Title: A Massachusetts Yankee in King Hunter's Court
Author: Empress
Email: Empress@thewaysideinn.net
Distribution: Empress' Private Library and The Wayside Inn  All others ask first.
Disclaimer: All wrestling personalities and characters depicted here are property of the WWE and all of their subsidiaries and partners. I do not own them. I do not claim to own them. I make no money on the use of them in this work. I know I'm borrowing them without the permission of the owners. I just hope that should they ever find my insane ramblings, that they'll like what I've written enough not to sue me. Or, tell me to stop. Any and all characters and places not copyrighted by the WWE machine belong to me. I do own them. And I'll play with them to my hearts content. So there. Neener, neener, neener.
Rating: I think this one actually hits the X rating. Put it this way, the subtitle of this chapter should be There's A Whole Lot of Fuckin' Goin' On. Hell, you'd think something in particular was on my mind lately, huh?
Category: Smut. Pure and simple. Oh, and a backhoe full of plot in between the bed hopping. Or at least that was the original goal, anyway.
Characters: A Hunter/Nan story, and anyone else I feel like playing with.
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: None unless you have a serious issue with sex and romance. And if you do, and you're reading this story…well, hell people! I got nothin'.
Author's Notes: I like giving credit and thanks to those people who help me…so the numbering gig is back for a repeat performance.
1.Before we begin, I just have to get this off my chest: THIS CHAPTER IS A TOTAL LOVE FEST TO THE POINT THAT IT DISGUSTS ME AND I'M NOT AT ALL PLEASED WITH IT!!! Now, that said, I apologize for it not being what you guys are used to. Hell, it's not what I'm used to, but I've suffered through being off my medication for the last two weeks of writing this nonsense, and this is what happens when your insurance company fucks with your anti-psychotic drugs. You'll cry at GEICO ads, and want to pet the lizard, swear to God. No, that's not a euphemism for masturbation either. Good news is, I got a call today (Monday, September 04, 2006) and turns out I won the fight with the insurance company. So as of Tuesday evening, I'll be back on my meds and maybe the next chapter will be more to my liking. No, I'm not re-writing this one. I've had to take a big whopping dose of my own "creative" medicine and do what I often tell a good friend of mine. Sometimes you just have to suck it up, realize it's never gonna be what you want it to be, post it anyway, and move on. So I'm doing just that. Never let it be said that I don't take my own advice. I just don't like it when I have to do it.
2.I apologize for this one taking so long to come out. Not to make excuses, but I've had a family crisis that turned out to be much more severe than we first thought, while trying to deal with some personal health issues that have changed how I live my life currently, and how I'll live it from here on in. So I make no more promises on how long it'll be between postings. I will do the best I can, however, since right now, writing this story is the only thing that keeps my mind off it.
3.Highland County, North Carolina is my own creation. It does not exist, at least not by that name and not in this state. If you know me personally at all, then you also know what country this is really based on. But I won't tell if you won't.
4.Due to the lack of information that I could find on the Apache people, I'm taking some liberties with some of their spiritual beliefs, and how they view the afterlife, combining it with both that of the Cherokee and other Native American people. I apologize to any Apache who may be reading this. If you care to share your culture beyond what I know from a young man who passed away a long time ago, who may or may not have been pulling my leg, I'll be more than happy to correct any mistakes made here.
5.Muchas gracias to Shelia – who happily donated her personality and namesake to the character of Sheshe Harrell.
6.I forgot to thank Anna in the last chapter for finding that wonderful song Vampires by Godsmack for me. I've always loved the group but somehow missed that one. Anna also introduced me to one of the most wickedly vivid songs I've ever heard – Crazy Bitch by Buck Cherry. We both agreed that it should be Kevin & Genie's theme song, and in the words of Yule Brenner, So let it be written; so let it be done. I'll never be able to hear it again – and I listen to it often – without thinking of Big Daddy Cool and The Cast-Iron Butterfly. So thank you, Anna for hookin' a sistah up with your angry white chick music. And for putting up with insanely freaky phone calls in the middle of Saturday afternoons, just to listen to me lose what's left of my mind. I appreciate the lending of your shoulder and mine's waiting for whenever you should need the use of it.
7.Parts of Tender Indulgences were used, at the time of the initial writing of this chapter, with the permission of the author.
Feedback: I write. You give feedback. Any questions?
Summary Quote: Well, well, well. A little slap and tickle before dinner? Looks like love is in the air and everyone's gettin' a slice of it. I'm next in line, ya know.

So ya, thought ya might like to go to the show…

 
Live a life less ordinary
Live a life extraordinary with me
Live a life less sedentary
Life a life evolutionary with me
The night you came into my life
Well, it took the bones of me, took the bones of me
You blew away my storm and strife
And shook the bones of me, shook the bones of me
       Life Less Ordinary – Carbon Leaf

December 13, 2004 3:49 a.m. EST
Master bedroom – Lyon's Cove – Moccasin Gap, NC 

She was almost out. Almost free. Another inch or two and she'd have made it safely, silently, and completely unnoticed out of range. But at the last possible second, she made a noise and that was all her captor needed to know what she was plotting. Strong arms banded around her waist from behind, lifting up and slinging her up and over, so that she lay flat on her back, pinned beneath a mountain of muscle and one very pissed off fiancé. With a very girlie yip of surprise, and a sultry smile, she gazed up into the fiercely scowling countenance.

"And just where in the hell do you think you're going at," he turned to glare at the bedside clock. "Jesus Christ – ten of four in the fuckin' mornin'?!"

With a delicate touch, she feathered a light caress down his arm, and bulging biceps. "Hunter," she purred up at him, enjoying far too much the caveman like tactics he was displaying. His very dominant side always fanned the flames of her desire for him, and he knew it too, the big, blonde beautiful hulking brute.

She allowed her lips to part, warm puffs of sweet breath fanning the silken blonde locks teasing her cheeks. "I told you last night," she began. "That I'm going with the girls this morning for our ritual chick's day before the rehearsal. And then Genie and I are gonna meet Stacy and John at the airport and schlep 'em back here before you have to head to Alabama for tonight's show."

Hunter groaned, dipping his head to rest his forehead in the sweet curve of Nan's neck. Trailing a light line of kisses along the ridge of her collarbone, up her neck to her ear lobe, he whispered, "When are you coming back?"

Feeling her eyes roll back in their sockets, and knowing him far too well to not know what he was up to, Nan placed her palm flat against his sternum and pushed. Not that it did anything to move him, of course, but it did get his attention. "Hunter you promised."

But he didn't slow his torture. Rather, he grazed his teeth along a particularly ticklish spot, pulling a delicious moan from her now arched throat. "Don't you want," he ran his tongue gently around her ear lobe, sucking it into the molten heat of his mouth before letting it go in order to breathe hotly into her ear, ". . .stay?"

"You know I do," she panted, as he shifted above her, settling more fully the cradle of her hips. She slid her thighs further apart, instinctively drawing him to her, moaning softly as the hard length of his now impressive erection prodded insistently against her lower belly.

Hunter raised up just enough to look down at her. "Minx. You're not even dressed yet. You woke me up early on purpose."

She gave him that smile – that knowingly woman smile that was smug enough to be irritating to him, but inviting enough for him not to care. She reached up a hand and carded her fingers through his hair. "Oops."

"I'll show you oops," he growled low in his throat, but with a smiling leer that warmed her insides.

The way her eyes sparkled and her lips quivered told him she was as on fire as he was, ready to do what they both wanted -have wickedly hot, pulse-pounding, roar-to-the moon-sex.

"Please," she whispered quietly to him, bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp she'd turned on before she'd tried to slip from their bed.

Her affirmation that she wanted it as much as he did stripped away any last, vaguely guilty feelings for interrupting her "day with the girls" that she had indeed informed him of the previous night. Sliding his hand to her cheek, he tangled his fingers in her thick copper hair and tugged her close for another mind-drugging kiss. Her tasty mouth opened in welcome and she squirmed into him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

The kiss was good. Better than good. They always were. And he didn't want it to stop. Without letting their mouths part, Hunter slid his hands down her sides, curled his fingers round her buttocks, and lifted. He groaned at the way she instantly parted her legs, wrapping them around his hips. Writhing under his kiss, she rubbed her tight nipples against his chest, and tightened her thighs around him just the way he liked it, creating a firm vise of pressure that just seemed to intensify his aching hard-on.

And suddenly, he wanted to see her. Taste her. Touch her. Wanted her open to him under the moonlight and soft glow of lamplight. He felt like he'd had months of enforced celibacy, making his entire body go on alert, on edge, but he hadn't been. Oh, hell no.

If anything, here lately, they'd been more sexually active than they had been in months, neither of them seemingly able to get enough of the other. He didn't know what was causing their ravenous hunger for each other. And he didn't care. He knew better than to question gift such as this. Never ask where something like this comes from. Because if you think about it too much, rather than act upon it, it might go away. And act upon it they did.

He pulled back just to look at her. Curvy. Voluptuous. Soft. Creamy. Her bountiful breasts were utterly perfect -for him. They were larger than some women's were, he supposed, and smaller than a lot of the implant princesses he worked with. Regardless he was self-admittedly a breast man, and loved the fact that hers were not only natural, but fit perfectly in the palm of his hands, as large as they were. Perfect, the thought again. Firm, yet with a womanly softness that he found called to him like a siren's song. Beautifully curved with tight, pale pink nipples that he immediately wanted to taste, not matter how often he saw them.

"Delicious," he muttered through a tight throat. Skimming his hands back up her sides, he hissed as the tips of his thumbs brushed the skin just below her pebbled nipples.

"Oh God," she moaned, arching into his hands so he could cup each tender globe. When he caught those sensitized tips between his fingers, she moaned even louder. "Don't stop."

"I couldn't even if I wanted to…and I don't." he muttered hoarsely as he kissed his way down her jaw line, then back to her throat, sending a spark of desire to shoot straight to her crotch. He nibbled a path across her collarbone, feeling her familiar shake in his arms, and knew she'd climaxed just from that small amount of sensation. He pulled back just a bit to blink incredulously down into her passion-fogged eyes. "So soon?"

"More," she whimpered, unable to answer more than that. Nan ran her nails lightly over his shoulders, making him flex and clench in reaction. She arched her back, shooting her hips into his, silently telling him what she wanted.

And he no longer cared that he'd brought her to orgasm simply from a kiss and the barest of touches…although later it would be enough to put a smug smile on his face. Without warning, he answered her request. Hungry, ravenous, he covered her breast with his mouth and sucked hard.

She shook, trying to steady herself by twining her fingers in his hair, holding him even closer. "Sweetheart…" she moaned, her voice holding a hint of desperation. The way she rocked her hips against him told him why she was so desperate. Her arousal was visible on her face, even it hadn't been between her legs – and it most definitely was. But he wanted to watch the flush of desire color her cheeks. Her eyelids were heavy and her breathing ragged. He could also inhale deeply and catch the intoxicating scent of aroused woman. His woman. Her sensory essence. The need to feel that moisture overwhelmed him, and he reached down so he could slid his hand between her legs, but paused over her navel, the intense heat there startling him.

"You're hot."

"I'm dying."

"Don't die yet, baby. We've got a long way to go."

"Oh, thank God," she sighed blissfully.

Hunter closed his eyes, focusing on the sensations – her sighs of pleasure, the slowly rotating ceiling fan blowing a hint of coolness across their bodies on this unusually warm December morning. The warmth of her supple skin as he slid his hand down her soft stomach.

"So soft," he muttered as he moved lower, his fingers tangling into the warm thatch that was the last obstacle between his hand and her wet folds. He wanted to explore that much more thoroughly. Close up.

His quick suspicion that she'd had something done recently was confirmed when he moved down just a little farther. Past that small soft nest of coppery curls to the softer, now completely bare lips of her drenched sex. "Oh, baby...what did you do?"

Her eyes flew open and she bit down on her bottom lip, suddenly tense with nerves. "I had it done yesterday...when Delilah did my hair?" She turned the last into a question.  Her words reminded him that – in the middle of unpacking, she dropped everything and had run out to the salon.  She then spent two hours yesterday having that mass of copper hair braided into a tight seven-braid creation, guaranteed to give her hair a natural wave on their wedding day that couldn't be achieved through chemical or normal styling means. "It's, uh, different. You don't like..."

"Hell yes, I like it," he barked, meaning every word. He stroked her, soaking his fingers in her creaminess, then using the moisture to caress her hard little clit until she was panting. "I was just imagining how sweet that's going to taste on my tongue."  Her sigh of relief was so loud it made him laugh. "You approve of that idea?"

"I've been worried about this since I did it. Didn't know how you'd respond. I probably should have talked to you about it first. It was a pretty spur of the moment thing. "

He silenced her bubbling words with a finger place across her lips. Without saying a word, he slid down her body. He cupped her bottom in his big hands, lifting her up to meet his mouth so that he could keep eye contact with her. Her eyes flared as he dipped his head, his eyes still latched on to him. She tried to lie down, then began to shake when he instead lifted one of her legs and draped it across his shoulder, bringing her vulnerable, feminine flesh into full, glorious view.

"Oh," her breathy moan bordered on a plea.

"You're beautiful."

He wished it were brighter in the room, since the softly lamp light gave him only shadowed glimpses of her bare, glistening sex. But since looking at her was only the start of what he wanted to do, he quickly thrust the regret away. He tugged her closer so he could taste that smooth, plump skin and suck her sensitive clit between his lips.

She squirmed, "Oh God!"

"Shh," he whispered, holding her hips in his hands, keeping her positioned where he wanted her. "I'm real busy right now, baby." He was. Busy nibbling her bare lips and licking into her creamy crevice, busy devouring all that juicy sweetness.

And devour her he did, until she was moaning, then whimpering, then crying out her utter satisfaction, and praying all the while that they didn't disturb Lilly, who slept soundly upstairs. Nan honestly didn't know how she managed to remain conscious during Hunter's thorough, blissful oral lovemaking.  She only knew that within minutes his tongue and mouth had coaxed her into a shattering climax and still the man continued to kiss, lick and taste her as if she were a banquet. She also knew one more thing – she was going to start making a standing appointment with Delilah at the waxing place adjacent to her hairdresser's. Because oh, mercy...

But now she wanted more. Wanted to be filled by him. To take him, love him until neither one of them could move anymore. So, sliding from under his body, she stared into his whiskey eyes and smiled. She paused to appreciate the muscular ripples of his powerful body.

"Ripples," she murmured with a smile that promised hum both heaven and hell depending upon her mood. "I love ripples."

Then she slid herself down him, rubbing herself against his muscular legs, and his hips, taking pleasure from the firmness of his body against her dripping flesh. Especially one firm part of his body, which she caught between her thighs and rubbed ever so lightly against.  Every muscle tightened, the cords in his neck standing out. And, if it were possible, his rigid cock grew even longer between the cheeks of her bottom.

They stared at one another, saying nothing for a moment. Nan knew Hunter was feeling the same, irreplaceable sense of anticipation that came only from savoring something you knew was about to change every­thing and be utterly magnificent.  Scary, exciting…it was a concoction of the two.  But all she knew was that she had more burgeoning hope for the future than she'd ever had before, and Hunter had given that to her.  There was a possibility that they could do anything together, she thought, anything at all if they tried hard enough.

"We're really gonna do this."

"What?  Make love," he teased, knowing that's not what she meant.

She shook her head, refusing to be swayed. "Get married in two days."

"Yeah," he answered with a soft, beatific smile. "We are."

And they both smiled.

She never failed to be amazed at how such a large man could move so quickly with so little warning.  Hunter was suddenly flipping her on to her back and holding himself over her, his lean hips between her parted thighs, his blond hair draping on either side of her face.

"Seeing you like this, spread out beneath me, reaching up for me, knowing you love me…it takes my breath sometimes," he sighed.  He paused and gazed down at her.  "And seeing you in your wedding gown, with my ring on your finger...well, there's only one other sight I'd like to see more."

She arched a brow at him, hiking her legs up higher so he could settle snugly against her. "And that would be?"

He placed a big palm over the center of her lower abdomen, right below her belly button. "Watching you grow full with our children."

She blinked back moisture burning at her eyes. "You sweet talker. Who needs a poet?  Just you opening up and telling me how you feel is enough for me.  You certainly know how to get to me."

His laughter made his chest rumble, the smooth skin there teasing her aching nipples. "Oh, I've got you baby. And I'm never gonna let you go."

Then his laughter faded and he slowly began his slide. Hunter's whiskey eyes shone and Nan couldn't tear her gaze from them. Her mouth fell open in a little gasp as he edged into her, filling her inch by devastating inch. His restraint was going to kill her soon because she was dying – ready to explode – with the need to feel him buried to the hilt inside her.

"You feel incredible."

Wrapping her arms around his neck and dragging his face toward her, she licked his lips, then murmured, "So do you. Now, please?"

With a groan of helpless delight, he did as she asked, thrusting home, filling her so that she cried out again at the pleasure of it.  "Thank you," she moaned like he was finally granting her request to ease some unbearable ache, and in a sense, he was.  She wrapped her legs around his hips.

He chuckled richly, giving an arrogant bob of his head, tossing his hair out of his face. "Oh, don't thank me yet, baby. We're just getting started."

Pressing her lips to his, Nan kissed him deeply, letting their tongues meet and mate. She savored his taste even as her body savored his invasion. A bolt of liquid electricity shot through her, deepening her desire for him.  She gnawed at him, hungry, their tongues sliding past each other's lips, stroking, seeking.  Slow, deep thrusts, carnal and drenched with an intense urgency.  He rubbed his chest against hers, skin on skin, a fine sheen of sweat beginning to build, providing wet friction against her sensitive nipples.

She could feel his erection building inside her, his muscles tensing up with each thrust.  With deliberation, he pulled his mouth from hers, and ran his lips from her throat down to the center of her chest, practically curling over her, his hips pistoning a tad faster as he continued his slow, torturous thrusting.  He tongue kissed the skin between her breasts.  As he laved a nipple, he coaxed a hand down over her belly, over the soft, warm flatness of it, and slipped it between her thighs to where their bodies were joined.

Nan caught her breath and grabbed on to him, digging her nails into his back.  He grunted, gave the bud in his mouth an extra emphatic suck, but didn't stop.  Nail marks.  He'd take that punishment and wear them like badges of honor.

Between those talented lips pulling hard at her throbbing breast, his fingers strumming her clit like a finely tuned instrument, and his heavy cock plowing its way deep inside her body, she was aflame in sensory overload, her hips gyrating wantonly, her muscles trembling.  Her hips moved to meet every thrust, and each time he filled her, she gasped his name against his mouth. 

"Hunter…"

His name.

A snap of raging desire rocked him.  No matter how long they'd been together, every time she moaned his name in the throws of passion, it set him on fire.  Something about the way she said it, the way her eyes rolled back in her head, her lips parted as if in plea, whispering it like a prayer.  Heady stuff.

With a growl, he took her nipple between his teeth and bit down.  She screamed, both of them past the point of caring who may have heard it.  Circling his hips, he pushed her from whimpers to an escalating moan.  He released his hold on her breast only to latch on to where her neck met her collarbone, low enough that his mark wouldn't show under her dress should it not be faded by their wedding day.  He bit down hard and started to suck. 

Her moans turned to deep grunts, sounding almost pained.  But the sudden rush of juices over his fingers told him she was feeling nothing even remotely resembling pain.  They slipped and slid, her voice building as her nails abraded his skin as she grabbed onto him.  Something snarled in his chest, trying to get all the way out, while she churned against him.

"Hun… she groaned, unable to completely speak his name.

The snarl grew into an aggressive rumbling, his cock on the edge of bursting.  He pushed harder, thrusting, hammering -

"Hunt…" she cried out, one time, two times.

Buffeting, pummeling…

The rumbling turned into a growl that constricted his body.

"Ah…" She stiffened, arched against him and screamed.  "Hunter!"

He spun into a beast flinging though the air, screeching and flying until it landed on its prey.  With the crash of contact, Hunter seemed to scatter apart.  He dragged his mouth from her neck, his bellowed roar nearly rocking the rafters above them, wrenching small grunts and sounds from him as the contractions of her orgasm milked him, sending shockwaves throughout his body. Beneath him, Nan grasped at his shoulders, heaving out great breaths and little whimpers of ecstasy.  As he lost strength and collapsed, holding her against him, the heat of her skin pulled him back together, melding them into each other, just as the day's new sun began to break over the horizon.

"Hunter," she signed contentedly against his throat.

It wasn't another scream, but it meant so much more.

She raised her legs just a little, and locked her ankles around his waist.  The small movement rubbed her clit against his pubic bone, causing them both to shudder in sensual delight, sending even more tiny spasms through the both of them. 

As their bodies cooled, and breathing returned to normal, Nan rolled her head on the pillow and pressed light kissed to Hunter's neck, licking the salty taste from the skin there. With a groan, Hunter smiled, and placed a soft kiss against the corner of her lips, then withdrew from her body, rolling over to flop down on his back.

With a last light caress to his chest, Nan sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed.

"Where you going?" Hunter queried.

"Shower," she responded, getting to her feet, if not a little unsteadily. "I'm supposed to be at Genie's by five-thirty." She threw a come hither glance at him over her shoulder. "Care to join me?"

Hunter chuckled tiredly. "If I do, you won't ever meet her on time."

With a disappointed pout, she shrugged. "Suit yourself." she stood, and sauntered naked into their adjoining bathroom. "I guess I'll see you around lunch time then. "

Hunter watched her go, then cast his gaze up to the ceiling, listening absently to the water begin to run. Idly he scratched at his stomach, a goofy smile on his face. He could almost picture her in the shower, soap bubbles trailing slowly down her arms, curling around those breasts that left him dry mouthed and panting, the warm water sluicing down those creamy thighs. He felt a stirring deep in his abdomen, and glanced down.

"Oh, for the love of...what am I, twelve?!" Laughing, he got out of bed and headed for the bathroom. "Let her be late." 

~<>~

 
I'd love to tell you to stay inside the lines.
But something's better on the other side.
I wanna run through the halls of my high school
I wanna scream at the top of my lungs.
I just found out that there's no such thing as the real world
Just a lie you've got to rise above.
       No Such Thing – John Mayer

December 13, 2004 7:41 a.m. EST
Training Rink 3 – Harrell Coliseum Complex – Charlotte, NC 

"My ass is cold."

"That would be because you're sittin' on the ice," Genie retorted wryly.

Nan made a low sound in her throat.  "I guess so."

Genie and Audrey shared a contemplative look around the redhead.  As was customary for the three of them, whenever anything big was about to happen in their lives, the friends had agreed to meet early that morning for a few hours of camaraderie.  Blocking out the world around them, re-connecting with each other, three women as close as sisters, and sometimes closer. 

Since it was Nan's life-altering event coming up, she got to pick the activity.  Had it been Audrey, they would be horseback riding.  Or, if Genie were in charge of the day's activities, the three of them would have spent the morning at the zoo, specifically at habitats of the polar bears, the sea lions, or the wolves.  But Nan was the one with the big day just two days hence – so here they were at oh-dark-thirty catching their breath after a couple of hours spent ice-skating.  Something Nan was definitely not supposed to do. 

But, Genie avowed silently, her friend would be okay.  Even if she had to sit on the redhead or hog-tie her to one of the seats.  No, she'd not injure herself…not on her watch.  They had skated in tandem, Genie on right and Audrey on her left, arms linked to provide stability should Nan stumble.  The three had skated like this for years, unbeknownst to Nan's overly protective parents…especially when they'd been kids and teenagers.  Due to the injury that had plagued her since she was a child, Nan's ankle didn't have the strength to handle the blades of skates, even with her brace that allowed her to enjoy volleyball and occasional football games. Since her last surgery, the ankle was weaker than ever, thoroughly trouncing the idea of high heels, so naturally ice-skates were out of the question. 

But they'd done it anyway.  Each of them leaning on the other, absorbing whatever strength had been readily and easily available – just like they'd done all their lives.  And not just in the area of skating either.

It was just the three of them, and Oz of course, in the training rink. They'd paused to take a breather when Nan had surprised them by sitting down on the ice.  Their friend had been acting oddly all morning.  Very quiet and introspective, barely speaking to either of them.  That in itself wasn't that odd for a day on the ice, because Nan always went quiet and calm when she skated.  Always had…even when they'd had to sneak around to keep her parents from having aneurysms over their activities.  You put the redhead on the ice and she became a different person.  Calm.  Serene.  Graceful.  Soft-spoken.  Genie had likened it once to someone finding the volume switch on her personality and turning it down to about number two on the dial rather than her customary eight or nine.  That or someone had slipped her a Valium while no one was watching.

But this silence was different.  And Genie would be remiss if she denied that it worried her greatly.  A lot of people in her friend's life could claim that they knew the fiery haired woman well.  Some less than that, and some  – two someones she'd recently met – would claim they knew her exceedingly well.  But it just wasn't so, Genie argued silently.  Regardless of the time apart they'd spent while she'd served in the military, Genie could still lay claim to the fact that no one on the planet knew Nan better than she or Drey.  Maybe not even that behemoth she was about to marry.  And nothing that Genie had seen of her old friend since her discharge could persuade her otherwise. 

Nan had changed.  Dramatically.  She'd withdrawn from her friends, and had become much more secretive, masking everything she said and did with sarcastic humor and flat out bitchiness that rang so false to Genie that it was all she could do not to laugh in the woman's face. 

Audrey's letters had warned her that their friend was different. Seeing it first hand versus reading about it was all entirely different. Genie knew, deep inside, the woman she'd known was still in there.  Scared of getting hurt again, for certain.  But she wasn't gone all together.

Yeah, her fiery friend wasn't the same as she had been before Genie had left.  But the same thing could so easily be said of her…and had.  Yet, Genie thrust that thought away.  This wasn't about her.  This was about Nan and what had happened to her in her absence.  She shook her head slightly.  This change was just as dramatic as the one she'd made when she'd come home from San Antonio in June of 1985. 

She'd done a complete one-eighty in personality then, and it had taken Genie and Audrey time to adjust to the fact that it was permanent.  Genie had been happy to see it initially, knowing Nan had been far too tenderhearted, too easily hurt, too vulnerable for her tastes.  She trusted too easily, and tended to make bad choices because of it.  So yes, Genie was pleased when Nan came home from Texas with a fuck-with-me-and-I'll-hand-you-your-ass attitude. 

But her pleasure with her friend's personality shift had died quickly when she found out why Nan had changed.  And she burned with hatred over it to this day.  She'd even the score with that son of a bitch if it was the last thing she ever did.

Taking all of that in stride, Genie wasn't happy at all with this change.  But she had no idea what to do about it either.  She was convinced that her friend was on the edge of a very nasty explosion, or meltdown, whichever terminology blew your skirt up.  The only question was when and where would it happen.  And if she had anything to say about it, she'd be there to help contain the violence.  For two reasons. 

Number one, she'd not been able to be that shoulder her friend had needed so desperately when her cousin had been dying.  Genie was no fool.  While Nan had dearly loved Bobby, she knew that her family had heartily disapproved of him – their reasons being their own.  They'd always managed to attain civility and polite conduct, but the air of disapproval was there.  Genie had wanted nothing more than to be with her family while her cousin was ill, but due to her choice of career, she'd had no choice in the matter.  So reason number one was because she was family. 

So what that she'd never married her cousin?  Made no difference.  Genie and Bobby may have been just first cousins, but they'd always felt like brother and sister.  Bobby had always treated her like his little sister, and she'd drunk up his affection like it was healing water to a dying woman.  Genie had been ecstatic that her friend was marrying her cousin.  So the fact that the wedding had actually never taken place didn't matter in the slightest to her. You didn't abandon a member of the tribe.  Under any circumstances.  Period. Nan was family and that was that.

And reason number two was that she was her very bestest buddy in the whole world.  Had been since kindergarten.  Yeah, sure, she and Drey liked to tease the fiery haired woman with the temperament to match that they only remained her friends for all these years was because that she was too mean for anyone else to like her.  But they all knew who the real first class bitch in their little trio was.  And for damn sure, it wasn't Nanette…not Nan who brought home every abused stray, be they human or animal, that she'd ever found.  Herself included.

And for all intents and purposes, it looked like she'd never changed that pattern.  Hell, she was even marrying one, wasn't she?  Sure, no one had told her that Hunter had a nasty childhood.  But you didn't have to be a rocket scientist to see it.  Not if you'd lived a life similar.  Hurt knew hurt just as…real recognized real, as Cenile liked to say. 

So no, Nan wasn't the callous bitch she liked for people to think she was.  That was Genie's job.  And she was damn good at it too.  She had always been the type of person who made friends easily, most people being drawn to her odd sense of humor and her penchant to call a spade a fuckin' shovel.  But she had the damndest time keeping those friends she made.  That blunt honesty, that initially drew people to her, was a double-edged sword, cutting both ways.  More often than not, her honesty while refreshing at first was usually at the crux of the parting of the ways with most of the friends she'd lost in her life.  It had led her to one absolute fact…people, as a general rule, couldn't handle or really didn't want the truth.  They'd rather be lied to, as long as it was pretty, and told them what they wanted to hear. 

And it disgusted Genie right down to her core.  Sure, she had told her share of lies over the years.  But she tried to make certain that those lies were for good reason, and never hurt anyone but herself.  And she'd never consciously lied to either Audrey or Nan…until recently.  And she was sick over it, not really knowing why she'd done it.  After all, neither of them would care if she admitted she knew exactly what she was doing when she took Kevin Nash to her bed.  They'd not judge her or cast aspersions.  The most they'd do was be annoying about it.  So why had she lied and said she'd been too drunk to know who she had been fucking that night?  She had no answer.

But the issue at hand wasn't about Kong.  It was about her friends…those two women beside her.

For certain, the three women had had their share of fights over the course of their friendship.  And they'd gone weeks not speaking to each other.  But that stopped when they'd grown up and the death of one of their own had made them realize how precious ties like theirs were…and how rare. 

Genie spared herself a small smile.  They may not know it, but Genie would stand toe-to-toe with Satan incarnate and happily tell him to go fuck himself for them.  Both of them.  It was no secret that she was still a mess from her own ordeal in Iraq…along with Kosovo and Afghanistan, although her friends didn't know she'd been there.  But damn.  Her girls were in a sad state of all-fucked-up when she'd gotten home.  Good thing she was back.  Her girls needed her.  And that felt…pretty damn good actually. 

Maybe they could all help each other get back to whatever passed for normal for each of them.  Besides, it was time that Nan had come back home.  Time that she remembered who her real friends were.  Not that she had anything against the other women who Nan considered as close as sisters, because she didn't.  It was just…they didn't have the ties to her that Audrey and Genie had. It was time Nan be reminded of that.  And that thought led her straight back to her redheaded friend's unsettling silence. 

But before she could speak, Audrey asked, "What's on your mind, Boss?"

"Don't call me that," she snapped.

Audrey's eyes locked on to Genie's in surprise.  At Genie's subtle nod, she apologized.  "Uhm…okay.  Sorry, Nan."

The redhead lifted too-wide doe eyes to her friend.  "I'm sorry, Drey.  I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me."

"I don't think there's anything wrong with you, hon," Audrey offered sympathetically.  "You're under a ridiculous amount of stress right now.  A wedding, even under normal circumstances, makes brides crazy.  I think it's some sort of law somewhere."

Nan smiled slowly.  Leave it to Audrey to try to assuage her of any culpability.  Her sweet-tempered friend had always been like that.  Trying her damnedest to see the good in everyone.  She was a lot like Rebecca in that respect.  "Thanks, Drey."  She bit at her lip and finally asked the question that had been plaguing her all morning.  "Are you guys mad at me for not asking either one of you to be my Maid of Honor?"

"Of course not!"  Audrey immediately denied.

And Genie just laughed.  "Girl, I was still in Iraq when that mountain with a nose asked you to marry him.  And what the hell do I know about planning a wedding anyway?"

"Leave his nose alone.  That nose is very good to me, and makes me an extremely satisfied woman on a regular basis," Nan gave a watery giggle.  She believed Genie, because she hated that sort of affair.  Nan was amazed that she'd even agreed to be a bridesmaid, because it meant she'd have to wear a dress.  Twice.  Once for the rehearsal dinner and once for the wedding itself.  But Audrey…she wasn't so sure about.  "Drey?"

"No, girl.  Seriously."   The brunette smiled sincerely at her.  "Although, at the time, I did wonder why you didn't pick Tina, being your niece and all."

The redhead nodded.  "I thought about it.  But then I decided not to because she was still in school, trying to finish up her internship.  And since the Maid of Honor's main job is really to keep the bride sane, I figured Stacy was the better choice.  Had it been Tina, I'd have been so worried about making sure she wasn't floundering that nothing would get done, and I'd explode before the ceremony.  Plus, Stacy can organize a fancy dress-party for three hundred blindfolded, with one hand tied behind her back, and a Rolodex written only in French."

The two women flanking her laughed.  Audrey grinned.  "Yeah, I can easily see that about her.  Nan, I think you made the right choice.  Don't worry about it."

They fell silent for a minute, and Genie's soft murmur caught their ears.  "Make new friends, but keep the old."

"One is silver,"  Audrey answered.

Nan finished the oath from their Girl Scout days, "And the other gold."  She nodded, looking back down at where her fingers picked at a frayed spot on the knee of her jeans.  "Gotcha."

"There's more," Genie pointed out, seeing the redhead worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

Nan nodded.

"You wanna talk about it or skate some more," Audrey queried softly, reaching up tentatively to toy with the ends of the very tight elaborate braid.

In a move that surprised both of her friends, Nan scooted over a bit and laid her head on the brunette's shoulder.  "Both.  Neither.  I don't know," she mumbled against her friend's shirt.

Audrey raised frightened eyes to Genie, obviously looking for guidance as she curled her arm around her friend's shoulder, and ran her hand lightly down the braid in a soothing gesture.

"Aramis," Genie spoke softly.  "Talk to us."

She was quiet for a moment, then began to speak haltingly.  "I don't know who I am anymore, Porthos.  I've lost me somewhere along the way, and I don't know how to get back to where I was."

Genie couldn't help but smile, feeling the ground upon which she metaphorically trod grow more solid beneath her.  "Now that's a feeling I know too well."

"So what do I do, Genie?  How do I get back?"

The raven-haired beauty sighed deeply, not knowing precisely what Nan was talking about.  But she had a good idea.  She knew the woman well enough to assume that not only had Genie recognized how much the redhead had changed in the years after Bobby's death, but that Nan herself had as well.  She was obviously hoping her friends could put her back on the right track.  But Genie knew too well from having tried that once herself that only the person who took you off your path could put you back.  And that person was you.  In other words, you had to clean up your own messes if you expected them to stay clean.

"You can't go back, Aramis.  You can only go forward.  There aren't any do-overs in this life, Nan.  You know that."  She heaved a great sigh and looked her friend square in the eyes.  "Take what you've learned, what you've done, what you haven't done, and use it all to help you go where you need to be.  If you don't like who you are, then you change it.  You're the only one who can."

She paused for a breath, allowing that to sink in.  This was so close to what she'd been thinking about earlier that she just wanted to blurt out all sorts of orders.  But she knew her temperamental friend well enough to know that she had to tread softly.  Offer the specific advice asked for, then step back and let her make her own choices.  "You've changed a lot since I've been gone, Aramis.  And while I don't think all it is negative, I also don't think you're entirely happy with some of those changes either, right?"

Nan was silent for a moment, her thoughts flashing back to some of the moments recently that had shocked her stupid.  John assuming she'd wanted to break Stacy and him up.  Stacy's new prickliness with her, especially whenever that shit-heel Orton was mentioned.  Rebecca's recent suspicious glances.  Bo's candor in telling her just how manipulative and controlling she'd become.  Shawn's anger at her over Tina. Dave looking at her like he expected her to do something to sabotage his new relationship with the same young woman. Brun suggesting she wanted Jack only to replace what had been taken from her.  Kevin flat out accusing her of trying to steal another couple's child.  Even Hunter was walking on eggshells around her lately.  It seemed as if the only person she'd not pissed of royally was Tina…and that wasn't guaranteed for much longer either. 

Chris and Rosie.  She wracked her brain, and couldn't come up with anything.  Okay, so it looked like she'd not mortally offended either of them.

Yet.

When in the hell had she actually become the monstrous bitch everyone had accused her of being since she and Stephanie had their falling out?  She had no idea.  

"No," she whispered, her voice small.  "No, I'm not."

Genie nodded.  "Then rectify the ones you don't like, accept the rest, and tell anyone who doesn't like the end result to go to Hell."

"But…but what if I don't like the end result?"

Her friend smiled at her, but it was a sad one.  Genie patted her knee, in an awkward display of comfort.  "Honey, if you stay true to the woman you hide from the world now, the one you show only to us and that damn one-man-wrecking-crew that you're gonna marry, then there's no way you won't like who you become.  Remember what Enisi taught us?"

Nan smiled at the mention of her beloved grandfather.  Granted, he was her grandfather by birth, but he'd always encouraged Audrey and Genie to call him Enisi as well.  And they'd more than happily obliged the old man.  "Which time?"

"The two wolves, right?"  Audrey answered.

Genie bobbed her head in agreement.  "The young warrior was learning at the feet of an old Cherokee medicine man," she began, reciting the story.  "And the Wise One told the youth that inside everyone were two wolves.  One strong and pure, embodying everything that was good."

"And one evil, flawed, representing all the bad," Audrey murmured quietly, remembering all too well the ancient parable.

"Exactly.  And the two wolves were always at war with each other, fighting for dominance to be the one in control.  So the youth asked the Wise One, Which one wins, Enisi?"  She paused and looked at Nan, whose eyes had a far away look in them, and had grown glassy.  "What was the answer, Aramis?  Do you remember?"

The solution to the riddle came unbidden, spilling from her lips in a soft sigh, "The Wise One answered, The one you feed, my son.  The one you feed."

"A very wise man, Enisi was," Audrey whispered.

Nan quirked a smile.  "Yeah, but I don't think he can claim authorship of that parable.  It's been handed down for ages in various cultures."

"Doesn't matter, " Genie retorted.  "He's still the one who taught it to us.  And he was right.  You've been feeding the wrong wolf, Aramis.  So now that you know, make your changes and move forward.  And know that we've got your back.  We'll not let you down, and we'll be right there to catch you, should you fall."

"Or kick my ass if I need it?"

The raven-haired beauty laughed loud and deep.  "Yeah.  That too."

Still leaning against her, Nan rolled her head to peer up at Audrey.  Knowing Audrey usually contradicted whatever Genie said just to be irritating if nothing else, she asked hopefully, "Your vote?"

The other woman ran the tip of her tongue over her upper lip.  "I hate to say this, and you might want to write it down in case I never say it again, but I agree with Genie.  You're where you are because of the choices you've made along the way.  Good or bad doesn't matter.  You're here now.  You have to start here."

The redhead blinked at her then pulled back to sit up.  Audrey let her go.  Nan leaned her head back up against the half-wall behind them, separating them from the seats.  She turned her head to face Genie, who flanked her other side.  "When did she lose her rose-colored glasses on us?"

But it was Audrey who answered, and not Genie.  "When I told Bo how I felt about him, what I wanted to do with him, and he turned me down flat.  Telling me he could never see me as anything more than an annoying older sister type."

Genie swore colorfully, then spit out.  "That rat-bastard."

Nan's eyes almost bugged from her head.  "He said what?!"

"You heard me," Audrey's lips twisted in shame, and she closed her eyes.  "And I really don't want to rehash every little detail of the most humiliating day of my life, thank you very much.  Suffice it to say, it's over and done with, and aside from seeing him at the wedding, I hope I never lay eyes on him ever again."

"But," Nan paused, still trying to drink in what she was being told.  "What about Redneck Rising?"

Audrey shrugged a shoulder.  "Who cares?  It's not like we were doing much other than just playing around with it.  I mean, hell, " she gave a bitter laugh.  "We've never drawn the type of crowds that we did when you were lead singer and Bobby…played…lead…guit-..."  Her words trailed off slowly as it dawned on her what she'd said so callously.

Nan gave her a sympathetic look after glancing at Genie.  "It's okay Drey.  We miss him.  But that doesn't mean we never want to talk about him again.  Does it Genie?"

The woman in question shook her head violently.  "He was my cousin and I loved him.  And while I hate that I couldn't see him before he died, I'm glad I didn't."  She laid a gentle hand on Nan's shoulder.  "I don't have the images of his last days in my head like you do.  And for that, I'm both sorry and grateful.  Thank you."

Nan blinked surprisingly wet lashes, unaware of the moisture gathering there.  "For what?"

"Being there.  Seeing him off when the Spirit Horse came for him.  It's our way.  And I'm glad he wasn't alone to make that final journey."

Audrey sniffed loudly.  "Damnit, Genie, I hate it when you do that.  You're this hard, no-nonsense, and damn scary bitch, and then you go and say something so sweet and loving, and so unlike you that you make me cry."

Genie and Nan shared a laugh, and Genie winked at her friend before looking over at Audrey.  "When are you gonna learn that I live just to give you a hard time, Smurfette?"

"Don't start with me, Bass!!"  The brunette's yell echoed across the ice, wringing more laughter from her friends.

Nan threw her arms around each of their necks, curled her elbows, and pulled them in closer to her.  "Damn but I've missed you guys.  I didn't realize just how much until right now."

Genie returned her exuberant hug, then gently extricated herself.  "And we'll never let you forget it again.  Right, Drey?"

Audrey shook her head, sticking her tongue out.  "Sure won't, Reggie."

Genie glared at her.  "Keep it up and you won't even make it to the wedding day after tomorrow.  I'll hide you so deep beneath this ice that they'll not find you until Spring – if then."

The brunette just laughed joyously at her.  "Oh, get over yourself, Genie.  You've had ample opportunity over the years to take me out and never have.  So don't think I'm afraid of you now."

"I'm biding my time."

"Sure you are," Audrey grinned at her.  "You wouldn’t know what to do without me needling you at every turn."

"I'd love the opportunity to find out."

Audrey got up on her knees, circling in front of Nan to face Genie head on. "You love me and you know it."

"Do not."

"Do so."

"Not even a little."

"Liar."

"Prove it."

That had been exactly what she'd been waiting for.  Without warning, Audrey sprung at Genie, tackling the younger woman to the ice, and mercilessly began tickling her ribs and stomach.  Genie's breathless laughter bounced off the walls around them making the resonance ten times louder than it normally would have sounded.  Nan sat back, watching them with a huge grin on her face, noticing that as much as Genie may have protested it, her feeble attempts at warding Audrey off were a tenth of what she could have done.

She fought a shiver, knowing exactly what Genie was capable of doing should she really wanted Drey off her.  Then she felt a warm flood spiral through her, realizing that no matter what happened between them, and no matter how far away they were from each other, she could always count on these two women.  Always.  They'd been through too much together to let petty jealousies, misunderstandings, and half-truths stand between them.  She looked down at the faint white lines on each of her palms from the middle finger down to the heel of her hand.  The scars were so old that they looked like any other line on her hand.  Genie and Audrey both had two to match hers.  Blood sisters.  By choice.  Stronger, perhaps, than the ties of birth.

Smiling broadly now, Nan turned her attention back to the two women grappling on the ice, Genie now apparently gaining the upper hand as she rolled Drey over on the ice underneath her.  Nan decided to even the odds…in whose favor she didn't really care.

"Dog pile!"  Her yell was their only warning as she threw herself into the fray.

Several minutes later, the three women lay panting on their backs on the ice, looking straight up into the rafters and the bright lights.  As was normal for their play fighting, there was no clear winner although each of them would claim victory over the others should the subject come up later.

"Happy to be home?"

The question had come from Genie.  Nan rolled her head to look at her friend.  "Yeah.  You?"

She nodded hesitantly.  "Yeah.  I guess I am."

They lay in contented silence for a moment before Audrey's voice brought them back to reality.  "Well, as much as I'd like this party to continue, you guys need to head to the airport.  And I've got to get to work or my complete bitch of a boss might decided I'm a liability she doesn't need."

Nan's face grew hot.  "Told you that, did she?" she asked, referring to the conversation with her head of Public Relations for the Coliseum, Margaret Schiffer, that she'd had just a few days ago.

"Directly?"  Audrey snorted as she got her blades under her.  "Of course not.  She's too damn devious for that.  No, she just made sure I found out.  Remember, I'm leaving at lunch today, so call me on my cell if you need me."

"I remember." Nan said as she extended her hands to both of her friends, allowing them to help her to her skates.  "Drey, if she starts anything, you let me know and she'll be out of here so fast that she'll think a house is getting ready to fall on her sister."

"Easy Glenda," Audrey laughed as the three began a slow easy glide across the ice to the exit at the seats where their street shoes lay.  "No need for all that.  There's no reason for you to lose a good PR manager for petty insignificant bullshit…which is exactly what her blustering is."

"I disagree."

"Of course you do."

"Drey," Genie broke in.  "Shut up and let her do her job.  She's just protecting her people from what looks like to be a shark in a DKNY suit."

"Versaci, not DKNY," Audrey corrected.

Genie's eyes widened.  "She wears Versaci?  To work?"

The brunette gave an unconcerned shrug.  "She's been known to."

She snorted and looked at Nan.  "You're paying her too much."

"Apparently," the redhead barked a laugh in agreement.

Audrey narrowed her eyes and glanced to Nan for confirmation.  "Is what Genie said true, about protecting your people? You'd do this for any employee or is it just because you're my friend?"

"It's true.  I don't need someone undercutting my authority while I'm trying to move a whole company from up North down here.  I told her to shape up or ship out because you're a damn good GM and I need you more than I need her shitty attitude.  Fucking with me on that will get her ass fired.  Point blank.  I'd do that for any employee."  Nan told her friend.  "And fucking with my friend will get her blackballed by every corporation in Charlotte." 

Pursing her lips, Audrey nodded, while Genie laughed at the intensity blazing in the redhead's eyes.  "Not above a little nepotism are you, Aramis."

"It's not nepotism, Porthos," Nan countered.  "Audrey and I are not legally related.  And as long as I don't discriminate, there's no labor laws that say I can't show favoritism."

They'd reached the open gate to the stands, and Audrey released her friends to step upon the riser.  "That's our Nan for us, huh Genie?  Always finding a way to skim the rules without actually breaking them-"

Her words cut off abruptly as her toe pick caught on the carpet and she plunged headfirst towards the floor.  A pair of deceptively strong arms kept her from splitting her skull on the metal seats.  With a yelp of surprise, Audrey looked up, right into Oz's dark eyes.

"I swear to God, Drey, I'll never know how you can skate like you were born with blades on your feet, but you can't even walk eight inches without tripping over your own damn feet," Genie groused.

But Audrey didn't hear her, trapped as she was by a pair of laughing brown eyes, an amazingly full mouth, and easily the most solid set of arms that she'd ever clutched onto.  And clutching she was, she realized, dipping her gaze downward just long enough to see her fingers curling into his black jacket.  Her gaze flew back to his face as he pulled her forward to help get her feet under her, sliding her down his front in the process.  Their eyes locked, and Oz lost his smile as she came to a stop. 

That bulge was no gun.  And they both knew it.  The mother of all blushes started at her chest and worked its way upward.

As Audrey's cheeks heated, turning rosy under Oz's heavy stare, she stiffened her knees and stood upright, taking a half-step away from the bodyguard that she was now all too aware of.  "Thanks Dennis," she mumbled embarrassed, as she skittered away towards where her shoes lay.

He gave a strangled cough, stepping away from her and reassuming his bodyguard stance, legs braced apart, hands clasped into fists in front of him, conveniently concealing any telltale signs of…interest.  "Not a problem at all, Miss Lane."

Nan and Genie shared a look behind their friend, silently mouthing Dennis at one another.  Then the two women smiled sinisterly, evidently the same idea hitting the both of them at the same time.  Oh yeah, things were definitely bound to get interesting from here on in. 

~<>~

 
When I was a kid I used to draw airplanes
With Stars and Bars shooting down airplanes
Adorned in hammers and sickles. 
I bought a hundred water guns so I could save the world,
Saving my lunch money, and stealing my father's quarters dimes and nickels. 
I discovered religion watching Luke Skywalker rescue Princess Leia
And destroying the Death Star by letting go and closing his eyes. 
And I devoured comic books, three-color mythologies taught me right and wrong. 
And if you believed, you could fly.
It's been a long, long, long, long,
Long, long, long, long, long, long,
Long, long time since I felt fine
Long Long Time – Guy Forsythe

December13, 2004 – Friday 8:27 a.m. EST
United Airlines Flight 837 – Charlotte/Douglas International Airport – Charlotte, NC 

"Ladies and gentlemen, we've arrived at Charlotte/Douglas International Airport.  The time is eight-twenty-seven and the weather is a balmy seventy-two degrees."

"Did she say seventy-two degrees?  In North Carolina?  In December??"  John asked unbelieving his own ears.

Stacy looked down at her long woolen slacks, thick turtleneck, and heavy winter coat.  Atlanta had been properly cold for this time of year.  She was going to sweat to death before she could get to Hunter and Nan's to change clothes.  "I'm gonna stink like old road-kill on hot asphalt."

John snorted in disagreement at her comment, but began pulling his own bag out from under his seat, as the flight attendant's voice squealed on.  "We'll begin disembarking shortly.  Please allow the airplane to come to a complete stop before getting out of your seats.  Enjoy your stay in Charlotte, and thank you again for flying United Airlines."

As the overly practiced voice of the flight attendant ended with a loud squawk of feedback over the airplane's intercom system, John couldn't help but chuckle.  "Somebody needs a refresher course on how to use a mic.  Think I should give her a few tips, Keebs?"

Stacy rolled her painted eyes before mimicking her boyfriend's actions by bending over to pull the smaller of her two carry-on pieces of luggage out from beneath her seat.  Struggling with the securely wedged bag, she turned her head to the side and blew sharply at the few flaxen locks that chose that particular moment to prove Newton's first law of gravity. 

"Franchise, while I'm sure she could benefit from both your wit and wisdom on the microphone, something tells me that she'd be less than pleased at the suggestion that she's an idiot."

John's eyes danced in mirth, but his tone portrayed him as appalled at her insinuation.  "I never said she was an idiot."

"No," Stacy shook her head, giving the bag one last hard tug, to no avail.  "I did.  She reminds me of that Toby chick from that episode of Sienfeld.  You know the one that was always laughing, heckling Jerry and saying It's great!  Really, really great! about Kramer's coffee table book?"

"You mean the one that had her pinky toe cut off and got Elaine's promotion out of sympathy?"  Taking pity on his girlfriend, John leaned over and with one smooth move, pulled the bag effortlessly from underneath her seat, and passed it to her. 

"Thank you.  Yeah, that's the one." 

"Wasn't she a redhead on the show?  This one's blonde," her boyfriend commented as he stood and retrieved his own carry on bags, as the rows in front of them began to file out.  The two of them joined the queue and slowly moved towards the exit.

"Stupidity is stupidity, no matter the color of the hair dye," the leggy blonde Diva observed just as they passed by the flight attendant in question.

The platinum blonde – whose name tag Stacy was positive said Bambi; she rolled her eyes, thinking some things were just to damn stereotypical to be real – favored them with a blinding smile, that still managed to make her eyes look blanked of all possible intelligence.  "Thank you for choosing United Airlines, Miss Keibler.  Mister Cena.  Fly with us again soon!"

John nearly swallowed his tongue when he saw his girlfriend return the vacuous smile and glance.  Stacy reached out with her free hand and squeezed the other woman's fingers.  "Oh, thank you, Bambi, isn't it?  We had a lovely flight!  You have a great week, now…just really, really great!"

The flight attendant just smiled wider, a puzzled look flashing briefly in those otherwise blank eyes.  But as quickly as it came, it also went.  As did John and Stacy.

He brayed in laughter as they cleared the aircraft and began their way up the jetway, that retractable hallway that connected to the planes, allowing the passengers to embark and disembark without actually having to go out onto the tarmac.  "Not even in Moccasin Gap yet and you're already startin' ta show off.  Is this how it's gonna be for the next three days, Keebs?"

She favored him with a coy smile and wink.  "Maybe."

"Have mercy," he grinned at her.

"Not a chance, Franchise."  Anything else she said was forestalled by the chirping sound of her cell phone from deep within the pocket of her coat.  Slowing her steps, he pulled it out, flipped it open, and grinned, reading the name on the display.  "Good morning, Mrs. Helmsley!"

"Ha!" The scoffed retort was loud enough for even John to hear.  Of course, it didn't hurt that Stacy had thumbed the volume up before answering it and had pulled it away from her ear just a bit.  "Where are y'all?"

"Walking up the jetway about to go through gate nineteen.  Why?  Where are you?"

There was mumbling on the other end of the line for a moment before Nan's voice came back on the phone.  "About twenty minutes out.  We're…ah…running late this morning."

A loud voice from a slight distance away from Nan yelled out, "She couldn't leave the house without tappin' that ass this mornin' and now we all gotta suffer for it!"

"Genie!", came Nan's scandalized hiss.

John's eyes went wide and he promptly choked on his laughter.  Stacy, however, didn't even bother to try and hide her amusement.  She cackled into the phone, barely listening as the two women on the other end bickered for a moment. 

Nan came back on the line with a more formerly controlled sound, one Stacy recognized as the redhead's way of trying to mask a severe case of embarrassment.  "Like I said Stace, we're runnin' late.  Just g'head to the baggage claim, and walk straight out of the terminal.  We'll be waitin' for you out there."

"Okay," she answered through her grin.  "Hang on.  What car are you on?"

"Genie's truck."

"I don't know what it looks like.  How will we know it's you?"

She could hear Nan laugh and inform her other friend, "She wants to know how she'll know it's us."

Genie's voice came from that same distance again, but very loud, nonetheless.  "You'll know, Giselle.  Believe me."

John couldn't resist any longer and leaned in towards the mouthpiece.  "Gonna make an entrance for me, Genie?  I'm sincerely moved; I didn't know you cared that much!"

"Is that Cenile?"  Genie's smirking voice echoed through the phone. 

John laughed.  "Yeah!"

"I've seen your DVD, Cenile!  If Giselle ever gets tired of you, I'll be more than happy to teach you what a banana hammock and gold booties are really for!"

Roaring with laughter, John shook his head and pulled away, allowing his girlfriend to finish their conversation.  Stacy reached up and ran a delicate fingertip under her eye, trying not to smudge her makeup, while removing the laughter induced moisture gathered there.  She giggled into the phone, "Okay you two, enough all ready.  We'll see you outside, Nan."

She closed the phone with a snap and shoved it back into her pocket. "Man, that accent of hers gets thick when she's back home."

John chuckled.  "I was gonna ask about it, but it's not so bad.  If Trips can understand her, then I'm sure I can keep up.  But Keebs, the day he starts having a drawl, I'm gonna lose it, and not be held accountable for my actions."

She giggled again.  "Duly noted."

The two of them continued their trek through the airport terminal towards the baggage claim area.  Stacy threaded one arm through John's and laid her head on his shoulder as they walked.  "If that's how this is starting out, it's gonna be a very interesting week."

John pressed a kiss to the top of her head.  "That's got to be the understatement of the year, Keebs.  A Triple H wedding in Moccasin Gap, North Carolina?  It's gonna be a train wreck."

"Fun though."

"With us and Trade in attendance?  You damn skippy."

Arm in arm, content to let the silence that fell between them simply lie there, the Smackdown Superstar and RAW Diva cleared the terminal itself, and followed the signs overhead that indicated the direction of the baggage carousel.  For the most part, the terminal was fairly empty, given it was a Monday morning, too far away from Christmas for the travelling hordes to have glutted the airport just yet.  For perhaps the first time in a long time that either of them could remember, no fans descended upon them, hounding them for pictures and autographs, interrupting the few moments the famous couple could get as just normal folk.

But as they turned the corner near a newsstand, they ran right into a crowd of photographers, complete with cameras, of both the still and video variety.  Flashbulbs popped and more than one microphone was thrust in their faces, as the ravenous reporters screamed questions at them.

Miss Keibler!  Are you here for the wedding?!

Where are they going on their honeymoon?!

Stacy held one hand up to shield her eyes from the incessant pop of the flashbulbs, squinting against their bright glare.  "I…ah…"

Mr. Cena, are you a friend of the bride or groom?!

Are the rumors true?!

"What rum-…" but they spoke over John, never letting him finish his response.

How long has Miss Elliott been seeing Wesley behind Triple H's back?! 

Is he the father of the her baby?!

"Baby?!"  John and Stacy cried simultaneously.

What about the little boy they already have?! 

Does he know what's going on between his parents?!

The leggy blonde's normally pretty smile disappeared, her lips pinched tightly together, and narrowed her eyes at the piranha around them.  "Now wait just a damn min-…"

Stacy!  Are you and John tying the knot anytime soon?!

"Whoa!  Whoa!  Slow that roll!"  John yelled, his mouth turning down into a scowl, his deep voice raised in volume enough to finally quiet the flurry of questions assaulting them.  "How can we answer your questions if ya don't shut your mouths long enough to hear our answers?!"

A few murmurs of unabashed anticipation moved through the crowd forming a semicircle around the WWE couple.  Causally, John threw an arm around Stacy's shoulder, making the romantic gesture less obvious than what it was, an opportunity to draw her protectively closer up against his side should the crowd of reporters and cameramen turn ugly.  Stacy flashed him an appreciative glance, wound her arm around his lean waist, and hooked a thumb in one of the belt loops on his jean shorts.  John winked at her.

"Manners…that's how we play, boys and girls," John admonished the crowd.  "Didn't you guys learn to take turns in kindergarten?  I did.  Didn't you Keebs?"

Stacy nodded, her head bobbing absurdly on her neck, now getting an idea of what her boyfriend was up to.  "Sure did."

"I thought so."  He turned back to face the reporters.  "But since you guys weren't so fortunate enough as to receive such a well rounded education as we have, we'll do this your way.  You asked all those questions at once, so we'll answer them all at once."

The two put their heads together, pressing their temples together and smiled widely for the still popping flashbulbs and rolling tape.  Together they said, "No. Comment."

With that, John's smile disappeared and he shoved an opening through the throng surrounding them.  But that didn't deter them.  Still yammering and hollering out questions, the scandal thirsty pack of reporters trailed along behind them like rowdy kindergartners following after their teacher. 

John set a brisk pace, Stacy easily keeping up with him due to her legendary legs.  Together they were leading the media a merry chase through the terminal passing fans, patrons, and airport security without even breaking their strides.  And they almost made it too.  Nearing the end of the shops and eateries in the airport, they rounded one last corner and another pack of news journalists cut them off.  One group behind them, cutting them off from the gate, and one group in front of them, keeping them from the airport parking lot where Nan, Genie and Oz were supposed to meet them.  They were trapped.

Stacy watched a red flush creep its way up John's neck as he grew more and more agitated with the incessant hounding of print news, local reporters, and what she could have sworn was an Inside Edition camera crew.  Wracking her brain, she nearly strained her neck trying to see another way out of their current predicament, and couldn't.  But she had to do something, or John was going to snap and start tossing bodies from pillar to post.  Just as John bent his knees and drew up on the balls of his feet at the same time, sanctuary presented itself in the form of an unexpected source.

"John!  Stacy!  Over here!"

They both whipped their heads around to see an average height, dark haired woman, with curves like Trish Stratus only with a less fabricated chest, practically hanging from a roll-down metal safety door.  She waved furiously at them from the last newsstand on the left, just before the security check area.  The couple spared a glance at each other in hesitation.

"Come on!  I can't hold them off forever!"

John took Stacy by the elbow and together, they made a beeline for the shop.  "John," Stacy protested.  "We don't know her!"

"What's she gonna do, Keebs?  Stab me?  Been there; done that; and you can keep the freakin' T-shirt.  Come on."

As they slid into the small periodicals shop, the unknown woman, who had motioned them over, flipped up her middle finger at the following reporters, and laughed maniacally at them.  "We're closed ya fuckin' vultures!"

 She then gave a hard tug to the strap wrapped around her wrist lowering the roll-down door with a resounding clang, effectively shutting out the reporters and sealing John and Stacy in.  With quick, professional motions, she locked the safety door up tightly and turned around with a flourish.  She landed in an easy sprawled stance up against the metal, jean-clad legs crossed at the ankles, showing off black, brushed leather moccasins.  Watching them with startlingly shrewd green eyes, she crossed her arms over her chest, barely concealing the white wording printed on the black polo shirt that announced the name of the shop they were currently closed inside…The Fly By Book Nook. 

Not original per se, but catchy, Stacy thought, as she caught the woman's stare, and Cheshire Cat grin.  It was infectious, she decided, seeing no malice or ill will in the surprisingly open expression.  She returned it.  "Thank you.  They were getting a little out of hand out there."

"Yeah, well, ain't no thing," the brunette began, still grinning at them.  "Never held no account for those types.  Wouldn't know personal space or privacy if it bit 'em on the ass.  Doesn't surprise me much though, considerin'."

Disgusted by the whole thing, John shook his head and set his bags down on the floor as Stacy followed suit.  "I've been mobbed by fans before, but never reporters.  Are they always like that down here?"

"Nah," the woman answered, flipping a shoulder-length dark chestnut curl over her shoulder in a gesture that John and Stacy both found oddly familiar.  "You're the first to show for this three-ring-circus.  A'course, this didn't help much either."  She reached to a rack of tabloid periodicals, pulled one off and flipped it around.

John and Stacy's eyes widened, their jaws dropping in shock as a picture of Nan – complete in the orange ball gown from the Blade Trinity premier – hung on Wesley Snipes' shoulder, his arms around her waist, both of them laughing uproariously at something.  A fairly innocent picture to be sure, taken in the right context.  But it was the headline that cast aspersions on the friendly embrace.  The block letters jumped out boldly from the cover. 

WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION TRIPLE H'S FIANCEÉ PREGNANT! 
IS BLADE TRINITY STAR WESLEY SNIPES THE FATHER? 

"You gotta be shittin' me!"  John exploded seeing the dumbstruck look on his girlfriend's face.  "Keebs?"

"She's not pregnant, John.  We just saw her yesterday morning, remember?  There's no way she's fooling around with Wesley Snipes.  And she'd have told me if she were having a baby.  That's not something you keep from your best friend," the leggy blonde vowed firmly.

The Smackdown superstar thought for a moment, remembering all of the high tension in the Helmsley household after Beast had made that announcement about Valentina and him.  He slid a sideways glance at Stacy.  "You sure about that, Keebs?  Not about Snipes, 'cuz I agree with ya.  That idea's laughable.  But maybe really being pregnant?  Would she have mentioned it?  Given…everything…that went down in the past two days?"

Stacy looked up at him with narrowed eyes.  "She's not pregnant.  She'd have told me."  She turned a defiant gaze on the woman holding up the tabloid, almost daring the brunette to challenge her claim.

The other woman just shrugged in unconcern.  "Doesn't matter.  They think she is,