"What in the hell?" This time, when Triple H seized the binoculars from Edge, his movements were so forceful they sent the other wrestler sprawling face-first into the shrubbery. "What the fuck? What the fuck? What the shit is this? What the hell is going on?"

There was no more time to lose. With a look of thunder, The Game cast the binoculars aside and burst forth from the bushes, screaming blue murder at Randy and Batista where they sat at the edge of the fountain. He charged at the cuddling couple, leaf-mulch and wood chippings shedding from his shirt as he marched over, giving him the appearance of some kind of swamp monster. His face was twisted into a look of absolute rage, and his clenched fists left his teammates in no doubt as to his terrible mood.

"Batista!" he yelled, his face turning a fetching shade of bright crimson. "Batista, you no-good,cradle-snatching piece of crap! Come here, Batista, I want to have a word with you!"

"Holy crap!" Randy squeaked, the two lovers springing apart with surprising speed at Hunter's approach. Even though Batista had quickly stepped in front of his partnerto protect him from Triple H's onslaught, it brought the big wrestler some comfort to realise that the smaller man was still holding tightly onto his hand. "Where did he spring from, Dave? How did he see us? I knew you said he'd get jealous when he found out but I hadn't expected this!"

"Just keep back, Randy," Batista growled. He was confident that he was big enough to stand up to The Game, no matter what happened, and he was prepared to take a punch if that what it came down to. Inwardly, though, he cursed himself for having brought such a situation upon Randy Orton; he should have known that Triple H would react like this! He had been far too careless tonight in showing his affections in public! Well, he reflected, Randy had been the one who had originally wanted The Game to know about their relationship, so at least, in a way, the smaller man had got his wish. All that was left to do now was try and placate their tempestuous teammate.

"What the fuck are you playing at, Batista?" Triple H had reached them by now, and up close, both Randy and Batista could see that their companion was visibly shaking with rage. "What kind of game is this? Are you pretending to be gay so you can get along with Rico? Are you putting on some kind of show for next month's 'Power Slam' magazine? Or are you just trying to piss me off?"

"Come on now, Trips," Batista began, his voice taking on a gentle tone. It would do no good to shout back at Hunter right now, or tell him he was being unreasonable. Batista already knew from experience that doing so would only fan the flames of his anger. "Trips - just listen to me a minute, okay? Listen to what I have to say."

"This had better be good, asshole!"

"Alright, I'll make it quick if you want." The leviathan sighed and ran his fingers through his short hair, wishing that his teammate would be a little more understanding sometimes. "The thing is... the thing is, Trips... the... well... uh... me and Randy, we... uh... we..."

Damn it!Batista had been going over this line in his head since the very moment he and Randy had first got together; he had thought about how to break the news to Triple H, to let him know that he and Randy were dating without making The Game lose his temper. And now that he was actually here trying to spit the words out, he couldn't do it at all. Of course, it didn't help that Triple H was already ballistic. He took a deep breath and tried to steady himself, steeled himself to utter the words, readied himself for the punch which was bound to follow the news-

"It's me and Dave, Triple H. Thing is... we're fucking."

Randy delivered the line with such effortless grace that Batista could have hugged him.

"You're what?" Triple H spluttered.

"We're fucking!" Randy grinned.

"Dating, Randy," Dave offered helpfully. "The generally accepted term is dating."

"But we're fucking too, right?"

"Of course we're - um - fucking. But that's not the point. The point here is..."

"What do you mean that's not the fucking point?" The Game exploded, practically screaming in Batista's face. "Are you trying to tell me that the two of you are a pair of fucking queers, and you've been at it the whole time under my nose, and you didn't tell me because you've been laughing at me, and you're sleeping together to humiliate me..."

"No, Trips." Randy placed a sympathetic hand on Hunter's shoulder. "We're sleeping together because we love each other."

"You what?"

"We love each other, Trips." Batista affirmed his lover's words. "This has only be going on a week, so don't start getting paranoid and thinking we've been doing this to spite you. We wanted to get comfortable with each other first, that's all."

"Why didn't you tell me, Dave?" Triple H's voice sounded far less angry now. If anything, it had become a harsh whine, a plaintive whisper. It was as if he felt they had excluded him from their private club, as if he accepted their coupling but still found it hard to believe. "Why didn't you say something sooner?"

"We were going to tell you, Hunter. We were going to tell you tomorrow…"

"Why didn't you tell me last week?" The Game seemed genuinely hurt that his teammate had neglected to mention his blossoming relationship; that, or he still thought Batista and Randy were playing a cruel trick on him. "Just a few words, Dave! That's all it would have taken!"

"We weren't sure how you'd react." It was Randy who spoke this time. "And I'd appreciate it if you spoke to me too, Trips. There are two people in this relationship here."

"Two. Yes, of course. Just two." The Game nodded, his eyes straying from Batista to Randy, his rage dwindling to little more than a stunned gaze. "Randy and Batista... who'd have thought, huh? Randy and Batista. Randy and Batista..."

"For what it's worth, Trips - if it's the wrestling you're worried about - we haven't forgotten Evolution. Far from it." Batista now offered a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "I swear, Hunter, me and Randy will always give Evolution the hard work and respect that the team deserves. You can count on it."

"Glad to hear it." Triple H still seemed rather shocked by the recent news. At least he'd calmed down, though. "Now, if you boys will excuse me, I think I'm gonna need a stiff drink... or twenty." With a curt nod, The Game turned on his heel and shuffled towards the hotel, stumbling up the steps and disappearing from sight. Randy and Batista looked at each other, shrugged, and decided to go to bed.

In the shrubbery, Edge groaned and rubbed at the growing lump on his forehead. When Triple H had lost his temper and stormed away, he'd casually thrown the binoculars down at Edge with enough strength to knock the hairy wrestler out cold. Scowling, he spat clods of earth from his lips and hauled himself upright, emerging from the bushes in a foul mood and brushing leafy detritus from his clothes.

By now, the plaza was completely empty apart from a scattering of pigeons; Evolution must have forgotten all about him. Bastards. He'd done Triple H a favour, provided him with one of the juiciest bits of gossip he'd ever seen, and how had The Game repaid him? By sodding off with his teammates and leaving him to fester in the shrubbery. Oh, he'd get them back though, he was sure of that; Evolution would pay for what they'd done. They hadn't seen the last of him yet.

It was warm and cosy in Batista's room. He and Randy were cuddled up under the covers, sated and happy, their hands stroking lovingly over bare, toned skin. Triple H's violent outburst earlier had made them both feel unsettled, but their mutual affections had soothed the two of them and allowed them to release their tensions. Now, despite Batista's desire to drop off to sleep, his younger lover was talking to him enthusiastically about his plans for the next few days.

"So, Dave, are you doing anything this weekend?"
"I guess not, rookie," the larger man murmured sleepily, trying to bury his head in a pillow. "I was planning on catching up on reading a book or two. Why do you ask?"

"I don't know... I thought maybe it would bea good idea to get away from Trips and Flair for a few days. Y'know, give them a chance to cool down."

"Sounds like you're learning already, squirt," Batista chuckled, opening one eye lazily. "Which tropical island did you want me to whisk you away to?"

"I wouldn't go that far!" Randy snickered. "Well… since Trips knows about us now, and Flair probably knows as well, the word's bound to get out sooner or later, so I figured we should start telling people, too." He shifted rather uncomfortably, but there was still a broad grin on his face. "That's… that's why I want you to come home with me for a few days, Batista. I want you to meet my dad."