Disclaimer: The characters and people in this story do not belong to me. The characters belong to Vince McMahon and WWE, and the people belong to themselves.

A/N: ::sigh:: Here we go again, I don't know where these ideas keep springing from, but I can't stop them! The voices, they never shut up! The muses never stop

Well, here's another fic, and I don't know, it could be a stand-alone, it could be a series, that's up to you, so let me know if I should continue this. I think I left the ending just vague enough to be able to continue if you guys want. Let me know.

Be brutal if you feel the need to. :)


At least he tried.

That was the best that he could come up with at the moment. At least he tried. So much for the analysis of the situation. So much for actually coming up with a valid reason for why she had turned him down. All he could think was: at least he tried. Tried and failed, but at least he tried.

Tried what exactly? Well, he had tried to tell Trish that he had feelings for her. Of course, in his infinite wisdom, she had confessed that she only like him as a friend, so there he was, looking like an idiot, standing there like some sort of pathetic dog who had followed her home.

She liked Christian. Of all people, Trish liked Christian, his best friend, his compadre, his bro. And all on his dime too. He was the one who had started being friends with her, he was the one who had bought her things, and then Christian had just swooped in and stolen her, right out from under her nose, and now here he was, fuming, his arms crossed, on an airplane to see his REAL best friend, who would know what to do.

But at least he tried.

He knew that his friend wasn't expecting him, but he didn't care at this moment. He needed to see them, to rant, to rage, possibly throw some things. Nothing expensive or anything like that, but maybe something breakable. Maybe there was a glass he could just throw against the wall. That would make him feel better.

So much for a real friendship with Christian. Friendships were constantly ending over a woman, he just never thought about having that situation with himself. Thank God he didn't have to deal with that with his best friend. No way would they be going after the same person, not in this lifetime. He chuckled at the thought, and found that the first laugh he'd had all day.

He thought back to that conversation with Trish, how horrible it had gone. He had gotten her flowers, just to say that he was thinking of her. Oh, but much to his surprise, he had found Trish talking with Christian against some of the lockers. He had quickly put away the flowers and walked in, clearing his throat, he could still remember the conversation now.

"Oh Chris," Trish said, "I didn't see you there."

"Yeah, we were caught up," Christian laughed.

"Give us a minute Chrissy," Trish said to Christian, "I just want to talk to Chris."

"Sure," Christian answered, leaving the room.

"I was just talking to Christian, sorry to keep you waiting," Trish said.

"I'm sorry too. I know you and Christian have been becoming friends lately, it makes me happy to see," he smiled, glad that two of the people he cared about were finally getting along.

"Yeah, we've been getting along great," Trish smiled, "So what's up?"

"I just needed to tell you something Trish," he said, grinning like a little boy, "Something important."

"Ok, I'm listening."

"I really like you," he said, giving her the flowers.

Trish's face dropped, "How do you like me?"

"As more than a friend," he said, still holding the flowers pathetically, "Like, I want to be your boyfriend, and I really hope that you like me too, because Trish, I think I'm falling in love with you."

There, he had said it. Now it was up to her to reciprocate his feelings. He knew she would too, she had to, after everything they had been through, it was almost positive that the next step would be for them start dating. He looked at her expectantly, expecting to hug her any moment and kiss her too.

"Chris that's so sweet--"

"Thanks," he said.

"But, I'm sorry, I thought you really wanted to be friends, that's what I wanted, to just be friends," she told him, her face pouting as she saw his face crumble.

"Oh," he said, feeling crestfallen.

"I don't mean to hurt you, it's just...Christian..."

"Oh," he said again, realizing what she meant, "Well, that's that then, I'm sorry I wasted your time."

"Oh Chris," she said, rushing to him, "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, I'm so sorry."

"No, it's fine, I mean, two of my friends getting together, it's great!" he said, trying to sound upbeat, but really just sounding pathetic.

"I'm sorry again," she said, "Please, can we still be friends?"

There was the death knell sentence to the entire thing. The "let's be friends" line, and here he was on the receiving end of it. No, he didn't want to be her friend, he wanted to be her boyfriend, but no, she had been snatched up. He should've expected it; he should've prepared himself better for it. Who was he kidding anyways? Trish was too good for him.

"Yeah, sure, whatever," he said, still holding those stupid flowers, "See ya."

"Bye Chris."

So now here he was driving to the one place he knew he would find sanctuary. He could go there and hide from his embarrassment, free from the stares and whispers that he imagined he'd get as everyone pitied him. At least where he was going, only one person would be looking at him, and he didn't mind that.

He found himself at the front door, ringing the doorbell a few times so it could be heard. He could hear footsteps coming down the stairs and was glad that someone was home, unless that was just the dog, but he knew Sam would not walk to the door, but rumble loudly.

The door was opened a second later and he met the surprised face of his best friend. He gave them a long look and noticed the pants they were wearing, gray sweat pants, and he reached out to tug on them lightly. They were rolled up a little at the waist because they were a few sizes too big.

"You're wearing my pants," he said lightly.

"You left them here. Therefore, they're up for grabs."

"Oh, is that how it goes, whatever clothes are here are just yours for the taking?"

"Yes, now why the hell are you at my front door?"

"I need a place to stay for the weekend, can I stay with you?" he said, giving his best puppy dog look.

"You never have to ask, get your cute ass in here."

He smiled and walked inside taking his coat and hanging it in its usual spot in the hall closet. He closed the door and set his suitcase down, intending to put it in his usual bedroom later. He had spent many a night here, spent many a day here too. In fact, it was almost like his second home.

Yeah, so what, he spent a lot of time at Stephanie McMahon's house. She was his best friend.

He took his first good look at Stephanie and saw that not only was she wearing his sweatpants; she was wearing the new Jericho shirt. She must've gotten one from her mother or something. She was wearing a white tank top underneath; he could see it through her shirt. Her long hair was pulled into a messy bun and she had her contacts out and her glasses on. This was the Stephanie that nobody but him got to see.

"So really, what are you doing here?" she asked, tossing him a beer as she walked over from the kitchen.

"Got rejected," he told her, popping open the top of his beer.

"Oh, you told the blonde bombshell?" she said, using the nickname she had come up with for Trish, as they walked into the living room. Stephanie took her usual spot on the couch and Chris took off his shoes before sitting on the other end. Stephanie moved to put her feet on his lap, just like usual.

"Yeah, and let me see, how do I put it? It went terribly. Not only does she not like me like that, she wants Christian."

"Ooh, burn," Stephanie said, peering at him over her glasses, "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, I know, it's fine though, you know, she was too good for me anyways."

"Oh please, you know that's not true," Stephanie said, "You're the best guy I know, you're too good for her if anything."

"You're just saying that because you have to."

"Sweetie, if you were buying me dinner, than maybe I'd say it because I had to, but you are drinking my beer, sitting on my couch, and sleeping in my house tonight, I'm saying it because it's true."

"Yeah, but you're also wearing my pants, and my shirt, so you know, unless you want to walk around in your tank top and panties, than you would agree with me."

"Yeah, like you'd want to see that."

"Yeah, just one more hot little thing I can't have," he winked.

"You're crazy Snooks," she said, using her pet name for him, and then taking a sip of her beer, "You'll get over the blonde bombshell, there's a girl out there for you somewhere."

"How do you know?"

"Because I know."


"Because I know!" she said, getting impatient with him, "Don't worry about the blonde bombshell, she doesn't know what's she missing."

"Stephers, you have the capacity to make me feel better, and I don't know how you do it," he told her, using his name for her.

"Because I know you Snooks, you're just upset, but knowing you, you'll be back in the dating field in no time at all. I mean, with that cute little face, how could any girl resist?" she said, leaning over to pinch Chris's cheek.

"I feel like I've dated every single girl on the planet," he told her, "And none of them seem to want me, and the ones that want me, I don't want them. I'm never going to find that perfect person."

"Things don't change in a second Snooks, not things like this anyways, you have to give them time."

"I guess," he sighed, "But you're the only girl I feel like I really know, do you get what I mean Stephers?"

"Yeah," she sighed, "I get what you mean."

"I knew you would, you're the only one who would know."

"We're pathetic," she said, "We're like the Babe Ruth of pathetic, we set up the pathetic and then we hit line drives, sending them every which way. We're so damn pathetic."

He looked at her. She was always coming up with these crazy metaphors and sayings. It was just one of things he liked about her. She had been his best friend since the day he had walked into the company and she had spilled hot chocolate all over him. She had apologized about a million times, following him around all night saying she was sorry. He finally had to tell her when they reached his hotel room that she needed to leave.

She never left, and here she sat, her feet propped up on his lap, watching the Disney channel and laughing at the cartoon they were playing right now. He was glad that she had spilt on him actually, if he had known this was how far they would go. She was amazing, his entire support system wrapped up in one person. She knew him inside out and called him on everything. She was different around everyone else, but around him, she was something that could only be considered her true self.

"We should go to Disneyland," she laughed as she watched the Mickey cartoon, "Think of how much fun we'd have."

"Yeah, riding all the kiddie rides," he chuckled.

"They're not kiddie, they're fun," she said, "And you weren't saying they were kiddie last time we went."

"Well, I was younger last time we went, I hadn't matured."

"Oh, and you've matured now, yeah, that something I'm going to have to argue."

"And what forum shall we use? Should we have a formal debate?"

"Oh but of course," she said in a posh, clipped tone, "And make sure you have all your pie charts and diagrams."

"What would a debate be without those?" he joked, then turned to her, "Thanks for taking my mind off Trish."

"Eh, no problem," she shrugged, "I'm your best friend, it's what we do. Besides, they'll be other blonde bombshells."

"Or brunette bombshells," he said quietly, looking over at her.

"Yeah, or redheaded ones, or raven-haired ones, or if you're real lucky, blue-haired ones," she said, "Now that's something I'd like to see."

"If you think so, I'll go look out exclusively for the blue-haired girls."

"That's all I'm saying, go for the wild ones," she said, punching him lightly in the arm.

He looked at her and smiled. Whenever he needed a boost, or a kind word, there she was. He leaned over and pushed her glasses up her nose, since they were falling down her face. She gave him a kooky look and he made a funny face back at her. They settled back into their positions and watched the rest of the cartoon. He looked at Stephanie briefly and then looked back at the television.

"You know, at least I tried with Trish."

"Yeah, at least you tried, and that's saying a lot," Stephanie said, "Don't worry about it Snooks, you'll come out of this fine."

He looked at her.

"Yeah, I will."