Disclaimer: Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight, wish I may, wish I might, hear the wish I wish tonight. I wish I owned Randy.

If being in Randy's mere presence could alter her breathing, then kissing him was nothing short of intoxicating. All of Leigh's senses became heightened: she could hear the water on the pool lapping at their feet; the smell of Randy's cologne wafted gently through the air; the taste and feel of his lips intermingled with her own. The whiskey combined with the sugary-sweet taste of Coca-Cola. His lips were soft and tender as they caressed her own; the touch of his fingertips as they traced her jawline sent shockwaves throughout her body. Leigh felt as though she were riding a roller coaster straight down for eternity—her stomach now permanently lodged in the back of her throat. And then suddenly, it was over.

Leigh took a moment to open her eyes, searching Randy's face for some clue as to what just happened. Had he been jealous that she spent time with John? He never seemed overly upset when she hung out with any of the other men from the locker room. Why had he kissed her? And, just as importantly, why had she kissed him back? A torrent of emotions ran through her and questions flooded her mind as she looked at him. He was smirking.

"That was bad timing," he sighed and lay back down on the concrete, lifting his feet out of the pool only to splash them back in.

Coming out of her reverie, Leigh realized he was talking. "Huh?" Smooth, Leigh, real smooth, she thought.

"Actually, bad timing wasn't really the right thing to say. More like I got caught up in the moment: moonlight, alone by a pool with a beautiful woman… it just seemed like a kiss was appropriate. Sorry if I… uh…"

"No, it's fine, really. It just took me by surprise. Plus, it was bound to happen sooner or later, right? Better to get it out of the way now… Is it really hot out here all of the sudden or am I imagining things? Whew, I wouldn't have thought Canada got warm, but it's really hot out here. I'm going to have a drink; you want to get a drink? Let's go raid the mini-bar in my room… I really need a drink," Leigh babbled incessantly as she stood up and collected her shoes and bag and hurried back to the main part of the hotel, embarrassed

Randy sighed as he stood; why in God's name had he kissed her? Yeah, there were tinges of jealousy when he saw her with Mark and John, but no more so than when she was hanging out with Dave and Paul. Those two are married, you nimrod, he thought. You're not threatened by them. Randy watched as she walked through the glass doors and headed towards the elevator, turning around with a confused look in her eyes as she realized he wasn't following. He smiled at her and, putting his questions aside, followed her in, resigned to spend the evening with one of his best friends.

They tried to walk silently down the 12th floor corridor, considering it was the middle of the night, but Randy, wanting to lighten the mood, kept knocking Leigh into people's doors, undoubtedly waking the occupants. This set Leigh giggling uncontrollably as they stumbled into her room.

"Leigh? It wasn't that funny," he chuckled as he shut the door behind him.

"Are you kidding? This entire floor is taken up by wrestlers who are probably trying to get their swerve on with whatever ring rat they picked up. Hearing heavy pounding on the doors in the middle of the night, they're probably thinking the girls' husband/father/boyfriend found them and are trying to reclaim their lost innocence. Doing that probably made them lose whatever mojo they've worked all night to get," she laughed as she pulled Randy's coat off her shoulders and tossed it on the bed.

"Seriously, how old are you? 'Swerve on'? 'Mojo'?" Randy laughed as she went through her drawers collecting her nightclothes.

"You kids today and your fancy talk. Who am I to keep up with it?" she smiled. "I'm going to get out of this dress. Make yourself at home; I'll be right out," with that, she walked into the bathroom and shut the door.

Randy looked around the room, noticing how much of herself she brought with her on the road. Normal stuff: clothes, a book, her laptop, work things. But there were also personal touches as well that traveled with her: an old time silver alarm clock, a framed picture with friends that he assumed were from back home; a scented candle that was labeled to smell like gin and tonic. Randy lit the candle and began loosening his tie, finally removing it and tossing it on the bed. He unbuttoned the royal blue shirt he was wearing and placed it, too, on the bed. When Leigh emerged from the bathroom to hang up her dress, she was slightly shocked to see Randy Orton in her hotel room, barefoot, wearing only a white undershirt and slacks, crouching at the mini-bar. He looked up to her and smiled. "What's your poison, princess?"

"Well, I've already been a mild jackass tonight, so why not finish it up and go with tequila?"

"You're not gonna cry, are you? I don't think I can handle crying tonight…" Randy raised an eyebrow at her, remembering the first night they hung out together. She smiled at him as she tucked her bangs behind her ear and reached for the bottles of tequila.

"Are you going to be a real man and do this the way we do in Texas? Or do I need to go find salt and limes for you?"

"Is that a challenge?"

"Only if you're up for it… champ," she grinned wickedly at him as she curled up on the couch with her legs tucked underneath her Indian-style. Randy looked her over: she had changed into a white racer-back tank top with a pair of cotton pajama pants; she had removed her hair from the knot but had replaced the knitting needles with a plain rubber band. She looked almost… eager?

The next two hours was spent taking shots of tequila out of the plastic cups from the bathroom and watching reruns of Most Extreme Elimination Challenge on TSN. The already amusing stunts on the tv show were made that much funnier after four of the bottles were polished off. They played cards—Bullshit was rendered ineffective seeing as there were only two people playing—and played poker for pennies where Randy learned that Leigh was a card shark and a pretty good cheater to boot. Around 5am, they were beginning to tire and their words became slurred. Randy had moved up to the couch with Leigh and she let him lay his head in her lap.

"Tell me what went through your mind tonight, when you won…" Leigh asked as she stroked his hair. His long body took up the entire length of the couch and his legs had to curl over the armrest. His breathing was steady and even and it would only be a matter of time until he fell asleep. His arm curled around to caress her knee and he smiled, a lazy grin, as he began speaking.

"Incredible. My dad would always tell me he didn't want me to go into the business; he wanted me to have a normal life where I would fight traffic in the morning, work an eight hour day at a job I hated, and be home with my wife every night. It was something he never had, as an adult or as a kid. He wanted to have little grandkids running around and he wanted me to able to take off for a week and go hunting with him and my brother whenever we felt like it. After I left the Marines, he realized that I wouldn't have that life even if I didn't go into wrestling. He saw I was restless and had no direction, but he knew that this would be something I'd be good at. Winning tonight let me prove that he was actually right; it took him a while to come around, but he finally did. It let me show him I was happy with the direction my life had taken, happier than either one of us imagined I ever could be. " Randy yawned and opening his eyes, looked up at Leigh. She was sitting with her back against the armrest of the couch and had leaned over to rest her head against the back cushions. She was still, however, absent-mindedly running her fingers through his very short hair and that made her his favorite person in the world. "How'd you wind up here, anyway? Why'd you leave Houston? You're obnoxiously proud of being a Texan; wouldn't it have been easier just to stay there?"

"I thought you didn't want me to cry tonight?"

"It's okay… I'll probably pass out in a few minutes anyway, but you look like you want to talk about it."

"Not really. Let's talk more about you; you're your favorite subject."

"You speak only the truth. What else do you want to know?" Randy sat up and stretched his arms over his head, allowing an inch of his very tan and defined stomach to come into view. Leigh, being inebriated, reached over to tickle him gently when he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into his lap.

"I want to know how to make the spinning stop," Leigh groaned as she tried to sit up. "Seriously, Orton, you want to let me up right now. Don't want anything happening to these expensive pants now." He reluctantly let her stand and she stumbled into the bathroom. Randy went to gather his clothes off the bed to head back to his room, but thought better of it.

When Leigh emerged again, with her face washed and teeth brushed to try to get rid of the tequila taste that remained in her mouth, she found Randy passed out in her bed. Not wanting to try and fight a 265 lb man, she sighed and climbed in next to him. Instinctively, Randy threw his arm over her side and she snuggled in closer to him. "I'm sorry you spent your championship night like this," she whispered, not wanting to wake him if he was, indeed, asleep.

"I wouldn't want it any other way," he whispered back and kissed her head. "Goodnight, princess."

A/N: I'm sorry this was so short… and bad. I needed to get something up, though, and my Randy muse is failing me (probably because I got so little of him on Monday. Plenty of Kane, though.) Anyway, thanks to the wonderful fourlane, I've got a new idea of what to put in next that I'm pretty excited about. Next chapter is going to have some Dave. I love me some Dave.