A/N: I love dictionaries. I got my prompt from the first word I saw. This is pretty great. Ah it's Misty's birthday. Well Happy Birthday Misty; I would have gotten you something related to toast but eh a fic sounded better.
Tonight was the night of his return to Monday Night Raw.
And Misty had absolutely nothing to wear. She mentally gave herself a firm face palm. How superficial was it of her to be concerned about an outfit when her boyfriend was making such an important return back to the world of wrestling?
Well, the televised world of wrestling. FCW didn't exactly count as a glorified return.
"Ken, Ken, Ken," she thought to herself, shaking her head. "Only you would drive me to the brink of insanity over something that doesn't even involve me."
She did miss him, though. Heh, she remembered the first time they'd went out on a date. It was at a bowling alley, for goodness sake! And there she was, expecting him to take her to some over-priced restaurant and be a complete douche-bag to the waiters. Actually, he'd been the complete opposite. He opened the door for her, pressed his hand to the small of her back to lead her through large crowds, and only got loud when he bowled a strike (he wasn't pleased with a spare). She was shell-shocked, and when he took her to dinner (which was a burger shack not too far from the bowling alley), he commented on it.
"Something bothering you, Mist?" he asked before taking a bite out of the cheeseburger he'd ordered for himself.
"Nothing at all," Misty shook her head as she played with her salad, pushing the croutons to the side to eat at another time. "I'm just a bit surprised is all."
"Oh, I don't know. I just had this silly misconception that you'd be an exact replica of your character." Misty explained, laughing nervously. Mainly at her stupidity.
Ken raised an un-amused eyebrow in her direction.
Fuck. She'd really done it this time.
"Well," she started, trying to justify her fuck up. "You just play it really well on television. I just thought that's how you really were."
"So you go for loud, rude, and obnoxious assholes?" Ken asked, eyeing her as he took a sip of his soda.
"No; the loud, rude, obnoxious assholes go for me." Misty chuckled bitterly. "You saw Orton."
That caused them both to shudder.
"Let's not go down that road." Ken shook his head. "Look, I've heard your comment plenty of times in different forms from different people. It's nothing new. I'm just kind of disappointed that you, of all people, wouldn't be able see through my character. Because that's just what it is; a character."
If there was any possible way to calmly rip someone a new ass, then he did just that.
Misty looked back down at her salad, picking idly at the lettuce.
"But it's cool." Ken shrugged, and Misty's eyes snapped up to meet his. "If you didn't look like a six year old whose hand was caught in the cookie jar right about now, I'd have half the mind to leave and make you find a way home."
"Only half?" She laughed.
"Only half," he confirmed, a small grin on his face. "I guess that half is just the Kennedy in me."
Back in present time, Misty threw a green top over her torso and stretched it across her chest. God, when did she get to be so fat?
Before she had anytime to set up a ridiculous diet regime that she knew she would never follow for more than a week, a pair of hands covered her eyes.
Misty groaned. "Cena, can we not do this now? I really have important matters to tend to," she informed the person as she wrung the green piece of material in her hands.
"Careful, you might stretch out that top. And it's my favorite one, too. Matches your eyes," the person said, and Misty's eyes widened, even with the person's grip on her face.
That voice. She knew that voice.
She turned around to come face to face with her beloved, Ken.
"What, no guess?" he teased.
"Still a smart ass, I see," she remarked.
"Ah well," he kissed her cheek and Misty giggled. "I guess you can say that's just the Kennedy in me."
A/N: Woo oneshot is done. Happy birthday Misty, hope it's a good one.