Bryan growled as the noise in the adjoining bedroom went from mildly irritating to deafening. He growled, shifted on his bed, trying not to be so damn aware of her presence, yet sadly, he was. Before he realized what he was doing, he'd stood, was standing leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, watching her jumping on her bed, dancing to the loud and rowdy, possibly raunchy lyric hard rock song, completely unaware that she was being watched.
When his eyes trailed down her body to her hips, his throat tightened. Mentally, he was asking himself by this point if she ever wore pants or shoes when she wasn't at the arena. And he was also asking himself just how in the hell he was expected to concentrate on anything with her doing the things she did to keep him confused, mad and oddly enough, turned on at least 90 percent of the time.
The song stopped abruptly, and he heard her giggling as she stepped down from the bed. And the audacity of her. She wasn't even the least bit embarassed at being caught acting childish, jumping and dancing, on a bed.
Instead, she started to slowly walk across the room, her eyes locked on his. He raised his brow, his cheeks heated. His throat cleared, and the lump within got bigger. But finally, he managed to speak as he held out her cutoffs that lie in a heap near the doorway.
A pout filled her face as she tilted her head to the side curiously and then laughed at him, hysterically.
" So, like, what are you... A monk?" Vivienne asked as she uncapped one of the small bottles of tequila from the hotel bar.
" No. It's just a better idea if you put those on." Bryan insisted as he walked over, snatched the tiny bottle of alcohol from her hands, poured it down the bathroom sink.
" Do you just want to self destruct?" Bryan asked, biting his lip, retorting to her remark moments before.
" Loosen up." Vivienne pouted as she stood on tiptoe, still NOT wearing the shorts he'd handed her from beside the door, and pressing against him lightly, she kissed his cheek cautiously, then pulled away, biting her lip. The scent of the bitter and tangy alcohol she'd just consumed filled his nostrils.
Why am I even in here again? he wondered as he raked his hand over his neck and gently but firmly shoved her away for now. The feeling in his stomach was telling him that she'd keep egging it on and sooner or later, like it or not, he would give in.
In his mind, he could hear the taunt he'd thrown around once at Kane while in character, about Kane thinking second base was when a girl got close to him and didn't throw up coming back to haunt him. And then Kane's rebuttal about 18 seconds in AND out of the ring.
He groaned, because it should be obvious where his brain went after that thought. It went to that side of him that was curious about the peculiar situation with the even more peculiar girl in front of him. It went to his wondering if her wild streak extended to the bedroom.
" Vivienne." he finally said quietly, adressing her with her full name, so she'd know he was serious about what he was about to say, " Is there something you aren't telling me?"
The flash of panic in her eyes the sudden change in overall attitude didn't go amiss in his perceptive scan of her body language and her facial expression as he waited on her answer.
" No, why.. Look.. I'm leaving you alone, Bryan.. Why don't you leave me alone? Trust me, if this is some saviour complex, have you ever thought that maybe, just maybe, my adorable Vegan teddy bear, some of us unwashed masses don't WANT to be saved? Or that maybe, just maybe, we're born damned, and we're not meant to be saved?" Vivienne asked him, again throwing just any random bitchy statement out to keep him from dragging her into a real discussion.
She hated being scared, and Dean's increasingly crazed behaviour since she'd left him, well.. It scared her shitless. But in his defence, when they dated, he had NEVER hidden what kind of guy he was. Ever. She'd known what she was getting into, going in, so in some ways, this was entirely her own fault.
But she also knew that deep down, there were parts of her that'd wanted to save Dean, maybe be that one thing that brought out a gentler side of the wild man.
More importantly, she hated ADMITTING she was scared. Or that she was into something way too deep, almost over her head. She never asked for help, she never talked about her emotional baggage and shit, and whining about something just wasn't her style.
She bit her lip and then mumbled, " I'm sorry. It's just.. I'm just not in a good mood tonight. You saw that earlier, you know why. But to answer your question, no. There is nothing I'm not telling you. Nothing that happens to be any of your business at least." as she flopped down onto the bed, satisfied with her answer, while not completely honest, was only for his own good, to keep him safe, and promptly rolling over onto her stomach, bringing her legs up behind her and crossing them as she looked down at the god awful flowered comforter on the bed.
And it's odd where your mind goes when you see some random small and trivial thing that reminds you of someone you loved once, because as she stared at the comforter, she smirked to herself, remembering a night in which she and Dean managed to completely trash not only a hotel bedroom with each other's bodies, but keep an entire floor awake for almost half a night.
Noone could tell whether they were fucking or fighting. Which, looking back now, was ironically, the case most of the time.
At that time, the appeal of the FCW bad boy, the "crazy man" on the show had been so much that she'd overlooked the small fact at the time that he didn't just stop being the "crazy bad boy" when the cameras went off. She'd just been so caught up in him, in the chance that maybe just maybe her love would change him in time, that she'd stupidly went into it without the blinders fully off.
And, now, she found herself in this predicament. And head over heels with Dean Ambrose's polar opposite. Sure, Bryan Danielson had a temper... But his temper was nothing when he stood next to an angry Dean Ambrose. Honestly, now that she was out of the dangerous situation she'd spent almost 5 years in, prior to this, she wasn't really sure anyone could stack up to his temper.
The awkward silence that permeated throughout the room had Bryan clearing his throat, and then sitting down. He was mentally kicking himself when he did this, because it was then that she rolled over onto her back, causing his arm to be over her.
Vivienne giggled a little and then put her hands to her lips in mocked horror at what she'd just done. "Do you ever just let it all go?" she asked him, raising up slightly, giggling again as she leaned in, dangerously close to his face, the alcohol making it difficult for her to inhibit herself.
Bryan moved his arm, backed away. Too close. If he got any closer, and he knew if he kept sitting there, kept his arm over her body like she'd forced him into just now with a quick and simple stealthy movement, he would get closer, then he also knew that he'd cross a line.
And he still didn't trust her, or even know why of all people on the roster, she'd choose him to be a valet for. Or whether he should be honored or running like hell.
As soon as the second option crossed his mind, he mentally ruled it out. Something in the Washington native would not allow him to just walk away.
Not even with Dean Ambrose as a threat. Which apparently, if he went by her actions, her attitude, he very much was.
His eyes caught on the mirror on the back of the hotel room door and he saw something scrawled in lipstick. Standing, he walked over, pretended to be thinking about walking out, but read it out of the corner of his eye.
The anger surfaced before he could stop it, and he turned to her. But he decided to keep what he'd seen to himself, deal with it somehow, if he ever managed to deal with this, their overall situation first.
Then there was the small matter of Dean and his two hired morons trying to take out everyone who'd been on Team Foley, and some of the top level Superstars since Summer Slam.
Something very big was going on, and somehow, the Shield was right in the middle of it. Which made his lust/fascination with his new valet all the more of a volatile situation.
Because things were going to get ugly if some of the guys did what they'd been talking about doing, and he found himself oddly worried about Vivienne being right in the middle of it.
Vivienne raised a brow at Bryan just standing there in the doorway. She walked over slowly, and her hand reached out, trailed over his cheek, the bruise from Dean's attack to him during his match against Big Show, standing out beneath his eye, faint traces of a still slightly bloodied lip.
She bit her lip and stood on tiptoe, put her arms around his neck, raking her fingers through her hair as she pulled him into a kiss and muttered, " Thank you." into his lips, thanking him because if it hadn't been for Dean trying to carry her off during the tag team match earlier, him stopping and getting a kendo stick, beating Dean with it, causing the fight that lead to the interference Dean ran, then Danielson never would have gotten attacked during his solo match against Show.
Bryan kept the kiss stiff, but he groaned all the same, and again, gently but firmly pushed her away and scowling said "Don't do that. And don't thank me.. Because you did already thank me, when you nailed Dean in the head with the chair when he came out and attacked me. There was no need to kiss me."
" No.. But there was a want. And, when I want something, Bryan.. I go after it." Vivienne winked as she bit her lip, twisted her long dark hair around her finger, and studied his eyes, then let her eyes roam down his body slowly.
Bryan crossed his arms under her gaze and then said with a smirk, " Like what you're looking at?", turning her own favorite line to him back around on her.
On his way back into his suite of the adjoining room, he stopped in the doorway and looked back at her over his shoulder at her then said calmly, "Oh and by the way.. We are going to talk about what's really going on here, and everything you're hiding from me."
Then he shut the door firmly. Flopping back onto his bed, he bit his lip, went back over the lipstick message written on the mirror behind the door in her room.
A smirk filled his face as he muttered, " I dare that son of a bitch to try it. Just because he's a badass, it doesn't make me afraid of him." before falling asleep, the visions of what he'd walked in on earlier, dancing around on his eyelids, taking him off into a series of dreams that he'd never admit to having about her, to anyone.