A/N: I really hate myself, but I just finished watching Made of Honor and it wasn't too bad. I mean, it was bad, I predicted everything that was supposed to happen, but Dempsey's hot and I'm stoned, so everyone wins. Oh, and I wrote this in my head. Woo woo woo, you know it!
I was in love with my best friend.
There aren't too many secrets kept in the life of a wrestler, but fortunately, this one's been locked up for quite some time. I'd never, ever uttered those words to anyone—not Adam, not Jay, and definitely not Steph.
So I don't really know why I'm telling you. But since the lion's out of the bag, I might as well keep going.
I met Steph ten years ago. At the time, she was definitely someone I just wanted to sleep with—she was a bad girl. My boss's daughter, she made every employee of Vince McMahon follow her like a lost puppy with just the swing of her hips.
But I wasn't known to be desperate. So I waited for her to come to me.
Except... she never did.
She went off and did her own thing, leaving her suitors with their hearts bleeding in their hands. She didn't have any interest in anyone in the company—they didn't deserve her.
Well, I definitely deserved her. The only problem was—did she deserve me?
I wanted to think she did, just so I wouldn't feel trashy after everything was said and done. But I never ended up in bed with her.
I ended up in coffee shops, talking. I ended up in department stores, picking out bed spreads. She asked me for outfit advice, if this guy was worth it, if that guy was an asshole. Should she dye her hair blonde? Should she keep it dark?
I ended up being her best friend.
I was fine with it at first. I really was.
But then he came into the picture.
"I can't wait for you to meet him," Steph whispered excitedly, pulling me through the crowded club to find the table she'd reserved. "I'm telling you, Chris, he's perfect."
"Uh huh." My eyes were wandering, spotting girls on the dance floor, girls that knew who I was and what I wanted. But Steph tugged on my arm and I jerked after her, trying to keep my radar clear.
He stood up when he saw us and kissed her fervently, right in front of me. I couldn't help but roll my eyes as they battled for a solid minute, stretching the fakest smile I'd ever managed to pull on someone I wasn't sure deserved her.
But then he turned, and the light caught his face.
The smile bounced back. "Paul?"
His brow creased as he smiled, like he was trying to place me. "Do we—"
"Chris. It's Chris." I rolled my hand. "You know. Jericho?"
His brows shot up. "You've got to be kidding me!"
Steph frowned. "You know—"
"Steph, we wrestled together!" He was holding her hand, talking to me with his eyes on her face. "I knew him before I even met you!"
I smiled, but it came out more as a smirk, and before I knew it, I was engulfed in the arms of a goofy looking jerk-off. I patted his back awkwardly and nodded when he pulled back. "Yeah. It's good to see you again."
"It certainly is!" He pulled Steph onto his lap as he sat down, motioning across from him. "Sit down, asshole, let me order you something."
I could feel my fist clenching, but I sat anyway. "So. It's been a while."
"Jesus Christ, it's been what?"
I shrugged. "Two years?"
"Two years." Paul whistled. "Makes me feel old."
I nodded. "It should."
He laughed. "Still got that sense of humor, I see."
Paul pursed his lips awkwardly. "So. What have you been up to?"
"I wrote a book." I brushed it off. "Toured with the band. You?"
"Wrestling." He was nodding. What a tool. "You know, championships and all that."
"Ah." I tapped my hands. "Did I ever tell you the time I single-handedly defeated both the Rock and Stone—"
"Yes, Chris, we've heard this story a million times." Steph was smiling as she talked. She always did with me. Mostly because she was sick of all the bullshit I always gave her. "Let's talk about me for a second, okay?"
I nodded. "Take it away, McMahon."
"Well..." She wasn't even looking at me now. Her eyes were on Paul's ugly mug. "As you know, I've been with Paul for a while now—"
"Steph. It's been two months."
"The best two months of my life," she said dreamily, pressing her nose against his. Her eyes met mine. "But we have some news."
I lifted my hands, smiling. "You're calling it quits?"
"The exact opposite," Paul laughed. He nodded at Steph. "Show him, Steph."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, I don't want to see anything—"
Her hand slapped against the table so hard I thought she was going to break it.
But it was the ring glimmering in the light that broke something else.
I looked up at her. "You're kidding."
She shook her head, grinning. "No. Chris, we're getting married."
"Aren't you happy?" She wrapped her arms around Paul's neck. "He's so perfect. I love him so much."
Me? You love me so much, Steph.
Her smile faded slightly. "Chris?"
I tried to shake the haze from my eyes. "Huh?"
"Aren't you excited?"
"Uh..." I nodded, trying to swallow quietly. "Yeah. I'm ecstatic."
She started bouncing, and then she squealed. "Oh, so am I!"
And then came the tonsil hockey.
As a Canadian, it's my civil duty to support the sport.
I kicked his shin.
"Ow!" Paul glared at me. "Did you just kick me?"
"That was you? I thought it was the table."
"No, that was me." He grunted slightly, pushing Steph into the booth. "I think you broke it."
"I doubt it. A big, strong man like you should be able to handle a little tap."
His eyes lit up. "You're as hilarious as ever, Jericho."
I wanted to punch him in the head.
"So I have a favor to ask of you."
I looked over at Stephanie. "What?"
"Well... as you know, Chris, you're my best friend."
"And proud of it, baby."
She smiled. "Good. Because I want you to be in the wedding."
I nodded. "Okay."
"As my maid of honor."
Paul choked on a laugh, and I just sat there.
"Now, I know that sounds funny... but I can't imagine anyone but you up there beside me."
Well, at least I wasn't alone.
In my fantasy, I was the groom.
In her fantasy, I was wearing a dress.
My fingers scraped against the table. "I don't know, Steph."
"Oh, please, Chris." She gave me that look I hated, her lip pouting. "I want you with me. Please? It would mean so much to me."
"All right!" I held up my hands. "All right, all right. Just stop making that face."
She brightened considerably. "Yay! Oh, Chris, I'm so excited."
"Yeah." I rolled my eyes. "I can't wait."
"Well, don't worry, you won't have to—it's next week."
If I had a drink—like Paul said he'd get me—I would've spit it out.
She nodded excitedly. "We don't want to wait—we can't wait. So daddy's going to let us do it on next week's Raw. Except it'll be legal."
I blinked. "You're kidding me, right?"
"Chris! I'm not."
"I thought you wanted some... big, elaborate wedding? Cake and presents and—"
"That was my fantasy." She turned her head, smiling. "Before I met Paul."
"Enough with the kissing!" I threw my hands up. "You're going to remember this day for the rest of your life, Steph. Do you honestly want it to be in a ring, surrounded by fans that could care less about Vinnie Mac's brat?"
"As long as Paul's in it, I don't care." She smiled knowingly at me. "And you, of course."
"That's another thing! You're going to make me be your maid of honor on national television?"
"You've certainly done worse."
I tapped my fingers against the table.
She frowned. "It'll be fun, Chris. I promise."
She always made promises she couldn't keep.
But not me. When I promised someone something, I kept it.
So I did. I became Stephanie McMahon's maid of honor.
And I made another promise to both myself and to Paul.
I was going to steal his bride. At all costs, Stephanie McMahon would be mine.
Let the games begin.
A/N: If you haven't noticed, it's not present day, and Steph and Paul didn't meet until well after their real relationship. Oh, and their whole feud didn't happen either, obviously. But this is a story! So hoorah. Review.