Dirty Deeds

CH 32: Food Fight

I'm already in catering when a freshly showered straightedge society show up. Matt and I are snuggled together at one of the tables. We watch as Punk and his cohorts select their usual table, near the back of the room. They're deep in conversation, though Punk does look up and smile my way once or twice.

"You all right?" Matt asks me.

"Hmm?"

"You've been quiet all night."

I sigh. "I guess. It seems so weird back here right now."

"Howso?"

"Have you noticed that everyone keeps staring at us, but no one ever comes up and says anything?" I ask.

Matt smiles. "They're still getting used to us being together, Michelle. You have to admit, it was kind of surprising. Most of them haven't had as much time as we have to really get used to the idea."

"Are your friends treating you differently?"

"Some of them," he admits. "Though you seem to have the worst of it." He glances over at Punk, then back to me. "Wrestlemania is only three weeks away. After that, everything will start to go back to normal, and creative will be begging to use our relationship more onscreen. And who knows? Maybe Punk will resolve whatever it is that's going on in the straightedge society and you can fix things with Layla?"

"I somehow doubt Layla will want to fix things with me. Not so long as you and I are together, anyway."

"Well, that's one thing I don't plan to have changed at Wrestlemania," Matt says firmly.

I smile at him. "Good. I hope you'll stick around for a long time."

"Oh, believe me," he says, leaning over the table to kiss me, "I plan to."

"Some of us are trying to eat!" I hear from the next table over, and then Matt and I are pelted with a handful of salad.

I look up to see Morrison smirking at us, while the Miz looks innocent. "Nice," I tell the Miz. "You come to my show and start a food fight?"

"I didn't do it," the Miz says.

"Sure," Matt begins, but I grab my own handful of salad and walk to their table, then rain it down on Miz's head.

Matt laughs and the Miz growls, "Oh, you're so dead!" at me and picks up his tray. I scramble away from him, laughing and yelling, "Protect me!" to Matt. That's how Matt comes to be between me and the tray when Miz tosses the food from it. Matt's covered, and I end up with some of it on me. I catch a glance of Punk and the straightedge society. Gallows and Serena look disgusted, but Punk looks alarmed. He's rising from his seat when Morrison catches me and dumps his food on me.

The rest is a blur, right up until Jericho and Edge show up. "What the hell is going on back here?" Jericho roars.

We stop. The room is a disaster. I look around at the mess and then up at Jericho, who's glaring at me. "I slipped?" I offer.

"McCool," Jericho growls. "Do you have any idea how much trouble we're all going to get in if this room looks like this when we leave tonight?" He glares around the room. "I can see who the culprits are. You four, get to work. The rest of you, out. Obviously, I have to babysit you because I can't trust you unsupervised." Edge gives Jericho an amused look, grabs a water bottle, and heads out of catering with the rest of the superstars. When they've filed out, there are six of us left. Jericho, Matt, Miz, Morrison, myself and Punk. "Did you need something, Punk?" Jericho says, sounding more weary now that everyone else is gone.

Punk hesitates, then shakes his head. "Just heading out for the night." Though the words are directed at Jericho, his eyes are on me and Matt.

"Yeah, fine, good luck with that," Jericho grumbles. Once Punk's gone, Jericho says, "You four are trouble." He settles on a relatively clean bench. "Get to cleaning."

Normally, I'd protest, but all three guys just shrug and start cleaning up the mess so I jump in and help. It takes half an hour, but by the time we're done, catering looks fantastic. "How's that?" Matt asks Jericho.

Jericho looks around, then turns to us. "Good. Let that be a lesson to you." He stands up and heads for the door. "No more food fights. Troublemakers." I catch a look at his face as he says the last and realize he's smiling.

"Why do I get the feeling that you guys have done this before?" I ask Matt.

He grins. "The ECW food fights were legendary." He smacks Morrison on the shoulder and shoots the Miz a mock glare.

Miz smirks at me. "If you'd ever come out of your locker room, you'd know that. But you're usually so busy being snobby..."

"Hey!" I protest.

Matt leans over and musses the Miz's hair. Or he would muss it, if it weren't gelled within an inch of its life. "That's cute, Mizzy. You're like the pot calling the kettle black."

"You're lucky I don't want to clean any more tonight," Miz says, "or you'd be wearing leftovers. Again."

Matt looks down at his clothes. "I need a shower."

"You're just now noticing that?" Morrison asks, laughing. "Geez, Matt. Way to be observant."

Watching them, I feel kind of left out. They're obviously friends, and I never really realized it. Matt and I have been spending so much time together that he's not had much time for his friends outside of me. I mean, I know he has other friends, but I'm not sure who they are. That's something I plan to remedy as soon as possible.