[Author] - Grasshopper (A.K.A. The Undertaker's Muse)
[Email] - [email protected]
[Rated] - PG-13
[Warnings] - Slight angst, mild language.
[Category] - WWE
[Spoilers] - Slight for RAW 09/01/03.
[Pairings] - Stacy Keibler/Chris Jericho
[Summary] - Sometimes, the least likely of people know how to comfort you best…
[Author's Notes] - After I finally got ahold of my tape with this week's Heat and RAW, I resisted the urge to write a Tommy/Victoria fic. Now it's back to bite me in the ass, as I'm now writing a non-slash Stacy fic. I'm amazed…especially since I'm pairing her with the one person I never thought I'd write a het fic about ('cause Jerky and Ben-oyt are so perfect for one another).
[Disclaimer] - Only the story, which is a work of fiction, belongs to me. All characters within belong to themselves and/or the WWE. Title comes from "Clumsy" by Our Lady Peace.
"Hey, are you okay?"
Stacy glanced down in confusion at the man before her.
"Like you care?" She scowled as he hopped up to site beside her on the crates. Edging away from him slightly, she watched carefully as Chris Jericho made himself comfortable.
"Yes, actually…I do." His blue eyes locked onto her brown ones steadfastly. Stacy felt like she was drowning in his eyes…so very, very blue… And, for once, his clothes didn't make her want to slide on a pair of sunglasses for fear of going blind. The black material was shiny, but not glaringly so.
Shaking herself out of her musings, Stacy's voice was barely a whisper as she asked, "Why?"
"I'm not sure." Chris continued to meet her eyes, only turning away after she did.
Stacy played with her fingers nervously, not sure of what to say. The two were silent for a few moments, neither one looking at the other.
"I'm serious, though… Are you okay?" The concern in his voice was real, she could tell. There was only so far he could go in faking sincerity… She knew what it was like when he faked it, and this was sincere.
"That's a loaded question," Stacy snapped, the loathing she felt making her voice brittle.
His eyes softening compassionately, Chris tried again, "Stacy-"
"No. No, I'm not okay." Stacy met his gaze again, anger and sadness blazing in her eyes. "Does that satisfy you? Now will you leave me to wallow in misery over the cesspool that is my life?" Her voice broke on the last word. Biting her lip to keep a sob from escaping, Stacy once again tore her gaze from Jericho's.
Chris watched as she stared sightlessly at her hands, folded neatly in her lap. He knew he had to do something… But what? This wasn't something that he'd normally do. No, not at all. He hadn't done anything like this since the days he'd hung around with Lita and the Hardyz… The days - and nights - he used to let Lita cry on his shoulder when Matt was being an utter ass.
This was different, though. Back then, Lita had been like a sister to him. An extremely hot sister that he'd love to bed, but a sister nonetheless…in a less incestuous way, of course. Stacy, however… Stacy was a puzzle. She could go from being a corporate whore to a refined lady at a moment's notice. It confused and intrigued him. It made him want to look beneath the outside…to look beneath the extremely long - extremely fine - legs and pretty blonde hair…and see what made her tick. What made her laugh and what - other than Test - made her cry. He hated to see women cry.
Shaking himself mentally, Chris's mind focused again on her words.
"No," he murmured, gazing at her profile intently.
Shocked for a moment, Stacy glanced at the man beside her out of the corner of her eye. She hadn't expected him to answer her; she'd expected him to leave. That was what men did best anyway, right? Leave?
"'No' what? 'No' it doesn't satisfy you, or 'no' you won't leave?"
"Both. You didn't deserve what happened out there, Stacy. You shouldn't ever have had to go through that."
Her eyes blazing with fury, she met his gaze once again. "Like you haven't done worse? I seem to remember an incident with a chair some months ago."
"That was an accident," Chris said through gritted teeth. "While I may not have apologized in quite the way I should have, I was - no, am - sorry for it."
Calming down slightly, Stacy sighed deeply. "It doesn't really matter anymore."
"Yes it does. It affects you still, so it does matter. Stacy, I acted the way I did for a reason-"
"Because you're a royal asshole?"
"That may be true, but it's not the reason why. Look, I've known Test for a long time; I know exactly what he's like and how he operates. It was only a matter of time before he turned on you. I figured if I could cause you two enough problems it'd end things quicker, or at least have him focused enough on me that he wouldn't want to waste his time going after you."
Stacy raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "You do realize that what you did just brought us closer together, right?"
"I didn't say it was a well-thought out plan. I'd just hoped to avoid all of what's happened. And if not…then at least the things I put you through would toughen you up a bit for what he would put you through. It was never about your pain, Stacy. I just want you to know that."
"I wish I could believe that," she muttered, her voice almost too soft for him to hear.
His hear contracting painfully at that, Chris tenderly wrapped an arm around the fragile woman beside him. At his gentle nudging, her head came to rest upon his shoulder.
Releasing a contented sigh, Stacy let herself melt into his body a bit. It felt good to have someone comfort her and nothing else. Even when things were good between them, Andrew's comfort had generally began as tender touches then led straight to sex. The same with Scott, though he'd been kinder about it…too fearful of harming her with his freakish strength. But this…
This was nice.
She smiled softly when he placed a comforting kiss on the top of her head. This was very nice. It was strange how the people who liked you least knew how to treat you better than the people who supposedly cared. Letting her thoughts float away, Stacy closed her eyes…
And just soaked in the comfort.