"I don't like it, Ric. I don't like it at all." Triple H had been in a foul mood ever since Batista's news that he had found a lover. "It'll weaken him, just you wait and see. He'll get distracted and forget his goal – Evolution's goal – and all he'll care about is his happy little lovey-dovey relationship with whoever this peaches-and-cream beauty turns out to be."

"You're coming down too hard on the boy." Ric Flair was rarely critical of Triple H, but he felt that he needed to be stern in this instance. "Besides, it doesn't hurt if he decides to have a little fun. I mean, c'mon, what about that time when you and Stephanie McMahon..."

"I told you to never mention that, Ric." Triple H fixed his teammate with a stern glare. "Never, ever again."

"Suit yourself." Ric Flair shrugged. The exact details of what had happened between Triple H and Vince McMahon's daughter were none of his concern, and it was clear that his teammate didn't want to discuss the issue any further. "The point I'm trying to make here is that it's perfectly natural for Batista to have found someone he likes. I mean, let's face it, he's a popular man. Someone that well-cut is bound to find favours with the ladies. He's young, and fit, and...well, good-looking, really."

"He is that, I suppose." Triple H nodded, stroking at his own stubble. "So what are you saying we should do?"

"What it comes down to, Trips,is this; we stick by him, we back him up, and when the inevitable break-up comes we make him stay on track. Until then, we just have to wait for the romantic magic to fade."

"That may be so, Ric, but that doesn't mean I have to like it."

It had been a week now since Batista and Randy had declared their physical attraction for each other; so far, their relationship had remained a secret to all but themselves, but not for lack of trying. During training sessions, they had barely been able to keep their eyes from each other, and when they ran through their moves, there was often more than one hand in an inappropriate place. Batista couldn't tell if Randy had noticed or not, but they weren't the only two wrestlers to have been acting strangely. Triple H had been more sullen than ever before, casting disapproving glances at Batista whenever he had the chance. No doubt The Game was getting paranoid about Batista's hormones spoiling Evolution's chances of ruling the WWE.

The besotted couple had other things on their minds this morning, however. As usual, Randy had been the first to wake, and had eased Batista into consciousness with gentle kisses and caresses which had led deliciously onto other pleasures. The two of them now lay sated on top of theknotted sheets and scattered pillows, their arms firmly entwined about each other, their chests rising and falling in the struggle to regain their breath.

"One of these days," Batista grinned, his eye burning with desire, "I'm going to have to learn to say 'no', just so I can see the look on your face."

"You wouldn't dare!" Randy snickered, grabbing a pillow and batting him playfully on the arm. "In that case, maybe I'll learn to sleep in late, just to spite you!"

"Impudent little upstart!" the bigger man growled, giving a snarl and preparing to pin his partner down amongst the cushions. "You could never have that much patience!" His hands groped at the younger man's flesh, pulling and tugging at him, the two of them wrestling and tussling in a play-fight which would no doubt evolve into another expression of fiery passion-

Just then, the phone rang.

"Damn it!" Batista growled, pulling away so that Randy could answer. It was Orton's room, after all, and there would be questions as to what Dave Batista would be doing in Randy's room at seven in the morning. "Make it a quick call, rookie..."

"Now who's the impatient one?" Randy snickered, wriggling out of his lover's grasp and grabbing at the receiver. He thrust it to his ear and tried hard to ignore the fact that Batista's hand was snaking up his leg. "Hello? Hi? Yeah, this is Randy Orton. Mr Orton, yeah. What? It's here? No way! that's - that's awesome! No, no that's cool, I'll come down and get it as soon as I'm dressed. Say, in about... an hour or so? Sure. Thanks. Bye."

"Who was that?"

"Oh, it's... uh... wait and see, okay? I promise it'll be good!"

"No, Randy. I want to know." Batista's tone was sterner now. His younger partner had secrets, he knew, and he wasn't sure how much more he could take, no matter how well-matched they seemed to be. "You still haven't cleared that whole Internet thing up, for a start. Look, I really care about you, and I want to trust you, but if you keep things from me, I'm going to find it difficult."

"Fine, if that's the way you want things to be." Randy's shoulders drooped, and he sat up stiffly, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. "But... can't we... can't we unwind first? Please?"

"No, Randy." The older man found that his lust diminished when faced with betrayal. "I want to know what's going on. I want to know now."

"Okay, alright, I get the idea!" Randy scowled and rose to his feet, not even grabbing a pillow out of modesty. "But I still get the first shower." And before Batista could argue, he'd darted into the bathroom and locked the door, leaving Batista to watch the drudgery of early morning TV all alone.

"You did this for me?" Batista felt guilt wash over him. The two of them had dressed in a heavy, sullen silence and headed straight down to reception area, where there had been a parcel waiting for Randy; that was why he'd received the phone call. The younger man had refused to answer any of his partner's questions, insisting that the answer would be downstairs - and just when Batista had thought he'd had enough, just when he'd been ready to yell at Randy for being so annoyingly secretive and wanted to storm out of the hotel in a rage, Randy had picked up the package, passed it to Batista, flushed a deep scarlet and mumbled so quietly that he'd had to ask him to repeat himself.

"You take it, Batista. It's for you."

All this time he had suspected Randy of being unfaithful to him online, when all along the younger man had been going out of his way to get a present for his older lover. Come to think of it, when Randy had first thought of purchasing the gift , he hadn't even openly declared his affection for Batista. And all those times he'd seen Randy checking something online in various hotels and Internet cafes, he'd just been keeping an eye on the parcel's progress and making sure it would be delivered to the right hotel at the right time.

"Go on, open it!" Randy muttered as Batista took the parcel, a bemused look on his face. The two of them moved to the reception area, Randy flushing with pleasure now that his lover seemed to accept the gift. "Please, just open it!"

"Calm down, rookie." Batista couldn't stop grinning either, flattered that Randy had gone out of his way to please him. "Should I even ask how much it cost?"

"Just open the damn thing!" Randy hissed, playfully cuffing Batista about the ear. The bigger man took the abuse in good humour, laughing back at his partner; he was well aware that he was taunting Randy, and he loved every second of it.

Carefully, Batista pulled out his penknife and slit the heavy masking tape which held the box shut, tearing away the packing tape and pulling back the box flaps to reveal a mass of bubble wrap and polystyrene pieces. Intrigued, he dug into the protective packaging and closed a large hand about a handle, pulling the strange bundle from the box to reveal-

"A lunchbox?" Batista gasped in surprise. "You got me a lunchbox?"

"You said… you said you collected them or something…" Randy muttered bashfully. "You mentioned it a while back when we were talking about stuff… you do still collect them right?"

"Do I collect them?" Batista laughed, suddenly launching himself at Randy and capturing him in a loving embrace. "Randy – I've been looking for this one for months! How did you know? How did you know I wanted this one?"

"I guess I pay more attention to you than you realise, sometimes," Randy mumbled, although he was still able to grin as he struggling to breathe.

"Nice legwork, Batista, but we need to work on the grapple." Triple H flexed his muscles a few more times and launched himself again at Batista, his eyes fixed on the larger man's firmly-muscled arms. This afternoon's training session was turning out to be even more promising than he could have imagined. Overall, Triple H had been very pleased with the way Batista had integrated himself into Evolution; true to his word, the brute hadn't let his newfound romantic interest spoil his wrestling talent. In fact, he'd been more punctual than ever when it came to turning up for practice, and he'd thrown himself into his training with gusto. Randy, too, seemed to be blossoming for whatever reason; perhaps he was finding out how good it could be to be a part of Evolution. After all, who wouldn't jump at the chance to train and to learn with The Game?

"That's better, Batista – less push, more shove. That's good." The two wrestlers disengaged and stood apart from each other, Batista wiping a sheen of sweat from his brow. Triple H worked him hard but it was worth it. "You want to go over The Pedigree again?"

"No thanks, I'm good for today." The larger man grunted in acknowledgement and strolled over to a bench, grabbing a towel and rubbing himself down with it. "I think we've covered most of the big ones this afternoon, and I reckon I'm getting the hang of the clotheslines. Same time tomorrow, or are you busy?"

"We're finishing already?" Triple H seemed disappointed that Batista wanted to end the day's training so soon. He pouted, causing his hairy brow to crease into a frown.

"Yeah. Got a date with my little lady." Batista allowed himself a smirk. He wondered what Randy would say if he knew his lover were talking about him like this, referring to him as if he were some big-eyed teenage girl! "You know how it is, Hunter. You have to keep them happy, or they get all pouty and start to sulk." Much like Triple H was doing now, he thought.

"Damn!" Triple H fairly pounded his hand against the wall in obvious irritation, then heaved a heavy sigh of resignation. Clearly, he'd have been happy to spend the whole night in training, honing Batista's potential skill into a wrestling talent to match his own high standards. "Well... okay, you can do that, I guess. But don't get carried away, y'hear? I want you in good shape tomorrow. Ric wants us to go over some difficult finishers, and I wouldn't want you to pull a muscle or anything."

Batista noticed then that Triple H had fixed him with a firm glare, almost like a father would stare disapprovingly at a wayward son. He felt uncomfortable; he and Hunter were practically the same age, for God's sake! Just because The Game had made more of a name for himself within the WWE didn't give him any right to issue Batista with some kind of curfew! Before he knew it, he'd be dragging Ric Flair along as a chaperone!

"I'll be fine, Hunter." Even though he could feel irritation rising within him, Batista managed to keep his temper. He squared his shoulders and slung his towel over his arm, deliberately breaking his gaze away from Triple H's stern face. "I'll be here tomorrow, just like we agreed. Get some rest."

Whatever was eating at Triple H., there was no need for him to take it out on his teammates. Shrugging, Batista headed for his hotel room and a shower; he had more important things to worry about than Hunter's bad moods, least of all which shirt he'd wear for his dinner datewith Randy Orton.