Chapter 12

Andrew thought he was the king in the WWE and she hoped someone knocked him off that damn pedestal of his sooner rather than later. Grabbing Natalya's gear, she fired up her machine and proceeded to get to work. Andrew would be lucky if he got his tights back by the end of the night; Tressa was a busy woman after all.

Tressa wasn't the only seamstress, there was a 'crew' of them, and if his tights were not completed in a timely manner, he was going to ensure she got a good 'what for'. Of course, he had a few spare tights, that would just be stupid if he didn't. Working nearly every night, traveling constantly, sometimes laundry got shuffled off to the wayside until they were able to stop and take a breather. Andrew was not about to work every night in unwashed tights that had sweat build-up in them, no thanks, he liked his bits and bobs un-funky.

"Darlin', you need a cigarette break." Jon announced himself with that, bending down to watch her running her machine. He had gone and had a talk with officials, ignored his friends until they decided to talk shop, and now…now he was bothering her.

Well, checking in on her anyway.

She couldn't pull her hands away from the material that was going through the sewing machine until the line was done. Jon waited patiently and she finished before turning it off, having handed Andrew's tights over to one of the other seamstresses. There were a few others she had delegated work to since she couldn't do every single thing. There was a 'crew' of them – three seamstresses, to be exact. WWE didn't really put much money into the seamstress department, unfortunately. A lot of the Superstars were responsible for their own gear, though the company did provide SOME things. Mostly though, Superstars had their gear made and if something happened to it or it needed altered, that was what the seamstress team was here for.

"Okay, okay…" She grumbled, standing from her chair, and turned to stare in those deep blues, taking his hand when he extended it.

Honestly, Tressa hadn't heard about any of the rumors and gossip going on about her and Jon. She didn't care either. They were best friends and had known each other a very long time, since Jon's debut in the company, practically. Hell, Jon wouldn't allow anyone else to touch his gear except her. She had been the Shield's personal angel seamstress and both Joe and Colby didn't go to anyone else in the crew either. Only her. It was one of the reasons she was the lead seamstress because the Shield boys had credited her so much and given her plenty of positive feedback through the company. Not to mention, she had been there over 10 years, whereas the rest of the crew were still fairly new at only a few years. People could gossip and talk all they wanted; she and Jon knew the truth of what they were, and what was going on and that was all that mattered.

Or so Tressa THOUGHT she knew what was going on between them.

"You look irritated." Jon commented once they were outside the building. Not near the entrance ways or where fans could get them, but a little alcove off the truck parking lot. They were nestled between two trucks with their trailers in the docking bay, the arena right behind them, so almost total privacy, if one could ignore the various sounds from everything going on around them. "Someone getting on your nerves already, Tres?"

Considering the majority of superstars were responsible for their own crap unless they were given a very specific costume -that made him grimace because turtlenecks came to mind- when some wrestlers did use the seamstresses, they were total cocks about it. Jon never understood that mindset, being rude just for discourtesy. Considering these people could very easily have a wardrobe mishap out in the ring, he didn't see the wisdom in baiting the person who helped make sure that didn't happen.

Lighting up her cigarette at the same time as Jon, Tressa took a long drag and shrugged, not sure if she should tell him all of her problems. This wasn't really a problem so much as an annoyance. She had bigger things to worry about and shook her head, cracking the barest hint of a smile. It was still hard for her to smile, but Jon did make it a little easier to do.

"Just people thinking their shit don't stink and approaching me, demanding me and my crew to get to their gear first." Andrew wasn't the only one they had to deal with tonight. "These people don't seem to grasp the concept that it takes TIME and EFFORT to get these costumes fixed and ready. And if we don't take our time, we'll fuck something up, and then it's on us for doing a shoddy job." She took another drag, flicking ash away, and leaned against the building. "How's your night going?"

"Oh come on, Kitten, if China can whip this shit out in 5 minutes or less-" Jon ducked away from her when she actually tried slapping him, his cigarette dangling from his bottom lip as he laughed. "Not funny?" He teased, fingers coming up to said cigarette, exhaling a smoke ring over her head. She shook her head in response and he didn't blame her, some of these people were assholes. "My night is fine, ate, spoke with management, and know what I'm doing." It was simple, easy…and he got to beat up the people who annoyed him, unlike her.

"You're such an ass, Daddy!" She growled good-naturedly, whacking him in the arm for good measure, and let smoke exhale out of her nostrils.

China…they were cheapskates and did NOT know what real quality was all about. Tressa did her job correctly, which was why it took more than 5 minutes to complete a task. Patchwork was a bitch to perform – anything regarding sewing and knitting…or even creating costumes. The women, for the most part, were understanding unlike the men, who wanted their stuff done immediately, like Andrew Galloway. He was in for a surprise when he came back and discovered his tights were in the hands of one of the newer seamstresses instead of the lead and that made a smirk curve her lips.

"At least it's a house show and not a televised event. I know how much you love house shows."

"Yeah, I don't have to worry about management busting my balls due to the censors."

Jon had grown up watching wrestling and he had missed all the 'fun' stuff from the WWE. He loved it now, he was just a little miffed that, by the time he had made it here, there were so many rules and regulations, what one could and couldn't do, what one could and couldn't say. It was kind of like being in high school, only he got paid for beating up the other kids.

The wrestlers were given free reign, mostly, on house shows and hardly anything was scripted. They didn't matter. House shows were just a way to experiment and see who gelled well together in the ring and who didn't. They weren't televised events and, essentially, had nothing to do with them, as weird as it sounded. Even with social media outlets and the Internet, Vince McMahon really didn't care about house shows so much as Raw and Smackdown! due to ratings.

"Who are you facing tonight anyway?" When he said Drew McIntyre, her entire body tensed up briefly before another drag of her cigarette calmed her down again. "Oh." That wasn't surprising considering it was Summerslam weekend and Jon would be in Seth's corner while Andrew would be in Nick's -Dolph Ziggler- corner for their match. "You guys have a lot of media going on this weekend." Jon was going to be BUSHED by the time it was all said and done.

"Yeah I know, trainers said I should use one of those hand strengthening exercises to get back into 'signing' form." The trainers thought they were comedians, he snorted, leaning back against the wall and studying Tressa intently. "What was that for?" He asked curiously, his head cocking to the side, blue eyes thoughtful. "I said McIntyre and you got… stiff." Hmm, his gaze hardened just a fraction, though the easy smile never left his face. "He giving you problems tonight, doll?"

"N-No, no not at all. Nobody is giving me problems, Jon." Sometimes, he was a little too overprotective of her and it'd been like that since the day they became friends. "Well, besides Joseph's family, but you already know about all of that." Her court date was scheduled for the following month and Tressa was looking forward to putting an end to this issue with them once and for all. "I need to head back inside and get back to work." Flicking the cigarette to the side, she blew the smoke out from her final drag and placed a hand on his chest. "Have a good match tonight, be careful and I'll see you later. Thanks for the break." She headed back inside to go back to work, really hoping Jon was careful in his match tonight against Andrew.

Jon reached out and grabbed the back of Tressa's shirt, pulling her right back out that door and pinned her gently but firmly to the brick wall between the docking bays. "Now, Kitten," He dropped what was left of his cigarette to the ground, putting it out with his toe. "You either need to become a better liar," He traced a finger down her nose and then down her lips. "Or just don't bother. What'd he do?"

She had stuttered, on top of tensing up when he had said the other man's name. If the Scottish douchebag was giving her problems, Jon was going to use her high-powered sewing machine to sew Andrew's daddy bags together, his eyes glinting wickedly at the thought. Tressa didn't know what possessed her to do it, but she sucked just the tip of his finger between her lips and nipped it, going against what she'd vowed to herself.

"He didn't do anything to me. He was just a little…intimidating, but that's who McIntyre is."

There was no way in hell she was telling Jon about how the Scottish man had put his hand on her knee and squeezed it a little too hard. There was already a slight bruise forming on her knee, not that she noticed it because it didn't hurt. Reaching up, she cupped Jon's face in her soft hand, her grey eyes shining with truth.

"I'm not lying to you, okay? He didn't do anything wrong; he's just an intimidating guy and he's weirded me out since he came to the main roster from NXT. That's on me, not him." Joe had done the same thing to her until she got to know him, with the help of Jon, and realized just what a big teddy bear he is. "Don't make a mountain out of a molehill, Daddy."

Tressa was exactly a foot shorter than he was and Jon decided he didn't care for the height difference right now. It was already dark enough out here without adding him having to bend down just to get a proper read of her face. Without thinking twice, Jon's large hands were on her waist, lifting her up until she was nearly eye-level with him, her back against the wall and he felt Tressa wrapping her legs around him out of instinct, and probably a desire to not be dropped.

"He's a pussy and if he's giving you trouble, you need to let me know." So he could remind Andy boy that manners were a real thing these days.

Her arms draped on his broad shoulders and she began massaging the back of his neck, just like she did whenever they were on a plane. A calming mechanism. "You're too overprotective of me. I've told you this many times. I can take care of myself, Jon." It was a very long way down, a foot nearly, so of course, she wrapped her legs around him, even though he would never drop her. Maybe act like he would, playfully, but never maliciously. "He wasn't rude to me." Much. "Just intimidating, and it's not his fault because he is a big guy."

Braun Strowman, for instance, was a MONSTER and they called him the Monster Among Men for a reason. The man was the sweetest giant and never had a bad thing to say about anyone, however. Andrew just came off as…intense and intimidating.

"There's no trouble, okay? So, don't go flying off the deep-end, 'Lunatic Fringe'."

Jon was half-convinced that Andrew had bulked up the 'good old-fashioned' now illegal way. The man had been…small and scrappy, tall, when he had first come on the scene. Now he was a goddamn monster. "Mmm…" He wasn't convinced though…Jon was also becoming acutely aware that he had her pressed up against him, and if he tipped his hips just right…whoa, down there, he mentally coached himself.

"I don't know, been a while since I've gone off, Tres." And he meant that in more ways than one, his smirk widening when those beautiful eyes widened up at him.

He wanted to kiss her, remind her of the other night, and let her know he hadn't forgotten about it. Not that Jon ever would, that was the first time in his life he had been called another man's name, not that he was holding that against her. But she was here in his arms, sober and not crying…he did it, Jon captured her lips in a fiery kiss. Just like the other night, Tressa did NOT expect him to do this, even being held in his arms the way she was. Jon had surprised her again, but this time, she wasn't a crying, sobbing mess with a foggy head. No, she had clarity and the alarm bells immediately began ringing in her head, reminding herself of the vow she made after their foreplay.

"N-No…Jon wait…" Tressa ripped her lips from his, placing her hands firmly on his shoulders, and shook her head, her lips slightly swollen. Holy cow, that was a kiss full of fire, desire, and NEED. "P-Put me down. Put me down, please…" Even from that simple kiss, her breathing had become ragged and the warmth spreading through her body didn't help matters either. "I-I can't do this…I have to go back to work and you need to focus on your match." It looked like they would have to have that dreadful talk about keeping things friendly between them, after all.

Their friendship, their bond, meant too much to her to destroy it with casual, no-strings sex.

Jon's eyes searched hers intently, looking for just one sign that she didn't mean what she said because that would be all the invitation he needed. Her tone was shaky, breathy, and he could see the impact his kiss had had on her. She was flushed, her eyes darkened just a fraction, and her beautiful lips were already somewhat swollen. Her body was trembling like a leaf against his and he almost kissed her again. What stopped Jon was the plea in those gorgeous yet somehow frantic orbs and he groaned, bending down to rest his forehead against hers for a brief moment.

Reluctantly, he set her down. "Go on, Kitten," He said gruffly, already reaching for another cigarette, needing a few moments for nicotine and to talk his beast down. "I'm sorry, Tressa. That was out of line."