Uncommon Sense Chapter 11
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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"Sometimes people carry to such perfection the mask they have assumed that in due course they actually become the person they seem."

W. Somerset Maugham, The Moon and Sixpence
English dramatist & novelist (1874 - 1965)

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Dave Batista signed the credit card slip with a flourish and passed the pen back to the clerk, who smiled and tucked it into the metal drawer of the gift shop cash register.

"Is there anything else that I can do for you, sir?" The clerk batted her eyelashes and smiled at the tall, good-looking man in front of her. It gave Dave the impression that she would do more for him than just help out in the gift shop.

"Nope, that'll do it." He spoke rather noncommittally as he slid his credit card back into his wallet and turned to the concierge. "She's probably still asleep, so it might not hurt to knock a few times." He palmed a fifty dollar bill to the man dressed in a grey suit and tie, who nodded his appreciation and carried the large silver box topped with a large white bow out of the gift shop toward the elevators.

It was at that very moment that the absolute horror of what he had just done, came smashing headlong into Dave Batista like a freight train. He had just bought a woman a workout suit. It shouldn't have been a reason for concern, being as she had been abandoned without clothing and because he had been thinking of only that very fact when he'd purchased the outfit. But it suddenly occurred to him that women generally had different ideas regarding a man's intent. What in the hell had he been thinking? And moreover, what in the hell would she be thinking when she opened the box?

But the thick elevator doors were closing behind the concierge and it was too late for him to change his mind. He said a silent prayer. 'Please God, don't let her think I think she's fat.' He shook his head unable to piece together the shattered remnants of the puzzle that was becoming his recent existence. He had completely lost touch with how to gain a woman's affections. It had been ages since that had been required of him…women had been throwing themselves at him for so long he hadn't had to worry about the aspect of romance. Was that what this was? He shook his head as he tucked the newspaper under his arm and headed for the dining room.

'You want her and you're a chicken shit!' there was the beast once more continually arguing with him, reminding him that he'd lost his courage with her, constantly repeating the unthinkable things that he could do if he'd just give in to it.

'She's just a friend.' Dave reasoned silently as he let the hostess lead him to a table.

'She's still a woman.' The beast growled.

His internal dialogue was tormenting him. He pulled the elegant chair out and sat down, allowing the hostess to place a menu in front of him. Dave ignored the ever persistent nagging inside of him, and prepared himself with a dozen or so viable reasons for having purchased a workout suit for a woman he barely knew, just in case she came roaring like a whirlwind into the hotel restaurant ready to wail on him.

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She barely heard the unrelenting knock, through the haze of her exhaustion. Somewhere, miles away echoing through a tunnel of weariness it came again…the repeated rapping. Nancy opened the one eye that would allow it and sat straight up. It could only be Max at this hour she thought, as she glanced at the clock. But then she realized it was only 8:15 AM and no way could it be Max, as he and the rest of the RAW roster would not be dragging in until around noon.

The knock persisted and Nancy, still fully clothed, pushed aside a fluffy pillow on the half-made bed and stumbled through the darkened room toward the door. "Hold on." She said groggily as she fumbled with the locks, scraping a knuckle on the wood in the process.

The door swung part way inward and the hall lights blinded Nancy causing her to grimace. The concierge eyed her disheveled appearance and then lifted the large box up so she could see it. "A package for you, Ma'am."

"Oh, um thanks…" Nancy squinted and reached out for the box. "Who from?"

"The gentleman filled out a card." The concierge pointed to the top of the package beneath the enormous bow. "Could you sign for it, please?" He asked kindly, lifting a small clipboard.

"Sure." She nodded, laying the box aside, and then signing the paper. She smiled, still groggy eyed and then remembered that it was customary to tip the bellboys and staff. "Oops, let me get you a tip." She fumbled around drowsily for her hand bag.

"No Ma'am, that won't be necessary. I've already been compensated." He smiled and turned to leave.

"Thank you." Nancy called out to him, as he headed back down the hallway.

She placed the package on the bed momentarily while she turned on the lights and then checked her appearance in the mirror over the dresser. "Yeesh." Nancy said noting that her normally soft curly hair now resembled something out of a Tina Turner video. She tugged the card from under the bow and timidly opened it. The small card was unadorned, save the elegant standard scripted words in silver relief on the front, that read 'A Gift For You'. Inside the card was the strong round-hand in black ball point pen, reading:

'Sorry if you didn't get much sleep, but the hotel restaurant stops serving breakfast at ten o'clock. See you there. – Dave'

She smiled and slid the card back inside the envelope, opting to see what surprise was hiding in the box. She untied the bow, quickly setting it aside, and then lifted the lid, and pushed aside the delicate tissue paper, revealing a…workout suit? Nancy lifted the jacket and tank-top out of the box, and then the pants beneath it. It was black and white, nothing flashy about it…in a size 4, right on the money. There were even shoes and socks in the bottom of the box.

Nancy was confused. Chewing her bottom lip she laid the suit down on the bed and lifted her shirt to glance at the flat expanse of her tummy, and then turning, she took a peek at her rear end in the mirror. She didn't look like she'd gained weight, but here he was sending her a workout suit on the one hand, and then inviting her to consume some more food on the other. Maybe he was just as confused as she was, and shrugging her shoulders, she turned on the shower knob to full pressure. If she took a quick shower now, she could make it in time to have breakfast.

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The red and blue lights flashing intermittently in the rearview mirror were more than enough of a reason to send Christy Hemme into a flurry of four letter words. Maria Kanellis, however had only just now noticed the state trooper who had pulled them over.

"Were you speeding?" Maria asked, clueless to anything beyond the primping that she had been doing in the visor mirror for the past forty miles.

Incredulously, Christy glowered at Maria and then sighed. "No, I'm hauling a trunk full of Mexican refugees…Yes! I was speeding!" She slammed the rental car into park and pulled her purse from the floorboard.

Maria just smiled as the apparent joke floated away just beyond her realm of comprehension and continued to pluck her stray eyebrow hairs in the mirror.

The officer approached the car with a no-nonsense gait and tapped on the driver's side window with a curled knuckle. Christy who had already checked her lipstick in the mirror, pasted on the most dazzling smile she could muster, and pressed the power window button with one elegant nail.

"How are you?" Christy asked brightly as if she had known the officer for a lifetime.

"Do you know how fast you were going?" The trooper inquired, pulling his sunglasses off and clipping them to the pocket of his shirt.

It was apparent that he was going to be harder to manipulate than the average law enforcement officer. "Well, I believe it was 70 miles per hour…" Christy began, running her tongue over her lower lip and adopting a very innocent and demure comportment. "At least that's what I set the cruise control for."

"85…is about what you were going, ma'am." The officer stiffened his chin and pulled his ticket pad from his back pocket. "I need to see the rental car agreement…" he said as he pointed to the window sticker from the rental car company. "And I'll need your driver's license."

"Sure." Inside, Christy was incensed, but on the outside she remained calm as she pulled open the glove box to retrieve the rental contract. "You see, we were just on our way to a house show for the WWE…we're Divas." She announced, as she handed him the contract.

The officer looked at her without emotion or recognition and then he glanced at the contract, scribbling something on his notepad.

"Not a wrestling fan, huh?" She asked as she opened her wallet to pull out her license. It fell from her hands down in between her thighs. "Well, maybe you're a fan of Playboy, then…" She said, biting her lower lip seductively. "I had a spread in that magazine awhile back." She gently opened her legs wider allowing him a tempting glimpse of her well tanned, well toned upper thighs. She reached between her thighs where the license had fallen and pulled it out slowly allowing him the maximum time to view. "Oh, that's where that silly little thing went." She smiled innocently.

The trooper maintained his rigid expression and snatched her license away with only his thumb and forefinger. "Ma'am, I am a Deacon at First Baptist Church in Grapevine Texas…" He scribbled furiously on his notepad. "And the only thing I'm a fan of is people who go the speed limit." He ripped the ticket from his book, nearly mangling it in the process and handed it back to her with the license and rental contract. "Be back at the county court house in 12 days for your hearing." He announced. "Unless you plead 'no contest' by mail, and then you may pay the fine by mailing it in along with your plea and a copy of this ticket." He scowled at her and put his sunglasses back on. "You're free to go."

Christy waited until he was already headed back to his patrol car before she blew up. "Asshole!" The window was rolled up and she knew he couldn't hear her, but she glanced back none the less as he pulled away from the shoulder of the highway. She chanced a look at the ticket and the $190 fine.

Her lips formed a flat tight line of utter frustration as a roar of fury bubbled up in her throat. Her day was already turning out to be a bust. Five more calls to Dave's cell phone this morning had all gone unanswered and unreturned. He hadn't checked into the hotel in Dallas where the others on the roster had checked into last night and no one else seemed to know where he was. Triple H had let her know that Dave had left the arena with Nancy Adams, the bitch in Wardrobe, but he had never said anything about Dave not checking into the hotel. It was also very coincidental that a short inquiry by Maria, whom Christy had sent to Max's room with a broken zipper, had revealed that Nancy hadn't checked in either. She jammed the paper ticket into the side pocket of her purse and pulled away from the shoulder, resuming her trek to San Antonio.

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"Thanks." Nancy said to the desk clerk who pointed her in the direction of the busy hotel restaurant. She allowed the hostess to open the heavy gilt adorned door for her and she scanned the vast dining room. His size alone made him impossible to miss, but it was the stimulating sight of him, relaxed in the dining chair, casually reading the paper that made her heart skip a beat. The dangerous aura that he projected in the ring was clearly at odds with the vision he presented in linen khaki pants and a white pullover tunic style top, with the sleeves casually rolled up revealing his bronzed forearms.

She stood there, almost mesmerized, staring at him as the hostess asked if she could seat her. He was wearing a pair of glasses as he read, thin wire frames with equally thin lenses. His ebony hair was brushed back cleanly and he was freshly shaven except for the small line of whiskers that ran from the middle of his bottom lip down to the middle of his chin. He could have just as easily been the accountant from someone's wildest fantasy.

"I'm meeting someone…" Nancy murmured somewhat in a trance, finally able to catch her breath.

The hostess followed her line of sight, "Ah, it seems you've found him, then."

Nancy nodded and let the hostess lead her over to the table. She stopped just short of the table and Dave lifted his head. Smiling a bit hesitantly, he spoke. "Hey…I'm sorry if I woke you up."

"You didn't wake me up…" Nancy said. "The bellboy did. Thank you for the outfit. You didn't have to do that."

He was prepared for her to say something snide, to blow up to take the whole thing wrong as Christy would have, but she didn't and it unsettled him. She looked great in the outfit, he had done well with guessing her size, but he could feel the heat rising to settle in his face, remembering how embarrassing his blunder was…though he'd not meant it to be.

"You picked it out, do you like it?" Nancy asked and spun around.

"Not really." He said grinning wickedly and then reaching out, he spun her around once more and slid his hand under the hem of the light jacket. One hand was on her slender hip, and the other was plucking the tag from the waist band of her pants.

"Now I love it." He quickly withdrew his hands and waited until she turned around a look of utter mortification etched on her face.

She couldn't believe she had been so foolish that she had left the tag on the clothing, but more than that, she couldn't believe he had been so brazen as to reach under the jacket to yank the tag off. Nancy could still feel the heat from where his hand had rested on her hip for a mere second.

He was smiling into his water glass as she sat down in the dining chair and she wondered what he must be thinking.

Suddenly she began to laugh lightly. It was like music to him, a soft laugh but slightly husky…It floated through his senses like a caress. "Wow, was that ever embarrassing, I guess I pay so much attention to other people's clothing, that I forget to do a 'once over' on my own." Nancy laid the crisp cream colored napkin in her lap just as the waiter returned to the table to ask for the drink order.

"Coffee…" she said, "Lots of coffee."

Dave waved away the idea of coffee in lieu of juice, and pulled his glasses off, folding the paper up and setting it aside.

"I never would have guessed you wore glasses." She smiled looking for anything to break up her nervousness, to take her mind off of the fact that she felt like she could sink through the floor.

"Only for reading." He told her, putting them in his front pocket. "I try not to wear them very often, it makes me look old." He took a sip of his water and appraised her fresh from the shower look. Her wet hair had been pulled up in a tight bun at the nape of her neck, but a few small curls escaped at the side to frame her face. Despite the lack of sleep, her face was bright and slightly pink as if it had just been washed. He noticed the dark lashes that swept down to graze her cheek each time she blinked and the lips with the faintest hint of pink gloss…full and soft. He shook off the thought of what he was tempted to do with those lips and sipped his water again.

"It doesn't make you look old…" She said, narrowing her eyes in contemplation. "Makes you look wise." Nancy grinned. "Like Yoda or something, Mr. Miyagi maybe?"

He laughed, "Neither of them wore glasses."

"You know what I mean." She insisted and then snapped her fingers in revelation, pointing a finger at him. "Clark Kent…that's who it makes you look like."

The two of them debated suitable characters for a moment more before the waiter returned with coffee and juice and took the food order.

Nancy settled herself in the seat, glancing over the menu at the speed of light. "I'll have the 5-egg ham and cheese omelet with toast and a slice of country ham on the side…a bowl of oatmeal and half of a grapefruit." She snapped the menu shut with a contented sigh and waited for Dave to give his order.

Dave on the other hand, sat slack-jawed for a split second and then turning to the waiter he said, "I'll have what she's having."

The waiter who also appeared to be baffled by her appetite nodded without responding, turned and walked stiffly toward the kitchen.

"Just curious…" Dave knew he might be treading on thin ice with the question he was about to ask, but he couldn't help it. "Where, uh, where do you put all that food…you know when you eat?" He sat back, wondering if being slapped by a woman would hurt. "I mean, because I've seen grown men who don't eat like that."

He was relieved when she laughed and shook her head. "I don't know…I guess I've just always eaten like that." She failed to mention the fact that she had spent the better part of her childhood living off of left over scraps from the diner or the one meal that the school provided for her at lunch time and that she had been trying to make up for it ever since. "Is that why you bought me the gym clothes?" She asked, knowing that he had only intended to be nice by buying the clothing.

"No, I swear…" He said laughing as he chomped on a piece of ice. He held one hand up in the air as if to ward off any blows. "It was either that or an evening gown and I didn't think you'd want to traipse around in Haute Couture until your suitcases showed up." He defended his action further, feeling the heat of a humiliated flush sweep over him. "I promise, I didn't mean anything by it, and I honestly thought that maybe it was the wrong decision, but I swear I didn't intend for it to be an insinuation that you're overweight."

"I believe you." Nancy smirked. "I just wanted to see what kind of excuses you could come up with." She grinned. "You back-pedal pretty quick."

"Smart ass." He muttered, smiling and greatly relieved that she had seen past what his deed appeared to discover his true motive. He was enjoying every single second of her razor sharp wit and he liked the fact that she was such a multi-faceted person, it was going to be hard to figure her out, but well worth the effort. "You had me going, there for a minute." He wagged his finger at her, feigning reproach.

She laughed again, stirring the sugar into her coffee. "I know I did…but seriously, it was very nice of you to do it, so I'll treat you to breakfast."

"I already had them open the ticket under my room number. You can treat me another time." He announced. There it went again…the little slip of the tongue that forced him to think of her in ways he shouldn't be.

Nancy nodded, secretly preparing to leave at least the tip for the waiter.

"Well, so now that you have gym clothing…" He hinted. "Maybe you'd like to go to the gym with me, later…if you're not busy."

"Oh Gosh…" Nancy was a bit hesitant. "I never really work out much…I mean I should do it more, but I never really lifted a weight in my life and as you can tell, I only ever run when I'm being left behind."

He smiled at her humor, but persisted, knowing that he really didn't feel like being by himself for the rest of the day. "I'll help you…I mean I'll show you how to do it so that if you ever want to take it up as a past time, then you'll have a starting point."

Nancy agreed, thinking that if anyone knew what he was talking about regarding fitness, it was Dave Batista, and so the two planned to meet in the lobby at Eleven O'clock.

"So you never did tell me where you hail from." Dave said curious to know more about her.

The unexpected question, though innocent and uninvasive, made her nervous…it brought her back to the origin of her identity which was rooted in vagabondism. The only home that she had known after her father's murder was her mother's car, until her mother had settled with some out of work methamphetamine addict in Texas. She'd never tell Dave that, though…it was better to pretend her past was rosy…it was easier to forget it if she could simply lie about it.

"Amarillo." She chewed on her straw, trying to think of ways to change the subject.

"I've been there with RAW, in May I think it was, of 2004? Nice place." He continued. "Do you have family there?"

He watched as she shook her head avoiding the captivity of his gaze. "My father passed away when I was 5…my mother is gone too." She said neglecting to mention that her mother was still alive and well, probably on the rat eaten sofa in the same trailer passed out in a drunken stupor, at this very moment.

"I'm sorry to hear that." Dave told her and he meant it. He presumed that the loss of her parents was the reason for her discomfort at the mention of family and home. "Do you have brothers or sisters?" Something deep and forbidding told him to stop, but he wanted to know more…wanted to know everything there was to know about her.

"I'm an only child." She smiled up at him. "I would have liked to have had a brother or sister though…it is sort of lonely without siblings…and imaginary friends never really answer back, so…" Her voice trailed off and she nearly scalded her throat as she took a gulp of her coffee, relieved that the waiter was returning with their food. The mountainous tray of steaming breakfast food was a fine excuse not to divulge anymore of her life and a damn fine reason to indulge before a workout.