A/N: Two fics in one day, whoo hoo. I'm trying to do this because I'm probably going to be taking a short hiatus here soon. This is a Christmas fic for the adorably awesome Missy. I hope you like this. Merry Christmas, girlie =) Love ya. Sorry this was so short.

Enjoy, guys :)

"Shit!" a loud voice exclaimed.

Matt Hardy, who had been waiting rather patiently in the store, bolted from his position, and ran into the dressing room, where his girlfriend was trying on jeans. Wrestlemania weekend was coming up, as was the Hall of Fame banquet, and Missy had been diligently searching for an outfit. The obvious choice would be to get a dress, but she hated dresses. Missy much preferred a dressy pair of jeans.

"What is it?" Matt questioned, with obvious concern in his voice.

"It's these jeans!" Missy wailed. "They…won't…FIT!"

The oldest Hardy shook his head and chuckled. Women. They made the biggest fusses over minor things at times.

"So try on another pair."

The door swung open and an enraged Missy Leigh stepped out, her arms full with several pairs of jeans.

"No," she said pointedly. "I will not. Matt, I have tried on twelve pairs in the last three hours. I give up. Obviously, I'm a heifer, and they don't make jeans for heifers." She sniffed.

"Stop it," Matt began, but Missy cut him off, her rant still unfinished.

"I can't go to Wrestlemania like this!" she wailed again. "The other girls haven't seen me, and this was supposed to be a surprise—but how am I gonna go if I can't fit in my jeans?"

"Well---" Matt tried again to speak, and again he was cut off by his girlfriend's wail.

"I knew I should have tried that Master Cleanse diet!" She pouted and stomped back to the dressing rooms.

"Master Cleanse?" Matt asked, clearly puzzled.

"Never mind." Another sigh of frustration was heard, and Matt stepped forward and rapped his knuckles on the door.

"Can't we just forget about it?" He rubbed his temples. "You can borrow a pair of mine if you'd like."

"Are you kidding me?" the woman screeched. "I can't wear your jeans. Sure, maybe if we're around the house, but this is Wrestlemania weekend. Plus the girls haven't seen me since before rehab."

"You said that," Matt said, a hint of a smile on his lips. "Look, Missy, it's really not a big deal. We'll just go somewhere else. There has to be at least one store in this mall that has your size."

"I doubt it," his girlfriend mumbled. "If I'd known I would blow up like a Goodyear blimp, I never would have kicked heroin."

"You had to," the North Carolina native reminded her in a firm tone. "You nearly died after that last overdose."

Missy scrunched her nose as she stared at herself critically in the mirror.

"I know that," she agreed. "I was just being selfish." She emerged from the dressing room once more and adopted a smile.

"I think these pair may fit, so long as I don't bend over too far," Missy chuckled wryly. "What do you think?"

"I think I have a headache," Matt stated. "Can we go now? I'm hungry."

"You're always hungry." Missy playfully shoved him.

They made their way to the counter to pay for the jeans. Once they were paid for and wrapped, the duo exited the store, Missy still chatting Matt up about Wrestlemania weekend and seeing her former bandmates again. Neither of them wanted to talk about the elephant in the room, which was of course Missy's rehab stint. Matt figured she was still sore about the fact that he'd conspired with the girls to send her there.

"Do you think the girls will be surprised?" Missy asked as Matt turned a corner in the road.

"Definitely." He smiled brightly. "But that's not a bad thing. I don't think they're going to chew you out, if that's what you're worried about."

"I'm not worried, really," Missy stared out the window. "It's just that I look different than I did before. They might not recognize me."

They arrived at the small apartment that Missy shared with her fellow bandmate and friend Kaylah Crawford. When she wasn't on tour, of course, Missy lived with Matt.

"I feel like I'm forgetting something," she mumbled as she tossed her keys onto the couch.

"What could you possibly be forgetting?" Matt settled himself down on his girlfriend's couch. "It smells like dog in here."

"You smell like dog," the woman teased. She poured herself a glass of Coca Cola and paced back and forth as she tried to remember what she'd forgotten. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, it hit her.

"Oh shit," Missy bit her lip.

"….What is it?" Matt sighed, already knowing that this was not going to be good.

"I forgot to get an extra pair of jeans for the Hall of Fame banquet."

With an exclamation that was part frustration and part anger, Matt slammed his head into the wall.

"Damn it, Melissa!"

He was not about to go through that hell again.

I know it was super shitty, but *shrugs* I tried.