Uncommon Sense Chapter 9
By Batistafan
Rating - NC-17 for violence
Distribution: If you would like to add this story to
your site that's fine, just let me know.
Main Characters include: Batista, Triple H, Chris Jericho, Christy
Hemme, Nancy Adams (Original Character).

Disclaimer: This is a mature fanfiction intended for mature readers.
This story contains violence, coarse language, as well as mature
sexual situations (some may consider explicit), and these would not
be deemed appropriate for all readers.
I do not own nor claim to have any affiliation with the WWE, its
characters, wrestlers, staff or other affiliates. I do own any
original characters that I have created, as well as scenarios that
ensue throughout the course of this fiction. However, since both my
characters and scenarios are inexorably intertwined with those of
the WWE, my ownership of them is not autonomous.
I do not endorse nor do I discourage the use of any brand-name
products that might be referenced in the fiction and have no claim
to them as they are property of their respective companies of
license. Thank you kindly for not suing.

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"Laughter is the shortest distance between two people."

Victor Borge

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It was just past midnight when the silver Ferrari wheeled into the parking lot of the diner. Dave Batista slowed the machine to a crawl and steered warily around a few nearly invisible potholes. He seemed to know where they were, even though Nancy could barely tell they existed. This led her to believe that he had been there more than just a couple of times. He steered into a space close to the front door and then whipped up the parking brake, remaining in his seat.

"This is the place." He pointed casually to the blue and red neon sign above the door of the diner. It said 'Pat's Place', but because the letter 'T' in Pat's flickered on and off as if it were ready to give it's last light, the name looked more like 'Pa 's Place'. There was a definite charm about the diner with its crackled white clapboard siding and oversized front windows. Something about it was so normal, so laid back and easy going compared to the rapid pace of his life that it was a comfort to him and he made an effort to visit the diner every time he came to Texas for a show. The diner reminded him of his childhood, the things he had missed…the things that he was trying to hold onto. If he was within a couple hundred miles of the diner and had brought his own vehicle, he made the trip, no matter how much gas he wasted. "Junk food heaven." He murmured softly.

The diner held a decidedly different sensation for Nancy. It reminded her of being on the road with her mother. As a child, she had found herself in a different town every couple of months, eating in diners just like this one usually on someone else's coin. Looking around, she could remember sleeping in the back seat of her mother's Delta 88 in the parking lot of a few all night diners similar to this one, praying that no one could break in while they slept. A deep breath and a sigh…and then she stifled the memory as she always did.

"What's the matter? You still afraid I won't let you have a burger?" Dave joked as he turned the ignition off and the beastly muscle car silenced.

Nancy laughed softly. "I was actually just thinking about adding a chocolate shake to that order." She slid her high heels back on and opened the door of the car, stepping out onto the torn up gravel lot.

"Careful, the ground's not level." He spoke from somewhere behind her, close behind her…because she could smell the warm tenor of his cologne. Nancy hadn't even noticed that he'd already exited the car and closed his door.

Peering down at the ground, she could see that he was right. The parking lot, having long been neglected, was in sore need of a new tar job and a good cleaning. The potholes seemed to be everywhere, and it was a wonder that Dave hadn't hit even one of them when he had pulled in to park. Nancy stepped gingerly over the loose gravel and random chunks of broken asphalt, and then hopped onto the sidewalk where it was flatter and less perilous. "Not much in the budget for repairs, huh?" She laughed and pushed a hazelnut curl away from her eye, tucking it behind her ear.

"Guess not." He said, suddenly wishing he could have touched that silky tendril and then, out of instinct, he placed his fingertips on the small of her back, opening the door to usher her inside. He walked behind her, telling her which booth he normally sat in and as luck would have it, the booth was empty. As the two of them passed the counter, the male cook looked up and making eye contact with Dave Batista allowed a smile to split his face.

Nancy could see that the man was missing one of his front teeth, and it reminded her a little bit of Chris Benoit. He wore a white cook's hat, with an American flag pin staked through the brim and despite the fairly greasy coating on the rest of the surfaces in the diner, he alone appeared to be fresh pressed. His apron and matching white shirt looked as though he'd just donned them…crisp and clean.

"Hey, Big Dave." The man said and raised his shining stainless steel spatula in greeting.

"Pat." Dave acknowledged and then asked. "When are you gonna fix that parking lot?"

"When God himself comes down and hands me a winning Lotto ticket." The robust man smiled again, his Mexican accent thick and pleasant. "Have you seen the price of concrete lately?"

Dave shook his head laughing. "No, I haven't checked around in awhile."

The man laughed affably and went back to flipping his burgers.

Nancy slid into the well worn leather bench seat of a booth near the back of the diner. Only a few people remained in the 24-hour establishment; A clean cut truck-driver, whose rig had been parked at the far end of the lot, a well tattooed biker with the symbol of Christ on the Cross over a banner that read 'Riding for Christ', on the back of his leather jacket and an off duty security guard, exhausted from his long day and nodding off in his soup.

"I hope this is okay for you." Dave remarked, pulling his light jacket off and pushing it down beside him in the booth. "Not very many people that I know care to go to places like this." Dave cast a thought to Christy, who he was certain would have fainted from near heart failure at the implication of anything less than a five star restaurant or room service at the Ritz Carlton, and even then she still would have found something to complain about.

"I grew up eating in places like this." Nancy smiled, careful not to give any more details than needed about her past. The sight of the diner sparked a memory of being ten years old and sitting in a booth snacking on fries, for the third meal in a row, her mother having gone outside to have a conversation with a man about a job. A tall unshaven slovenly, fellow who had been scratching his crotch in the corner booth had approached her, a broken grin allowing Nancy a good glimpse of his rotting teeth. Nancy could still remember the fetid stench that emanated from the man. It was a combination of sweat and alcohol. He had tried to talk to her, tried to tell her what a pretty little girl she was, he'd even tried to slide into the booth beside her, but had been yanked out and thrown out on his ass by the waitress.

Nancy remembered her too, a portly gal with a voice like a man and hands like a man. Nancy remembered how afraid she had been to finish her fries, afraid to be alone while her drunken mother was draped all over the man outside. Mostly, Nancy remembered how the waitress had made it all better with a slice of apple pie on the house and the promise that she had her eye out. She'd been able to relegate the ugly memory into its place on the dusty shelf of her mind, until just now.

Dave couldn't deny the faraway look in her eyes. He wondered what she was thinking of. He noticed how she chewed her lip nervously and then he spoke low and softly. "Hello…"

"I was just remembering how all diners smell the same." She smiled and snapped out of the trance, donning the mask of secrecy. "I think I'm about ready for that burger."

As if reading her mind, the waitress emerged from behind the counter and approached the booth. Her face was kind, but she had a distinct air of spunkiness. Her very red hair, which reminded Nancy of what Christy's might look like in a few more years, was pulled into a high ponytail. Her eyes were clear and alert, a deep cobalt that sparkled hinting to a certain wisdom, as if she knew a secret that no one else knew.

"I haven't seen you in months." Her voice was steady, though it was heavily accented with a southern drawl that Nancy suspected might be embellished a tiny bit.

"Did you miss me?" Dave returned her smile and waved away the menus that she was about to offer.

"Not one damned bit." She replied saucily and then turned to smile at Nancy. "And who is this lovely young lady?" She waited patiently until Dave answered.

"This is Nancy." Was all Dave cared to say, knowing that the suspense would drive the waitress crazy. It was apparent that the two had a playful friendship, despite the fact that the woman was probably pushing forty-five years old.

The waitress eyeballed Dave as if she desired a better explanation of who 'Nancy' really was. Not having any luck gleaning more than a name from him, she sighed and spoke. "I think you probably want what you always have." And after his smooth nod, she turned to Nancy, appraising her slender build, and asked. "I bet you want a salad, don't you sweetheart?"

After their food had been ordered, the two of them sat in relative silence for a moment before Dave broke the ice, finally speaking. "So what do you do in your free time besides chasing buses?"

Nancy found the jest amusing, despite the fact that he spoke the truth. "That's all I do...I mean, literally…I mend some clothing at one venue, and then I race to get on the bus with everyone else before the next one." She clicked her fingernail on the salt shaker. "I've only been with the WWE for about 5 months I still haven't figured out how to manage my free time very well." She laughed, and then explained how she did design work for other people on the side.

"You're not married." Dave observed pointing to her ring finger which was bare.

"No, not yet…one day maybe, when I get some free time." The comment drew her eye to Dave's left hand which was also unadorned, save the slight indention that indicated he had once worn a ring on his ring finger. Nancy had known from gossip around the WWE that he had been married at one time, but she hadn't delved into it deeper. "And you?"

Dave shook his head. "Divorced…still friends though. We get along very well, considering everything, and I think it's a big help to our daughters that we stay civil." He glanced around the diner casually. "So you and Max…you two seem pretty attached…any clue as to why he left you tonight?"

"I don't think that he left me on purpose…he had been saying that he was exhausted for a few hours tonight, I'll bet he laid back in that bus seat and passed out." Nancy smiled and said.

"Yeah, I'll bet he did." Dave stated, not caring to try and hide the slight air of sarcasm. He could see that she held a fondness for Max, and decided against telling her that he suspected Max had fully intended to leave her at the arena, having seen 'Dear old Max' peeking out of the bus window when her back was turned. As close as the two were, Nancy probably wouldn't believe it anyhow. "Have you known him long?"

Nancy nodded. "Well I've known him a couple of years, even though we've only worked together on RAW for about five months." She explained. "I met him by accident…which seems to be the story of my life…I'm either always in the wrong place at the wrong time, or maybe I'm just lucky and I can't yet recognize it."

"I'm not following." Dave gave her a confused glance.

"I met Max in the court house parking lot…he was paying on a speeding ticket and I was being dismissed from jury duty." She gestured with her hands. "I was pulling out this way and he was pulling out that way…and we slammed into each other." She laughed. "We both got tickets for the fender-bender, but when he heard me telling the officer that I worked for a drapery shop, he offered me a job as a seamstress with the interior design pool."

"Design pool? Sounds like hell." Dave surmised, envisioning a populace of struggling seamstress in a dark room, tangled in tape-measurers their sole mission; waiting on an assignment.

"Like a typing pool, you know where receptionists get passed from person to person…same thing…we got passed from designer to designer." Nancy 'flip-flopped' her hand in explanation.

"You went from the frying pan into the fire with these Divas, then."

"No way…Divas, I can handle." Nancy said, her face a mask of feigned dread. "Try dealing with a designer, who's just had her third double espresso, is five days behind schedule already and just realized that she gave you the wrong measurements for a set of $3000 drapery panels." Nancy shuddered at the memory of the real-life experience. "Divas are a cake-walk."

Dave chuckled. He liked her way of passing off a bad experience with humor…she was good at making light of things that didn't go her way. "Explain how you were hired for the WWE."

"That was Max's doing too." Nancy gave her huge teddy bear buddy the credit. "He found the ad on an exclusive website, jacked my dossier from human resources and sent it in along with his. Long story short…we got the call back and were hired as a team."

"Max really seems to take things in hand, doesn't he?" And though he couldn't figure why, Dave felt a little irritated at the thought of Max steering Nancy's ship without her knowledge. He knew by now, that the incident tonight involving Christy Hemme had been a vendetta of Max's own design.

"Well, he is a bit forward, and sometimes it turns out to blow up in his face, but he means well…you know that whole thing about 'best laid plans' or whatever." She shook her head. "I suppose you know about the occurrence with Christy tonight, then?"

Nancy was almost afraid to ask. She bit her lip and prepared for a scolding.

"I do." Was Dave Batista's cursory response. And though his answer was straightforward, his eyes held a twinkle and his voice indicated no malice. "Maybe she asked for it…and maybe she'll think twice before she rips into someone again."

Nancy couldn't have been more surprised if he had just sprouted another head. She was fairly perplexed by the fact that he hadn't rebuked her for the incident and that he had not jumped to the outspoken Diva's defense, especially since she'd already gotten the idea that the two had been sleeping together.

"Don't get me wrong…" He continued. "I'm not into the whole revenge thing…unless it's in the ring, but maybe Max was right on with this one."

Nancy couldn't understand why she was suddenly elated to know that he didn't blame her for the shirt catastrophe. A part of her would have been disappointed if he had thought that she were responsible for it. Before anything more could be said, the waitress arrived with two baskets, each piled to the top with fries, and a huge half-pound cheese burger.

Nancy's eyes grew wide with surprise as the platter of greasy food was set before her. "Oh my God…you have no idea how long it's been since I had a burger this big." Her mouth watered in anticipation, as the chocolate shake was placed on the table.

"Hope you brought your Tums, honey." The waitress smiled and placed a fresh bottle of ketchup in between Nancy and Dave, and then with curiosity getting the better of her, she turned to Nancy and asked, "Now how is it that you two know each other?"

Nancy couldn't resist starting a little controversy. "I don't really know him at all…" She shrugged. "I just fixed his shirt for him." And then Nancy looked with interest at Dave, "What did you say your name was again?"

The waitress was taken a tiny bit aback and then with a naughty glimmer in her blue eyes, she smiled and placed the ticket directly in front of Dave. She turned her amused eyes on Nancy. "That…sweety, is how I met my first husband." She winekd knowingly and walked away.

Dave couldn't resist the impulse to laugh out loud. He was slightly swollen with pride because Nancy had made it seem as though there was something going on when there wasn't. It flattered him.

He watched Nancy shake her head laughing and dip a French fry in the pool of ketchup. "Well, if that's all it takes to end up married, then what do I do with all those bouquets I've caught at weddings?" She chomped the fry. "What a waste of flowers."

"You could always design an outfit and integrate them into it, somehow." Dave suggested lightheartedly as he lifted the bun off of his burger, to spread mayo on it.

"You know…that's an idea…" Nancy replied, feigning surprise. "I've got enough of them that I could design an entire spring, fashion line-up."

Feeding off of her wit, Dave threw in another jest. "We could have a fashion show right on RAW and we could call it Always a Bridesmaid…" He slashed his hand from side to side in the air to indicate a banner or marquis.

Nancy chuckled. "You think I'm joking…I really do have my own 'dried flower heaven' stashed away in a box somewhere…I could probably stock the floral aisle of a craft store."

Dave had to admit that it felt nice not to have someone either hanging on his every word like a slobbering puppy or complaining about everything in arms reach and beyond. He was laughing and joking and having a good time, and surprisingly, he wasn't even thinking about sex. It made him happy that he could discuss something besides wrestling or money or senseless gossip.

"So you said you have daughters?" Nancy asked as she bit into the last of her burger. "How many?"

Nodding, Dave explained that he had two daughters and pulled his wallet from his pocket. "These are my girls." He announced, his voice softening with affection.

She noticed how he smiled warmly as he handed over the crisp, leather Dolce & Gabbana wallet. Nancy eyed the first of the pictures, in which there was a lovely teenaged girl standing next to his Ferrari, holding a large white poster board with painted red letters that spelled the words 'Keys, Daddy, Please!' Dave explained how his oldest daughter Vanessa had just turned fourteen the day the photo had been taken and his ex-wife had put her up to holding the sign. "She's taking driver's ed, now…so maybe when she's 30 I'll trust her enough to let her behind the wheel."

Nancy flipped the plastic covered photo over and stared at the next one. "This little girl looks like she's a little bit mischievous." Nancy surmised. Audrey was posing with a pony behind a fence and even though the photo appeared to be professionally taken, Nancy admired the candid quality of it. The playful glint in the girl's eye was not muted in the slightest by the photographer's attempt to pose her. Dave wasn't surprised that Nancy had noticed Audrey's impishness, and he tilted his head and admitted how she had talked him into letting her come home with the pony.

The next picture was of Dave and his girls in a swimming pool. Obviously they had been trying to dunk him and even though Nancy knew he was far too strong to be submerged by mere children, she appreciated the fact that he was allowing them to get the better of him. Both girls were climbing on him as if he were a jungle gym and his expression was one of mock terror, his chin barely above the water.

Nancy smiled…not enough could be said for having good parents…that, she knew for sure. "Kids keep you young." she admitted in a wistful tone.

Her comment was not off handed or hollow. He had seen the way her eyes almost glazed over when she said it, as if she longed for it to be the truth in someone's life, even if it wasn't in her own. Dave remembered how he'd overheard Christy telling Maria that she wasn't ready for kids, that being around them was good for publicity, but it made her feel old. He'd just assumed that most single women felt the same way, but to hear Nancy say something that hinted at a soft spot for children struck him speechless. She recognized what others did not…what he knew in his heart to be true…that his kids were the one thing that made him feel young again, especially in a sport where age was becoming a factor.

He was puzzled by her, unable to figure her out and determined to try like hell anyway. He had watched the 100 pound girl cut her burger into quarters, and very politely devour the entire thing, piece by ladylike piece. He was amazed that she even had room to polish off the fries. Dave was decidedly curious as to why Nancy had an air of hopefulness and how she was able to retain it, being as she had, by her own admission, possibly the worst timing of anyone alive, and was without a doubt, the most accident prone person in the WWE. That reality alone would be enough to make any normal person depressed but oddly, it didn't affect her that way. There was more depth in this woman than in all of the Divas that had thrown themselves into his lap as of late. Her laugh was true, her smile wasn't staged and her innocence was breaking him down.

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Max leaned back as he flipped Nancy's cell phone over in his hands, delighted that his plan had gone off without a hitch. Hiding Dave Batista's duffel bag in Eric Bischoff's office had been a stroke of genius, giving a window of opportunity for his delay and yet not endangering Dave's possessions and thus invoking his wrath. It had also been like taking candy from a baby when he'd palmed Nancy's handbag and surreptitiously left it on the table in the dark. He hated to have to be so devious, and it certainly hadn't been his original plan. The idea hadn't struck him until he had seen the way the two reacted toward one another when they had been face to face several nights ago. Max wasn't stupid, he knew attraction when he saw it and hell, if he could kill two birds with one stone, then who was he to impede the inevitable? He could create an opportunity for Dave Batista and Nancy to develop a friendship…maybe more and he could spite Christy Hemme at the same time. It was pure brilliance…as long as it didn't backfire.

He was relieved that Nancy hadn't seen him, even after the air-headed bus driver had flipped on the interior light when Nancy's shoe had hit the back window of the bus. Max was still shocked that the bus driver had believed him when he stammered to explain that Nancy was not in need of a ride, the two of them had been in an argument and Nancy was too pissed off to get on the bus. "That's why she threw the shoe." Max had explained. "Shut off the light!" He had hollered, annoying the others on the bus. He had nearly been seen.

Max knew that Nancy would be safe if he left her, he had witnessed Batista coming out of the door of the arena after Nancy had come running out. His timing had been perfect, and when he'd seen Dave's slick, silver Ferrari come roaring past the bus, with a female silhouette in the passenger seat, he had known that everything would pan out, nicely. Now as for the middle finger that Dave had held up as he had passed…that was a mystery, unless…he had seen Max, or he knew that Max had contrived the whole thing…or maybe he was just pissed that he had to give someone a ride, but Max doubted that. Besides he knew Nancy well enough to know that she would never have asked Dave Batista for a ride, and that if she were in the car with him, it was because he had offered.

Before he could ponder the state of affairs any longer, Vicki the make-up artist flopped down into the bucket seat beside him as the bus rumbled down the highway toward the hotel.

"So, are you having fun playing match-maker?" She quirked a perfectly groomed eyebrow as she brushed a stray piece of fuzz from her navy blue pants.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Max said firmly, eyeing her as if she were a stain on a prized piece of textile.

"Hhmm…" She nodded as if she believed him, but still sat without speaking for a moment.

"Is there something you need?" He asked impatiently.

She let out a tiny laugh and stared at him. "You know something?" She began, "You're not the best looking guy on RAW, and you're damn sure not the most eligible bachelor I've come across…but you're a good friend."

Max narrowed his eyes skeptically, but said nothing.

"A girl can recognize things like what you did tonight…and I just wanted to say…that I think you really are a good friend to Nancy, but you should be careful about your approach."

"Like I said…I don't have a clue as to what you're referring." Max felt it incumbent to keep up his charade of innocence.

"Look, all I'm saying is that if a little old make-up chick can see what your up to…then it's conceivable that a particular flame-haired Diva might be able to figure it out as well…I would hate for you to be looking in the wrong direction in the middle of a battle…some of these superstars are far more depraved than you would believe." Vicki smiled good-naturedly and stood up to leave…Max stopped her, by holding gently to her sleeve.

"Thanks." It was all he could manage, but it was enough, for Vicki leaned over and planted a kiss on the top of his head, and then leaving Max utterly thunderstruck, she made her way back to her seat.