The sudden shift of Randy's arm brought Batista back into consciousness. It took him a moment to gather his senses, to stir himself into wakefulness; then, with delicious clarity, he realised that the arm draped across his bare chest belonged to Randy Orton, the younger man lying naked by his side. He couldn't tell how long they'd been asleep, but judging by the pale light filtering through the hotel's filmy curtains, it was still early morning.

"I wondered when you were going to wake up." Randy's soft and playful purr caused Batista to turn his head and smile at the man beside him. "I've been awake for ages, but you looked too cute there for me to disturb you."

"Cute? You think I looked cute?" Batista growled and raised his hand to his chest, closing his fingers about Randy's slimmer wrist as his grin widened. "I'll give you cute, you cheeky little son-of-a-bitch!"

"Oh yeah?" Randy tried to pull his wrist away, but Batista's firm hold proved too strong, and the younger man was left struggling as his partner tightened his grip. "Hey! No fair!"

"You started this feud, Orton! now back down or I'm going to have to kick your ass!"

"We're in bed now, not at ringside!" Randy protested, although he made no further moves to break away from Batista's hold. He quite enjoyed the horseplay, but that didn't mean he had to stay quiet; besides, he liked being in the older man's grip. It was strangely comforting, even if his terrible wrestling puns were enough to make him wince.

"I don't care where we are, runt. This is a hardcore match, and I'm the reigning champion."

"You want coffee?" Some time later, Randy had risen from the bed and wrapped himself loosely in one of thehotel bathrobes; heturned back to his partner, holding up the cafetiere in one hand and asmall china mugin the other. "I'm gonna get myself a cup."

"Sure, I'd love one. Didn't get much sleep last night." Batista grinned and propped himself up amongst the pillows, letting out a contented sigh. His first night with Randy Orton had been far better than he could have hoped for; the younger man had proven himself to be virile and energetic, more than willing to respond to Batista's affections. In fact, they'd had to be careful not to leave any tell-tale bruises and marks anywhere visible, but that in itself had been a pleasurable game.

After a few minutes, Randy strode back towards the bed with a steaming cup of coffee in each hand, and handed one to Dave; the other, he placed down on the bedside table before climbing in alongside the bigger man, cuddling up to him and allowing him to slide a muscled arm about his own broad shoulders.

"I'm sorry I took so long." Randy stared down at his cup, watching the hot liquid swirl about in slow circles. "I was just scared. I just didn't know how I felt about you, didn't know what to do…"

"I already said it's okay." Batista patted Randy on the shoulder, a gentle gesture intended to reassure the younger man. "I didn't want to scare you, rookie. You don't have anything to apologise for."

"I just feel like we've already lost so much time." The smaller man sighed and swigged from his mug, the hot taste of espresso invigorating him. "I want to make up for it! I know I can make up for it. I'll make it up to you, I swear!" Grinning, Randy drained his cup and slammed it down onto the beside table before diving back under the bedcovers.

"Where the hell are those two?" Meanwhile, in the hotel's restaurant area, Triple H and Ric Flairhad already started breakfast and were tuckinginto generous plates of toast. "I told them to be down here by nine, so we could get an early start. I've got a whole list of moves we need to talk through before we leave!"

"They'll come, Trips. They'll come." Ric Flair slurped from a cup of tea and nodded, as if adding weight to his words of wisdom. "Randy's good, and Batista's going to go a long way with us. You need to have a little more faith in your team-mates."

Triple Hreplied with a displeased gruntand glared at his watch.

"God, Randy! That was… damn! That was fantastic!" Batista gasped breathlessly, his shaking fingers running through his partner's short hair. "If onlywe could start every day like this…"

"So why don't we?" Randy smirked and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. "We've got another night booked here, right? We can share a room again, can't we? I mean, sure, we've got separate rooms booked, but nobody else has to know that we're only using the one bed..."

"Too much talk, runt, and not enough action." The bigger man silenced his partner's excited ramblingswith apassionate kiss,and reached a large hand down between Randy's legs.

Triple H's coffee had long gone cold, and he left the cup on the table along with the remains of his breakfast. Despite Ric Flair's reassuring words and constant guarantees that Batista and Orton wouldn't let them down, Triple H was tired of waiting. He'd head on upstairs and find Orton and Batista himself.

"Oh God..." Randy Orton lay back amongst the pillows, his chest rising and falling, betraying the ragged cadence of his breaths. Batista had crawled back up the bed to cradle his partner in his arms, a satisfied grin on his face; he, too, had discovered the pleasures of giving.

"You okay, runt?" he smirked, stroking at the younger man's hair. "You sounded a bit excited there."

"Shut it, Dave! You're starting to sound as arrogant as Triple H!"

"Shit!" Batista pulled away abruptly, a frown creasing his brow. "Shit, I knew there was somewhere I was supposed to be this morning! I said we'd meet Trips and Flair for breakfast. Shit… they're going to kill us for this. I'm going to take a shower - don't get into any trouble, okay?"

Scowling, Batista swung his legs over the edge of the bed and grabbed his towel, getting to his feet and heading for the bathroom.

"Batista! Batista, are you there? I need to talk to you." Triple H knocked at Batista's hotel room then stood back and glared at the closed door; for a few long moments, he waited. Then, just as he was preparing to knock again, the door was opened by a dripping Batista, a towel wrapped about his large waist.

"Triple H? What is it?" The big man hadn't expected a personal call to his room, least of all from Triple H, even if he had missed breakfast with his team-mate. "I'll be downstairs in a few minutes, just give me some time to get dressed..."

"Batista." Triple H paused for a moment, as if unsure whether to invade Batista's privacy whilst the man was clad only in a bath-towel; but anger seemed to over-ride logic, and Triple H barged his way into Batista's room, slamming the door shut behind him, staringhis team-matein the face. At first, Batista tensed with panic, convinced that Triple H would see Randy lying naked in his bed; even Trips would be able to put two and two together on that one. To his surprise, though, as he cast a nervous glance towards his tousled sheets, he noticed that his bed was now empty. Where had Randy gone?

"Batista," Triple H continued, taking another step forward, forcing Batista to shuffle backwards and turn his attention back to The Game. "Batista - I'm disappointed in you, big man. I asked a simple thing of you, and you couldn't do it."

Was Triple H still talking about breakfast? The way he was phrasing it, he was making it sound like Batista had been asked to carry out a bank heist.

"Hey, calm down, alright?" The leviathan couldn't hide his irritation at being chastised. "I overslept. I'm sorry."

"And Randy?"

"He overslept too?" Batista raised an eyebrow in an attempt to fake surprise, hoping that his act would be enough to fool Triple H. "I doubt that very much. He probably found some girl last night and took her back to his room-"

"That's enough." Triple H seemed to acceptthe other man'shurried explanation, holding up a hand to halt his speech. "Wherever he is, I want the two of you downstairs in ten, is that clear? I can't be bothered to walk all the way down to his room as well. Call him or something, we don't have all day."

"Okay, okay, I'll call him." Batista's nerves were really starting to wear thin now. Not only had Randy Orton completely vanished from sight, but Triple H had barged in and was acting like he owned the place, expectingBatista and Orton to obey his every whim. "Now, can I get on with my shower, please? I can't exactly walk around the hotel looking like this."

Triple H glared at Batista for a few moments more, his jaw clenched, his nostrils flaring; the larger man's bulging muscles and imposing appearance obviously deterred The Game from making any more arguments, however, for he turned on his heel and stalked off, letting the door slam shut behind him. Shaking his head in disbelief, Batista headed back into the bathroom and pulled aside the shower curtain-

"Do you think Flair made him sleep on the couch last night? Is that why he's so mad?" Randy snickered, leaning against the tiled wall. So that's where he'd been hiding, with only a flannel for modesty! "Let the towel drop, Dave, or we'll be here all day."

"I already told you, Batista, Evolution is a team, and if we're going to stay as a team, that means doing things together! How are Ric and I supposed to talk to you about our tactics if you're never around to talk to?" By now, a freshly-showered Batista and Randy had joined Triple H in the hotel lobby, sipping complimentary cups of coffee and steeling themselves for the stern reprimand which they had come to expect from The Game.

"Something came up." Batista gave a sly smirk as Randy almost spat out his coffee. "I know we're supposed to be working hard at Evolution, Trips, but there are other important things in life as well as wrestling."

"Go on, Batista. Impress me." Triple H sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his broad chest. "Tell me exactly what it was that kept you so enthralled."

"Fine." Batista shrugged and leaned forward towards his team-mate. "Since you seem to be so interested in my personal life, I'll tell you. How much detail would you like me to go into?"
"As much as you want, Dave. I've got all morning."

"Alright then, it's like this; the thing is, Triple H, I've met someone. Someone who means a lot to me." Batista gave The Game a moment to let the words sink in. "I haven't ever met anyone who's made me feel like this before, and… well… it feels good."

With a sidelong glance at Randy, Batista noticed – with great satisfaction – that his partner was practically glowing with pride, not to mention he looked like he was stifling a giggling fit. He wouldn't say anything about their new relationship, though, not yet. It was far too soon; as Batista had recently warned Randy, Triple H could be highly volatile when it came to jealousy and attention-seeking.

"It feels good." Triple H nodded and gave an irritable snort, clearly not happy with Batista's explanation. "It feels good. Right. So good – so damn good – that you can't even be bothered to make an effort for the team anymore."

"C'mon, now, Trips!" To Batista's surprise, it was Randy who chipped in. "That's not what he's saying! He's just trying to say he's pleased, that's all! Is that such a bad thing? I don't think there's anything wrong with being happy for one of your tag partners when they say they've found someone special."

"Randy's right." Batista was quick to agree. "I'm sorry if I've let things slide for a few days, but I promise you I haven't forgotten what being a member of Evolution means. I'm not going to let this relationship affect my performance, Trips – in fact, if anything, I think it's going to make me even stronger than before."

Again, he glanced at Randy; the younger man was staring at Batista with a look of absolute adulation. It was a wonder that Triple H hadn't worked things out already. He was so wrapped up in his own pride and sense of self-worth that he failed to see the subtle hints that flowed between his team-mates.

"That's great, right?" Randy piped up again. "It's great that Evolution's going to be even better than before, right, Triple H?"

"I suppose." Triple H responded with a reluctant grunt, his gaze still fixed upon Batista as he rose from his chair. He couldn't haveseemed more hostile if he'd tried. "Just don't forget where your loyalties lie Batista. Don't you ever forget."

As The Game stormed away from their table, there was little left for Randy and Batista to do but shrug.

(It's occurred to me that Evolution seem to drink a lot of coffee in this fic... ah well! We all know fanfic readers and writers are often caffeine-powered:) Randy's secret online activity hasn't been forgotten, either, but Batista is a little too distracted for it to concern him right now. Also, I've just moved house and haven't been able to get online for two weeks, so I hope this extra-large chapter makes up for it.)