Uncommon Sense Chapter 21
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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My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends--
It gives a lovely light!

-Edna St. Vincent Millay, "First Fig" (1920)

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Max couldn't deny that Vicki was beautiful, nor could he deny that she was talented, he was having fun accompanying her to all sorts of places…and paying for all sorts of things. She was such a layered person, however…such an angst driven, wounded soul…that Max was finding it terribly difficult to even get past the many strata of her superficiality. Getting close to Vicki had proved a little like trying to rescue a porcupine from a cluster of cacti…he was going to get himself jabbed no matter which way he approached.

It had been her idea to spend the night together…her idea to make love, but before hand, she'd suggested they have a drink to loosen up and had downed several shots of whiskey as if they were nothing more than water. Vicki had then dragged him back to the bedroom, torn his clothing off and subjected him to the most rigorous tutoring session he'd ever been forced to endure. She'd been forceful and well, rude! "Not there…here." "Too fast…too slow" "You're smothering me." Were just some of the things she'd barked out at him while they'd been in bed. The whole experience had been like 6th Grade Chemistry class with Mrs. Kelvin, yelling at him for mixing the wrong chemicals, telling him that is was a good thing his family was wealthy because he'd likely never graduate and go to college.

Now mind you, Max had enjoyed every second of the sex, because like most men, he could block out a myriad of useless distractions that threatened to prevent him from getting his rocks off, but he'd wanted her to enjoy it too. And she hadn't….she'd said that she had…but he knew better. He'd felt out of place, when they'd finished…he was an obese naked lard, next to a slender, feminine, make-up artist. And even though she'd tried to cuddle and tell him that she'd enjoyed it and all she needed was a little rest and she'd be ready for more, he knew that she had only done it out of obligation.

He'd been so eager and excited to finally have a pretty lady on his arm, that he'd spent a small fortune on Vicki since they'd become a pair. It didn't help that she had the taste of Paris Hilton…her budget would only allow her to go so far. Max had a sizeable trust fund that he could always fall back on and parents who had always loved him for who he was, looking beyond his inability to pin himself down to one thing…they'd never berated him for his flights of fancy or his tendency to do something on a whim, they'd just supported him because he was a good kid. He'd been giving and happy to supplement Vicki's lack of funds on their recent shopping expeditions, and last night had been just a little glimpse into what Vicki was all about, but like the gentleman he was, he knew he'd give her a second chance, because in his mind, she was probably going to be the best he could ever get.

Now at least he could be indisputably jubilant, as he listened again to the voice mail message from Nancy that had been cut off prematurely. He grinned devilishly, knowing that apparently she had finally borne witness to a 'Big Greek Sausage'. He scribbled and tucked the note beneath the handle of one of her suitcases and headed for the door of his cabana so he could deliver her luggage to her. She'd only asked him for a change of clothing, but he hoped that by leaving all of her belongings on the porch of Dave Batista's cabana, he could convince her that she was better off there.

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She'd suggested that they eat their brunch in the living area, not only so she could satisfy a rumbling tummy, but also with the intent of luring him out of the bedroom so that she might actually have a chance to get a hold of Max for the sake of getting some spare clothing…something which Dave was apparently very opposed to. She asked to borrow one of his shirts, since he had taken her clothing from last night hostage. He had reluctantly agreed, taunting her, telling her that since she had nothing to wear, she couldn't leave and was at his mercy. Nancy had gone on a search of her clothing, sparking a game of 'Hot and Cold', with Dave leading her on a verbal wild goose chase, which finally ended with her being the possessor of only a bra and him having them both trapped in the dark walk-in closet, where they remained for more than a half hour.

Now they sat on the floor, him wearing only a pair of shorts, exposing a massive muscular chest, and her in his shirt, eating brunch from a room-service cart. This was comfortable and right…Nancy thought. She wasn't humiliated or embarrassed, because he would never have allowed it…it was just who he was. He had made sure that she knew he'd wanted her…he left no doubt in her mind. But it was more than just comfortable lovemaking and the absence of awkward silences, it was his zest for her that confused her and delighted her…the fact that he was interested in her physically was great and yet it did not overshadow the fact that he was engaging her mentally and…emotionally? He hadn't given her time to reflect on everything that had happened and give seed to possible regret because he continued to connect with her on every level making sure that she stayed busy, mentally and physically…it was a bit scary.

He was playful and serious, circuitous and yet direct…it left Nancy wondering if he might be wanting something lasting and yet at the same time that tiny insolent voice inside of her reminded her to hold on fiercely to her guard…because nothing in her life had ever been lasting. He was trying to share a bite of his food with her and failing miserably, dropping the bite on his shirt…the one she was wearing, and he was laughing. It reminded her how good it felt to be here even it wasn't going to be forever.

Dave laughed and used his napkin to sweep the bite off of her lap and into his hand, placing it in the entrée lid.

"Let me try that again." He grinned, watching her in front of him on the floor in his shirt…the one she'd fixed the night he'd apologized to her…the night he'd given her a ride from the arena…the shirt he hadn't had the heart to replace as she'd suggested he should. He had always liked that shirt, but seeing it on her, he found he liked it even better now.

Dave listened as she went into detail about some of the different projects she was working on and how she'd been approached by Stephanie McMahon about starting a new line and he loved her excitement…she included him in her conversation instead of chattering his ear off, and when she had the temerity to ask him what he thought she should do about a particular situation, should she invest her knowledge and her savings in a particular area, he was almost blown away…she valued his opinion, even in something he knew very little about.

He liked the way this felt…liked having someone desirable and intelligent to share time with and he wasn't looking forward to it ending. Dave had half considered the possibility that she might agree to stay in his hotel room at the Albuquerque show, but he knew that her first loyalty was to Max and that she would likely say no if he asked. And so Dave had been shrewdly determined to enjoy what little private time they were having, because it might be a while before they could shut the world out and indulge like this again.

A knock on the door, in the middle of another one of his funny stories about traveling with Rob Van Dam, caught their attention. Nancy bit her lip and motioned that she was going to hide around the corner in the kitchen. The last thing she wanted was to have someone know that she was in here…it would definitely ignite a round of controversy and rumors that she knew she wasn't ready to handle.

Dave half expected it to be Maria again, maybe even Christy, coming to tear his cabana apart to find out if Nancy was here. He held his foot behind the door as he opened it just in case it was one of the two prepared to barge in past him. The only thing that caught his eye was a pair of suitcases, a make-up bag and a sheet of paper with Nancy's name on it, tucked under the handle, flapping in the breeze. A quick look outside to the left and right revealed no one, but he knew that it must have been Max responding to Nancy's voicemail request for clothing…and even though a tiny shred of hope flared up in him at the fantasy of Max kicking her out forcing her to stay with him…damn him for bringing the clothes, because now that meant that she would want to get dressed. Well maybe at least he could help her with that and give himself another excuse to put his hands on her, before she would be temporarily off limits again.

"You can come out now…it's safe." He jested, rolling her luggage into the entryway, as she came around the corner.

"My God, all I asked for was a pair of shorts and a t-shirt." Her eyes widened when she saw her luggage, along with the note, which she was sure might contain some lewd reference to something 'big' and 'Greek'. She hurried over to retrieve the note just as Dave was pulling it from beneath the handle. She pulled it out of his hands and held it away from him. "You can't read this." She ordered holding it behind her back and pointing her finger at him as if to tell him to step back.

His eyebrow arched, as a curious smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Why not? Because it has your name on it?"

"Because Max is a fool and I have to make sure that there's nothing embarrassing in it first." Nancy admitted, waiting for him to retreat.

"Okay." He agreed with a mildly inquisitive look on his face as he pretended to turn and walk back to his meal.

She had no sooner unfolded the letter and begun to read, when it was snatched out of her hand by Dave.

"Oh God, please don't read it..." Nancy begged, trying to retrieve the note from him, but his height and reach made it impossible. "…I swear, I just know he's put something really embarrassing in it…let me just read it first and then…"

"Nope…" He teased, using his free hand to keep her at bay while a playful smile curved his lips.

Nancy flopped down onto her back on the fluffy sofa, pulling one of the sofa pillows over her face to cover her absolute mortification as he began to read the note out loud.

"Nancy…" Dave began in his most professional and articulate voice. "Congratulations on finally getting your very own 'Big…Greek Sausage?'" He laughed and turned to see her burying her face once again in the pillow as she groaned her humiliation. "I know you asked for one set of clothes, but our flight leaves in two hours and so I packed you up completely so you wouldn't be cutting it so close…your flight itinerary is in the outside pouch of your make-up case." He read on. "Please call me if you decide that you won't be staying in a room with me…when you get to Albuquerque…and know that I will always make sure I get a double, just in case. And by the way, you're almost out of shaving cream. Love Max." He smiled and let out a soft laugh, when he turned to see her still holding her face under the pillow.

She felt the cushions of the sofa sink down as he straddled her and softly pulled the pillow down away from her face. "Don't be ashamed that he knows…I'm not." He said, his face looming above hers, a slightly rakish smile on his lips.

The note was clutched in his hand and he braced himself above her. "I have to be honest…" He spoke softly, kissing her forehead. "I was going to ask if you would stay…with me…when we got to New Mexico." His heart was thumping with the admission of it. "I wasn't sure how to go about asking you…so maybe I should thank Max for putting you on the spot." He pushed aside a shiny curl. "Would you? I mean I understand if you're afraid that it might put you in the position of having to deflect some unwanted questions from Divas, but I'm enjoying this…us…you." He was stumbling over his words and he suddenly felt like he was asking her for a date to the prom. There…he'd said it…he'd admitted he wanted her to be there with him…even if it hadn't come out fluidly, it was a start.

Nancy looked at him for a long moment, searching his eyes for a sign of deceit, evidence of an ulterior motive and finding none. The proud angle of his jaw, the dark intensity of his eyes and the nervous admission from his lips…she couldn't have resisted if she'd wanted. But then there was the voice inside her, again telling her that she was setting herself up for a fall, that she couldn't give herself to him and maintain her independence…she couldn't preserve the person she'd made herself if she let things get serious. Someday he would want to know all of things that she didn't want to tell him…and then it would be over. But despite the constant prattling of her conscience, Nancy so loved the way she felt when she was in his presence that she found it hard to imagine not being with him. Dave Batista made her feel secure and worthy, beautiful and passionate. It wasn't just the physical aspect, and Lord knows that rated high on the list of pros, it was the emotional aspect and the way he looked at her, as if there was something he wanted to tell her but could not.

"I will if you want me to." Nancy answered, reaching out to touch the line of whiskers on his chin with the tip of her finger.

"I wanna hear you say you want to." He explained, a deep rumbling in his voice, though he spoke low. "You don't have to do it just because it's what I want."

She nodded, "I know." And she believed him. "I want to…I'll stay." Her voice was soft and nervous, but her eyes held no trace of uncertainty.

"Good." He said brushing his lips over hers for a mere second, and as badly as he wanted to let the note fall to the floor and gratify his now insatiable hunger for her, he knew that if they didn't finish their food and get moving, they would miss their flight altogether. "You'd better go call Max and let him know." He rose up and helped her to her feet.

"Okay, Warden…since you're going to let me have my one phone call…does this mean you'll let me have my clothes too?" She asked, a naughty glimmer in her eye.

His own dark eyes sparkled with the challenge. "Don't push your luck…we still have at least an hour before we have to leave."

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"I think you're of the opinion that you have me over a barrel…in a manner of speaking." Eric Bischoff's jaw was clenched as he spat the words out, despite his attempt at gentlemanly composure. "I don't take kindly to threats."

"Nobody has anybody over a barrel." Triple H said innocently, eyebrows raised, his cocky grin surrounded by a handlebar moustache. "All I'm doing is suggesting a match for the next pay-per-view…and strongly encouraging you to follow through with it…of course reminding you that it's in the best interests of your career and marriage to do so."

Eric blanched, and tossed his ball point pen down on the leather ink blotter that covered his desk. "I really find it interesting if not coincidental that this happens to be the second time in a month that I have had wrestlers in my office suggesting that I authorize matches…involving the same woman." He scowled fiercely. "What in the hell is it about her that is so damned unforgivable that you people seem to think that I should supersede the authority and instruction of WWE Creative just to put her ass in the ring?"

"You never let me explain." Triple H laughed at the obvious hopelessness in Eric's tone. "Once I clarify then you'll see it's not really about her, it's about me…and you…and what might happen if you don't choose to supersede the authority of the creative department." He laughed and ran his thumb and forefinger over his moustache. "What is it that they do now when you're found guilty of 'insider trading'?" He watched as Eric ducked his eyes. "If I'm not mistaken, your wife actually knows Martha Stewart, right? You could always ask her…of course I doubt that her little vacation to a 'Federal Bed & Breakfast' would compare to what you might experience in the farm they'd send you to."

Eric blew. "I don't think you have the slightest clue of how much I despise you…There isn't a language anywhere in the civilized world or beyond that has words to describe it!" He slammed his hand on the desk and the motionless ink pen jumped. "Make your suggestion and then get the fuck out and leave me be!"

It was so amusing to Triple H, the outburst, that he tilted his head back and gave reign to a deep roll of raucous laughter. "I guess we're in tandem, you and me." He sighed as his laughter died down. "What I am suggesting is a championship match."

"Well if she were the champion then I'd say you have a chance…but since she isn't," Eric said an angry glare still marring his face. "And since Dave's contract reads like a Shakespeare play with a disclaimer…specifically barring you from a rematch the entire time he's obligated to carry the belt…then I'd say you're shit out of luck!" Eric was satisfied even though the vein in his forehead was pulsing with dangerous force. "Not to mention the fact that your wife…my boss…your boss…has been less than willing to allow you back into the ring."

"The specifics of my nuptials and the details surrounding them are none of your business." Triple H seethed, the gentlemanly façade beginning to crumble. "And yes, Dave's contract states that he is required to carry that belt for 'X' amount of time…and yes, it states that I am not eligible for a rematch, but like the master of adaptation I am…I found a way to circumvent the system…if you will…a loophole, just in case you didn't get that the first time I said it."

One eyebrow arched sharply and the scowl fell from Eric's face only to be replaced by a look of disgust. "Well, no one ever said honesty was your strong suit." Eric was suddenly struck with the idea that he wasn't going to like what he was about to hear. "What exactly are you pitching?"

"I want back in the ring…but I can't achieve that by direct means…Stephanie would never allow it." He admitted something he had not wanted to. "I cannot challenge Dave Batista for the title directly either…his contract won't allow that." He leaned forward until the two men's gazes locked. "I have to achieve both goals in one fell swoop, and without putting my thumb in either of them, does that make sense?"

"Well, then it looks like we're both over a barrel, because unless you're magic…I don't see how you can accomplish either one of those things without leaving your distinct fingerprint all over the place." Eric smiled inwardly, secretly happy that he was not the only one faced with a very difficult situation.

"Well, that's where Nancy Adams comes in…" Triple H held up his finger to silence a protest. "Proxy…my friend…Two goals in one fell swoop and I never even have to get my hands dirty."