Dizzy Up The Girl
Title: Dizzy Up The Girl
Rating: K+
Pairings: It shall be obvious.
Summary: He didn't mean for it to happen - she'd only asked for help! He just didn't know where that had all changed.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own WWE.
Author's Note: Title stolen from the Goo Goo Dolls' album "Dizzy Up The Girl". This story takes place post Maria's debut on RAW, when she was making appearances down in Ohio Valley Wrestling, but prior to CM Punk's debut on ECW. It would probably take place at the beginning of, or a couple of months into, 2005.
He didn't mean for it to happen. It was completely accidental. I mean… she'd asked for help! He'd just wanted to see her happy – and he'd ended up doing just that, making her so. She'd improved by leaps and bounds; he was proud of her. They'd had a perfectly normal student-teacher relationship. He just didn't know where that had all changed…
"She's so dumb."
That was one of the hurtful things she'd heard when walking into the Davis Arena in Louisville, Kentucky for tonight's taping of Ohio Valley Wrestling. Confused, she'd shrugged it off – some fans, she knew, didn't know the difference between staying in kayfabe and real life. But then she'd heard something else: "How pathetic. All she's good for is a piss-break between matches. Nothing more." She'd whirled around on the balls of her feet to see a satisfied smirk on one of the fans' faces. They'd obviously proved their point.
She'd turned back around, hurrying for the inside of the building. Away from all the staring eyes, away from the taunts and jeers. It was a place where she could lock herself away; her sanctuary. Again, she'd make haste for her locker room, where something lay waiting for her. A shower. Every time, she'd try wash away the burning shame she carried from being "Maria the Mic Stand", try wash away the dirt, the guilt from being a former Diva Search contestant, the reputation she was forced to uphold. And every time, she'd come out, drying herself off with a towel and staring into the bathroom mirror at her reflection, feeling worse than ever. She did nothing to prove the haters wrong. She did nothing to prove that she was more than just an interviewer, that she was more than just eye candy, that she was more than just a worthless tool. She egged them on, made them even worse. And therefore, the way she was feeling right now, the way she felt every single damn week of her life, was her own frigging fault.
And there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. Unless… a slow smile spread over Maria Kanellis' grim features as an idea formed in her brain.
A bunch of OVW superstars were all gathered out near the ring – the more recognizable of them being the likes of Brent Albright, Ken Doane, Elijah Burke, Ken Kennedy, and one of their newest additions in CM Punk. Some were training inside the ring, some were working out nearby, some were seated in the stands talking amongst themselves; characters abandoned.
CM Punk, Brent Albright and Ken Doane were three of the men inside the ring. The other two were Seth Skyfire and Aaron Stevens. All five of them were talented wrestlers, sure to get called up to one of the WWE's main rosters sooner or later.
"So it's punch, punch, kick to the stomach, then a DDT?" Punk was saying to Ken Doane, whom nodded his blonde head in agreement. "Yeah. You cover, I kick out at two, then we continue with the next match sequence we planned out. You remember it, right?"
"Of course!" Punk faked an expression of mock-hurt.
Elijah Burke cut in at this point, grinning widely. He'd been absent-mindedly chatting with Seth on the outside of the ring, leaning comfortably against the ring apron. His ears had pricked up when he'd heard the others talking "Him, remember something? Right!" He snorted. Skyfire and Stevens joined in on the uproarious laughter, which was interrupted by the arrival of someone in the entrance way. At the sight of the person, the males' laughter died away almost immediately – every superstar out there staring in wonder at them. Doane took charge, taking the reigns.
"What are you doing out here, Maria?"
Maria was standing there with an odd expression on her face. Her hair was wet, and her clothes were spotted with damp patches; it was as though she'd come running to the ring straight from a shower. She cleared her throat, not daring to meet any of them in the eye. She was playing with her hands nervously. An inaudible response emerged from her mouth.
"Speak up girl," one of them gruffly ordered of her.
"I… I want to…" Maria tucked her sopping wet brunette locks behind her ear as she looked up at them, for the first time that night, all of them staring expectantly down at her, their faces peeking through the ropes. Her stomach twisted into a knot. How could she have ever thought she could do this? How could she ever have thought that this would be easy?
"I want to wrestle." She felt herself blurting out, her face reddening with embarrassment.
For a moment there was complete and utter silence. Then the same raucous laughter that had been there moments earlier at Elijah's joke broke out, with Aaron Stevens leading the way. "What do you," he was shaking with mirth, "really want?" Tears pricked at the diva's eyes.
I want you to believe me.
They continued to stare at her in that same expectant way, some of them still laughing like she was some massive joke. Sensing they weren't going to see things her way, she bowed her head and quickly decided to seek her fortune elsewhere. As in, run away from this fucking humiliation.
As Maria turned on her heel and bolted, disappearing through the curtains, the laughter ceased. Skyfire was first to speak, posing them a question in a quiet tone of voice that made them all feel bad for their actions: "Perhaps we were too harsh on her?"
"She wanted to wrestle, Seth." Doane spat back bitterly. He thought she'd gotten exactly what she deserved, the stupid girl.
"So?" A voice came from the back of their group. CM Punk. Doane raised an eyebrow.
"So… you know as well as I do, Punk, that chicks don't belong in wrestling. Especially two-bit models like that bird."
Punk just shook his head. He was already clambering to his feet, scrambling to get out of the ring.
"What the hell are you doing?" A voice called. He ignored it – he wasn't listening. For he'd seen sincerity in that girl's eyes, he wanted her to fulfill her dream for that reason alone. He wanted to help.
"What the fuck, Punk?" the voice yelled again. "Are you doing this just to get into her pants? Straight-edge, my fucking ass!"
Punk just sent the person who'd said it – whomever they were – the middle finger. The good ol' one fingered salute, courtesy of one CM Punk.
He was officially appointing himself her trainer.