A/N: Okay, so it's been forever since I've updated this story. Truthfully, I have a few chapters written, but not in any sequential order. Yet another reason why I hate writing sequels, I lose interest in them. I've been struggling so much with this story, not because I don't know where it's going, but because I have seriously lost my desire to tell the story. I've lost the excitement for it. I'm trying, though.

I've fought with this chapter for a week. I'm still on the fence with it, but I hope you like it. I can't promise when another update will come, but I have a lot of ideas. Pray I get some motivation.

This chapter is for Thee.allure. You rock, doll!

A divine smell hit Parker's nose as soon as she climbed the last flight of stairs in her building, that made her stomach growl. She hadn't had a home cooked meal in months. Just the thought of eating off of real dishes with a knife and fork, instead of plastic spork and Styrofoam containers she had grown dependent on, seemed impossible. She didn't have time to cook, nor really the desire. And with her schedule being as hectic as it was, she didn't see that changing any time soon.

The warmth and aroma in the hallway reminded her of Sundays when she was a child. Parker could vividly remember coming home from Mass in the early afternoon and her house smelling like the roast her mother had put in the oven before they left for church. The food would cook slowly in the oven while they were away and by the time they walked in the door the house smelled like heaven. It was on those very same Sundays that her family would have dinner at three… then Parker would have dinner again at six. Her parents figured she was a growing girl and a little extra never seemed to anyone before. But what did hurt was that sandwich around eight and a snack before she went to bed at nine thirty.

It took years of second helpings and Sunday dinners to make Parker a voluptuous two hundred and eighty five pounds. And truthfully, she enjoyed putting on every pound she earned. And judging from how good the food in her hallway smelled now, she could afford to put on another two or three; especially since she hadn't eaten all day.

Turning the key in the lock, her eyes widened when the scent hit her nose. Those smells were coming from her apartment. She hadn't noticed her mom's car outside of the building, nor did she see any catering trucks parked in the loading dock. That could only mean one thing.

Randy.

"Shut up, man." Randy Orton leaned against the counter with his cell phone pressed to his ear and a smirk on his lips. It was nothing for John to give him constant shit about Parker. It was par for the course with them. Whenever John had a girlfriend, Randy constantly rode his ass about him being whipped. And since this was the first time John had ever known Randy to have one, he wasn't going lightly on his friend. Grabbing his crotch as if John was looking at him, Randy started to laugh. "I got your bitch right here."

Clearing her throat at the sight of him feeling himself, Parker raised her brow. Randy had cooked? She remembered him offering but she never thought in a million years that he would actually do it. And who would have believed that it would smell so good?

Smiling at her smiling at him, Randy pushed off the counter and made the few paces until he was standing in front of her. With the phone moved away from his ear, he leaned down and kissed her lips softly. This was nice. Hanging out his girlfriend's house, getting free reign of the place in her absence…rummaging through her DVD collection to find porn, reorganizing her CDs into good music and crap piles, greeting her after a long day at the office, while all he had to do was stay home and cook. He could get used to being a housewife. "How was it?"

"Meh. About as fun as watching a tonsillectomy can be." With a shake of her head at his expression, she walked to her bedroom, kicked off her shoes and turned back to see Randy leaning against the counter.

Even if Randy wasn't wearing a pink apron and hot pants, he still looked pretty damn good in a white beater, track pants and white socks. He looked masculine, even though his little ass girly cell phone was so incredibly small that it damn near disappeared in his large hand. He had one arm draped over his chest to support the arm that was raised to his ear and even then his muscles flexed. The muscles in his stomach were visible through his undershirt even though his trim abdomen seemed to dip inward with him leaning. The sight of his upper body, however, was quickly overshadowed by his thick thighs, even though they were encased in loose fitting track pants. She could still see their definition. Even his long legs, that jetted out from his body and his sock covered feet crossed at the ankle, were ripped. The man's body was out of control. And yet for some reason, Parker wasn't the least bit embarrassed around or intimidated by it.

Still, that's not to say that she didn't wish that she could remaining standing in the position that Randy was in for a long time. She knew for sure that he could stand against the counter with his legs crossed at the ankles and not have his feet get tired or pains in his back, because his weight wasn't distributed evenly between his back and legs. It was nice to dream, but the truth was Parker got cramps and sore feet anytime she stood for more than a couple of hours at a time.

"Cena says, 'Hi.'" Randy's voice forced her to concentrate on his words and not just the sexy specimen of man that she had been staring at. He laughed when she rolled her eyes and nodded her head in response. "She said, 'Fuck you, you little dick motherfucker. You ain't shit.'" With a huge grin on his face he shrugged his shoulders at Parker. Even though she didn't say it, he knew she was thinking it.

It was no secret that while John tried his best to make peace with Parker, she wasn't having any parts of it. And why should she? He did her wrong. In Randy's mind, if Parker never forgave Cena that was fine by him. His girl and his best friend didn't have to get along. He wasn't trying to fuck John and he wasn't trying to pal around with Parker. As far as he was concerned he was cool with both of them, fuck it if they ever spoke to each other again.

Walking over to where Randy stood, she watched him out of the corner of her eye as she casually tried to open the oven door to see what was inside. Feeling Randy's hand on her arm and then seeing him shake his head disapprovingly, she frowned. She was starving. All she wanted to know was what was making her mouth water. Ultimately giving up on the idea of getting a sample, she reached for a jar of peanut butter and took a piece of celery from the chopping board in disgust.

Randy narrowed his eyes at her bottom lip that suddenly poked out. "Alright bitch. Get off my phone." He informed John watching Parker take the piece of celery, dip it in the peanut butter and take a bite. "Oh, wait. Should they wear brown to the club?" Parker could barely make out John ask 'who'. She knew what Randy was going to say, she just hoped that he wouldn't go there. "These nuts!" Randy laughed hanging up in John's ear and sat the phone on the counter.

With a roll of her eyes, Parker double dipped into the peanut butter. "What are you, ten?" She asked in between crunches and catching her bottom lip between her teeth to stop the celery juice from dripping.

"Inches, baby. Inches." Grabbing the pot holder, he opened the oven door and nodded his head in approval. Randy prided himself on being able to make a few things that were edible. By no means was he a good cook, but he knew enough that he would never go hungry. Placing the hot casserole dish on top of the stove, he smirked when pulled off the foil. "Smell that shit. Smells good, huh?"

Parker ducked her head around his arm and was greeted with a face full of steam and the most heavenly smell she had witnessed in a very long time. It was enough to make her ravenously take another crunch of her celery stick. "What is it?"

"A guaranteed foodgasm." Replacing the foil cover on the pan, Randy walked over to the kitchen table and pulled a box out of a bag. "Did you know you didn't have a steamer?"

"I didn't have groceries, either. Where did you get all of this?" Feeling her hand being slapped when she tried to get a good look in the pan, she poked her tongue at him and took a step back. She needed to step back to fully take in Randy being a domestic god. She could get use to this – having a tight bodied little house boy to cook her meals for her. Now, if she could just get him to lose the pants and maybe don something a little more tight fitting that showed his thighs…

"I went to the store." Randy moved like he was familiar with being in the kitchen, even though he was nervous as hell that he would fuck something up. He had already promised Parker that he would make a meal that she would love; now what if he couldn't deliver. He wasn't so much worried that she wouldn't like the food as he was that he would burn it or worse, burn himself in the process. Randy could cook and burn himself as much as he wanted to at home. But he wasn't so sure that he wouldn't look like an idiot cooking with an audience. "I got the stuff for dinner and some other stuff for the week. I got you a steamer…"

"Like I'm ever going to steam anything." She mumbled under her breath.

"AND," he interrupted looking over his shoulder at her, "I put a veggie casserole in your freezer. All you gotta do is heat it up." Turning around to her with a face that symbolized he was the man, he took in her shocked expression. "What? It's gonna be good. Trust me."

She was at a loss for words. If the veggie casserole tasted a fourth as good as whatever he was making now smelled he truly was the perfect, crass, incredibly flawed, man. "You went grocery shopping?" She had grazed over everything else he said. Not being able to get the image of him with a little shopping cart and list, a pencil neatly placed behind his ear, checking coupons and squeezing melons…well she could see that part. Knowing him he would get aroused by that. But still, Randy went grocery shopping? "Like at the actual super market?"

"Yeah. I know how to shop, Park." Adding seasoning to the steamer he checked off in his mind what else he needed to add. If he was going all out for dinner, he wanted it to be perfect. But this being a gourmet chef shit was stressful. "Oh shit, wait." And with that he went back to the refrigerator and pulled out a pan covered with a dish towel. "Rolls." He smiled when he pulled off the covering to expose the rolls that had been rising in the darkened ice box.

Completely stunned. That was what Parker was. Over the last six months she thought she had seen everything about Randy that there was to see. He was so much more than his bedroom skills, not that he or anyone else would admit to that. He was hard to take at times and completely uncouth all of the other times. But in that moment, he was the sweetest thing she had ever seen.

Silently working around him as he steamed vegetables and baked bread, Parker grabbed plates, and silverware to set the table. To her knowledge, she and Randy never sat at the table to eat. Usually, they would order take out and sit on the couch in front of the television. It wasn't that classy, but it was comfortable. But that was before. Now that he was her boyfriend was it expected that they would have romantic little dinners at the dining room table together? Should she light candles? Was she reading more into it than necessary?

Even with all of her questions, she knew the answer to one for sure. She was not going to unbutton her pants at the table while they ate. It was something that she normally did when she was home alone. It wasn't uncommon for her to do it when she and Randy would feast on pizza or subs in her living room. Sure, it was country but there was nothing worse than having the waist of her jeans digging into her stomach when it expanded after a meal. And when she watched as he brought baked chicken breast, boiled red potatoes, steamed carrots, asparagus and dinner rolls to the table, she knew that her jeans were going to be too tight in a matter of minutes. But for all of his trouble, she would gladly suffer through it.

Sitting across from her at the round table, watching patiently Randy nodded his head toward her plate. "So…eat." He reached for his glass of iced tea and took a big sip, trying to wet his suddenly dry mouth at her reaction.

"Oh my God. Are you sure my mom didn't come over here and do this?" She couldn't believe it. She was all psyched to pretend that it was delicious even though she doubted it would be. But he had worked so hard, that she didn't want to hurt his feelings. But this? This was too much. It was good, delicious even. Randy could cook? Could he get any more perfect?

And then he opened his mouth. "I did this. I got skills like that." Finally able to relax, he picked up his own fork and made a mocking face to match her expression. "So? Can you take my tonsils out now?" This is what grownups did. They made real conversation over dinner, not just sexual advances or comment about the movie they were watching. People in relationships asked each other about their day when they sat down to eat. It really wasn't half bad, it actually made him feel like he knew what he was doing.

It wasn't like he didn't admire Parker's dedication to her job. Even on her day off she still went to the hospital to scrub in for a tonsillectomy. Not that she thought she would ever perform one herself, but she was asked by her attending physician to come into the O.R. to watch the surgery. Randy wouldn't have done that shit. On his days off he didn't give a fuck what the WWE had going on. If he wasn't getting paid to be there, fuck Vince.

With a nod, she picked up a knife and cut into her chicken. "Right after dinner. Right here on the table if you want."

"I want something on this table and it damn sure ain't my tonsils out." A perfectly romantic dinner turned foul by the mouth of Randy Orton. It truly was a gift. He could only be mature for so long before the real Randy crept out.

Trying to keep an affronted face, Parker felt her lips turn up in a smile. This was what she was used to. This is what she liked about him. Having a romantic dinner was nice, but it didn't feel like them. "So that's why you cooked? You expect something in return?" She had planned on giving him something even if they ate ham and cheese tonight. It wasn't about gifting, it was about the fact that she loved the way she felt with him. Not once did he try to force this healthy shit, which was amazing, down her throat because he wanted her to lose weight. He made what he could make because she had told him that she hadn't had a home cooked meal in a long time and he wanted to. He dug her enough to care. Wow.

"Naw. I cooked because I was hungry. I made enough for you to take for lunch and something for you to have later this week because I want some ass." He could listen to her laugh forever. But when she shook her head no, his fork dropped to his plate and he rested his back against the chair. "Oh you giving something up. I'm leaving tomorrow and I don't get to see you for two more weeks."

"You already made the food. I got what I wanted. What? You gonna take it with you?" Parker reached over to take another helping of asparagus, not thinking twice about it. There was once a time when she didn't eat in public, let alone in front of a guy. But Randy? He ate twice as much as she did on any given day and he never looked at her disapprovingly if she wanted more. He didn't care that she didn't care about her weight. There was nothing to be embarrassed about.

"You like vegetables, don't you?" Damn that big ass, all knowing smile on his face. "Face it. I'm the total package. I look good. I smell good. I can dress my ass off. I can cook like a motherfucker. And I'm good in bed. What else could you possibly want?"

"God, you're conceited." Finishing up her plate she noticed that Randy had already finished with his. He may have known all about food preparation and presentation, but he still inhaled everything he ate like it was the last time he would ever eat again.

Standing from the table, he gathered his dirty dishes and walked over to the kitchen sink. "I'm not conceited, I'm confident."

"Fuck that, you're arrogant." Following suit, she too gathered her dishes and entered the kitchen.

Covering the remaining chicken with aluminum foil, Randy shook his head in rebuttal. "I'm self-assured."

"You're self centered."

Shrugging Randy walked over to the table and grabbed the bowl of vegetables bringing them back to the kitchen counter. Measuring the foil he broke off a piece and covered the dishes and smiled when he saw Parker standing at the sink, filling it with water to wash the dishes. He could get use to this. "I'm just good at everything I do."

Biting the inside of her lip, trying to think of a witty comment, she felt the atmosphere of the room change when he brushed by her to open the refrigerator door. "You're a dick."

He stepped behind Parker, wrapping his arms around her waist. He loved the way his arms filled with her. Her skin was warm and soft and if he played his cards right, he would get to feel more of it with her clothes being in the way. "Correction. I have a big dick that you can't get enough of." Dinner was over, it was time for dessert. And on his last night with her, Randy was going to get a lot of it. He knew she couldn't resist him, and really there was no use in trying.

It was at times like these when Parker didn't remember that she was overweight. Even with the waistband of her jeans creating a nasty red mark on her stomach, or her feet starting to alert her that she had been on them entirely too long today, it was something about having Randy's arms around her that made that all disappear. And that damn tongue trailing on her neck that made her almost forget that by the next morning, he would be gone and she would be on another thirty-six hour shift, hating life. "You're an egomaniac." Turning around to face him, she felt him reach behind her to turn off the facet. Drinking in that smirk, she couldn't help but to match it with one of her own.

"I'm yours." He was hers. Randy Orton was a kept man. How was that possible? Only officially together for three days and already he was telling her he was hers. But with a girl like his, it really didn't seem that bad.

When he put it like that, it really wasn't. So what if they mismatched? Parker was happy. And more importantly, she wasn't embarrassed when his hands slid inside of her shirt and touched the roll of skin that hung over her jeans. She didn't have the need to suck in her stomach or feel bad because she didn't feel bad about not wanting to. She didn't mind that her love handles rolled over her waistband and she knew without a doubt that Randy didn't either. Succumbing to his lips on hers, she couldn't help but to agree. "God help me."