It was late morning by the time Evolution were finally packing up and preparing to move on. Flair and Triple H intended to head straight for their next destination to do some training before the next RAW; it made sense for Batista and Randy to go along too, so they could work out with the rest of their team-mates. Evolution may have been emerging as a formidable force in the WWE, but all four of them were still learning to adapt to each others'moves. Logically, more practice meant better results, as Ric Flair kept enthusiastically reminding them.
Flair and Triple H had already discussed taking a taxi to the airport, and had phoned through with their plans, which suited Batista just fine; he really didn't feel like being alone with Randy right now. Sure, he was absolutely besotted with the younger man, but Randy's recent behaviour was starting to grate on his nerves. Randy had been the last one to get picked up by the limo the other week, allegedly sorting out 'private business'; he had left Batista hanging for a whole two days after the older man had made his first moves; and now he seemed reluctant to share his computer dealings with Batista, even though he'd been using a computer in public view.
The whole thing was starting to drive Batista crazy, and his nasty mood showed as he arrived in the hotel lobby. His foul temper was obvious from the moment he stepped through the lift doors, his feet stamping down against the carpeted floor, his case being dragged heavily behind him; he stormed over to the reception desk and paid his bill before joining the rest of Evolution by the front doors, still scowling.
"Is everything alright, Batista?" Triple H asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow and taking a closer look at his team-mate. "You look pissed."
"I'm fine." Batista cleared his throat and glanced at Randy, but the younger man was unable to meet his gaze. Interesting. If Batista didn't know better, he'd say Randy was feeling guilty about something. "Let's just go, shall we?"
"Batista's right. Let's get moving." It was Flair who spoke next, assuming his usual fatherly role. "We need to check-in at the airport by two, and it's almost half-twelve already. C'mon!"
Nodding in agreement, Triple H, Batista and Randy followed their mentor, making their way to the taxi rank in uncomfortable silence.
By two o' clock, Evolution had reached the departure lounge of the airport; Flair was reading a book on wrestling greats, Triple H had stuck on a pair of headphones and Randy had been poring over a newspaper for the past half hour whilst Batista had settled down with a novel he'd just bought from one of the airport bookshops. It was just what he'd needed, the big wrestler realised, as he tried to lose himself in the pages of the story; escapism, imagination, something else to think about other than the delicate romantic situation he'd seemed to have gotten himself into. At least, until Randy started talking to him.
"What book's that?" Randy leaned over and tapped at the book's cover, his voice sounding almost forced. "It looks alright."
"Oh, it's nothing too great. They only tend to sell the mainstream crap here." In reply, Batista held up his book for Randy to see, a supposedly thrilling tale of espionage and treachery in late-eighties Hong Kong. 'ASTOUNDING!' claimed the cover, but Batista seemed less than impressed. "Not the usual thing I'd choose, but it passes the time, I guess."
Batista mentally checked himself as he answered the younger wrestler. He hadn't meant to sound so friendly, so compliant; after being in such a terrible mood all morning, he'd wanted to at least sound annoyed, to let Randy know how much his secretive behaviour was irritating him. Instead, though, he found himself speaking softly to Randy, responding to the younger man's questions as though the two of them were talking intimately and alone. Damn it, it was like Randy had a hold on him that even he hadn't noticed until now.
"I know what you mean." Randy smiled that annoyingly charming smile, the one that had first caught Batista's attention so many weeks ago. "It's so hard to find something cool to read around here. Look, I found this under the seat. You really think I want to be sitting here reading a copy of the 'Financial Times'? Gimme a break! Like I could ever concentrate on something for that long!"
"Delinquent." Batista grinned and batted playfully at Randy, who backed away with a snicker. Damn! How on earth was Randy able to wear him down so easily? No matter how annoyed he seemed to get with the younger man, Batista could be won over with a smile or a laugh. By the time the flight to Ohio was called, he found himself regretting the fact that he'd be sat next to Triple H instead.
Batista sighed and rubbed a fresh towel over his wet hair. Today had been stressful, more stressful than most; admittedly, the flight had been relaxing, but he'd had a lot of things to think about. His mind was still in turmoil from Randy's strange behaviour, not to mention the way he'd melted in the younger man's presence, even though he'd been determined to make a stand. In the end, Batista had decided that a hot shower was just what he needed, and so had made his excuses and retired from their training session early, making his way back to his new hotel room to freshen up. He'd found that after an invigorating wash, his mind had cleared somewhat, and he lost much of the tension that had been making him ache all day.
Now, he was sat in front of the TV drying himself off and cherishing his privacy. He was free to think, free to consider just how much Randy Orton meant to him - and he had to admit that after a lot of soul-searching, he didn't want to let the young man go. But what about Randy's secrets? What about the way Randy wanted to spend time alone away from him? Batista just wanted to know where he stood.
"Batista? Are you in there?" A voice called from the other side of the door. "It's me, Randy. Can I come in?"
"Hang on a second." Batista grunted in reply and grabbed one of the larger bath towels he'd laid out on the bed, tying it about his waist before strolling over to the door. He was in two minds whether to let the younger man in after the emotional trouble he'd caused, and slightly irritated at having his train of thought derailed, but what the hell. He'd see what Randy had to say. And besides... besides, every time he saw Randy Orton, his heart skipped a beat. Smirking to himself, he opened the door just enough to reveal the smaller man's face, and mustered as much false worry as he could. "What is it? Did Flair's pacemaker give out again?"
"Flair has a pacemaker?" Randy's face blanched in concern, then his cheeks flushed a bright scarlet as he realised, once again, that Batista had been joking. "Oh. Oh, I... yeah. Heh."
"Come on in, runt," Batista sighed, bowing to the inevitable and throwing the door wide open, letting Randy walk in past him to stand by the TV. He didn't know what Randy would make of seeing him in his bath towel, but no matter. It wasn't like the room was filled with candles, rose petals and Frank Sinatra on the stereo or anything. Randy could think what he liked. "What's really the matter?"
"Oh, nothing really, I guess." The younger man scratched nervously at the back of his neck, his gaze going anywhere but Batista, who had settled himself back down on the edge of the bed, his towel still draped about his waist. "I just - uh - wanted to ask you something. But I didn't want to ask it in front of the other two, they'd have thought I was crazy or something."
"Right. So you came up here to ask me in person. Couldn't you have phoned?" Batista cocked his head on one side and rubbed at his chin. "Wouldn't that have made more sense than coming all the way up here?"
"If that's the way you're going to be, I'll just go, okay?" Randy seemed to take Batista's jibes to heart, and turned on his heel to leave. "Anyway, I've gotta go check on something…"
"Hold it right there." Batista's thick fingers closed immediately about Randy's wrist, digging into his flesh, and he used the momentum of the gesture to rise to his feet. "You're not going anywhere, Randy. Not until you tell me what the hell is going on around here."
"What the…?"
"Don't play coy with me." Batista's voice had changed now into an angry growl, his brow furrowing, his frustration manifesting itself as a hostile command. The smaller man's cover-ups and little white lies had finally gotten to him, and he wanted answers. "You know damn well what I'm talking about. The way you've been avoiding me, the way you keep rushing off to check the nearest computer, the way you don't seem able to spend time around me recently without getting nervous. Do you really think I haven't noticed?"
"I just..."
"You just what, Randy? You just want to keep stringing me along so you feel like you have even more admirers? We're either in this together, or else you walk out that door, and we never talk about this again." Batista swallowed painfully and sighed, but he meant every word. He wouldn't be drawn into a relationship built upon secrecy and betrayal. "If there's anyone else, Randy – if there's anything going on behind my back – tell me now. Tell me now, and you can leave and be with her, and we don't ever have to worry about this again."
"What?" Randy's head snapped up, his eyes wide. He couldn't bring himself to believe what Dave had just said, not after the way Batista had been pursuing him so avidly for the past few weeks. "What did you just say?"
"Get out, Randy. I don't want this." Batista seemed to have a lump in his throat, and his eyes were welling up, but his voice remained firm, his mind unchanging. "I don't want lies, or deception, or any more half-assed excuses. I just want… fuck it, Randy! If I can't have you all to myself, I don't want you at all!"
Randy's eyes dropped once more to the floor, his breath catching in his throat. He felt himself quivering, his whole body shaking, a mixture of nervousness and sexual tension. He knew that Batista truly meant every word - and he also knew that he'd rather tap out to Justin Credible than risk losing his partner. There was only one thing to do, only one way to show Dave Batista how he truly felt; he took a deep breath, slid an arm about Batista's shoulder, and drew him into the most passionate kiss of his life.
Batista gave an audible gasp as their lips met, taking a moment to adjust to the younger man's hungry kiss before responding in kind, his tongue sliding effortlessly over Randy's palate. Eager moans escaped his throat to mingle with the heady sighs Randy gave, their lips touching again and again as each of them sought to release the unspoken arousal they had been harbouring for the past few days. Randy's hands clawed desperately at Batista's back, the larger man's own fingers running through Randy's short hair, until they both pulled back, groaning and panting, their faces alive with shock and pleasure.
"Batista..." Randy breathed, his fingers tracing a pattern over the other man's bare skin, revelling in the supple feel of his flesh. "Batista, I..."
"Sssh. Don't say anything." A radiant grin covered the older man's face, illuminating his already-flushed cheeks; it was the most genuine smile Randy had ever seen. "I think I just got the answers I've been looking for."
"I didn't know... I just... I wasn't sure what to do..."
"Stay with me, Randy. Stay with me tonight." Batista took a hold of his companion's shoulder, his eyes burning with an inner fire, silencing Randy's whispers of insecurity. "Just you and me, and all the pin falls you could ever want."
They almost made it to the bed.