Angel Dust

A/N: Thanks again for the time you guys spend reading these chapters I'm writing. Though I haven't really plotted this story the way I do most of my shit, I kinda had an outline in my mind from the beginning. Recently, though, that outline took a twist, and I'm more excited than ever to bring you new installments of Angel Dust. So I hope you're still enjoying it - thanks for the great reviews - I love you all - and I hope you Enjoy!

"What's wrong?"

Biting her lip, Courtney shook her head, careful not to knock her meticulous up-do loose. "Nothing."

"Then stop fidgeting," Dave demanded as he rested his hands on the thighs of his pinstriped tuxedo pants.

Courtney shot him a sidelong glare and folded her arms. "I'm not fidgeting," she insisted. Unfolding her arms, she twisted her hands in her lap as her foot tapped nervously against the floor of the limousine. He raised an eyebrow and she huffed as he put a hand on her knee. "I can't."

Dave encircled his girlfriend's tiny waist with his massive arm and pulled her flush against his side. "You're going to be fine," he promised, kissing the side of her head. "It's not like you've never been to one of these things before."

Taking a deep breath, Courtney rested her head against his shoulder and blinked her eyes a few times. She had been to many gala events in her life, but this was different. This was the Emmy awards. Television cameras and papparazzi would be in full effect, their glaring cameras probing deeper inside her world than she had ever allowed them. "It's not the same thing," she whispered.

His thumb ran in slow circles against her satin-covered hip as he rested his chin on her shoulder and dropped a few lingering kisses against her neck. "You havin' second thoughts?"

Sighing, she relaxed more fully into his embrace. "Never about us," she answered honestly, her body calming as his lips continued working over her warm skin. They had been together for nearly a year, and though Courtney wanted the world to know she loved this man at her side, she wasn't sure it was time. "I just don't know if I'm ready to let everyone into our lives yet."

The moment they stepped out of that car together, she knew that everything would change. If they let anyone see them holding hands, whispering to each other, or smiling, the media would take it as an open invitation to spy on them whenever they felt like it. And she liked the private lives they had been living together for the last eleven months.

"They can only get as close as we let them," he assured her in a low voice that always soothed her fears, no matter how big they were.

But this time, Courtney laughed and pulled away, turning to face her boyfriend.

"Are you high?" He made an exaggerated sniffling noise and ran his finger under his nose. "Why? Did I miss some?" he asked with a smirk.

Rolling her eyes, Courtney smacked his arm playfully. "Listen to me, jackass. Those guys out there," she pointed to the window as they approached the "Drop Off Point" for the evening. "They're vultures. Scavengers. Blood-sucking vampires who will stop at nothing to steal you very soul."

Laughing, Dave pulled Courtney into a deep kiss. When he let her go, she gasped for a breath, her eyes closed. "Princess, I am one of those scavengers," he reminded her. "I know how they work."

She shook her head and licked her lips, her eyes fluttering open. "You're a journalist," she said, as though there was a difference.

Grabbing her hand, Dave rested his forehead against Courtney's and held her eyes in a loving gaze. "I want the whole fucking world to know that I am in love with the most beautiful woman on the whole fucking planet, okay?" A proud smile tweaked her lips as he moved his hands to her face and held her cheeks gently. "And I'm not letting any asshole with a camera, or a microphone, or self-induced sense of fucking importance get in the way of our special night."

As he tilted her face for another gentle kiss, Courtney felt as though the world were melting away. It didn't matter that Dave was full of shit, that their lives were about to change no matter what he said or did. All that mattered to her was his lips on hers and the contented confidence she had in his love for her.

"Okay, so I know why I'm nervous," Randy started with a laugh, as he adjusted his tie in the bathroom mirror. "But why are you pacing?"

Courtney turned her head to smile at her boyfriend. She wasn't sure she had ever seen someone look as though they had stepped directly off the pages of a magazine quite the way Randy did. Dressed in head-to-toe Armani, he wore the black suit and the scarlett red tie perfectly. And he coordinated expertly with her champagne-colored ball gown and ruby jewelry. They were a stunning pair, and they both knew it.

"I feel like I'm gonna spew," she admitted, chewing her lip as she continued to pace a rut in the bedroom floor.

Resting in the bathroom doorway, Randy watched her with his hands in his pockets. "It's just the Correspondent's dinner, Court," he reminded. "A bunch of stuffy old news men and shit. You already know you'll be the most beautiful woman there. And you'll be with me," he smiled smugly. Nodding, she barely managed a smile. "And that's the problem," Randy muttered.

"What?" Courtney shook her head and managed a full smile. "No, Randy, that's not it at all," she sighed, though they both knew she was lying through her teeth. "It's just that I haven't been to anything like this since Dave was alive," she sighed.

"And everyone at this event is used to seeing you with him," Randy deduced. It wasn't that he hadn't thought of that. He knew that most of the journalistic world knew Courtney as either Sean Lane's daughter, or Dave Batista's wife. He knew that this night, more than most, would be a painful reminder of Dave's absence. But she was his girlfriend, and he wasn't about to attend with anyone else.

They hadn't really been trying to hide their relationship, not to the extent that Courtney and Dave had hid theirs. Tabloids had already run rumors, along with candid pictures of the couple running in the park, or window shopping on Fifth Avenue. They had no concrete evidence, and neither had talked to anyone about their status, but it was assumed, and accepted, that Randy and Courtney were now together.

But arriving at a formal event together would be confirmation. Innocent touches would be magnified. Smiles would be sensationalized. And if Randy slipped and gave into his seemingly constant urge to kiss her or grab her ass? The whole world would know that Courtney Lane was moving on. And they would deem themselves worthy critics of whether or not that was appropriate. If she had worried about stepping out with Dave, the fear with Randy was tenfold.

With his hands on her bare shoulders, Randy smiled down at Courtney. "You want to be with me, right?" He could feel his breath hitch in his chest as he waited for her response. When she nodded, he exhaled. "Alright, then," he smiled and dropped a kiss on her nose. "Let's go show the world what a fine-ass couple really looks like."

As he led her down the stairs and out the front door, to the waiting car in the driveway, Randy tried to steady his own breathing. Tonight was more important than she could possibly understand. For months, Randy had held her while she slept, trying his best to pretend it was his own name rolling over her lips, not her husband's. He had tried to pretend that it was him she was thinking of each time they fucked in a new place, or a new position. But tonight he stopped pretending.

Tonight, he started convincing Courtney that he was better than a substitute Dave. Tonight, he proved to her that he had moved from her husband's shadow and into a spotlight all his own. And tonight, he showed her that he wanted her in that spotlight with him.