Star Gazers

A/N: First of all, I just wanna say thanks to everyone who is still reading this stuff, even though I've seriously fallen down on writing it consistently. Knowing that you guys are still looking forward to reading it keeps me motivated to work through the writer's block and try to come up with something entertaining. You are the best - thanks.

This story was originally written in response to a request from a friend for something a little more light-hearted than Scar Tissue. You know who you are, and even though I know you won't get to read this until you get your power back (stupid bitch Wilma), I just wanted to say a special thanks for staying on me and not letting me quit, even when I was about to give in. Love you, Chica! Also, to my other girlie, who's passion for her new story sparked something in me - you know who you are, and even though you think it's nothing, it means a lot to me.

Just a slight disclaimer before this chapter - I, in NO WAY, own any of the superstars mentioned in this story. I also, in NO WAY, mean any harm by any of the characterizations I have made herein. All of my stories, but this one in particular, are meant for pure entertainment value. Sometimes comedy is not kind to everyone - I hope no one is offended. That being said - Enjoy! (And review, cause it's good for my motivation, and my ego!)

Any superstar would readily tell you that dating, or marrying, someone who wasn't able to follow them around the country was difficult. No one knew that better than Randy Orton. Though his parents had managed to keep their marriage together, he knew all too well the strain that his father's traveling had put on their family. And the fact that every one of his own relationships had fallen apart since entering the business only added to his skepticism.

Of course, that was all before Trish Stratus came along. Though there had only been time for one date before their schedules ripped them apart again, countless telephone hours had been logged. Nights of endless laughter and story-telling bound them together, and both were just shy of admitting that this, whatever it was, was the best thing that had ever happened to either of them.

As he stepped off the plane in Dallas, Randy quickly hit her number on his speed dial and waited for her perfect giggle. "I'm here. Where are you?"

Trish didn't disappoint. "I'm at the baggage claim. How was your flight?"

They chit-chatted about turbulence and airline food until Randy found his way to the baggage claim area. There, in the back corner, with a cell phone at her ear, was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. She was dressed in jeans and tank top, smiling at him and waving. It nearly took his breath away, and filled him with a calming peace that he couldn't explain. No one had every done to his mind the things that she did to him.

She was in his arms and off the ground before Trish could hang her phone up. Randy was laughing and telling her how much he missed her, and she was eating it up. A lot of men made her feel sexy, but he made her feel beautiful. And, though she wasn't sure she could explain the difference, she knew it was important. Because she knew that nobody made her feel like he did.

With their fingers entwined, Randy pulled his bag behind him and smiled at a few girls who blushed and giggled, but didn't approach him. He was considering going over and introducing himself when Trish's voice broke into his thoughts.

"So, I hope you don't mind, but my car's kinda on the fritz, so I caught us a ride."

He really didn't care if they had to walk thirty miles to the next town, as long as he could touch her, see her, smell her, and hear her laugh all at the same time. Instead of saying so, he nodded. "Whatever gets us there," he smiled, dropping a kiss on her nose spontaneously.

Trish nodded toward the dark SUV waiting for them, and waited. "Um," was all she could say before the back door opened and Christy Hemme bounded out with a bandana on her head and a smile on her face.

"Hey, guys," she smiled happily, grabbing Randy's suitcase and throwing it into the trunk. "How was your flight, Randy?"

Sliding into the back seat, Trish waited for Randy to join her and pretended to ignore the smirk on Victoria's face as her long time friend sat behind the steering wheel. When the raven-haired diva let out a chuckle, Trish finally asked, "what?"

Victoria nodded toward Christy and Randy, who were now discussing some video game maneuver. "Looks like you might lose your girlfriend," she snickered. "I mean, boyfriend."

With a groan, Trish sank back in the seat and closed her eyes. Every diva knew that Christy had a huge crush on Trish, mostly because the young red-head made no attempt to hide it. She might have oozed sexuality for the boys on Monday nights, but behind the curtain, she was all about the "girl power." And she was determined to get herself some Stratusfaction, if it was the last thing she did.

When Christy finally took a breath, Randy climbed into the backseat of the truck, shooting a smile at Victoria before sliding his arm around Trish's seat. "Thanks for pickin' me up, Vic," he expressed.

Easing the vehicle away from the terminal, Victoria just shrugged. "Not like I had much choice." She merged into traffic and watched Christy adjust the knob on the radio. "And you'll tip generously, so I'm not worried."

Randy raised an eyebrow. He had always liked Victoria - she was tough, but she was sarcastic, dry and witty. They had done a few autograph signings together, and he found her to be enjoyable company. There was time when he had really wished he was physically attracted to her - when he thought they would have made a pretty good couple. But being friends with her was better - plus, it freed him to be with Trish now.

"What does that mean?" Christy asked suddenly, as though the words had just registered in her brain. "Tip generously?" She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at Randy and Trish broke into a fit of giggles.

With a shrug, Victoria watched the traffic ahead of her as though she didn't even notice the bundle of energy in the seat beside her. "Gas, grass, or ass, baby. Nobody rides for free."

"Hey," Trish said suddenly, looking around the car. "Where's Maria? Isn't she ridin' with us?" She turned her body toward Randy, resting her hand on his knee. When he smiled at her, she forgot that she had even been asking a question.

Christy finally found a radio station that she liked and settled into her own seat, dancing to the beat as she spoke over her shoulder. "We're pickin' her up at the hotel. She wasn't ready to go yet."

Victoria mumbled something that made Christy laugh, but Trish hardly noticed. Randy's hand was over hers on her knee and it felt like the entire world had melted away. "Huh?" she finally asked, her eyes never leaving the contented smile on his lips.

"She said "she wasn't ready to get off Carlito's dick yet"," Christy repeated.

Randy's eyes shot toward the perky diva in surprise. "What?"

With the roll of her eyes, Christy looked at Trish. "This is the guy who won your heart? This is my competition? Seriously?" Speaking to Randy as though he were a child, Christy explained the statement. "It means that she was fucking Carlito and she wasn't ready to stop. Fucking? You know? Sexual intercourse?"

Another round of laughter erupted from Trish's throat as she watched the expression on Randy's face. With a confident look, she smiled at Christy. "He's Randy fucking Orton. You think he doesn't know what it means?"

As Victoria eased the car to a stop in front of the hotel, Randy wasn't sure where to look or what to say. Sure, his friends had conversations like that all the time, but these weren't his friends. These were the girls - his girlfriend's friends. And as Maria climbed into the truck, and they all started to tease her mercilessly, he wondered how much more uncomfortable this car ride would get.

"So?" Trish was the first to ask when the giggling and the catcalls died down. Maria shook her head and blushed and Trish reached her hand out. Christy reluctantly withdrew a twenty dollar bill from her purse and handed it over with the roll of her eyes. "Thank you so much."

Noticing the confounded look on Randy's face, Trish kissed his nose, as he had done to her earlier, and tucked the bill into the back pocket of her jeans. "I told Christy that anyone who talks as much as Carlito has got to have the world's smallest dick, and she didn't believe me. So she bet me twenty bucks that it was at least as big as Grisham's, but clearly," she pointed to Maria's pink cheeks, "it is not."

Christy huffed and turned around in her seat, watching the road. "What do I know about dick size? I'm a motherfuckin' lesbian for chrissake!"

If Randy had looked surprised before, the gasp that he let out was nothing short of astounded. "You're a what?"

Trish, Victoria, and Maria all burst into uproarious laughter as Christy turned and winked at him. "Hot, ain't it?"

She watched him carefully, and Randy fought like hell not to blush. He could tell from the way Trish laid her hand against his cheek that he was losing that battle. "How did I not know that?" was all he could manage to mumble. After a moment, his eyes grew wider and he looked straight at Christy. "Wait - you said. . ." he stopped and looked to Trish. "She totally has a crush on you."

If she thought he was the cutest guy in the world before, she was sure of it now. Rolling her eyes, she gave an exasperated look to Christy and then back to Randy. "Yeah, I know. And she's not shy about it, either."

Once he overcame the initial shock of the news, Randy settled back and wrapped his arm around Trish's shoulder, kissing the side of her head gently. "Sorry, Hemme," he winked. "She's mine."

Christy just scrunched her nose, but Trish smacked his stomach lightly. "I am not yours," she corrected defiantly. "I belong to no one. I am my own woman."

Randy rolled his eyes. They had gone over this a hundred times in the last few weeks, but he still loved the irritation in her voice when she insisted she was one hundred percent independent. "I just meant," he smiled, wrapping his fingers around hers, "that you belong with me, not to me, Sweetheart."

With a broad smile, Trish rewarded his "save" with a soft kiss. "That was very good," she giggled softly.

"Oh. my. god," Victoria gasped from the front seat. When Trish and Randy both looked at her quizzically, she laughed. "I never thought I'd see the day," she shook her dark hair and returned her eyes to the road.

Randy sat confused as Trish's questioning grin was replaced with a proud smile. "Only took me a few weeks, too," she said proudly.

"A few weeks without sex." Maria pointed out. "It'll never last," she predicted.

Christy drank from a large bottle of water and turned in her seat, leaning against the dashboard as she spoke. "All guys are whipped until they get ass. After that, the dinners and pillow talk are over," she spoke as though she had some authority on the subject.

Feeling an overwhelming need to defend his gender, he opened his mouth and then shut it again. He was outnumbered. There was no way he was going to escape this conversation unscathed. "How would you know?" he asked Christy finally. "You don't even fuck guys."

She winked and took another drink. "And why do you think that is, Randall?" She waited for his quick retort, but none came. "Well, it's because I was born that way. . . but still," she sighed and looked burdened by the explanation she would be forced to give. "Guys think they're smooth, that we don't know your just being nice to get what you want. But we know," she nodded. "Hell, even Maria knows the game," she pointed to the woman sitting directly behind her.

Maria's wide eyes grew slightly in mock hurt as she smacked the back of the seat. "Hey," her voice raised in defiance. "I'm not a dumbass," she insisted, softly mumbling "I just play one on TV," in an unconvincing manner. After flipping Christy off, she turned to Randy and put a hand on his arm. "Look, you're not the only ones that play the game, okay? Girls do it, too," she assured him.

Trish watched Maria's small hand moving up and down Randy's bicep. She had never been the jealous type. She was Trish Stratus, after all. What guy wouldn't want to be with her? Or woman, for that matter. And yet, something about the way Maria was touching her new man made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. "Have you guys fucked?" she blurted, as though there were no filter between her brain and her mouth.

Never had she seen two people jump apart faster than the two on her right at that moment. And never had Randy been so scared to tell the truth. "Um," he choked on his words and gave Christy a withering look when she offered him her water and a beaming grin. "Why do you ask?" he finally managed to strain around the lump in his throat.

With a death glare fixed on Trish, Maria gritted her teeth and spoke slowly, "I thought I already told you that, Trish," she reminded.

Trish thought for a moment and then gasped as the realization hit her. "IT WAS HIM?" she shouted, seemingly forgetting that Randy was even there. "ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING?" Maria shook her head, biting her lip to keep from laughing. Turning her shocked look to Randy, Trish smacked his arm.

"OW," Randy cringed, holding the place she had just hit. "What the fuck was that for?" he asked.

Victoria and Christy started laughing, too, and Trish just stared in wide-eyed wonder. "I can't believe you're Mr. Coney Dog," she shook her head.

"Excuse me?" he asked, thoroughly perplexed.

While the women laughed, Trish tried to wrap her head around the information she had just received. The four women in the car had, on more than one occasion, likened themselves to the Sex and the City girls, mostly because they talked about, and nicknamed, all of their sexual conquests. Normally, it was funny. But now that someone else had tagged her man, she wasn't so sure she liked it.

"At least he's not the Candy Man," Christy pointed out.

Maria nearly spit her orange juice all over the back seat as Victoria kindly filled their visitor in on the inside joke. "Maria said you were, like, a foot long, so we call you Mr. Coney Dog," she shrugged.

Though flattered, Randy wasn't sure what to say, do, or look at. Instead, he cleared his throat and tried his damndest to change the subject. "So," he turned to Trish, "I watched this really great Maple Leafs game the other night."

Trish laid a sympathetic hand on his cheek. "Sweetie, hockey season doesn't start for three months," she informed him. The heat in his cheeks ignited her palm, and something primal in her gut. Now she wanted to know for herself, needed to know. "Vic, I need a bathroom break," she spoke without tearing her eyes from Randy's. He was the only man she had ever met who could make her forget her own name with one glance.

Victoria raised an eyebrow in the rear view mirror and then, smiling, nodded and started looking for an exit ramp. Maria interrupted the silence. "Wait, who was the Candy Man again?"

It was Trish's turn to blush as she diverted her eyes from Randy's face and twisted her fingers together in her lap. Quietly, she mumbled "Christian."

"What?" Randy asked, leaning closer. For once, he was glad to not be the humiliated one in the vehicle.

Maria laughed loudly, as if at a joke no one else could hear. "That's right. Christian," she managed through her laughter.

Christy turned compassionate eyes on Randy again and explained the story behind the Candy Man. "Christian has a candy fetish - he likes to eat it during sex," she spoke matter-of-factly, as though it was a piece of information that normally graced their everyday conversation.

Randy was starting to think that it probably was. But he knew Christian. He had heard Captain Charisma's stories, and seen some of them first hand. Eating candy was hardly the strangest thing Randy could imagine the older man doing. "Oh," was all he said.

But Christy shook her hair and looked at him pointedly. "He likes to EAT it." She was met with another blank look. "Like out of. . ."

"OH," Randy answered loudly before she finished the sentence.

Trish listened as Randy laughed, and then stopped short. "3. . .2. . .1," she counted in her head and then raised her head to meet his eye sheepishly. Nodding, she put a hand on his thigh again.

He felt like a naive kid, but the words tumbled out before he could stop them. "Isn't that, like, sticky?"

Sensing a need to save her friend, Victoria answered his question. "Not like it's not already sticky anyway."

Regaining some sense of his old self, Randy raised an eyebrow and licked his lips in Trish's direction. "Sticky," he smiled and she blushed a deep, beautiful shade of pink. Kissing her forehead, he turned his eyes back to the road before them. "Where's that bathroom, Vic?"

Trish felt his hand cover hers, her heart racing. Flirting was her specialty. Flirting with hot guys using plenty of innuendo wasn't hard. But with him, it was different. Everything was different. Everything was new. It was fresh and sweet and exciting again. Even a rendezvous in a public bathroom seemed innocent again, if not a little disgusting. The Trish that fucked Hunter in a janitor's closet didn't exist with Randy. And the Randy who had orgied with strippers and groupies was nowhere to be found in her eyes.

"EW," Maria spouted randomly, shaking her head as though she had just tasted something awful. When all eyes turned to her, she giggled. "Remember Batman?"

Three begrudging groans met that comment, and though he was dying to ask, Randy just tightened his grip on Trish's hand and decided against pressing the issue. If there was anything he had learned about girls over his lifetime, it was that they loved having in-jokes with their friends. And even more, they loved teasing the men around them with said jokes.

"What about Lord Byron?" Victoria laughed as she guided the car into the parking lot of a truck stop/gas station. Cutting the engine, she turned in her seat and took Christy's hand. "If I had a thousand years, and millions of words, I could never fully describe the extent of your infinite beauty."

Trish laughed and rolled her eyes, before winking at Randy. "Wanna help me find the bathroom?"

He only nodded as they ignored the teasing of the women in the car and headed for the building, hand in hand. Rubbing her palm with his thumb, he stopped midway down the potato chip aisle. "I'm about to pull a really girlie move here," he mumbled, more to himself than her.

Trish turned and wrapped her arms around his waist, staring up into his crystal eyes. "You don't wanna fuck in a bathroom, do you?"

He shook his head and that little blush she loved so much started creeping into the tips of his ears. "Not with you. Not the first time." He bent his knees slightly and kissed the end of her nose, bringing out that giggle he loved so much. "Don't think I don't wanna fuck you in every imaginable place," he added hastily, blushing a little at the innuendo of his words. "It's just that this thing, with us, is," he stopped and she could see him searching for the right word to describe their relationship.

"Special?" she interjected. Randy nodded and licked his lips, as though it was the corniest thing he could have said. But Trish just raised onto her toes and kissed him softly. "I know." Returning her feet to the floor, she gave his hand a light squeeze and winked.

Never, in twenty-five years, had he ever told a woman "no." Especially not one he liked as much as Trish. But even as those words floated through his mind, he knew it was a lie. Because there was no one he had ever liked as much as Trish. And as strange as it seemed, watching her with her friends only made him more sure that he wanted to be with her. That first night on the roof, she had proven she could be comfortable with his friends. Now he felt welcome among hers, too. Not for the first time, the word "commitment" raced through his mind.

She watched as a myriad of emotions flitted over his beautiful face. There were so many things she still wanted to ask, needed to know, about Randy Orton. But for now, she was content to know that they were special. Different. Unique. "So," she put her arms around his neck and gave him her best "innocent" eyes. "You wanna wait for awhile?"

Randy growled and lifted her feet from the ground in a tight hug. "Yeah," he smiled and put her back down. Checking his watch, he shot her the trademarked Orton smirk. "We should make it to the hotel in about twenty minutes. I'm thinking we wait till then."

Trish laughed as they turned and headed back toward the car, and her friends. "Ya know what I like about you, Orton?" she asked suddenly.

Raising an eyebrow, he reached for the door handle. "My incredible good looks?" She shook her head. "My wit? My charm? My enormous package?"

Climbing into the truck, Trish shook her head, noting that everyone inside the vehicle was now staring at the couple. As Randy settled in beside her, she rested her head on his shoulder and wove her fingers through his. She wanted to tell him how she loved that he made her feel like she was the only woman in the world that really mattered. She wanted to say that she was dangerously close to being in love.

Instead, she sighed contentedly and breathed one simple word that made his heart pound and his palms sweat. "Everything."