Her Head v. Her Heart

A/N: As you can probably tell, this is chapter fourteen. And as you have all be forewarned, the next chapter is the last. I'm posting it today on purpose, because I won't have another chance to post the last chapter until Sunday night. This gives you the rest of today (Tuesday), all of Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and most of Sundayto send me your votes on who's winning Trish's head and heart in the final installment. I know you can only review once, so feel free to shoot me an e-mail and let me know what you think, if once is not enough. Also, to Brittany, who suggested two endings to make everyone happy: I actually thought about that back when I started this story, and I had two ideas, but now I think I need one decisive conclusion, or else I've had everyone voting like mad for no reason. The vote, as I have counted it, stands at Batista 72; Cena 84. You guys are amazing me, every time I open my mail to find your passionate reviews. Thanks so much - you're the best ever. And I just posted a disclaimer in the last chapter, but in case you forgot or something - I don't own John or Dave. Wish I did - I can only imagine how great that would be - but I do not. And, as always, enjoy!

Not for the first time, he wondered how long he could continue to tolerate their arrangement. Each pretending that whatever was going on had no bearing on them or their futures. He knew he'd never let another girl get away with what she was trying to pull. But she wasn't any other girl. She was Trish Stratus, and he loved her. The fact that she was still sleeping with her ex on the side was not okay. But John wasn't sure he was ready to lose her because of it, either. He knew it was weak, but he didn't care. Even if all he had was a piece of her, he wasn't sure he'd be okay without even that.

So he bit his tongue and tried to ignore the signs. Though subtle, there were signs that only a man in love would recognize. She always wanted to have sex, as though to assure him that she wanted him, but she never opened her eyes to look at him. She always held his hand a little tighter when Dave was around, as though to assure John that there was nothing going on. She would call him in the middle of the day, just to say that she loved him, in case he was worrying that she was off with Dave.

As the days went on, and Trish didn't leave, John tried to convince himself that he was doing the right thing. It didn't feel right anymore, but neither did the thought of losing her. He tried to remain civil with Dave, but that was becoming harder and harder to do. When they would go to dinner, or carpool to the next city, or lift together in the gym, John always found himself wondering why.

Why did Trish want Dave still? She had told him, several times, that Dave was too serious, too settled, and too responsible for her. So why did she keep going back? Why did she claim to leave Dave because he never said he loved her, but when John said it all the time, he still came up short? Why were his words never enough? And why did his actions seem to mean even less? Why did every expression she shot him these days feel guilty? And why wouldn't she just tell him the truth?

He was ready to forgive her – all she had to do was ask him to. But he knew that she wouldn't. If anyone was going to bring this situation into the light, it was going to have to be him. So, as he and Dave spotted each other on free weights at the company training facility, he decided to do just that.

"So, Vegas this weekend, huh?" John asked as Dave benched 400 and nodded, his teeth clenched tightly. "You got big plans?"

Another hiss of air escaped Dave's lips as he sat the weights back in their place above his head and sat, his face red. "Nah, man," he finally said, grabbing a towel from the floor to wipe the sweat from his face. "Just work," he added.

John nodded and sank to another bench beside him, drinking from an athletic drink he had brought along. "No gambling? Strip clubs?" He shrugged and sat the bottle down as he asked, "Fucking my girlfriend?"

The room, which had been bathed in the sounds of a heavy hip-hop beat moments ago, seemed to grow deathly silent, the music fading at the end of the disc. Dave stared with wide eyes at John, while John stared at the floor. He couldn't bare to look in the face of his "friend" when he knew the truth would be staring back. "How did you –" Dave started.

Standing, John picked up a fifteen pound barbell and threw it across the room. It crashed against a treadmill and fell the floor with a thud. "How did you?" he asked, his voice coming out as a spit of anger. He hadn't expected to get emotional, but he also hadn't expected such a blatant admission. In fact, he had been hoping Dave would deny it all – then maybe he could convince himself that he had dreamed the whole thing up. "After all that bull shit about how I make her happy? About you just wanted her to be happy? Look at me," John demanded when Dave's gaze started toward the floor. "Answer me."

There was no answer, and Dave knew it. This is why he never talked – because words were lies. He did want Trish to be happy, but he wanted Trish to be happy with him. He wanted her to come back to him, to lay with him at night and laugh about whatever ridiculous signs they had seen in the crowd at that night's show, or whatever roadside attractions they had seen on the trip to that night's city. He wanted her to be his girl, to come home to him and stay all night, to wake up in his arms in the morning, to wear his shirts while she cooked breakfast or got ready to take a shower.

"What was I gonna do, John? Admit that I was still in love with her? That I still wanted her?" Dave finally asked. "She left me – she was over it. It wasn't my place to say who she could date or couldn't. I did want her to be happy," he insisted. It was still all he really wanted.

"She is," John seethed, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. "I know you want to believe that you're better for her, and maybe you are, man. I don't know. What I do know is that I love Trish, and if you want her, you're gonna have to beat me into the ground for her," he laid down the challenge before he stopped to think about it. Had he thought, he would have realized that Dave could do so much more than beat him into the ground. But they were talking about Trish, and when it came to her? John didn't think first.

"I don't wanna fight you, man," Dave chuckled, standing and holding up his hands. "Look, the thing is – I'm happy with Brandy and Trish loves you. The thing with us is just sex. So if you want me to back off," he held up his hands.

John shrugged. "Man, look," he finally said, his shoulders sagging as he decided to try another route, "I ain't never felt this way 'bout no one. She makes me crazy," he laughed and Dave nodded in acknowledgement. "I'm gonna ask her to marry me in Vegas," he added.

Dave's heart sank to his toes, even as he gave his friend a congratulatory smile. It was bittersweet, the admission, even if he had expected it. If John asked her and she said "no," his friend would be shattered, and Dave knew how that felt. It also meant that he might stand a chance of getting the love of his life back. On the other hand, if John asked her and she said "yes," it would mean that two people he really cared about were really happy together, and that was a good thing. Of course, it also meant that his chances with Trish were over and done forever. "I hope it goes well, man. Maybe I can ask Brandy, too. We can have a big, double wedding in the fall," he tried to joke around the sinking feeling in his chest.

But John shook his head. "Nah, man. I wanna marry Trish in Vegas. This weekend." He left before Dave could say anything else. He wasn't sure he was really ready to get married, but he loved Trish. And he wanted to be with her eventually. Why not just start sooner than later?