Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than Drea, Lane, and other OC characters. Unfortunately enough, I don't claim any ownership to any WWE Superstars or the WWE itself. I'm entirely too poor and unlucky for that to be the case.

Here is the newest little chapter in the Days that are Drea's life. Keep those comments coming – I welcome feedback and any thoughts you guys might have. Hope ya'll are enjoying.

CHAPTER 25

We slept in for a while the next morning. When I finally rolled over, I was snuggled up to a pillow without Randy there. As I leaned up, I saw him sitting in the chair, typing away at his laptop. Today was the pay-per-view, and suddenly my stomach lurched thinking of what he was going to do tonight. I laid where I was, snuggled in and admiring the way the sun was tracing his muscles. He really was gorgeous, and at this point in time, I knew he had all kinds of talents. I suppose that I must have drifted back off, since the next thing I knew Randy was crawling back under the covers with me.

"Hey sleeping beauty, you awake?" I felt large arms pulling me to him after my snuggle pillow had been removed. I batted my eyes open slowly, and was met with a smirk.

"Yeah, I think I am. Why are you so bright eyed this morning?" I could barely even hear myself. I never had much of a voice in the mornings. Today was a little worse due to prior theatrics.

He looked surprised by my question. "You don't remember? I don't believe that in the slightest." And the smirk began to grow longer and larger.

"Oh."

"Oh?" I tried to burrow my head to Randy's neck deeper. I wasn't quite sure that I was prepared for this to be relived just yet. "Why are you hiding? It wasn't anything bad, and I'm pretty sure I should send you out without me every night if that is the result." He was obviously amused with himself. I wasn't quite sure I was ready to be the fodder for everyone in the company – the new girl has let herself get tangled in Randy Orton's sheets. Great start Drea; but definitely fun.

"No, it's fine." I had to change this conversation's direction. "So, what's the plan for today. Anything special I should know about? I want you ready with your game face on. You won't be any fun if you end up in traction."

"Baby, I feel like I could run a marathon. Today is beautiful, I'm going to have some breakfast with you, and we'll start worrying about the match this afternoon." I felt a swift smack on my ass, making me jump straight up as he laughed. "Now get up, come shower with me, and we will go get some breakfast afterwards." I watched, mouth agape still from the impromptu tap, as he rolled out of the bed and headed off to the bathroom, sliding out of his shorts on the way. I would have normally protested a smack like that, but I admit freely that watching him walk away made me forget. I followed him in, and reveled in the warm water and Randy. It was one of the longest showers of my life, but was well worth the time.

After getting dressed, and Randy's repeatedly checking his email (for a reason he would not divulge), breakfast was next on the agenda. On our way to the elevator, John happened to pop out of his room.

"Hey buddy, what you doing?" We both stopped as John spoke. I smiled meekly and looked at the ground. I prayed they didn't mention me for anything.

Randy nodded towards me. "We're heading out for breakfast. You wanna come?"

"Sure." The door shut behind John as he joined in our little procession. I let the guys' chatter take over and remained content to just be an accessory. That was until John decided to discuss previous events.

"So, you're gonna loan her to me when I go out from now on, right?" I knew my cheeks turned bright red in spite of myself. Randy laughed out loud.

"Well, if you can keep a good eye on her and I end up with the same entertainment, I'm for it." He elbowed John as both erupted in a fit of laughter that caused tears and some slight wheezing. "Maybe then everyone will quit giving you crap for finding random girls."

"Thanks for asking my opinion and talking about me like I'm not here." Both were still wiping tears from their eyes as we entered the restaurant and were lead to our table. "Or that you guys regard me as chattel."

Randy leaned over and gave me a kiss on the forehead while I caught John giving me a longing gaze before he broke it off with a quick wink. "It's okay baby, just wait until those pics show up and I've got to explain how John stole my girl. Like that is even a possibility."

This was my opportunity to get one over on them. "Oh, I dunno, Mr. Ladies Man. John's got game. You should see those pictures." John laughed as his eggs arrived, and Randy gave me an incredulous look. I chose to ignore it for my waffle with extra chocolate chips.

The meal and the rest of the day moved by quickly. As we arrived at the arena, I could tell Randy was slipping into game mode as the afternoon progressed. Most of the stars had become a little less jovial as time ticked down, but Randy was the worst. He was really doing a horrible job of keeping me from worrying. I tooled around in the back of the venue as much as was possible, trying to keep away from him and prevent adding undue stress until it was necessary. The talent did their usual spots and fan stunts, but people were everywhere chatting about moves and bitching about re-writes on their matches and promos.

As the show started and the crowd roared to life, I could feel myself tensing up at every opportunity. I already felt antsy about this night, and just what my charges were in store for themselves. I politely excused myself from Randy's locker room at one point to wander the halls further. A PA cornered me and asked me to give another round of last minute script changes to Randy and John. I realized that my numbers were dwindling in that moment; Matt had just been wheeled away with an accidental injury he suffered during his match, and Ted was lost to the blonde girl. Cody had been traded to a different show a while back, and now I've been left with John and Randy. The two pillars of strength. And they were my only charges to keep on the straight and narrow – which wasn't usually where we partied at. I guessed maybe Stephanie saw something in me that assured her I could handle this assignment. I should probably write her a thank you note.

I walked back into the locker room and handed over the script changes to John, who was pacing back and forth, and then to Randy. John seemed a little disturbed, and flopped down in the chair after his quick glance.

"John, what's wrong?" I figured there might be something on his mind I could help with. Besides, who ever wants the nice friend to be upset like that?

"I guess my time off has been approved. I'm going to lose tonight." He wrung his hands together and exhaled loudly.

"Time off? What does that have to do with you losing?"

"Well, I asked Vince about taking a little time off after we had the debacle with the divorce scenario. Creative needed a something that would make me disappear. I guess they are going to try and do a turn – make me bad – so that I'll be able to get out for a while. I'm going to lose, and start the whole thing off."

"Oh. So this is okay with you? I mean, what happens now?" I was truly confused, and a little freaked out. No John?

John leaned back in the chair and smiled slightly. "Yeah, it's okay, Drea. I want to take a little break, see some family. Plus, it means you'll have less headaches without me AND Randy to watch – definitely less flash photography." Towards the end, John's slight smile grew. I thought he might down right laugh when bringing Randy into the conversation.

"Now you know that's not true. I'm sure I can cause more headaches for myself than you both can." I smiled gently at John as he stood up and came over to me. I was pulled into a big hug, buried deep between his massive arms and his chest. I felt him lean his head down next to my ear as he exhaled loudly.

"I haven't left yet – no need to be sad."

"No way, I'll save the tears." I giggled in spite of myself as John released the hug and wandered towards the locker room door. I gave him a quick wave as he winked, and he was out the door. As I stood there watching, arms crossed, I heard rustling behind me; I had completely forgotten about Randy's presence in the room.

I spent the time up until Randy's match sitting on the couch, watching the broadcast on the monitor while he paced. Then there was the quick trip to catering to grab some water, which inevitably didn't get opened. And after watching John's already prophesized demise, and his extended exit, it was time. I know I had gone sheet white; I was concerned about what was going to happen, who was waiting for Randy, and just how bad this would end up being. Randy's face had gone to a place that I had never even seen before, and frankly, it was more scary than the look on his face from the club that night, and it was definitely worse than the look on his face the last time Gingy tried to make a pass at me. What gave me pause wasn't the slanted brows, or the terse lips and clenched jaw; it was this small glint in his dead, dark eyes. I read that spark as a small part of him that may have had a fear of the unknown. But then I watched him stare down some lowly intern who was handing him his belt outside the locker room door, I knew there was no fear – at least none he would admit to.

I had trailed him all the way to the curtain, and held up as he stood quietly waiting for his entrance to sound through the arena. I reached out my arm to lightly touch his elbow, and I saw his head turn slightly for me to catch his eye.

"Be careful…please." There was no response, just a glint in those dark, evil eyes. "And beat the piss out of him; there will be no more of this shit." I had my mean face on, but the moment the word "shit" left my lips, I saw the sociopath smirk cross his lips.

"Done." And with that, the music triggered and he disappeared through that black fabric, and the crowd roared as he wandered through the electronic maze. I couldn't move, but luckily there was a monitor near enough for me to see the action.

There are no words for what I saw. I knew that most of this industry was planned, calculated down to the tiniest details. Each man had his own character and of course, the play's the thing. Randy slowly made his way out and before the crowd; each of his steps brought more cheers from fans whom he ignored. The quiet Randy was gone, and the effigy who replaced him was determined and murderous. There was a long walk to a chain link cage that engulfed the ring. One man was large, pale, and looked like he had crept out from under Death's robe. The other was large, healthier looking, and presented like a caged beast about ready for his dinner. I could see lips moving on the monitor, and I'm pretty sure there were some choice phrases and four letter words that were exchanged. Randy moved his neck side to side, then his eyes narrowed even further. I was fidgeting like mad; they hadn't even started yet.

I took up pacing back and forth after the first several minutes. Blows were traded, knees slammed into ring posts, and heads tossed against the fencing. It was amazing that they managed to live. And it continued thusly for what I felt was an eternity; back and forth, one ahead, then behind. I could see the wear and tear on Randy as he grasped at his shoulder, then his back, and finally his knee. Yes, I knew that usually there was a pre-determined outcome, but this was not that situation at all. And the more time Randy spent down on the mat, the more I saw anger in the Ginger's eyes. This was certainly not what I would prefer to see. My instinctive reaction was to run down the ramp. But the last time that happened I was yelled at publicly and loudly. I had no interest in that repeat episode, and thusly my pacing became finger chewing, muttering to myself, and finally, yelling at the monitor like someone could hear me.

This had to have been the longest match I've ever watched. At several points I found myself screaming, watching Randy tossing around in pain. I really hoped there wasn't an audience for me; but if there was, I was putting on a show. I had to give up and sit down in a folding chair, my head buried in my hands. I listened intently at the reactions of the crowd, and the ebbs and flows of the sounds. My last view of this monstrosity was Randy, writhing around in pain, clutching his neck for dear life, screaming in agony.

The bell sounds, almost completely lost in the sea of raucous cheers. The loud pop of Randy's music goes off, and I spring to life from my seated spot. I think that I could have out jumped a kangaroo; side note – heels are not great shoes to hop around in. After I had worn myself out, and the cheers had gone silent, I saw the curtain slide over and Randy walk through. He was swollen, and looked like he had just come back from war. I ran up to him, and touched his hand lightly. The eyes looked at me, but were blank as he mustered up a slight twitch of his lips.

"C'mon, you're done for the night, so why don't you go take a shower, and I'll get loose ends tied up with the backstage folk." He attempted to smile. The memory of his languid face, and drooping shoulders would become a picture I was familiar with for a long time…