"Nat, it's me. Something's come up. They decided to change up things tonight and I just wanted to give you a heads up... That's it. Call me when you hear this," he resolutely pressed the end call button.

"She's probably not gonna hear that," he said with a frown on his face. "And she's going to take that thing with Paige badly."

"How badly?" Steve wanted to know.

"As in resulting in a shrieking woman that won't even want to talk to me any more..."

"Didn't ye explain 'bout kayfabe?"

"Please," Stuart scoffed. "No need. She's a smart woman. She knows that what happens on stage is vastly fake..."

"So why are ye worried?"

"Cause she won't exactly be understanding about this what with her ex being a cheating scum-bag..." Stuart explained exasperatedly.

"That sounds fecked up..."

"You don't say," Stuart shot back with a frown on his face. "Listen mate, I hate to do this, but your bit comes up earlier than mine, unless they decided to change that as well, would you, you know..." Asking for a favor wasn't one of Stuart's fortes, but Steve got the implications of what he was trying to say nevertheless.

"Get her backstage an' talk to her 'bout it?"

Instead of an answer Stuart pointed at him with his index finger.

"I hope yer aware yer gonna owe me a enormously big favor after that. Like a massive favor of epic proportions..."

"What did you have in mind?" the Brit asked dejectedly.

"I'll let ya know. I'll have to think about it while I get spray-tanned," he winked at his friend and was off.