Houston, We Have a Problem

"Hey John," Randy Orton called out as he let himself into the kitchen of his friend's new home. "Where's Dave?"

Shrugging, John put a can of chili on the counter and looked around again. "Don't know, haven't heard from him." His brow knitted in confusion. "TRISHA!"

Trish appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, looking perfect and smiling knowingly. "What did you lose now?"

Knowing that the house was his, that he owned it, was a good feeling. Not knowing where the hell any of his stuff was inside the house was not so good. "Can opener," he answered.

Trish let herself into the room, smacking Randy's arm as she moved past him. "What's up, Ass Face?" she asked casually, moving to a drawer in the massive island of the kitchen.

"Good to see you, too, Crack Whore," Randy responded affectionately as Trish flipped him off and looked inside another drawer.

John listened as his girlfriend and best friend continued to bicker. His life was good - all things considered, he really couldn't ask for anything better. "Found it!" he shouted, pulling the utensil from a drawer and waving it toward Trish. "Now, where's the crock pot?"

Trish pointed to the counter. "In front of your face, Genius," she giggled as he rolled his eyes. Moving to the pantry, she withdrew a block of processed cheese and tossed it toward him. "That's not gonna be done in time to eat, John," she pointed out as he began to mix his famous chili-cheese nacho dip.

"It'll be fine," he assured her, rolling his eyes. "Dave's not even here yet."

"He's on his way," another voice sounded from the doorway as Ashley Massaro let herself into the room and rested her chin on Randy's shoulder. When her boyfriend shot her a questioning look, she shrugged. "What? He called your phone - it was on the couch," she held the object out and stuck her tongue out as he stole it back.

John was cooking, Trish was pulling beverages from the fridge, and Randy was holding Ashley in his lap as he balanced on a stool near the counter. "So, what are we thinking this newbie's gonna be like?" Trish asked, sliding a few more beer cans onto the counter top as she opened speculation as to Dave's newest girlfriend.

"I hope she's a bitch and we all hate her," came a deep answer from the doorway.

Looking up, John smiled as Edge and Lita moved into the room hand-in-hand. Edge carried a bottle of champagne with a bow and dropped a kiss on Trish's cheek as she accepted it.

Ashley rolled her eyes. "I thought you liked being the biggest bitch in this group, Edge," she smirked.

Lita laughed and perched herself on a stool next to Randy as her boyfriend moved to the counter and stole a tortilla chip from a bowl beside John. "I'm just saying that Dave has a tendency to date the coolest women, and I think it would be a refreshing change of pace if he just found some raving, psycho bitch for once."

Randy nodded in agreement. "Dude, it would make our indescretions seem so much less painful." He extended a hand as he and Edge shook on the statement.

Turning in his arms, Ashley stroked his face slightly. "Sweetheart, I don't care if he walks through that door with an angry Rotweiler in a tutu. Nothing is going to make up for Candice Michelle."

Laughter permeated the room as John felt the cell phone in his pocket vibrate. Flipping the top, he continued his dip preparations as he talked to the person on the other end. "What's up, David?" he asked casually, motioning for everyone to quiet down.

"We're lost," his friend admitted.

"I don't know who you're callin' "we" motherfucker. You're the one who can't read the GPS," a feminine voice sounded from Dave's end of the phone.

Dave laughed and then turned his attention back to the phone. "Dude, get me to your place from the highway."

John talked him through the directions as the rest of his guests began to mill about amongst themselves. As he hung up the phone, he nodded. In a few minutes, his three best friends would be here. His girl was here, all the time now. Yeah, his life was not too fuckin' bad.

---

"What's wrong with you?" Dave asked as he clutched the woman's hand at his side.

She was so tiny, compact really. Especially standing next to him. "Nothing. Why?"

He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and studied her flawless face. "You just look like you're about to throw up," he grinned again, running his thumb over her cheek.

Shaking her head, she licked her lips and put on her best fake smile. "Nope. I'm fan-fucking-tastic. Let's go."

Deciding not to push, Dave continued up the path to the front door, stealing a kiss from the woman at his side before he rang the doorbell. "Don't be nervous," he whispered.

She smacked his arm playfully. "I'm not nervous. You don't be nervous and we'll be just fine," she assured him, the rumbling feeling in her gut betraying her words.

Trish threw the door open in seconds and smirked. "Well, well, well," she said. "Look who finally found his way."

Dave offered Trish the bottle of wine in his hands and then put a hand on his new girlfriend's back to usher her inside. "Trish Stratus, this is Jennifer Houston."

John exited the kitchen as Dave made his introduction, nearly dropping the beer bottle in his hands at the sound of her name. Surely it wasn't the same. . . He looked up and tried to swallow the yelp in his throat. Fuck me.

Trish turned with a smile and motioned her fiancee over. "John, come meet Jennifer," she invited.

As he stepped to Trish's side, John smiled awkwardly at Jennifer and shook Dave's hand. "Nice to meet you," he muttered.

Jennifer wanted to run. From the moment she met Dave, she had known this moment would come eventually. And she had talked herself out of it, and back into it a hundred times. But she liked Dave - a lot - and she wasn't about to let this one little thing ruin her chance at happiness with a really great guy.

"Nice to meet you, too," she smiled cordially, returning his hand shake and then winding her arm through Dave's. "This is a beautiful home," she added, tearing her gaze from the man in front of her to look around the room.

The tension was broken when Randy wandered out of the living room. "Hey, you made it," he laughed, moving to share a handshake with Dave. "Can we eat now?"