DISCLAIMER: I do not own Chris Jericho, Randy Orton, or other wrestlers that appear in the following story. They are the property of the actors and actresses that portray them, as well as the WWE.

SPOILERS: Events from 9-21 Raw.

DEDICATION: This chapter is dedicated to Chris Jericho's hair. I love you Chris, I'll always love you, but why dammit! Dear god, WHY!

Flowers Can't Keep Secrets

CHAPTER NINE

Absence makes the heart grow fonder. And the body grow hornier. And the mind grow insaner.

Due to their inability to coordinate schedules (see: compromise), Chris and Stephanie hadn't seen each other since he drove her to the airport last Tuesday. Sure, they had talked on the phone nearly every day, but there were certain nuances that Chris liked about her that didn't come through on the phone. Like her lips, her tongue, her breasts, her ass, and her legs. Consequently, he spent the majority of his time trying to remember every detail of her lips, her tongue, and the rest; unable to concentrate on anything of importance (like his Intercontinental Championship match in less than two hours).

Running a hand through his hair, he wondered at what was keeping his temperamental technician. He had already expected to be past the verbal banter and halfway into the making-out at this point; after all, he had a match to warm up for. Sighing in frustration, he slipped on a Y2J t-shirt before exiting his locker room in a search for answers.

The first technician he saw, however, wasn't thrilled to see him. In fact, the kid nearly cowered into the corner. "Hey you!" Chris called, pointing at the somewhat familiar man.

Dear God, don't let him be angry again, Scotty thought to himself as he forced himself to breathe. "Yes Mr. Jericho?" he squeaked, rushing over to the man of his nightmares.

Chris took no notice of the younger man's trembling. "You're Stephanie's lackey, right?" he asked. Surely this kid would know where to find her.

Hearing his manager's name, Scotty panicked, falling to his knees. Jericho had to have found out about his involvement with the flowers, and given his behavior in the past, was none too happy about it. "Please don't kill me Mr. Jericho; she made me do it!" he cried out, wrapping his arms around the other man's legs as he begged for mercy.

"Whoa, that's enough there tiger, people are staring," Chris stammered, confused as to how one innocent question lead to another man's face in his crotch.

The timing couldn't have been better for a certain tag champion. When Rob Conway rounded the corner, he lost his breath at the sight of Chris Jericho being pleasured by another man. I have a chance! the not-quite French Canadian thought to himself gleefully as he skipped towards the duo. "Bonjour, Monsieur Jericho!" he greeted eagerly. "Are you familiar with the phrase 'ménage a trois'?"

Chris's eyes widened at Conway's words; looking down at Scotty still clinging to him, he did the only thing he could: panic. "This isn't what it looks like, Kermit," he hastily shouted as he wiggled out of Scotty grasp. Once free, he eyed them both wearily before running down the hallway.

"Merde," Conway muttered at Jericho's retreating ass. Scotty, happy to be alive and unharmed, decided to play hooky the rest of the night.

Only after he entered the cafeteria did Chris chance to look over his shoulder. Thankfully, he didn't spot the queer Quebecker; upon surveying the room, however, he did spot the object of his initial search. "Steph!" he called out happily, winding his way towards her table.

With no janitor closets to spare, Stephanie had been forced to set up camp at one of the banquet tables; while she relished the extra desk space she did not enjoy the constant interruptions, including the one from her maybe-boyfriend. Her admonishment, however, died away on her tongue when she caught sight of him. "Oh my God!" she gasped.

Chris Jericho's beautiful blond hair had been chopped off, leaving sort of an awkward page boy, Dukes-of-Hazzard style.

Stephanie blinked back tears as she rose to her feet. "Oh my God," she said again, reaching a hand up to touch the fluffy locks. "What did you DO!"

"I told you I got it cut," he said, reaching his own hand up to mess with the locks. Minutes out of another scary encounter with Rob Conway and his almost-girlfriend wasn't making him feel better (minus her finger nails scratching lightly at his scalp, which was lovely).

"I thought it was going to be a trim," she admitted.

Chris frowned. "So you're saying you don't like it?" he huffed, crossing his arms across his chest defensively. The girl at the salon who cut it thought he looked sexy…

"It's… different," Stephanie copped out, removing her hand and giving him a smirk. "You kinda look like that guy from Star Wars."

"Star Wars!" A movie made in the late 70's; Chris certainly didn't like where this was going.

Her brow furrowed in thought as she examined him. "Yeah…. the blond guy who fought the guy in the mask."

Chris winced as if her words had slapped him. "You think I look like Luke Skywalker?" Luke was the biggest pussy in the movie; why couldn't she think of Han Solo?

"Was that his name?" Stephanie had no idea that she was insulting him; her knowledge of the movies came only from the bits and pieces that Shane had forced her to watch in their youth.

"Yeah, whatever," Chris said, his ego crumbling to the floor. His libido lost (due to the combination of Conway and a comparison to Mark Hamill), he turned away, hoping to find a dark corner to hide in.

A hand grabbed his arm. "Where do you think you're going?" Stephanie asked, giving him a pouty look. Had he forgotten that they hadn't seen each other for days, and that she really needed to be kissed at the moment? Didn't he want to kiss her?

She got her answer in the form of a sneer. "What do you care? Now you don't have to look at my pansy ass haircut!" Emitting a few choice curse words, Chris spun around and left the cafeteria.

"What a bitch," Stephanie grumbled, settling back into her chair. All he ever does is bitch about women before he goes and acts like one.

It would take her about an hour (and some outside assistance) to realize that his mood swing, in fact, was well-warranted.

Hair is a sensitive issue, especially if one was Canadian.

After his not-even-close-to-being-a-girlfriend made that horrible Hamill comment, Chris rushed back to the comforts of his locker room to escape any more judgmental eyes. Once inside, he dug out his cell phone and fairly demanded that Shelton come to see him. He trusted that his best friend would objectively tell him the truth; or rather, he knew that Shelton would feel sorry for him and wouldn't say anything nasty.

Such a truer form of friendship had never existed before, where lies are detected and accepted as truth even before their conception.

A knock at the door, however, signaled the arrival of the wrong rookie. "Randalf?"

"Jericho," the younger man greeted before pushing past him and walking into the locker room.

"Of course you can come in," Chris replied sarcastically as he shut the door. Inwardly he braced himself for some sort of taunting about his hair, and readied his arsenal with a battery of Triple H ass-kissing retorts.

Randy, however, couldn't care less about Jericho's Mary Lou Retton-do (although he briefly wondered if this was yet another demonstration of Vince McMahon's power over Canadians). The young champ began pacing the room as he gathered his thoughts.

With an experienced eye, Chris smirked at the other man's behavior. "It's a woman, isn't it?" If there was anyone who could spot a man with woman troubles, it was Chris Jericho. After all, he had experienced a decades' worth in the past four months.

Randy snorted, hiding his surprise over Chris's intuitive nature. "Worse than that, dude; it's a Diva."

Chris forced out a laugh to cover his growing concern. He had a hunch that this was about their mutual Diva-friend and her gigantic crush; the problem lay with what side he was going to take: Randy's or Nidia's. Or Shelton's too, for that matter. "Divas are trouble, Randalf. Is she pestering you?"

"At every show."

"Calling your cell phone?"

"Nearly every night."

"Coming on to you?"

"Can't scrape her off these days."

"And you want nothing to do with her?"

Randy let out a guttural sigh. "I want everything to do with her. That's the damn problem," he admitted quietly, falling into a folding chair.

Chris's jaw dropped to the floor; the biggest womanizer on the roster (he and Christian excluded) was contemplating settling down with….. Nidia?! Instantly the Canadian pitied his forlorn best friend, for as soon as Randy made a move on her, Shelton would be trapped in platonic hell. And if there was on thing that drove men crazy, it was an unwanted platonic relationship. They might as well be brainless dogs, offering devotion and support while suppressing their desire to hump their masters.

Boy, Chris was sure glad he was never in that situation himself. Women never turned their back on him, EVER.

"So what should I do?" Randy asked.

Chris shrugged at the rookie. "Go for it, I guess," he said weakly, picturing himself plunging a steak knife in Shelton's back. There was no choice though; at least this way Nidia and Randy would be happy and Chris would only have to worry about one pathetic rookie instead of three. "Lay on that Orton charm and I'm sure she won't resist."

"You know it," Randy replied with a smirk. Feeling more at ease with his woman issues out of the way, the young man attempted to get comfortable in his hard metal chair. "So, how are things with Steph?"

Chris grimaced; a hand unconsciously stroked through his shortened locks. "Let's not go there, Randalf."

"Trouble in paradise?" The rookie waggled his eyebrows provocatively.

"Mind your own business, pervert."

"Who's a pervert?" Shelton asked as he burst through the door, only to spot his tag team partner sitting across the room. "Got my answer then."

"What's that about a pervert?" Nidia questioned behind Shelton. Her curiosity about the subject died when she saw the other occupant of the room. "Randy! I didn't know you were here!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together.

"Shelton, Nidia," Randy nodded in their direction as he stood up, feeling like the outsider in a close group of friends. "Thanks for your help Chris, but I think I should get going."

"See ya," Chris said.

"Later," Shelton bit out, resisting the urge to give him the finger.

As Randy neared the door, Nidia suddenly lunged out and grabbed onto Randy's arm. "I'll go with ya Randy; I'm sure these two want to have some guy talk or whatever," she explained as she pulled him out the door. "But can we swing by catering? I could use some water."

"Um… sure."

Chris caught the panicked look in Randy's eyes before he disappeared, and resisted the urge to laugh. Instead, he opened his mouth to tell Shelton he was an idiot…

Then closed it when Shelton started breathing in and out of his cupped hands. "Luuuoooooooooke, I am your fatherrrrrrrrrrrrr…." he droned before cracking up. When Stephanie had called his cell moments after Chris, explaining the whole situation and demanding to know why Chris would get pissy over it.

One look at Jericho's new 'do and he got his reason why.

"Not you too," the Canadian groaned. He idly wondered if he should shave off the rest or bite the bullet and get extensions.

"Use the force, Luuuuuooooooke."

A sneaker flew by Shelton's head, courtesy of Chris's nearby gym bag. "If you don't cut it out, rookie, then I'm not going to be nice to you anymore," Chris threatened.

Shelton snorted, but uncapped his hands. Chris's idea of being nice was tolerating another person's presence only as long as he/she listened to his bitching and moaning. Still, it was better than nothing. Examining the blond man's hair, the other man shrugged. "Steph was probably trying to get on your nerves. I don't think it's that bad."

Chris happily ate up the lie before beaming at his friend. "You're damn right it's not that bad, Benji boy, because no matter what my hair looks like, I'll always be the sexiest beast around," he boasted, tossing his hair in sync.

"Whatever you say." Shelton's eyes flicked to the door before returning to Chris's, asking a silent question.

With a sigh, Chris collapsed in the chair formerly occupied by Randy. "He wanted advice on a woman, Benj. It doesn't look so good for you."

The anger uncontrollably flared up in Shelton; before he could stop himself, he was beating the shit out of Chris's wall. Stupid stupid stupid…his mind taunted.

Jericho's jaw dropped as he watched his friend smash his fists into the concrete. He understood a bit of venting, but this was ridiculous! Rushing to his side, Chris quickly applied a full nelson, effectively restraining the other man.

"LET ME GO!" Shelton bellowed, trying to free himself. The anger was threatening to consume him completely.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Chris yelled back, straining to keep his arms locked. He didn't want to fight the younger man, but if the litter pisser took a swing at him, then it was all over.

"Go to HELL!"

"Get a hold of yourself!"

And as quickly as that, Shelton's anger dissipated, leaving only a wounded spirit and throbbing fists. "Let me go," he said again quietly, standing as still as a ghost.

At the change in tone, Chris removed his hands and released the young man. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he spat out, going into a defensive position. As much as he hated to admit it, this violent streak in Shelton scared the crap out of him.

Shelton didn't answer him; he instead sank to the ground, holding his head in his broken hands. He was losing control again; first with Evolution and now with the situation with Nidia. He cursed himself again and again for acting up in front of Chris, for his friend would pry, and he wouldn't be able to tell him the truth.

And there was still quite a bit of truth that Chris still didn't know.

Much later, Stephanie paced around in Chris's empty locker room, waiting for her not-quite-sure-if-he's-my boyfriend to return from his match with Shawn Michaels. She knew that he was getting his ass beat by Christian and Tomko (thanks to her headset, which now sat on the table), but he was taking forever.

Honestly, this was like his 11th Tomko-Christian beat down; couldn't he speed it up?

Finally, Chris stumbled through the door, holding the back of his neck and cursing the mother of Edge and Christian.

He then looked up and cursed for a much better reason.

Stephanie had done her hair up in two messy buns, a la Princess Leia. Taking a peek at her crib notes, she shoved them in her jean skirt before giving a pleading look to Chris. "Ah, help me Obi-Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope."

It was almost cute, if one could ignore certain problems.

"Hate to break it to you Princess, but Leia was Luke's sister. Try again."

Her nostrils flare in anger. "Fine then, be a little bitch about this," she sniped, stomping towards the door.

Chris reached out an arm and easily caught her before she could escape. Pulling her against his chest, he looked down at her with a smirk. "Your hair looks stupid like that."

She flushed at their closeness, but sneered at his words. "At least mine isn't permanent, bucko."

"Oh really?" He leaned closer. "But you still want me."

While the rest of her body said 'yes, please', Stephanie shook her head adamantly.

Chris nodded back at her.

She shook harder.

He nodded once.

Their lips met simultaneously, thanks to her leaning up and him leaning down.

After nibbling at her lower lip, Chris pulled away. "Do I really repulse you?"

She gave him a look. "Chrissy, darling, I dated Edge."

Filled with relief, he returned to the task at hand.

END CHAPTER NINE

Author's notes: Happy Thursday! :) In honor of Stephanie making an appearance on SD!, I have decided to make an appearance on as well. I hope you all enjoyed the update; my Shelton muse and Randy muse are warring with one another, so they got shared time this week. If you're confused by Shelton's behavior… good. That's how you're supposed to be :D

Now, let me say a hundred thank-yous to you guys! Getting a hundred reviews for this story is just the best feeling; so seriously, thank you to everyone who bothered hitting that button and supporting me. Special thanks to Linda, who (inadvertently, I believe) submitted that 100th review – hope the move goes well! With that settled… I wouldn't mind a few more, so please review this chapter and let me know what you think (minus the usual crappy grammar – I wrote this in two hours, I know it sucks :P). Until next week, take care!