Star Gazers

A/N: Wow, I can't believe I finally finished a story. I was starting to believe I would never know that feeling again. Well, this is it, Kids. The final installment of Star Gazers. What was originally intended as a short little ficlet turned into something a little sappier, fluffier, and longer than I expected. I hope that's okay with you. It should be noted that this chapter was heavily inspired by "Breathing" by Lifehouse. There is a line in the chorus that says "I want nothing more than to sit outside heaven's door and listen to you breathing." That's what got me thinking about this chapter - so either thank or blame Jason Wade, and those other guys in Lifehouse, for being my muses. As always, Enjoy! Oh, and I don't own Randy or Trish - obviously.

It was inevitable, really. The proposal was just as spectacular as their entire relationship had been. The ring was as flashy as their public displays of affection had been. And the engagement party was as raucous as their whirlwind union had been from day one. Alcohol, strippers, exotic foods, and loud music filled the hotel ballroom as the happy couple clung to each other in the center of the room. If there was one thing about them everybody knew, it was that they were not shy about expressing their desire for one another.

Trish looked up from the dance floor and smiled to herself. Jesus, I thought this day would never come, she thought as she wrapped her arms around Randy's neck and pressed her body closer to his. Tilting her head back, she let his lips brush her neck as her eyes swept over the banner above their heads which read "Congratulations, Amy and Adam."

"You about ready to get outta here?" Randy's breath brushed her ear as they swayed to the heavy bass line penetrating the room. He loved a good party as much as anyone, and strippers and sushi made for a great party. Had the gathering been on any other night, Randy would have been more than happy to hang all night. He would have been thrilled with the prospect of staying until Trish had to drag his drunk ass back to their room.

But Trish didn't need to hear the words to know that tonight was different. It might have been Amy and Adam's engagement, but it was her anniversary. A year had passed since she had spent her first night on the roof with the Legend Killer, and Trish couldn't wait to commemorate it with another night of star gazing and mindless chit chat. Sure, she loved dancing with him, waking up next to him, long road trips, and pre-show warm up sessions. All of those things made their relationship fresh and exciting.

But nothing made her as blissfully content as the nights they would lie on a hotel balcony or roof and stare up at the sky, quietly musing about whatever was in their heads at the moment. And she loved, more than anything, that she didn't have to tell Randy that for him to know it. She didn't have to tell him anything. He just knew.

After a quick "good-bye" to their friends, and the guests of honor, Randy led Trish by the hand toward the elevator. They stood close as they were transported to their own private island in the sky. It was dorky, but that's how she felt every time she and Randy got a spare moment alone on the roof. When his friends were too busy getting laid, usually by her friends, they would steal away to their getaway spot and chill. Sometimes he would bring champagne, sometimes it was just beer. Sometimes they just held each other until the sun came up, no alcohol needed.

Randy held the door and waited as Trish slipped past him and walked toward the ledge. She was beautiful all the time, no doubt. But something about his girl in the twinkling of moonlight was breathtaking. She wore black dress pants and a "I Brake for Drummers" tee shirt. Her blonde hair was tossled, and her make up was dark. All of the divas had dressed for Amy's Rock Queen party, but Trish had outshined them all. Of course, she always did, in his opinion.

As she turned, the fedora on her head slid a little further over one eye. She said nothing, only smiled as she took her seat and held out a hand to him. It seemed as if no words were needed, and he walked to her easily, leather pants squeaky slightly against the stillness of the North Carolina air. If ever a man had looked like rock and roll royalty, Randy wore the crown with pride. She had never seen him looking quite so, well, she couldn't put it into words. "Grrrr" was the only thing that came to mind as she watched him lower himself, leather pants, Metallica tee shirt, and all to the ground beside her.

Randy rested their entwined hands on his thigh and stared up at the sky once more as Trish removed her hat and rested her head on his shoulder. It was one of those moments where no words were needed. Their comfortable silence spoke volumes, and listening to her steady breathing was enough. If they never said another word to each other – never shared another confession of love, or plea of desire, he could be content knowing that she was simply breathing at his side.

"You make me feel perfect," Trish said lazily, her eyes drifting shut as Randy let go of her hand and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. She was the Woman's Champion – strong and independent. But resting in his arms made her feel fragile. Over the last year, she had struggled to put into words exactly how Randy Orton made her feel about herself, and their relationship. Several times, she had surrendered to the idea that no word would ever describe them. Tonight, though, they felt perfect.

With a soft chuckle, Randy pulled her closer to his side. "I could remind you that you sometimes burp in your sleep." She nudged his side with her elbow. "Or that your feet smell like corn chips when you take your boots off after a match."

Turning slightly in his arms, she twisted up her nose. "Let's don't even start on the gas, Orton. The horrible wet burrito gas." He laughed with pride and gave her a smirk. "Or the fact that your post-match body odor could kill small children and animals."

He moved his arm to her knee. "Hey now," he raised his voice slightly. "We could talk about how you drool on your pillow on every flight," he suggested.

Nodding in concession, Trish took his hand and leaned her forehead against his. "Or, I know, let's talk about how you always manage to somehow end up with Dorito crumbs in your hair after you watch football."

By the time they had created a laundry list of imperfections, both Randy and Trish were rolling hysterically. Laughing until her sides hurt was not something new with Randy, but Trish found that it never got old. Watching his blue eyes squint up until tears flowed down his smooth cheeks was one of her favorite things to do. Listening to him gasp for a breath, trying to beat her to the next punchline, always made her giggle even harder.

Once they both settled into a comfortable embrace, tiny chuckles spontaneously filling the air from time to time, Trish began to think again. "I just meant that you make me feel like I'm special, worth holding on to. Without a word, you make me feel like there's nobody else you want."

Maybe it was the mood of the evening, the party they had been to. Maybe it was because this was their anniversary. "You wanna get married?" Randy asked.

Trish nodded and leaned back against his arm. "Someday," she answered. Any time one of their friends talked about getting married, Trish and Randy would throw jokes around, make a lot of cracks about how marriage wasn't for everybody, and they didn't want to complicate their sexual relationship with anything as boring or monotonous as commitment.

As though his mouth had developed it's own independent thinking, Randy heard his own voice sound the words, "To me?" She just tilted her face to his and rolled her eyes. "I'm serious," he stated.

He was. She could see it in his eyes. It wasn't the fairy tale, Cinderella proposal she had always longed for as a kid. It wasn't even the proposal after great sex that Amy had boasted about in the locker room. But it was pure Orton. It was the man she had fallen in love with on a rooftop not unlike the one they were now seated on, only a year ago.

The way he softly rubbed his thumb over her palm, innocently leaned his shoulder into hers. The way he would look at her, and then the sky, and then back, almost blushing in the silver twilight. It was all reminiscent of that night. With a slight nod, she leaned forward and kissed his nose. "I think I do."

Pulling her back into his arms, Randy realized something. A year ago, he could barely find enough words to talk about the fucking stars and the Easter Bunny with her. And now, as he laid with the same woman under those same stars, he realized that he was at a loss for words again. And just like that night, he found that he didn't need to fill every silence with sound. Sometimes the stillness was more than enough for both of them.

A tiny whisper rose from Trish's body as she began to recite the nursery rhyme her mother had taught her as a child. "Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might, have this wish I wish tonight."

He tightened his grip on her waist as she wished to the heaven's for a happily-ever-after. He said nothing, only kissed the top of her head, and thanked his own lucky stars for a night on the roof with the guys a year earlier.