They Stuck Me With You

By Cold-Zephyr

Genre: Romance/Humor

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: Aren't you getting tired of me saying over and over again that I own nothing?

Description: As they have never really gotten along, neither Stacy Keibler nor Randy Orton is enthralled to find out that they've been forced into a romantic storyline with each other by the WWE higher-ups. But what happens if genuine attraction rears its ugly head? Randy/Stacy

Chapter 1: Anyone But Him (Stacy's POV)

I wonder what this could be about. My boss, Eric Bischoff, had just called for me to come to his office, and for what reason, I am about to find out right now.

"Ah, Stacy, have a seat," he said, gesturing to one of the chairs. "There's a new storyline for you, and we're here, of course, to discuss it."

Ugh, this doesn't sound good. A "new storyline" for me, Stacy Keibler, means one of three things: HLA (yuck), a gimmick match for the male viewers (you know, Bra and Panties, Gravy Bowl, and other kinds of tasteless and lewd crap for horny guys), or an onscreen relationship with some mid-carder whom they couldn't come up with any better ideas for. Bad storylines are a part of this job, but hey, I've got no right to bite the hand that feeds me.

"It's a romantic storyline," Bischoff continued.

The least of three evils, thank god. "The guy better be cute, Eric."

"Oh, his millions of female fans will gladly tell you that," he chuckled. "Randy Orton's pretty popular for his GQ-cover boy looks."

I could feel the mocha frappucino rising up my throat. They're forcing me into an angle with that arrogant jerk? "God, no, Bisch, anyone but Randy Orton! I can't stand that guy!"

Bischoff was surprised, to say the least. "What's wrong with Randy Orton? He's a talented wrestler, a handsome man, and not to mention the World Heavyweight Champion. How can you not like him? All the girls do."

"Because in addition to what you have just mentioned, he's a class-A jackass, a chauvinist, and a womanizer, that's why. Oh, and a coward, too. Randy's the kind of man I absolutely detest."

"But you don't even know him that well," Eric defended. "Why don't you give the kid a chance?"

I shook my head. "I'm fine keeping whatever shred of dignity and self-respect I have left, thanks very much. What's with this whole thing, anyway? He's already the champ, surely he doesn't need to juggle a romantic storyline with his ongoing feud with Triple H, does he?"

"Hey, he can't fight off all of Evolution by himself. The champ obviously needs someone on his side, and we thought you'd be perfect for the job. The higher-ups thought you'd look cute together, I guess," he said, shrugging. "Come on, just give it a shot."

"Alright, but I don't know what good it'll do. I hate him enough backstage, so I have no idea how we're gonna make it work on television."

"Thanks, Stacy, I knew you would. I'll give you the details later this week."

Before I twisted open the doorknob to leave the room, I turned back one last time. "Are you really sure there isn't any way out of this?"

"I'm afraid not," Bischoff replied, showing sympathy so uncharacteristic of his onscreen character. "It wasn't my idea to begin with. But I'll try to help you out of it if I can, alright?"

I nodded. "Okay. Thanks, Eric."

As I left, I saw my friend Lita standing outside the door to Eric Bischoff's office. She approached me with an inquisitive look on her face. "Well?"

"It's a love angle, Li," I replied as we walked together to the parking lot.

Her eyes lit up. "Really? Who's the lucky guy?"

"Randy Orton...ugh."

"Hey, Orton ain't bad. You two would look pretty cute together, actually."

"Why does everybody keep telling me that? Doesn't anyone understand that I HATE RANDY ORTON?" I demanded furiously.

"I don't know, you guys just have chemistry, I guess."

Chemistry my foot. "This sucks, Li. Of all the guys I could share chemistry with, it had to be the one individual I detest the most. What sin did I commit to deserve such punishment? Tell me, Li, tell me!"

She placed her arm around me comfortingly. "It's okay, Stace. Consider yourself lucky you haven't got it as bad as I do. At least you don't have to go kissing a seven-foot Uncle Fester lookalike with bad breath," she sighed.

"True. But that doesn't make my situation suck any less."

Well, it's pretty obvious that I won't enjoy doing this storyline at all. I can only hope that Eric can get me out of this as soon as possible.