"Here we go, babe."

His shoulders straightened as his music started and he was transformed into the superstar that fans either loved or hated. She slipped her hand into his, once again feeling diminutive next to his six-foot-plus frame despite the sky-high heels she wore. She had time only to draw in a deep breath before they walked into the arena.

Oh, the explosion of screams that greeted him. She never kidded herself; she knew they weren't for her. A few of the little girls, perhaps, were happy to see her, but a vast majority of the seventy-some thousand people that were on their feet were cheering him.

Him. Randy Orton.

She kept her head held straight as they walked down the ramp, eyes on the ring before them. His opponent waited in the far corner, a mere shadow of a man now that all eyes were on Randy. As they proceeded – achingly slow in her mind – she was aware of a few catcalls from some of the men in the audience. She knew her place, though, and would never dare to even look towards those that called to her. Besides, it took too much focus to make it to the ring on the high heels they insisted she wear. At least tonight her dress was reasonably demure, so she wouldn't have to worry about her breasts spilling out the top.

He dropped her hand when they reached the steps and his piercing blue eyes scanned their surroundings before he dipped to catch her lips in a kiss. The screams and applause seemed to magnify tenfold. At least his fans tolerated her. She slipped her hands to rest on his chest briefly, meeting his eyes as he broke the kiss. "Be careful, babe," she whispered, taking a step back. As rehearsed, he went up the steps ahead of her, climbing into the ring and staring down his opponent. She was left to her own devices when it came to getting in the ring.

She would never understand why precisely it was necessary that she get into the ring. But she didn't sign the checks, so she didn't complain. Once in the ring, she stood at his side, giving the referee a nod as Randy slid the title belt from his shoulder. A brilliant smile lit her face as he placed it in her hands, and she held it over her head, rounding the ring once before slipping out. She was grateful to hand it over for safekeeping during the match and took her place, eyes on the man she was paid to be in love with.

Easiest job ever, she decided as the bell rang.

As always, she was awed by his presence in the ring. He circled his opponent like a tiger circled a felled antelope. She knew, of course, how the two men had choreographed the match, but watching him never failed to take her breath away. Each time he dominated the crowd went wild, each time his opponent ruled the crowd cheered at Randy to get back on his feet. She knew when to call out encouragements and when to remain silent. She knew to stay the hell away from the announcers' table and to lean over so she wouldn't block the views of the fans at ringside.

Three months and she was practically a pro.

She cheered when her man won and the title was handed over as she climbed into the ring again. She eyed his bloody lip worriedly as she gave him the belt, watching as he climbed onto the turnbuckle for a victory pose.

Best job ever.

Vanessa Tyler wasn't a Diva. It just wasn't in the cards right now. At least she was signed onto WWE. At least her face was in front of the fans. At least... At least she had him.

"Oh, God, baby," Randy panted, hands making fists in the pillow as he gave one final, powerful thrust of his hips. Vanessa's body tightened, fingers clawing at his back. He pressed against her harder, to the point of pain. A low moan began in his throat, but by the time it passed his lips it was a hearty roar, overtaking her sharp scream. He collapsed, breathless, over her.

Struggling to pull oxygen into her lungs, she unclenched her fingers and smoothed her palms along his back. His skin was still slick from the oil sprayed on him before his match, and, when mixed with the sweat from their lovemaking, she had barely been able to hold onto him. "Babe," she gasped, pushing gently at his shoulders. He groaned, lips nudging her temple before he rolled away. Sweet relief, she thought as she sucked in a breath. When her vision returned to normal and she wasn't at the point of hyperventilating, she shifted to face him.

"One day," he began, raising a hand to signal that she wait a moment. He drew in several deep breaths, hand falling to his face to muffle a yawn. "One day, I'm going to fuck you in a real bed."

Vanessa laughed softly, reached with one foot to give the covers a tug. "This is a real bed," she reminded when his long arm snaked down to help her with the tangled sheets and blanket.

As though to prove his point, the wail of a passing truck's horn filled the space. He quirked an eyebrow at her as he brought the covers over their cooling bodies. "No, this is a bed on a damn tour bus. I want you in a real bed."

"The hotels..." she trailed, tucking herself close to his side. She lifted up slightly to allow his arm to slide around her before resting her head on his chest.

"Like I want Ted or Cody or some other dipshit knowing when we have sex," he muttered.

"One would think you'd be proud of having sex on a regular basis," she retorted.

Randy grunted, free arm reaching for the light switch. When they were bathed in darkness, he sighed. "You're coming home with me on my next break. Hell, everybody knows we're together. And I've got some clout, I can make sure you get the same days off as me."

"Sounds like a plan." She nodded, stretching her legs out as far as they would go. One foot met with resistance and she pushed at it. Then, remembering he had tossed his title onto the bed when they left the arena, she pulled her foot back.

"Then when I get back I can just grin at the bastards so they'll know I got laid without them hearing it."

"You're so cocky," she groaned, leaning to offer a goodnight kiss.

"You love that I'm cocky." He brought her over him. Seemingly so she would think he wanted to touch her all night long, but she knew it was because he wanted to be able to stretch out on the bed. "Or do you just love my cock?"

Vanessa rolled her eyes in the darkness and slipped a kiss to his chest. Resting her head over his heart, she smiled at the steady thumping of his heartbeat. "Goodnight, Randy."

"New angle," Randy announced as he entered the dressing room. The door slammed against the wall before swinging back, and he kicked back one foot to make sure it shut. "Fucking writers."

Vanessa looked up from her laptop, eyes moving to the wall to gauge it for damage. Her gaze landed on his face and all worries about the building flew from her mind. "What's wrong, babe?" she asked. She rose to her feet, all thoughts of emailing Stephanie gone as her boyfriend began to pace the room. It was the same pacing he did in the ring when waiting for an opponent. His expression an unreadable mask. The papers in his hand were tossed onto the small table and she felt a familiar creep up her spine when his fists began to clench. "Babe..."

"You. They fucking want you." He kicked the couch and she flinched. "A goddamn love triangle. How's that for bullshit?"

Her eyes widened and she dared to step in front of him, stopping his pacing. "A love triangle? You can't be serious."

"Read it yourself," he snarled.

Picking up the scattered papers, she leaned on the arm of the couch as he turned away. Curious, she scanned the documents for the mention of her name. Storylines were rarely given in full. Matches, title transfers and major rivalries were given well in advance, but usually backstage fodder was handed over barely a week in advance. Everyone knew that if a title was to be transferred there would be an arc to build up the upcoming match. Pay-per-view matches were always built up to ensure anticipation.

Love triangles, she was almost sure, were a rarity. With the PG era firmly in place, they would never show heels putting the moves on a face's girl. Or vice versa. Oh, there were a few, but the arcs always seemed to die out due to lack of interest. Or they were a ploy that led to a heel turn.

She read over the paragraph she found three times. Yes, she'd read right. The producers had actually approved a love triangle. Featuring her. She couldn't help but feel a little flattered. After three months as nothing but glorified arm candy for the cameras, she had feared she would never advance. Except for one tiny arc the month before, she'd done nothing more than urge her man on. And the brief feud between Randy and Stephen after she had been body-checked by Sheamus ringside had fizzled out after just two weeks.

Now, they really wanted to do something with her. On-camera talking. Involvement in the ring beyond standing at Randy's side. She felt a thrill and was about to exclaim her excitement when she read over the paragraph a fourth time. When she finally registered the name of her new love interest, she felt all the excitement flee her body.

"Babe... It's going to be okay," she attempted to soothe. She couldn't help wondering if he was so mad because they wanted to use her in a love triangle, or whether the anger stemmed from his opponent. She had no idea why her boyfriend was so against the man. Their feud had faded over time, long before she even came into the picture. She actually found him charming, if a little standoffish. She wondered how he was reacting to the angle.

"That bastard. All the men on the roster and they picked him." Randy whirled to face her. "You're not doing anything with him."

"Randy," she sighed. "I kind of have to. I'm under contract-"

"I don't mean that. This isn't going to turn into some great friendship between the two of you. That asshole is not fit to wipe dog shit off your shoe." He caught her shoulders, fingers clenching painfully. "The only time you need to be around him is when we're going over a script or doing the on-air bullshit. You understand?"

"Randy, you're hurting me," she whispered, struggling to slip away from his grasp. His fingers tightened, nails digging into her flesh and she felt tears gather in her eyes. "Randy-"

"Do you understand?" he asked in a low voice.

"Y-yes," she whimpered, dropping the papers. "I understand. Please-" she cut off with a gasp when he released her, immediately reaching to cup her hands over her aching shoulders.

"I'm going to the ring."

Vanessa nodded, too numb to speak. She cringed as the door slammed shut behind him. "He didn't mean it," she whispered to herself, fingers moving in slow circles to alleviate the pain he had created. "He didn't mean it."

"Good god, what the hell happened to you?"

Vanessa paused at the question. Halfway through removing the oversized t-shirt she had thrown on over her bathing suit, she let it fall back into place and turned to look at Cody Runnells. "What?"

"Your shoulders," Cody answered. "Looks like you and Orton have been getting freakier than normal."

She thought of the dark bruises that marred her shoulders and bit the inside of her lip. "He got a little carried away," she murmured. Deciding it best to leave her shirt on, she leaned back in her lounge chair and reached into her bag for her Kindle.

"No kidding." Cody dropped into the seat beside her after brushing his lips over her cheek. "How's my sweet Southern-fried chickadee? Missed you last week."

"Well if you weren't traipsing all around the world," she sighed dramatically, laughing when he rolled his eyes. Cody had become one of her closest friends in WWE after she had been signed on. He was one of the few men that didn't mind practicing with her in the ring. Not that she had anything to practice for... She pushed the thought away and reminded herself that it was good to keep in shape. "How's the shoulder?"

"The truth? I've had worse and I'll survive." To prove his point, he rotated his arm in a wide circle. "The real truth? It hurts like a sonofabitch, which is why I'm just a mouthpiece tonight."

"How y'all don't fall apart walking to the ring is beyond me." Her gaze moved to the pool, where Randy and Stephen were in the midst of a rowdy game of volleyball. Each time the ball was sent to their side of the net by Bryan and Drew, the two men grappled in the water in order to send it back. On the other side of the pool, a few Divas laid out to soak in the rays of the afternoon sun.

"We manage." Cody took a sip of Pepsi and nudged her leg with his foot. "Alright, give. What's the deal on this feud?"

She would never understand how the man always knew what was bothering her. "Other than the fact that I'm going to be fought over like a piece of meat? I don't know. I'm just hoping I can prove myself good enough for..." She sighed and turned on her Kindle.

"You are good enough, Nessa. Do you have any idea how much some of the guys want to bring back inter-gender matches? We haven't had a woman that could take on a man in years."

It was a topic they had touched on so much she knew what he would say before he said it. "You know everything. Why do they hate each other?"

"I don't have a clue. I just know they have since Nexus."

"You are absolutely no help." Vanessa watched Randy duck Stephen to get to the ball. He slammed it into the net, his laughter joining the others' as Ted dove to retrieve it. "He's worried."

"What about? Are you telling me Randall Keith Orton is scared you'll actually be charmed by Wade Barrett?"

"A little." The ball flew through the air, landing on the cement surrounding the pool. Her gaze followed it as it rolled across the surface, leaving a wet trail. It was stopped by a large foot. She trailed her gaze up the powerful body the foot was attached to and heard Cody chuckle as she realized who it was.

"Speak of the devil," Cody said ominously.

"You're looking lovely tonight." His voice was soft, so different from the usual forceful tone he used that she was taken aback. Steely blue eyes looked up from the page in his hand when she remained silent. "I believe it's your turn to speak, love."

Every female in his presence was 'love'. Vanessa wet her lips and looked down at her paper. It was hard to concentrate with the loud music playing in the hotel's gym. She would have preferred to run their lines somewhere quiet. Not that she had many lines... Two whole words. "Thank you."

"A pity," he read, tone changing to one of amusement. "Orton doesn't realize what a treasure he has in you does he?"

Two more words. "Excuse me?"

"You're little more than a coat rack to him, love. You carry his title, you stand ringside, and you hold his hand when he makes his exit." His eyes met hers again.

God, he had beautiful eyes. "Wade," she read, using an amused tone. "Randy makes me very happy. If he didn't, I wouldn't be with him."

"You should be with someone who would treat you as the lady you are." He made a harrumphing noise in his throat, then nodded. "Alright, love?"

"Sounds good to me. Where are we doing this?" she asked, forcing her gaze back to the paper. As he spoke, she read the words at the top of the page.

"Outside the dressing room." Wade Barrett stood and pushed his chair back under the table.

Was he really taller than Randy? She hadn't realized it before, but now felt her neck starting to strain from having to lean her head back so far. I should be used to it by now. I'm surrounded by giants every day, she thought, mentally cursing the genes that had stopped her growth at just over five feet. Giving him a nod, she reached for her water. "I'll see you tonight, then."

"Tonight," he echoed. He smiled, that crooked, usual smile. But this time it didn't come across as cocky as it normally did. "Don't worry, love. I'll try not to woo you too convincingly. Can't have Orton's little heart broken, can we?"

She murmured a goodbye as he turned and left the gym, her eyes narrowing. It was going to take an Oscar-worthy performance on her part if the fans were expected to believe she may be falling for the man. Little heart, indeed. And when they had first read over the script he had suggested she wear something more becoming than her usual ringside fare. What did he expect? This was the WWE, not a ballroom.

Draining her water, she crumpled the empty bottle in her hand, not missing Randy's steady gaze from the doorway. She'd show Wade Barrett. She had heard through the grapevine that he wasn't convinced she could act well enough to pull off a triangle. And apparently he didn't like the way she dressed for shows. He wanted a becoming, well-prepared co-star? He'd get one.

She'd show them all.

AN: Thank you all for reading. This is my first Wrestling fic and I'm a bit nervous about posting it. Thoughts, opinions and constructive criticism accepted. :)