A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews for this! I was like, not even sure what the hell I was doing, I just have a lot of ideas for this one and I'm glad you're liking it so far, please continue to review, pretty please with a cherry on top! :P


I think being a coward is a lot easier than being brave.

Being brave is hard work. You have to stick yourself out there, be someone, do something for all the world to see and that's hard, especially when you're me and you know people hate you out there. I've read it all. 'Stephanie looks like a fat cow,' 'Stephanie had a botched nose job,' 'Stephanie is ruining the WWE.' Does it get any easier to bear every time I hear it or read about it? No, it doesn't, but you learn to deal. Maybe that's why I'm not as brave as I should be or could be. Sticking your toe over that line, being noticed, it's a scary thing. Being with Chris, I know it would be the best, but it's so hard being brave.

So I stay a coward. A coward never has to do anything or be anyone. They never put their toe over that line because being noticed is the last thing a coward wants to do. They run from the line and I know I run from the line. I think there have been plenty of opportunities for me to bump up my relationship with Chris to the next level. I just play the coward when every one of them arises. Sad, yes, but I never said I wasn't the saddest specimen of person known to man.

The best opportunities have been during our storylines....where we've kissed...if you could call those kisses. They weren't meant to be anything, not really. He was just supposed to press his lips against mine, brutal my father said, so as to look like Chris hated doing it, but could think of no other way to get me away from the ring. I was supposed to hate them, both times, but I slipped, as I'm wont to do because this is the man I love here. The only reason that my father let him kiss me was because he's the wrestler he trusts the most. It took my father two months to even allow the storyline between me and Paul to be executed because he didn't want me kissing the man. I think he believes Chris is innocuous, but if Chris wanted anything more, I think I'd be naked by the time he finished his sentence, even if he didn't want sex.

I know I shouldn't count those kisses as anything more than acting because we weren't the Stephanie and Chris we usually are when we had those kisses. I was playing an absolute horrible bitch and he was playing this cocky jackass that the fans adored. That's not us. Chris has seen me in every possible situation. He would never call me those names, it was just an act. I couldn't help but let myself revel in those kisses just a tiny bit. Any person in my situation would, really, wouldn't they? The first one was more obvious. I've seen it a million times since they played it about a million times and so I've seen how, at the very end, I start to kiss him back.

That wasn't part of the storyline, that was just me, hoping to get a little more of what I've always wanted. He never asked about it though, he probably thought I was just playing it up, making it look like there could be something there. I often wonder if I'd have asked if he felt something, he would've told me he would. I wish I could say there was a moment afterwards where we looked at each other and something crackled between us like electricity during a storm, but we didn't. I'm not sure we've ever had those moments. I've had those moments with him, where I look at him and see everything I want and everything I can't have all melded together in a gathering of molten, smoldering air, but maybe he's just clueless.

I pushed all of those storylines between us on the table, maybe I'm obvious, I don't know. I really wanted that affair storyline. It was actually my idea, not Chris's. We'd been talking one night and I'd mentioned that it would be hilarious if it actually came out that our characters had been having an affair the entire time and the whole hate thing was just a cover-up. He'd brought it up at the next production meeting (he has an open invitation to attend, he has since he was 14 actually, when my father let him and Shane sit in on them and see how the business worked from the inside) and we'd all thought it was a great idea (me especially, what?). Well, except Paul that is. He's always trying to preserve his image. He thought that Triple H would never have a wife who cheated on him.

I'm not saying anything against his character, but well, if I were married to him, I'd probably cheat on him.

The guy just isn't my type. When Chris came back after his hiatus, my first inkling was to put him in a storyline with myself, but, well, that would've been too obvious. See what I mean about being brave? If I would've put myself out there, maybe he would catch a clue and Lord knows Chris needs to catch a clue like a spider needs to catch a bug. But I didn't and let him feud with Randy. I eventually did mention that when I returned as the interim General Manager it would be cool if I had some scenes with Chris and it was great...until Paul came along and ruined everything again.

You have to understand, Paul sees in me what a lot of guys see in me...power. Forget my personality, looks, intelligence, wit, everything else, it's all about the power for some of these guys. Oh, what can Stephanie do for me? Paul thinks he can lord himself over me even though I've never dated the guy a day in my life. For some reason because we were on-screen married he thinks that we're off-screen kin or something. It's quite frustrating. He wanted in on the storyline so my father came up with the brilliant (sarcasm meter: level high) idea of having Stephanie and Hunter never divorced but in fact married...with children! The children were Paul's idea, made him look better he said. I wanted to kick him in his baby-maker.

Chris laughed me that night, teasing me about having to pretend to be married to Paul again. I wasn't so happy and he picked up on it and said he was actually pretty bummed out that he wouldn't get to work with me again. We do have fun when we work together, I don't like all of my teenage-like angst get in the way of our work together. I think, judging from the people that seem to enjoy us, that we're entertaining. I hope we entertain people at least. When we go out there, we're a different Chris and Stephanie, but a lot of the time, we want to be ourselves and almost end up laughing in each other's face. I wonder if people pick up on that.

"I need a girlfriend!"

I look up as Chris walks into the room, looking exhausted and exasperated. He should be exhausted, it's after Raw and I'm in my hotel room and...wait, how did he get in my hotel room?

"How did you get in here?" I ask. "I didn't give you the key."

"They gave you two when you checked in, I pilfered one when you weren't looking," he said, holding up the key card. "You've got nobody so I figured that I could have it."

"Wow, thanks for pointing out how pathetic I am," I tell him. He doesn't need to rub it in that I'm single. I wouldn't be single if someone just knocked him upside the head with the knowledge of my freaking love for him. Tell him, Stephanie, tell him, tell him, tell him!

He pouts, "It's okay, Scout, I'm in the same boat you are, I'm single, but damn it, I do need a girlfriend." He collapses on the bed next to me and then turns his head so it's in line with mine, where I've been lying on my stomach watching TV and mulling over the intricacies of my very cowardly existence. Oh yeah, how's that for some teenage angst?

"Why? So you can dump her two days later."

"Nah, I need someone who can give me a killer massage whenever my tired 34 year old body needs it."

"You act like you're old, you're not old," I tell him.

"I'm older than you are, Scout," he tells me and it's true, but not by much, not anymore. It seemed like such a huge gap when we were younger, especially when he started high school and I was still stuck in middle school, we might as well have been worlds apart at that point, but now, two years was absolutely nothing in the grand scheme of things.

"Yeah, but you act like you have the body of a 70 year old," I say, "You don't need a girlfriend just to get a massage."

Just ask me!

"Well, I also need one, you know, for the loving aspect of it," he winks. I hate when he talks about his sex life. I do not need to picture him with other women. Unfortunately, I've heard about every conquest Chris has ever had, some in excruciatingly painful detail. If anyone ever wanted to torture me, like really torture me, that's all they'd have to talk about. The jealous runs deep within me. "Plus, the having a girlfriend thing, making my mom believe that I will someday settle down with someone even though I don't see it happening."

"You say that all the time, but I don't believe you're a lifer for bachelorhood," I tell him, or at least I hope he's not. If I have to become an old spinster or cat lady because Chris will not see me the way I see him, I may just go crazy in some way and end up in a padded cell somewhere.

"Which is why I need the aforementioned girlfriend, keep up, Scout."

"Do you need a massage right this second?"

"It'd be nice, I'm sore from my match earlier and then I was sitting on a barstool for a couple of hours and those things are not great for your back because there's no support."

"Who'd you go drinking with this time?"

"Some of the new guys," he answers. "Jake, Evan, you know, the newer ones, showing them what's what, being a veteran and all."

"That's nice of you," I say, then add, because I know him, "Did you drink them under the table?"

"Do I seem drunk to you?"

"No," I admit.

"They were lightweights, three beers each and they were done. I've got to work on that, it's shameful."

"You're shameful," I let him know.

"Nah, I'm not even buzzed, really. I didn't want to be because I am flying back home tomorrow and I will be having dinner at my parent's house and I don't want a killer hangover while I'm there because my mom has a real penchant for knowing when I'm hungover."

"Interesting."

"Come to dinner, you'll already be in town since we live in the same town, oh wait, we live in the same house. That's right."

Did I mention that Chris and I live together? I didn't? Yes, we actually live together and no, not in the same bed, though...if the invitation were extended, I'd have no problem giving up my nice, soft bed for his firm and very manly smelling one. Maybe I'd just move him into my room instead of the other way around. He did allow me to have the master bedroom because I had more girly stuff than he did. We've lived together since I was 22. He was 24 and in WCW, but my parents would not allow me to live alone. They said it was too dangerous for a single woman to live by herself though I think single women have been doing pretty well on their own from what I've seen.

Chris took me in, if taking me in is a good word. My parents had had Chris and his family over for one of our dinners and they'd been talking about my living arrangements and how I'd be moving back home after I graduated since it would be best for everyone (except me, but my opinion sometimes doesn't matter to my parents). Chris said he had a spare room and offered to have me live with him. My parents didn't object because they love Chris and trust him with my safety so off to Chris's I went and that's how it's been for the last 10 years...so in addition to being in love with him for about the last 22 years, I've also been living with him for the last 10.

And yes, that means I've seen some of his conquests the next morning, rushing out into the crisp morning air, shoes in hand and coat slung over them hastily as Chris watches from the front door. My life is just a comedy of errors really, but at least all of this gives me fortitude. I'll let people know when I figure out what the hell a person can do with fortitude. I haven't quite figured it out yet.

"Yeah, sure," I say, not wanting to miss a dinner with his parents. I love them, they've always been like a second set of parents to me. "Turn over."

"What?"

"You said you needed a massage, turn over, I'll give you one."

"Normally, I'd say I couldn't ask you to do that, but since you're offering and since I'm sore, I'm going to take you up on that," he says as he obediently turns on his stomach. I kneel on my shins as he pulls his shirt off and tosses it off the bed. Seeing him shirtless doesn't make me stir, I see him shirtless enough. Now, when the clothes come completely off, I'll stir. I start to knead his warm skin as he turns his head so he can at least look in my general direction. "Okay, so girlfriend, how do we get me one?"

"Well, with you, you go into some club, point at a girl and she falls at your feet," I say, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice. I shouldn't be bitter, it's my own cowardice that holds me back.

"I don't want a floozy, I want a girlfriend, let's focus on women in the company."

I snort in laughter, "Wow, okay, so you said you didn't want a floozy and yet you want someone in the company, don't those two go hand-in-hand?"

"Meow, cat fight!" Chris exclaims. "One little kitten is very jealous of the other little kittens."

"I'm not jealous."

"Then when call names."

"Because I can," I tell him. I'm not jealous, I just know what goes on backstage and I know Chris knows what goes on backstage. He can't be that naïve.

"Okay, let's run down the list, shall we?"

"Fine," I groan as he I continue to massage his lower back, not getting too close to his waistline.

"Give me names here, Scout, you're the head of creative, you know names, name them."

"I hate you," I tell him just for good measure. "Fine, Michelle?"

"Taker's girl, no thank you. Don't want his sloppy seconds or rather, wouldn't want to break them up, next."

"Nikki or Brie?"

"I don't like dating a twin," he tells me and that's news to me. "I always fear that they'll pull the ol' switcheroo on me, don't want to deal with that, wondering if I'm really dating two girls, next."

"Beth is married, so she's a no go, Maria?"

"Maria is pretty, yes," Chris says and I inadvertently start pressing harder against his skin. "Oww, watch it, Steph, but Maria's not my type, so next."

"Natalya?"

"No."

"No explanation?"

"Just no, I don't want to go out with her, not my type, next."

"Milena."

"Who?"

"She goes by Rosa."

"Don't know her, don't want her, next."

"Victoria."

"She's in TNA."

"No, Alicia, do you really just not know anyone's name?" I ask him.

"Not the people I don't really interact with. Besides, I think she's dating someone, I've seen her with a guy and I think she was with him, next."

"Picky, Eve?"

"She's nice, but again, dating someone."

"Jillian?"

"No, the voice, just...no."

"Melina?"

"She's with John."

"Oh yeah, I remember her crying when she got drafted to SmackDown, thinking they'd be separated."

"And see, drama queen, do not want to deal with that."

"Yes, because you're so drama-free...Taryn."

"Again, don't know her."

"Why do you necessarily want someone you know? She works for the company and I don't know, maybe you'd want someone you don't know," I'm fishing for information here. He never really talks about his type because I don't think he has one, he just has preferences, but I try to find out what I can, when I can.

"I want to be with someone I'm familiar with, sue me, go on. I know there are more."

"Gail."

"You know, she is awesome, but again, not my type, any others."

"Maryse?"

"Too French, next."

"Too French, that's your excuse?"

"Hey, when I grew up and I went to the French-speaking provinces, they were jerks, I couldn't stand them, Maryse is from one, therefore, no."

"Okay, Katie?"

"Oh, she is so hot, but she's taken too, damn, why are all the good ones taken?"

"Not all of them are." I'm hinting now.

"Yes, they are, any more?"

"Layla."

"Nah."

"Mickie?"

"Have you seen those shoots of her before she entered the WWE, no thank you," he said, shaking his head vigorously.

"Okay, well, there's Barbie, that's the last of the divas, so...Barbie?"

"I prefer girls who don't pee in sinks, thanks, and ones that have brains."

"Pee in sinks?"

"You didn't see that picture, okay, I'm showing you when I get home."

"Isn't there a picture of you and her kissing floating around?" I ask. I've never actually brought up the picture. I guess I just wanted it out of my consciousness. If he wanted his lips on that, well, he wanted his lips on that.

"Oh God, yes, that's what happens when you challenge someone who can actually hold their liquor. Never again, never, never again. Never again. So I guess that's it, huh? Damn, there is not one worthy woman on the entire roster. Oh well, I guess it's sticking with the single life since there isn't a single woman who I'd want to be with on the roster. What a shame, not a single one." Except I think there is just one.

Me.