Wrestling 1. Prettied Up

Break Down The Walls

Chris tapped his toes impatiently the pointed tip of the black knee high boots flicking quickly on the carpet up and down and up and down. He adjusted his ass hugging black mini skirt and sequined halter top. His fishnets were slipping and with an eye roll he hiked his skirt up and tugged on the stockings. He should have worn garters but he had leant them to Adam once and never got them back. Leave it to Adam to hijack a mans' garter belt.

"Shawn!" Chris called smoothing his skirt with one hand and banging on the bathroom door with the other. "Hurry up in there!"

A few muffled groans and grumbles came from inside where a reluctant Shawn Michael's was fiddling with the clothes Chris had picked out for him. Everything was so freaking tight and clingy. Shawn grimaced at his appearance in the mirror, not liking it at all. He grabbed his hair up and fixed it in a sloppy pony tail before plucking up the six inch heels, once again chosen by Chris, and staring at the absurdity of them. Chris called for him again and it was all Shawn could do to resist shooting the bird at the back of the closed door and damning his so called friend to hell. The younger blonde had talked Shawn in to going out with him in drag after his last match, the 'You're Fired' match between Jericho and Cena. Chris had decided it was his time to move on to other things but before he left he wanted to go out with a bang and for some reason take Shawn along for the ride. Why Shawn had agreed to do this he really didn't know, he had never seriously meant to do it, but once the words had slipped his lips Chris held him to it. Shawn leaned against the counter and pulled the strappy heels on and took a few feeble steps forward feeling wobbly and ready to careen into the bathtub or the towel rack.

"There." Shawn blurted out when he finally stumbled out of the bathroom nearly falling into Chris, who grabbed his arms to keep him from nose diving to the floor. "Let's go and get this over with." Shawn grumped pulling his arms free from Chris's grasp.

Chris drew his shimmering blue orbs over the sight of Shawn Michaels in the clothes Chris had picked for him. He wore white shoes with tall, chunky heels, (Chris didn't like the clunkiness of the shoes but didn't want Shawn to break his ankles) with baby blue leg warmers that came to his knees baring his toned legs and thighs before Chris' eyes stopped on the Showstoppers hips which were hugged tight in a white mini skirt. The ensemble was completed with a baby blue corset trimmed in black lace. The color scheme was luscious against Shawn's tanned skin and brought out the silver sparkle in his steel blue eyes. This last piece Shawn tugged at trying to make it meet with the low rise of his skirt and Chris laughed.

"It's meant to show off a little tummy." Chris said finding his voice. Shawn looked absolutely stunning…although there were a few things Chris would insist on changing before they went out. First of all was Shawn's hair, there was no way in hell Chris was going to allow him to keep his beautiful golden hair imprisoned with hair tie.

As if Shawn could read the Ayatollah's mind, he scrunched his eyes up and turned his lips into a pout and barked.

"No."

"Shawn it kills the whole thing!" Chris whined. It wasn't really true, Shawn could roll out of bed with crusted eyes and morning breath and still look sexier than most men could ever dream of being. Chris put on his own pout and crossed his arms over his chest. There was a brief and silent stare down before Shawn tore out the hair tie and flipped it at Chris.

"Happy?" Shawn smiled as Chris ran his fingers through his beautiful long hair, seemingly hypnotized by it, the Canadians' deep blue eyes seemed to dull momentarily and drift somewhere further away. "Chris?" Shawn smirked, knowing he was getting to Chris.

"Ye-yeah? Oh, it looks amazing. But…"

"But?" Shawn groaned but didn't fight Chris when he wrapped his hands around Shawn's waist and steered him back into the bathroom where Shawn's clumsy heels clattered against the tile. The two men watched their reflections in the mirror as Chris had again fallen silent and couldn't seem to keep his hands out of Shawn's hair. _This is why I don't wear it down often, everyone and their brother wants to get their paws on it._

"What are we doing?" Shawn asked jolting Chris again back to reality. Chris found his throat had gone dry and cleared it noisily which for some reason sent Shawn into a fit of giggles.

"You didn't do the corset right." Chris frowned moving Shawn's hair over one shoulder and redoing the buggered up laces and pulling them tighter cutting Shawn's giggles off with a sudden grunt.

"Hey, I might wanna breathe…ass-clown." Shawn coughed out.

"Ass-clown is my phrase." Chris reminded Shawn as he finished with the corset and spun Shawn around. Now it was Chris who couldn't breathe. The corset had narrowed Shawns' waist making his hips seem a little more prominent and giving him a more feminine shape. His belly button peeked out just bellow the tight corset and Chris imagine swirling his tongue in it and then heading lower…

"Chris? Chris can we go now?" Shawn asked picking up things from the countertop and playing with them idly. He held mascara in one hand and lip gloss in the other. He leaned over the counter to get closer to the mirror and the back of his skirt rode up causing Chris to break out in a sweat and wring his hands together just to keep them from roaming and finding Shawn's ass.

"Ow!" Shawn yelled and stumbled backwards gripping his eye and with the other undamaged one glaring at the inky black mascara wand he held between his fingers. "Damn it, how the hell do women do this without poking their eyes out?"

Chris took the make up from Shawn and quickly set it down when he realized his hands were shaking so terribly. Shawn didn't notice he was too busy leaning over the counter again and peering at his eye as it leaked tears down his face. Chris couldn't help but laugh at the black smudges on Shawn's eye lid and the ebony streaks running down his cheek.

"Shawn, you're a mess." Chris found his hands once again going to Shawn's waist and he turned the older man around and grabbed some toilet paper and gently cleaned the dark make-up.

"Well I was just trying to pretty up like you." Shawn reasoned as Chris smeared away the last bit of misplaced mascara. _Shawn Michaels trying to pretty up like me, ha what a joke he puts me to shame just wearing sweats._

"You don't need any help Shawn, you're beautiful." Chris bit down on his lip drawing a slight bit of pain and he felt the unfamiliar warmth of embarrassment creeping up his neck and settling rosy in his cheeks. Shawn was one of the very few people who could make Chris blush or feel awkward and he was this evening doing a very good job of causing both and even more. Shawn didn't seem to notice the red-faced young man, he was once again distracted and fiddling with the lip gloss, pulling the wand in and out of the tube which only irritated Chris worse.

"It makes squishy noises!" Shawn announced cheerfully as he held the makeshift toy up and demonstrated pulling the wand in and out as the gloss inside squished around making liquid-smacking sounds.

"Shawn…please…" Chris stammered out before taking the tube away from Shawn with quivering hands. The little Texans' smile melted away and he pooched his lips out in a silent whine. Chris saw his opportunity and slid the tip of the wand over Shawn's pouty lips, making them look like dewy rose petals, before putting the make-up aside. Chris leaned back on the counter, out of necessity because his knees had suddenly turned to water.

"Chris are you okay?" Shawn sauntered the few steps towards the younger man who could do nothing more than nod slack jawed and try to remember how to breathe. Shawn watched with a confused expression drawing his eyebrows upwards but as he approached he slowly realized just what was going on and a soft smirk soon curved his shimmering lips. _He's horny! _Shawn thought with a burst of internal giggles. He ran his hands up Chris' legs before bringing them around to his thighs and pushing them apart slightly, Chris' painted on mini skirt rode upwards, and that's exactly where Shawn's hands went. He bit the insides of his mouth to keep from laughing, Chris was surely going to pass out at any moment. His head was tossed back, the long waves of his hair falling over his shoulders, and his chest strained at his sequined shirt as his breathing became quicker and quicker, he sounded like he was muttering some kind of prayer or plea as he struggled for air. Shawn stopped his hands as close as he could get to Chris' crotch without actually touching it. The heat from his eager groin caused Shawn's hands to slick with nervous sweat and he could feel his own heat start to grow with a soft throb.

"Someone's happy." Shawn whispered as he watched a bead of sweat trail down Chris's neck. He inched his fingers slightly upwards trying not to gasp when he felt the rock hardness straining in its silky prison of women's underwear. His other hand drifted up higher to find the lacy band of the panties and he wanted so badly to pull them away and drag his fingertips along the underside of Chris' erection. However, the two of them were still in the hotel room and Shawn had promised to go out with Chris and when Shawn Micahaels makes a promise he keeps it. So, instead of removing the thin barrier between his sweaty fingers and raw hard Chris, he just found the head and made soft circles around it, gasping when Chris released a strangled cry and arched into his touch.

"Oh fuck, Shawn—oh fuck please!"

Shawn circled his fingertip around the head once more before drawing his hands out of the skirt, amused when he found his fingertip wet from where Chris' pre-cum had leaked through the fabric.

It took everything Chris had to keep from blowing it all right then and there, he could never remember feeling as fucking painfully horny as he did right at this minute, he could never remember wanting anyone or anything so badly. When Shawn withdrew his hands Chris thought he would fall down dead with need or at the very least lapse into a seven year coma. Shawn turned on his heels ready to leave but Chris quickly snatched him and drew him backwards and uncontrollably arched hard onto Shawn's ass.

"Hey!"

Chris was completely befuddled and shocked when Shawn suddenly wheeled on him with a shout and sent a stinging slap across his face.

"Wha-?"

"Are you getting fresh with me? What kind of girl do you think I am!" Shawn shrieked and gave Chris a pretend glare before setting his hands on his hips and storming out of the bathroom. All Chris could do was watch Shawns' ass as it worked up and down with each clunk of his high heels and the sticky white fabric cling to it. His knees gave way and he found his face meeting the floor, the cool tiles feeling like ice against his simmering skin.

"Chris, come on!" Shawn called from the other room. "Are we going out or what?" Chris whimpered, wondering how the hell he was going to get up off the floor.


	2. Pour Some Sugar On Me

_**Yay!! Hope you guys have fun with it! Thank you to my reviewers you all mean more to me than you know :) It's a bit long but I don't think you guys will mind.**_

"This is fun!" Shawn hooted as he laced his fingers through Chris's and dragged the younger blonde after him down the sidewalk, tripping and catching his heels on broken concrete. Lights blinked and throbbed neon against the dimming sky, evening was falling fast and dousing the street and sidewalk with dusty shadows. Patrons hummed in and out of bars and clubs, menacing bouncers stood at some of the doorways with tree-trunk arms crossed over barreled chests, music thudded and blared inviting partiers inside for a hot grind, karaoke, bare breasts, beer-pong, pole dances, billiards, and much more. In this part of the city there was anything for anyone and Shawn was having a blast popping in and out of different places, falling over men, getting drinks bought for him, half-finishing them, then dragging Chris on to some new destination. The Canadian wondered at what point in the evening Shawn had became the one in charge, but maybe it didn't really matter. _I think it started before we even left the hotel room…_Chris thought with a smile urging the corners of his lips upwards.

Normally Chris was the center of every party but tonight his vibe had been thrown off. While Shawn threw himself at random men and sipped pretty drinks all Chris could do was watch Shawn with his mouth hung ajar and his eyes going dry from forgetting to blink. He could still not wrap his mind around how good Shawn looked and his mind kept pulling his thoughts to hot, wet, places that left him panting over bowls of pretzels and clutching half-empty beer bottles in white knuckled excitement.

"Let's go in here!" Shawn drew Chris onward and he barely had time to stop before stumbling into Shawn when the smaller man stopped short. Chris was still fighting with his wandering mind and it took him a few moments of blinking to take in their surroundings and see just why Shawn had stopped right inside the door.

A southern twang accompanied by a wailing steel guitar sobbed out a plaintive riff from an old fashioned looking jukebox. Large men with even larger cowboy hats leaned here and there dragging on cigarettes, guzzling from long necks, or roaming their calloused hands over tight asses clad in Daisy Dukes or painted on Wranglers.

Shawn clapped his hands over his mouth and burst into a fit of tearful giggles. Heads turned and harsh stairs and quirked eyebrows met the two cross-dressed men who stood awkwardly in the doorway.

"Shawn!" Chris whispered leaning close. "I don't think we belong here…"

"Why not? We're a couple of hot chicks." Shawn responded wiping tears from his baby blues and strutting forward. Chris' eyes jerked back and forth over the unpleasant looking faces and up and down strong, tall, frames of many men who were the size of Glen or Mark. None of them looked very pleased to see the likes of Chris and Shawn barging into their honky-tonk. Scenarios rushed through Chris' mind and he saw him and Shawn lying in an alley with tobacco juice and blood smearing their faces and boot print-bruises. His heart jumped up in his throat choking him and he quickly grabbed Shawn by the waist and dragged him away just as a couple of mean looking giants rose from bar stools hitching up their pants and cracking their knuckles.

"Fuck Shawn, you're so clueless!" Chris shouted as he pulled Shawn a ways down the street and then collapsed onto a bench. He wiped his drenched forehead on the back of his hand and sighed loudly.

"What? I thought this is what we were supposed to do…" Shawn pouted, blinking his long eyelashes and idly pushing around a cigarette butt with the tip of his shoe.

"You have to be careful." Chris warned combing nervous fingers through his long hair. Shawn watched the younger man as his blue eyes flashed with the flicker of memory. Shawn sat next to Chris and rested his hand gently against the other mans arm.

"Chris, you forget who you're talking to. I don't understand 'careful'."

Chris' stomach churned sickly as things he didn't care to remember tried to resurface. This was not supposed to be happening, this was supposed to be a night of fun, one last hoorah before he changed things and put this part of his life behind him for good. He turned his gaze to Shawn who had a smile hung crookedly on his face, his hair shimmered with the pale light of the moon, and the concern in his lively eyes was enough to make Chris smile even if it was bitter sweet. Shawn always had a way of caring that made Chris feel better. It was part of the reason Chris…cared so deeply for him.

He closed his eyes and tried to gather his thoughts and then lock them away so he could forget them and have fun. _There are so many things I keep to myself, things I could never express, things no one would understand. _

"Chris, are you okay?" Shawn whispered and the gruff quietness of his voice sent a shiver up Chris' spine. His eyes fluttered open and he pasted a perfectly false smile on his face, the one he had used for so many years. It was the smile of Chris Jericho, not Chris Irvine.

"Come on ass-clown." Chris was determined to have a killer night so he hopped up from the bench and grabbed Shawn's hand pulling him up. Shawn narrowed his eyes slightly at Chris still sensing something deeper, but letting it go. _Whatever it is, it hurts him and he wants to forget it. Maybe I'll help him forget about it for one night…_

"Oh hey look!" Shawn pointed suddenly and pulled Chris in another direction. "That looks like fun let's go over there!"

Chris laughed as he followed Shawn across the street to a two story building with an elaborate, brightly colored mural painted on the bricks and rainbow striped awnings jutting out over the entrance and upstairs windows.

Moments later Chris had shoved his sudden emotional moment behind him, because he and Shawn had found their way onto the dance floor of the noisy club and Shawn was grinding against his ass and legs under the strobe of colorful lights. Shawn ran his hands up and down Chris' body feeling the cling of his skirt to his burning skin and chuckling in his ear when the skirt rode up showing the fine curve of Chris' ass. The puff of Shawns' hot breath against his ear sent chills shuddering through his body, and once again the same sensation intensified when Shawn's soft lips found his ear and started to nibble at it. Soon the wetness of his tongue joined the prodding of his lips and nipping of his teeth and Chris felt the need to shed all his clothes and dive into a pool of ice water.

Shawn knew that Chris was getting hotter and hotter and he enjoyed each shiver, each sigh, and the taste of Chris' skin wet and salty with liquid desire. Suddenly, Shawn felt hands all over him and he was pulled backwards and away from Chris. A group of people sucked Shawn in and twirled fingers through his hair, blew alcohol tainted breath in his face, and roamed their hands over his body some of them starting to dance and grind until Shawn joined in.

Chris had been leaning into Shawn too much completely melting into his touches and when he was suddenly pulled away Chris found him self falling hard on his ass and biting his tongue. He turned to see Shawn swallowed up in the crowd of people making a perfectly slutty spectacle of him self. Chris watched entertained by the show and the way people flocked to Shawn like moths to a flame.

Shawn ran his hands up and down his body tracing up his thighs and over the feminine curves the corset birthed then entangling his fingers in his messy, sweaty, mane of hair. His eyes rolled beneath blonde lashes his cheeks colored a simmering rose as strangers rubbed their hard cocks against him and dragged their tongues over his exposed skin.

Chris picked himself up stumbling a bit and shrieking when a hand slapped his ass so hard it must have been heard through the entire building. Turning around he expected to see someone he knew but found only a group of drunken drag queens giggling like little girls. Chris rubbed his sore rear and made his way towards Shawn, or at least where Shawn had been. He was now gone again and Chris whipped his head around searching the sea of faces for the one that was so familiar to him.

_Slap!_ Chris shrieked again and wrenched his ankle sideways and quickly threw his hands forwards ready for an embarrassing face plant in the middle of the dance floor. He was confused when he was saved with his nose merely inches from the scuffed flooring. Strong arms wrapped around his torso and pulled him up to standing.

Chris found the large hands that were clasped at his waist and with an annoyed expression traced the strange hands upwards to find they were not strange at all. The forearms connected to the hands were littered with tattoos of skulls, wizards, and all things Mark Calaway. Chris actually laughed at the very though of Mark being in a place such as this…he must be hallucinating. He was just then proved wrong when Mark spun him around and opened his mouth to say something but then stopped and gaped at him slack jawed, his face draining of what little color it had naturally.

"Chri—Chris Irvine?" Mark managed to find his voice and cough out the name. He was horrified to be spotted in such a place by a co-worker but at the same time seeing Chris in drag shocked the hell out of him. He never even knew…

"Mark?" Chris felt his face heat up at the awkwardness of the situation. He found his fingers tugging at the bottom of his skirt trying to make it cover more and failing in his attempt at sudden modesty. _Meh, what the hell._ Chris gave up on his skirt and forced his nerves aside. He slipped into a dazzling grin and strutted towards Mark and gripped his leather vest that he wore opened and tugged on it. Chris licked his lips looking the big man over. He looked absolutely luscious in tight leather pants that showcased his long, lean legs. The leather vest gave a teasing view of his toned torso, around his neck was a studded dog collar hiding his 'Sarah' tattoo, and most of his long dark hair fell beautifully over his shoulders, the rest was pulled away from his face in a half pony-tail. Chris walked his fingers upwards and wrapped his arms around Mark's neck. Chris' hunt for Shawn had been momentarily derailed as he lost himself in Mark's stormy emerald eyes as they twitched unsure of the situation.

"So I guess you likey a little Jerichiney?" Chris grinned and twirled a few strands of his blonde tresses around his fingers while tracing the tip of his tongue over his lips seductively. It was not often one got the chance to make The Deadman uncomfortable and Chris was thoroughly enjoying his temporary shock.

"Well hell." Mark finally spat out. "I guess I might as well own up to it." Mark leered at Chris and one of his hands found Chris' ass and gave it a hearty pinch causing Chris to thrust his hips forwards in surprise. Mark hissed as Chris' groin bumped up against his.

Mark dipped his head down to take Chris' lips in a kiss but instead cracked their foreheads together. He forgot that Chris was taller with his enormous heels—they made Mark's feet hurt just looking at them—and so he botched the kiss. Chris wobbled backwards ready to fall for the second time that night and like déjà vu Mark grabbed him and saved him from further embarrassment. Chris rubbed at his forehead and squinted up at Mark through the silver burst of stars that swam in front of his eyes.

"Nice move. You headbutt all the girls you meet?"

"No." Mark grinned and gently pulled Chris's hand away and laying a kiss to his forehead. "Only the beautiful ones."

Chris was now the one shocked. Mark's words haunted him and he wondered if he meant them. _Am I beautiful?_

"Of course I am beautiful! I am Chris Jeri—Shawn?"

'Pour Some Sugar On Me' by Def Leppard blared into the room and Chris' chin nearly hit the floor when he saw Shawn being pushed up onto a stage. He stumbled across the stage and found the pole in the middle of it. He gave it a look up and down with a lusty leer and then wrapped himself around it and rode it up and down to the delight of everyone in the bar. Shawn owned that pole like a natural with one hand clutching it and the other holding on to a bottle of whiskey someone had bought him.

Mark and Chris watched in ecstasy as Shawn danced to the song grinding against the pole, spinning, twirling, riding it like a cowboy on a bronco. He tossed his head back and his tangled mess of hair tumbled over his back, sticky strands clung to his sweaty face.

_Pour some sugar on me  
Ooh, in the name of love_

"Chris…" Mark grunted into the Canadians' ear daring to distract him. Chris barely heard him and offered a half-hearted hmm? Before realizing Mark was lifting him upwards and onto the stage. Chris stumbled forwards coming face to face with Shawn who motioned him forward with the curl of one finger and a teasing glimmer in his silvery blue eyes.

_Pour some sugar on me  
C'mon fire me up _

Chris could hear the cheers from the people surrounded around the stage, whistles and cat calls mingled with the throb of the song and out of it all Chris could vaguely pick out Mark's wolf howl urging him forwards.

_Pour your sugar on me  
Oh, I can't get enough_

Soon Chris found himself entangled with Shawn and the pole both of them driving each other and every other person in the bar into a heated frenzy.

_Pour some sugar on me  
Oh, in the name of love_

Mark could not ever remembering seeing anything quite as sexy as this. Chris and Shawn were all over each other lost in knotted blonde hair, biting mouths, flicking tongues, and hot gyrating bodies. Mark only wished he was as lucky as that pole was to have either one of them…_maybe after this song is over I'll take them back…_

_Pour some sugar on me  
Get it, come get it_

As the song neared its end Shawn brought the bottle of amber liquid upwards and tipped it over spilling all over him self as Chris sucked at his chin and neck greedily slurping at the burning liquid as it mingled with the taste of Shawn's sweat slicked skin. Mark groaned as his hard on became painfully apparent and throbbed against the tight leather of his pants, which he suddenly regretted wearing. He leaned against the stage to steady himself and panted hungrily. _Those two are coming back with me, end of discussion._

_Pour your sugar on me  
Ooh  
Pour some sugar on me  
Yeah! Sugar me!_

_**Have nothing to say here except hope you loved it!!! :D Thank you to DK and Purging Poison who nudged me through some blocks. Hugs!! Review pls don't forget *gives gift of Chris' garter belt which I stole from Adam who 'borrowed' it from Chris* lmao**_


	3. Secrets Remain

_**Thank you again for all the reviews, you all crack me up so much. I think I killed various people…with the hotness lol. It's so fun just to see what you guys think and the reviews you leave. "Va-va-va-voom" "Ah…Huh….buh…buh…" random stuttering and/or drooling, and my all time favorite "It must be that time of the year for threesomes" ROFL!!! I send all my lovin' to you! Oh yeah, and I just realized I made Chris really clumsy, he nearly passed out in the bathroom in 1 then in 2 he either fell or was on his way to falling 3 times…although twice it was Marks fault…anyway…it kind of makes him cute I guess. Nuff rambling on to what you really want! **_

Mark couldn't help but feel smug as he strode down the side walk with Chris and Shawn wrapped around his arms. Shawn reeked of alcohol from bathing in it on stage. He still had the empty whiskey bottle and occasionally brought it to his lips then pulled his eyebrows together in confusion when he found it was depleted. He tossed the container aside and it rattled over the fractured sidewalk in a clinking clattering musical.

Shawn reached into his corset and pulled something out, Mark raised an eyebrow and cocked his head sideways in curiosity and laughed when he saw what treasure Shawn had pulled from his bosom. It was a red sucker in the shape of a penis. Shawn cast a sideways glance and a teasing smirk at Mark before swirling his tongue over the tip of the candy dick.

"Mark…" Chris whined reaching across the big man and trying to steal Shawn's candy. "Pay attention to me!"

"My cock!" Shawn grinned playfully as he held the treat out of reach.

"Don't get yer panties in a bunch Irvine." Mark snatched the blonde up in his arms and cradled him like a groom carrying a bride over the threshold. In Mark's strong arms Chris felt suddenly content as he buried his face in Mark's hair and smiled at the softness and the smell of his cologne and natural scent.

Shawn brightened at Chris as he closed his eyes and nuzzled into Mark. It was too cute, but there was something more attached to the action. Shawn couldn't really say why but there seemed to be a sort of sadness to it. Shawn sometimes got the idea that Chris really needed attention, that he craved it, yet was terrified to be completely emotionally intimate with someone. He buried too much of himself in wit, sarcasm, and flamboyance. Shawn swirled his sucker in his mouth, losing himself in thought as his high heels wore the skin of his heels ragged.

Chris closed his eyes and enjoyed being carried by Mark and feeling like a lady. It was something he didn't get to feel very often because he was too busy trying to over compensate for horrifying feelings by trying to be masculine, something that he had learned to fake tremendously well over the years, although as much as he tried it never really felt natural. No one would ever believe him if he was to confess the truth about a man who wrestled for a living, that he was a lie, that he was such a fraud, such a _hypocrite. _

Chris tried to shove those thoughts away. He didn't want to have his submerged demons surfacing and ruining his night out, his last night out with two of his closest friends. He found the warm skin of Mark's neck and pressed his lips feeling the pulse throb beneath his tongue as he suckled and nipped.

"It's shrinking!" Shawn shouted as he waved around the penis sucker. His sticky lips turned into a huge grin.

"Mine's not." Mark growled at Chris as he continued his assault on Marks' neck grabbing the dog collar with his teeth and pulling.

The three men finally made it back to the hotel piling into the elevator with Chris sliding out of Mark's arms and wrapping himself around Shawn and making out with his cherry flavored lips. Mark gladly took in the sight and was even gladder when the doors dinged open and he pulled Shawn and Chris after him, as Shawn tripped and left a shoe behind in the hallway, before they all disappeared into Mark's room.

Mark rested one hand at Shawn's waist inching his clingy-wet skirt downwards, with one sweep of the other Shawns' knotted hair was out of the way and Mark laid steaming kisses between his shoulders causing him to shudder. The pungent sting of liquor mingled with Shawns' skin and bit at Mark's nose and warmed his tongue. He continued the path downwards towards the top of the corset before setting to work on the tight laces with his teeth. Chris sank quietly into a corner and watched as Mark rid Shawn of his clothing.

Chris felt torn, as he always did when caught in sexual situations. He wanted nothing more than to have a good time and function 'properly' as any male would but the problem was the same embarrassment and confusion that he had known since childhood. He had actually surprised himself earlier in the evening when he and Shawn were in the bathroom. He had reacted so strongly to Shawn and Chris' desire for him was deep enough to over ride the biggest part of his nerves. Now, however, the same feelings of shame were growing as his cock twitched, reacting to Mark and Shawn as Mark lifted the smaller man upwards and Shawn wrapped his legs around Mark's waist rocking his hips into Mark's groin.

"Chris?" Mark panted throwing his burning green gaze over towards Chris who nearly cowered into the corner and the safety of the shadows. "What, you prefer voyeurism?" Mark chuckled pulling his lips back from his teeth in a wolfish grin as Shawn slithered down his body and to the floor where he sat up on his knees breathing heavily and fumbling with Mark's belt.

"This is your night." Shawn reminded Chris, his voice rough with desire. He tugged Marks' belt free with a quick 'woosh' as it fled through the leather loops leaving one less barrier to Marks very noticeable erection. "Get over here before I decide to come get you myself, and punish you." Shawn grinned and his blue eyes sparkled silver with mischief as he clasped Marks belt in his hands and snapped it.

Chris stepped out of the shadows in reluctance, his footfalls faltering but finding their way over Shawns' discarded wardrobe and lone shoe. He felt his cheeks warm with color and tried to will it away. Shawn and Mark would find his behavior odd compared to the talk that circulated through the locker room about Chris. He was supposed to be a lover whose conquests were many, whose skills were unparalleled, topped only by the even more legendary love life of Shawn Michaels' himself.

If one was to stop and think they may wonder a few apparent differences between Shawn and Chris. One was that Shawn was well-known by many of his co-workers from their first hand experiences with the sexy boy himself. Chris' outlandish stories and bedroom braggery was always focused around some ring rat or ring rats that he had dazzled into a coma with his enviable sexual prowess. The other problem was, Shawns' exploits were most of the time made known by others who couldn't help but boast about having been had by the Heartbreaker himself. Chris on the other hand was the one who spread his own stories, shooting his mouth off to the guys in the locker room, puffing his chest like a rooster strutting about the barn-yard bigger and better than all the rest, spinning yarns, kayfabing the ideal of male sexuality. _And they believed him._

"Come on, you're not shy are ya? It's not like this is your first time with another guy." Mark pointed out. Although this was truth, and although Chris did prefer men, there was no way he was as experienced as he let on to be, his fears and shame often kept him from being completely intimate, often freezing up at the worst moment.

"No-no of course not." Chris heard his voice croak out and felt like his tongue had betrayed him. His heart hammered at his chest becoming quicker with the beginnings of panic. If he didn't go through with this what would they think of him, and after all he _had_ led them on. He just had to forget who he was, who he really was down deep where no one but him could see, he had to put on the face and actions of the man he wasn't so he could lie to them, so he could lie to himself.

"Me? Shy? Do you know who you're looking at?" Chris sauntered over to Shawn and Mark bobbling his head cockily, strutting and running his hands up his legs pushing his short leather skirt upwards to reveal strong thighs. "I'm the very definition of sexy."

"That you are." Mark replied licking his lips hungrily.

Mark pulled Chris closer to him and made sure Chris could feel his hardened member against his ass moving slowly, caressing the muscular curve. Shawn sandwiched Chris in the middle and engaged him in a kiss that was passionate enough on Shawns' part, but Chris' seemed reluctant to respond and when he finally got his lips to work they seemed clumsy. Shawns' kiss seemed to turn Chris to molten liquid and he melted into Mark counting on the bigger man to hold him up. The blondes mind swam with confusion and yearning, waiting for one to over rule the other so he could for a few moments do something without being torn to pieces.

"Chris?" Shawns' breathy whisper vibrated sultry against his ear. "Are you okay?"

Chris couldn't find the words to answer verbally, if he opened his mouth he might blurt out that he was not okay, not okay at all. Instead he squeezed his eyes shut tight and nodded without sound as Mark and Shawn each took a side of his neck and left purple and reddening marks tingling against his skin, all the while Mark continuing his steady rhythmic rock against Chris' rear.

Mark snaked his hands up Chris' sticky-wet legs caressing the muscle and slick skin beneath his rough palms and calloused fingers. They found their way up Chris' skirt, indulging and entrenching themselves in the warmth that throbbed there. They played with the damp silk that was the only barrier between his touch and Chris' hardness. Shawn slid Chris' sequined halter over his head and continued his oral assault of Chris' body dragging his searing tongue over the sweaty flesh. His lips and teeth found one of Chris' nipples budding hard and rosy with all the attention from both men. Shawn drew a half-moan half-gasp from Chris as he played with it taking it between his teeth, nipping, and swirling it with his juicy tongue.

Moments later his skirt was tangled around his ankles leaving him in only his fishnet stockings and hot pink silk and lace panties. Shawn was tormenting him the same way he had earlier by dragging his finger in lazy circles around the head of Chris' cock as it prodded at the satin fabric. Chris arched into the touch unable to control the physical sensations rocketing through his body.

_I can't, I'm wrong, I'm all wrong! _

Chris suddenly wanted his clothes back on, he wanted the things that made him feel comfortable and real, the clothing, the shoes, the make-up, all the pretty girly things that made his outside appearance more congruent with his inner being.

_No, you can't think that way! How many times do I have to tell you, how many times do I have to tell you that you can't feel that way! You mustn't! We've been through this since you were a young child—_

Shawn and Mark simultaneously slid Chris' panties down his legs and he suddenly felt the hard burning tip of Marks' penis throbbing at his entrance while at the same time his own length was freed and Shawn gripped his legs, bringing his lips just shy of touching Chris, his hot breath puffing against the head causing Chris to moan out. Shawns' lips touched, Mark pressed his cock harder just barely intruding, as though asking for permission.

"No!" Chris shoved Shawn backwards and stumbled away from the two men suddenly, bending over and grabbing the clothing that tangled his feet and awkwardly fumbling with it in an ill attempt to put it back on. "No, I'm sorry I can't!" Chris nearly shrieked, his voice cracking with trembling nerves. After struggling with the panties and skirt and just tangling his fingers in them he cursed and threw them on the floor, instead reaching for the bed sheets and tearing a sheet away and wrapping himself within the safe cocoon of clothe.

Mark stood stunned at the sudden outburst, but when he realized Chris was drowning in embarrassment he quickly covered it up and shrugged as though it didn't matter. He tucked himself back in his pants feeling awkward, but wondering how much awkward poor Chris must have been feeling. His face was red as a fire truck and beneath his linen shield. His piercing blue eyes twitched fearfully from Marks' face to Shawns' and then down to the floor where the stayed in shame.

Shawn picked himself up from the floor and stepped towards Chris who was moving his mouth but unable to find any words to express himself, shifting from foot to foot like a terrified child knowing they were caught in a forbidden act.

"Mark, can you…" Shawn made shooing motions with his hands and Mark obliged stepping into the hall and vacating his own room, wondering vaguely if he would be able to get back in it tonight.

Shawn guided Chris to sit on the bed and for a few moments the two sat in silence with Shawn simply rubbing Chris' knee in some attempt at comfort.

Shawn had always thought that the self spread legends of Chris' sexual endeavors was greatly exaggerated, it wasn't that he doubted Chris' attractiveness or his abilities, it was just that he seemed to be able to see past a lot of the show that Chris put on and was able to successfully dupe others. He just wished that Chris would have told him instead of feeling the need to take things this far in an attempt to impress the two veterans.

"Chris, if you didn't want to do this you should have said something earlier. Neither of us would have thought—or do think—any less of you."

Chris shook his head no, his blonde hair falling into his face. Shawn brushed it away with his fingertips tucking it behind Chris' ear.

"No? No what…you have to talk to me Chris, I don't understand."

"You wouldn't." Chris replied, the words trembling out breathlessly, as tears clung to his long eyelashes.

"How do you know that Chris?"

The younger man got up from the bed and ambled over to where he had thrown the skirt and panties to the floor. He picked up the underwear and traced a finger over the delicate lace waist band and the tiny bow at the hips.

"It…it--" Chris paused to still his voice and swallow away the sobs that threatened to overtake him. It was a hard struggle, and for a few moments Shawn wondered if Chris was even going to finish what he was saying. At last Chris gave a chuckle, one that sounded extraordinarily fake to Shawn, and turned to the Showstopper with a hollow look in his eyes. "It's going to be behind me. It doesn't matter anyway, ya hear me ass-clown?" Chris put on a crooked smile and shot the panties at Shawn like one might shoot a rubber band from ones' fingers.

Chris left Shawn on the bed and pushed past Mark who was still out in the hallway loitering, leaning against the wall with his inked arms crossed over his chest. He gave Chris a smile that was meant to be reassuring.

"Hey kid, I had fun tonight."

"Sure." Chris laughed. "Shawn's waiting." Was Chris' reply as he wandered off down the hallway still wrapped in Marks' bed sheet, still sheathed in his secrets.

_**Hm…so this is getting longer and more involved than expected. I kinda had a certain idea for a while (a few of you know what I mean) and it wasn't supposed to really be addressed yet but it's already pushed it's way in so it looks like this fic which was supposed to just be a fun little smutty thing is going to be more. Sooo…hope you guys like it. And on another note I have a very special gift for you! My friend Wall-Street Cowboy (by the way if you haven't read any of her stuff check it out she's a great writer and does one-shots most are pretty short so it's easy to pop in and read a few and she's amazing!) sent me this amazing video!!! Go to Youtube and search CM Punk & Mickie James Summer Night. You will rofl it's the bomb Punk, Mickie, Jericho, and some other person I can not identify singing karaoke it's soooo great you have to go see it. :) Reviews?? Thankies!!! Oh one more thing, just a heads up I'm changing the name of the story to Break Down The Walls...so with the next update there will be a new title. Just wanted to let y'all know. **_


	4. Check Your Baggage At The Door

_**Yo ho me hearties! Aaaarrrr. Updatez for allz ya'll! Enjoy! More Chris! Yay! Oh, and Shawn isn't married in this…least not at this point. **_

The morning after his night with Mark and Shawn he gathered up all of his drag clothes and disposed of them, lingering near the dumpster with uncertainty, as though he should say a few words, a kind of eulogy to his old life. He had stood there for what seemed like ages contemplating, wondering if he couldn't steal back just one shoe or a pair of panties or just a button from one of his favorite articles but at last he forced himself away, feeling hollowed out inside.

The feelings only became harder to reign in when he saw Shawn and Mark in the hotel parking lot standing close together chatting. He watched them a few moments from afar, Mark in grey sweat pants and a black t-shirt, his hair in a braid between his shoulders, and Shawn wearing his trademark high wasted jeans and a DX shirt, his golden hair hung in its usual pony tail. Chris couldn't help but drink in the details for one last time because he was after all very sure he would not wrestle again and thus would probably have very little contact with either man.

Mark leaned on his rental, a black Suburban, and yawned. Shawn sipped at a cup of coffee, grimacing occasionally at the strong taste. He rubbed his fingertips over his morning stubble and shrugged.

"From what I know he's taking this time off to work on…er…domestic situations." Shawn stated with a shrug.

"I completely understand that one." Mark said with a snort.

"Oh?" Shawn cocked an eyebrow.

"Meh, it's hard for most of us Shawn. You're lucky you haven't been roped into taking the plunge yet." Mark laughed holding his hand in front of his face, eyes widening when his wedding band was noticed missing.

"Nice." Shawn chuckled pointing at the naked finger.

"Shit!" Mark let loose a volley of curses before setting his face into an Undertaker-esque scowl and pulling the back hatch up and digging through his suitcase.

"Maybe you lost it at that…" Shawn flicked his wrist and batted his eyes playfully when Mark turned his glare sideways on Shawn to see what he was doing. "Bar last night."

"Michaels, bite me." Mark replied with sarcasm before ducking back into his suitcase and continuing his search.

"Been there, done that!" Shawn chirped. "Hope you don't have to take any time off soon…Sarah might put a hurtin' on your ass if she knew!"

Mark chose not to answer, it would only spur Shawn on and so he imagined the blonde Texan sauntering to his own vehicle with a smirk plastered to his face. He could only hope the fates could give him some small form of retribution for Shawns' pestering. Maybe the barista had spit in Shawns' coffee while his attention was drawn elsewhere, as it often was by random shiny objects. Mark laughed, and found his ring at the bottom of his suitcase.

Chris watched as Shawn got to his own vehicle and Paul came running after him climbing in the passengers side laughing. They pulled away and Chris watched until they were out of sight followed after shortly by Mark who stopped at the hotel entrance to let his road partner, Glen, shove his luggage into the back and then hitch a ride. It was the last time Chris would ever wrestle with any of them. He felt a pang of sadness ache in his chest, but he knew what he was doing was for the best, it had to be.

The flight home was unpleasant, Chris tried to fall asleep so his mind would shut down and quit spinning with thoughts that he had already mulled over thousands upon thousands of times. He closed his eyes and tried to think of his wife and children and how they needed their husband and father. If he could concentrate on them then maybe he could change. Maybe he could once and for all put away the feelings that plagued him.

He walked through the airport feeling lost, like an outsider in his own life, which was not even his own but a charade. With a heavy sigh he rolled his suitcase behind him watching the sea of people and wandering if any of them looked in the mirror every morning at a strangers' reflection.

"Chris!"

He jerked his head, veering away from his bitter thoughts at the sound of his wifes' voice. He found her face and her madly waving hand. Her pretty lips pulled back in a gleeful smile, her bleached hair swept over her shoulders, her face, her body, everything about her was perfect in Chris' eyes and down very deep it planted a seed of resentment.

"Baby!" She squealed and ran the rest of the way to him throwing her arms around his neck and taking his lips in a kiss that he almost forgot to respond to. When she pulled away she was beaming, her eyes glistening with tears, just as her husbands' eyes shimmered with wetness, but for very different reasons. Her happiness faltered, her lips melted into a frown.

"Sweetheart what's wrong?"

It wasn't until then that Chris realized he was scowling, his brows drawn into a harsh glower, forehead creased, his mouth pulled downward. He consciously relaxed his face and tried to look a bit less sour.

"Just tired." Chris lied easily and smiled outwardly though inwardly he was anything but happy.

Grace tried to make conversation on the way home but Chris couldn't help but be distant. He watched the scenery pass by outside his window and none of it seemed to matter. As they drew closer to there home she finally fell silent, sensing her husbands' ill mood. She glanced at him occasionally and noticed that his face was once again pulled into a scowl and she couldn't be sure if it was twisted with anger or pain. She shrugged it off figuring he was just having a hard time giving up his career, a choice that was completely his. She had never nagged about him being away and had always been supportive of his wrestling career. His seemingly sudden choice to end it all even had her shocked and wondering why but she figured he knew what was best and if he wanted to spend more time with she and the kids then she wasn't going to complain.

Soon they were home and Chris stayed behind in the SUV a few moments as Grace sauntered up to the house. He was getting ready to enter the world of the ordinary, the world of home-cooked meals, bedtime stories, the evening news, the family cat, Sundays at church, just the ordinary family life. In that kind of life there was no place for a man to go out in his heels and strut around like a princess.

Gathering his courage and his baggage he walked in.

"Daddy!"

Chris dropped his luggage at the door and finally brightened for real when his three children came bounding towards him hollering and vying for his attention. For a few moments at least, their shining faces put peace to the turmoil within. He knelt down and his two daughters launched themselves onto him hanging from his neck, each one taking a cheek and kissing him again and again.

"I missed you!" Olivia the middle child shouted squeezing his neck tightly with her small arms.

"Daddy I missed you tons more!" Madison shrilled directly in her fathers' ear causing him to cringe with a laugh.

"Nuh-uh I missed him more!" Livy yelled her voice pitching up.

"I did!" Maddie climbed on her Daddy's shoulders and cast her sister an angry glare.

"Nuh-uh!" Livy countered in a sing-song voice.

"Yes-huh!" Maddie poked her tongue out at her older sibling who in turn started to whine and plead with Chris to make her sister stop bugging her.

"Stick your tongue out again." Chris said warning his youngest. Her eyes glittered defiantly and her lips turned into a smirk and after a moment of contemplation her tongue peeked out once again. Chris pulled her over his shoulders and attacked her with tickling fingers. Her shriek rang through the house and her sister hopped onto her fathers' back in attempt to help her sibling, obviously forgetting that moments ago they were arguing. Chris soon had both girls on the floor in laughing fits. His son was soon to join in pulling off his fathers' shoe and sock and attacking his exposed foot.

"Truce!" Chris choked out through laughter. "Come on, I call truce!"

The girls finally calmed down. Chris lay on his back outstretched on the floor and Olivia curled up in the crook of his arm while Maddie straddled his stomach and drummed her small five-year-old hands on his chest. Tyler stood at his feet, arms crossed over his chest looking smug.

"My Dad gettin' beat up by two little girls." He snorted pushing his corn-husk colored hair away from his eyes, blue like his father.

"Little!" Maddie cried indignantly. "I am not!" She launched herself at her brother not caring that her yellow sundress hiked up showing off her Hannah Montana underwear. Olivia just turned to her Dad and rolled her eyes around.

"Hello folks, this is good ol' J.R. live from Raw tonight here with my announce partner Loudmouth Liv and tonight we're watchin' a heck of a slobberknocker between--bah Gawd! Mad-Dog Maddison Jericho has her brother in a head lock!" Chris bawled sitting up and pretending to commentate on his children's impromptu wrestling match. "Typhoon Ty's got the reversal! Oh! Did you see that? Did you see that!"

"Da-ad…" Livy once again gave her trademark eye roll at her fathers' goofiness.

"Come on Loudmouth, cat got your tongue?" Chris ribbed his daughter nudging her arm with his elbow.

"Madisooon!" Tyler suddenly sank to the floor hands between his legs. Maddie smiled triumphantly and gave a cocky little laugh. She pranced around her brother who was rolling on the floor.

"That's vintage Mad-Dog!" Olivia smirked. "The Rocks of Jericho!"

"Maddie we don't hit boys below the belt." Chris reminded her but he couldn't help but smile anyway. She was so adorable and she got away with everything. She skipped one more circle around her ailing brother before sitting down hard on his stomach drawing an 'oof' from him. She crossed her legs like a lady and stuck out her chin as if doing a model pose.

"If Ric Flair can do it then so can I." The little girl shot back turning her nose up.

"One…two…three!" Chris called out taking on the dual role of announcer/ref.

"Get her off of me!" Tyler shouted shoving his sister away and sitting up looking dazed.

"That's okay, I'm fine." The ten-year-old said glaring at his father. "She should be disqualified. I hate wrestling. It's stupid."

"That's what I think too." Said Olivia and she and Tyler went to the kitchen to see what their mother was doing.

"Well, I don't. I wanna be a wres'ler…I wanna be like you Daddy!" Maddison climbed into her fathers lap and situated herself there resting her head against his chest. He trailed his fingers through her sun kissed curls, reminded of why he was trying so hard to be the man that she—that they all—expected him to be.

_**A bit shorter but it seemed like it wanted to end here. I like the children and stuff…and to my knowledge I didn't use any of their real names or his wifes' real name…if I did it was purely by accident because I don't know their names and didn't look it up either. I didn't want to use their actual names. Hope you guys enjoyed and I will most likely be updating again this week. I'm also still working on my other fics too it's just that those updates come a bit slower. I haven't forgotten though. I'm also trying to get my funny bone back so I can update Silly Style. I have half a chapter of it and then it just…died…lol. So I'm waiting to get back in that mode. Anyway review if the itch hits ya, and I send you lots of love and sunshine from Reddington Shores, FL where I'm on vacation woo! And no, the musi obviously did not stay home, they stowed away in my suitcase. Not sure how they all fit, but they did. Guess they wanted me to have company :)**_


	5. Color Inside The Lines

_**Thank you for your kind reviews: Nefatiri, Dark Kaneanite, Animal Luvr 4 Life, Esha Napoleon, takers dark lover, and Anonymous Punk. Hope you keep on reading and liking it. **_

Being home was harder than expected. Chris' rationale was that surrounding himself with his family would help him to reorganize his priorities and take his mind off himself and the things that warred inside. So far he was just as conflicted at home—if not more so—than he had been when he was away. The feelings he wanted to bury only became more stubborn at clinging to his conscience. He found himself lying in bed at night craving some outlet for his desires or sometimes standing in front of the mirror observing with sadness the naked body that he saw reflected.

"Chris, have you seen my lipstick?" Chris blinked his thoughts away and looked down at the breakfast dishes in the sink. He turned on hot water and squeezed some soap in watching as it exploded into a foam of tiny bubbles.

"Huh?" He cast a glance over his shoulder to see his wife dump the clutter from her purse onto the kitchen table where Maddie sat coloring. Grace rummaged through the vomited contents of her hand bag.

"Ah ha!" She exclaimed holding up a battered looking eye-liner pencil. "I wondered where that was…but no lipstick." She tapped the discovered cosmetic against the palm of her hand contemplating where she might have misplaced her lipstick. "Have you seen it Chris? Maybe I left it lying in the bathroom and you put it up or something?" She questioned with a flip of her bleached and straightened hair.

Chris sank his hands into the warm, soapy, water and shifted nervously from foot to foot, his face growing warm with scarlet. He was just glad his back was to his wife so she couldn't see the guilt that was there.

"I don't know sweetheart." Chris said sponging a smatter of syrup from a plate. "I didn't mess with it."

"Hmm." Grace gave a baffled shrug and reloaded her purse with the purged mish-mash of stuff which included old receipts, too many ink-pens, and three different travel-sized bottles of Tylenol—Childrens, Extra Strength, and for the really rough days Migraine. "I'm going to run some errands today anyway. I'll just pick up a new tube while I'm out."

She laid a kiss atop Maddie's head and gave her blonde pony tail a tug. She left her youngest with the typical instruction of 'Be good for Daddy' and reminded Chris that she was going to pick up Tyler and Olivia from school today. With that, she headed out the door. As soon as she was gone Chris let out a pent up sigh and pulled a childs plastic cup from the dish water.

"Daddy, are you okay?" Came Maddie's small, cheerful voice. He smiled holding up the cup that had a wad of bubble gum stuck the rim. Olivia was always chewing gum and always sticking it on her plate, cup, or under the coffee table.

"Fine Mad-Dog." Chris replied prying the gum away and frowning when it stuck to his soapy fingertips and made a stringy mess. "How's the coloring book treatin' ya?"

"Good. I'm colorin' a puppy. I want to color him pink but Mommy said I should color him brown 'cause it's a'possed to be a boy puppy. She said pink is a girls color."

_Chris, pink is a little girls color._

Maddie's words suddenly took Chris back to a memory.

_Mom and little Chris were at the mall. In front of Sears was a huge Easter display with enormous pastel eggs and a friendly looking rabbit with exaggerated buck teeth waving at the children. Chris smiled and curled his fingers in a wave at the big rabbit. He tried to pull his hand away from his mothers to go visit with the candy-bearing bunny but she tightened her grip. _

"_Mommy, please?" Chris turned his face up to hers and pouted._

"_No Christopher. We're here to get you an outfit for Easter since you outgrew the one from last year." She smiled down at her son and released his hand and trailed her fingers through his long hair. She just couldn't bear to cut it. "You're growing like a little weed." _

"_Mommy, look!" Chris was again distracted as he and his mother passed a display in the window of a toy store. He pressed his face and palms against the glass captivated by the porcelain doll with its delicately painted face and shimmering, angelic, dress. He had never seen something so pretty and like any five-year-old who saw a spectacular toy he was dazzled by it. It was even better than the dolls his cousin Nikki had. Nikki always asked Chris to play tea-party or house with her dolls. The only thing Chris didn't like about it was that she always made him be the boy. _

"_Isn't that a big fire truck?" Mommy asked kneeling and taking Chris' hand back in hers. He was confused wondering what she meant talking about a fire truck. "Come on Chris sweetie. We can't get any toys today."_

_She led him away from the window but he couldn't help but take one last, lustful look over his shoulder at the precious doll. It was then that he noticed the bright shiny fire truck opposite the doll in the display. It was nice, but not nearly as nice as the doll. He would sure love to have it._

_Mom and Chris found the childrens clothing and while she was pulling boys clothes from the rack and comparing them Chris was wondering through the girls section which was decked out in whimsical pastel dresses for Easter. They were so pretty, little Chris reached his hand out to touch the shiny skirt of a purple dress with a mint-colored sash. The ones on the rack next to that were yellow with pink and purple flowers and came with a tiny plush bunny. Then there were powder blue with dyed eggs on the skirt, or white ones that looked like clouds dappled with tiny bows. Chris imagined wearing one and twirling in it like a ballerina. _

"_Christopher?" He heard his mother calling for him. "Chris?" The second time her voice rose a bit. "Oh, there you are!" She sighed casting him a stern look. "Don't go away from Mommy." She took his hand and started to walk him out of the girls section, the outfit she selected for him in her other hand, but he tugged back wanting to stay where he was._

"_Mommy I want that one!" He pointed to one of the dresses. _

"_Sweetheart why do you want a dress?" She laughed. "You're silly. Now come on Chris. We're going to try this on." She held up the outfit, powder blue pants with a matching vest and a white button up shirt. It was so ugly, not pretty at all._

"_Mooom!" Chris whined sticking his lip out. "I wan' that it's pretty!" Why was she going to make him wear that? Why couldn't she get one of the flowery dresses? _

"_Chris…I don't have time for this." _

_Chris started to cry as she dragged him away. She never let him get dresses or dolls or anything pretty. By the time she got him to the dressing room he was in full tears and snot and she had to fish around in her purse to find a wadded tissue. She wiped his face but it didn't really matter. He just kept sniffling and in her mind throwing a fit over nothing. She battled with him to get the clothes on growing more aggravated by the moment as he wiggled and wept._

"_Christopher, hold still!" She finished buttoning the vest and turned him towards the mirror. "There now. Don't you look handsome?"_

"_I du-don't li-like blue!" Chris wailed sniffling his nose. "I wa-an' pink Mommy."_

_She knelt and took her sons shoulders turning him to face her. His enormous blue eyes ran over with heated tears and his button nose turned as red as that fire truck in the window._

"_You're not getting pink so stop crying. Chris, pink is a little girls color." _

_Chris hadn't understood then and as an adult he was just as confused now as he had been at age five._

"Daddy, Daddy look!"

Chris realized his daughter was tugging at his shirtsleeve and that brought him back to reality. Looking down at his hands he saw he still held the plastic cup and mess of bubble gum.

"Hey ass-clown!" Maddie shouted waving her coloring book around.

"Maddie don't say that please."

"Well you say it." She sang smiling up at him, her dimples showing. "I drawed you a pi'ture." She held up the coloring book and Chris wiped the rest of the bubble gum off of his hands. He knelt down so she could show him her spectacular artwork.

"See?" She pointed her small finger at the dog that was chewing a bone. Chris felt his heart warm at the way she had tried so hard to keep the crayon inside the lines. It turned out after all that she had colored the dog pink rather than brown.

"Why did you color it pink?" He asked tearing the page from the book and giving it a place of honor on the refrigerator.

Maddie bunny-hopped to the refrigerator and clapped her hands in excitement as her daddy stuck it up with a magnet. She grinned up at the colored picture then at her Daddy and hugged his legs.

"'Cause I think it's a'possed to be a girl doggy. Don't he look pretty?"

Chris touched the bent corner of the picture feeling saddened. If it was only that easy he would let his daughter color him with Crayola pink. Isn't it funny how children always seem to have the best insight?

"It's pretty." Chris replied half-heartedly. He turned back to the sink letting the water out and not seeing his daughters look of confusion. He gave her some animal crackers and sat her back at the kitchen table before disappearing into the bedroom. He opened the top drawer of his dresser and moved things around until his fingers touched the back of the drawer and wrapped around a small, cylindrical object. He dragged his feet to the bathroom that connected to the bedroom and stood in front of the mirror coloring his lips with his wife's "lost" lipstick.

_Why did you color it pink?_

_Chris, pink is a girls color._

_Why did you color it pink?_

He pulled the tie from his pony tail and let it fall over his shoulders in golden waves.

_Because it's supposed to be a girl doggy. _

_Why? Why can't he be a--_

Chris tugged at the tail of the toilet paper roll yanking away a few sheets and scrubbing the sin away from his lips.

_--a girls color. Chris, pink is a girls color._

He picked up the tube of lipstick and stared at it silently questioning, silently arguing with it, with himself.

_I know it's a girls color, I know but..._

_It's supposed to be a girl doggy don't he look pretty?_

_Chris you're not getting pink so stop crying._

_But I want it, why do I want it?_

_**Know what I want? Reviews! –Review Whore—lol! Did you guys like the flash back? I sometimes have trouble doing flashbacks but I liked this one. Hope you all did too. See ya next chappy! *hugs!***_


	6. Trying To Be Her Man

_Sorry I took forever with this chapter, I've had the worst writers block ever. Thanks to DK and LT for helping me get through lol. Thanks of course as well to all the readers and to the reviewers: Reita Yuki, takers dark lover, AnonymousPunk, Nefatiri, Cena-lova-54-8284, LCHime, Souless666, Animal Luvr 4 Life, Dark Kaneanite, and Esha Napoleon. You guys are too good to me :) _

Chris watched from the kitchen table where he was cleaning up after the artists Maddie and Oliva. He was succeeding in getting rainbow glitter stuck to his hands and clinging to his shirt. Grace's sister was at the door, she was here to take the kids for the night and Chris knew what that meant. He was going to be faced with another night of trying and probably failing to make love to his wife. He sighed dejectedly and waved bye to Maddie as Grace ushered her out the door behind the oldest two. Grace and her sister lingered in the doorway talking in hushed tones. He couldn't hear what they were saying but could only imagine and his cheeks warmed with embarrassment. She was probably discussing their love life—or lack thereof. Chris didn't know what to do, his personal problems were starting to affect more than just himself.

He brushed his palms on his pants making them sparkly too. He sneaked out of the kitchen and closer to the conversation, just close enough to hear a few words _distant _stood out the most. Then he heard her sister ask a more personal question about the frequency of their bedroom activities since Chris had been home. He felt ashamed at the minimal number Grace answered her with.

Goodbyes were exchanged, and the door was clicked shut. Chris ducked into the bathroom so his eavesdropping wouldn't be discovered, besides, he had to wash the glitter from his hands. His eyes avoided the mirror, and instead flicked over the vanity finding his wife's make-up bag there. He had the urge to raid through it, but knew he couldn't. He was trying so hard at this and was already failing. One of her lip sticks had been keeping his socks company for a month or so, occasionally it would find its way out and color his lips prettily. Just a few days ago an eyeliner pencil, and a small pot of shadow had been added to the secret stash. He felt so guilty for taking her things, even more so when she interrogated the girls about it.

"Chris?"

He startled jerking his hand away from the bag. Grace leaned in the door with a smirk on her face, and not much else. The lacy lingerie lined her curves beautifully; the top was barely enough to hold her luscious breasts. She sauntered over to Chris twirling a strand of her bleached hair around her finger. She watched his eyes travel over her body. She took his hands and ran them up her frame slowly letting him feel the shivers his touch sent through her. Her hands guided his to her breasts, and cupped his fingers around them. She looked up to him for approval. She hoped she was getting somewhere with this, but all she saw was his brow furrowed, and his intense blue eyes staring at her chest as though he had never seen it before.

He was trying to push away the feelings of jealousy that overtook him. He knew it was wrong to look at his wife and wish for the same body; but it was getting harder and harder for him to not think that way. She brought one of his hands to her pouty lips and nibbled at it his index finger, suckling, caressing with her tongue, before sliding it in and out of her mouth slowly submerging it in liquid warmth.

She took her time pleasuring each of his fingers as though giving him ten separate blow jobs. When she was finished with the last slippery digit she backed her husband to the vanity and pressed her hot, wanting body against his expecting to feel him hard against her. It was an awkward moment for them both them when that wasn't the case. While she was suckling at his fingers he had only a minimal response, a few twitches, and as much as he wanted to be turned on for her it just wasn't happening…_again._

Grace quickly covered the disappointment on her face and pretended not to notice his lack of reaction or the red that colored his cheeks. She pulled his t-shirt over his head revealing his torso and she ran her hands along his muscled chest and belly.

"You're so sexy baby." She purred trading her roaming fingers for lips. "So strong, so handsome..." She gasped as she slithered her lips and tongue over the familiar taste of his skin.

_So strong…so handsome…no that's not what I want to be!_

"Just look at you." She panted.

_I don't want to._

She pulled him to one of his worst enemies—the full length mirror. Her hands worked his belt free, and all the while she was telling him how good he looked, how sexy, how manly, how he had the perfect body. She thought that maybe he needed her to build him up—why that would be the case she didn't know, but she was trying.

"Grace--" He wanted to stop her, but couldn't. What would she think or do if he just plucked her hands away from himself and backed away looking disgusted? It would be a complete disaster. _Come on Chris, you've done this before, you have three kids for hells sake! Just be a good husband and please her! Can't you do that anymore? Just slip into Jericho mode, forget how you really feel long enough to do this, be someone else for her, be the man she needs!_

The frustration in her husbands face was enough to make her stop with his non-responsive member half out of his pants. Now it was her turn to be embarrassed. _What am I not doing?_

"Chris…" Her voice barely above a whisper. She swallowed hard and brought her eyes up to meet his, "Are you okay sweetie?"

_No, God no, I'm not okay at all._

She was so full of concern; her beautiful eyes wide and damp, he felt horrible for not being able to tell her. How would you say such a thing to your wife? How do you tell her she married a mistake?

The flash of pain she saw in his eyes terrified her. She touched his cheek softly and wished she could take away whatever was hurting him. She started to say something else but his eyes changed, his expression became stoic, and she knew he was hiding whatever it was behind this mask.

"Of course I'm okay. I have you." He grinned and scooped her up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom. He lay her on the pillows and climbed on top of her reaching behind her back to pluck at the clasp of her bra.

"Chris we don't have to. Something's bothering you just tell me." She batted his hands away as he slid the straps down her arms.

"I said I'm fine." He bit off a little too harshly. He pulled the clothing away from her and she couldn't help the shudder that ran through her when his long hair tickled against her breasts. She drew his hair away from his face and captured his eyes with a serious hold.

"Chris we don't have to--"

_Please shut up, please, I'm trying to do this just for you! Please just be quiet and let me!_

He cut her words off with his lips crashing against hers. He parted them slithering his tongue in and soon hers was battling back with his. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her fingernails dug into the soft flesh. Her sighs and moans told him he was doing okay. He knew everything she liked and took his time getting her aroused until she was writhing beneath his body hot with sweat and need. She bucked against him begging.

He sank a finger into her slick passage making her growl and entwine her fingers in his hair. As he explored her his mind began to play out a fantasy. How would it feel to be a real woman? He put himself in her place trying to imagine the sensations until they became so vivid he was completely lost in the dream forgetting where he was, and who he was with. He didn't realize that he was speeding up the pace of his thrusting digits, that his moans were overpowering hers, and that he was at full attention ready to careen over the edge at any moment.

"Chris I need you in me! Chris—oh—oh, Chris fuck me!"

The shriek dispelled the mental bliss and he blinked his eyes open not even realizing they had been closed. His thrusting fingers stopped half way inside of her. She caught him off guard and got him on his back and impaled herself on him before he could respond. All he felt was a sinking feeling that his fantasy was ruined and a kind of guilt that made his stomach hurt. The moment he was inside her shrank leaving both of them frustrated.

"Damn it!" Chris yelled at himself and balled the covers in his fists. Grace pushed away from him, tears slicking her face.

"I—I'm sorry." She sobbed.

"No, Grace, no it isn't your fault!" Chris' voice cracked strained with the intensity of the moment, and the things that wanted to explode out of him. He tried to pull her close but she wouldn't have it.

"Then tell me what's going on!" She screamed bringing her fist crashing down onto her knees.

"Don't yell at me!" His voice rose above hers, there eyes griping each other in hard gazes.

"I can't read your mind Christopher, you have to talk to me. Don't be such a fucking man about this if you have something that's bothering you this bad, I'm here, I'm your wife!"

"I'm not a man—I mean I'm not…" Chris finger quoted. " 'being a man' as you say about anything okay?"

"You're lying to me!"

Chris grabbed his pants from the floor and pulled them on hurriedly; his face twisted in a scowl. He didn't know how long he could hold all of this inside, at any moment he was sure he was going to break down sobbing. _Not in front of her…she'll make you talk. She can't know._

"Where are you going!" She shrieked after him as he stormed out of the room. She ran after him bombarding him with questions, her voice shrill and grating.

"Leave me alone! Just leave me the fuck alone!" He bellowed, yanking his hand away from her tugging grasp. He disappeared into the bathroom to get his t-shirt and tried to drown out her crying and hollering. He tugged the shirt over his head and pulled his hair into a sloppy pony tail. When his eyes fell again to the bag of make-up on the sink he threw it as hard as he could and it struck the mirror on the wall shattering it. He sank to the floor, unable to hold back his tears any longer.

_I feel so much better to finally be able to write again! Reviews? Thanks muches! Hopefully it wont take me as long to write the next chapter as it did this one. Thanks for sticking with it, *hugs*!_


	7. Lost and Found

_**Thank you for the wonderful reviews Anonymous Punk, DK, Souless, Esha, Animal Luvr, Reita, Nefatiri, and Takers Dark Lover.**_

Chris lay on the couch, his pajama clad knees pulled up to his chest. His phone sat on the coffee table and he stared at it idly waiting for the slender electronic to start vibrating. He had tried to call Shawn twice that morning. He stopped in mid-dial the third time when he realized Shawn was probably sleeping late today. Chris on the other hand was showing the weariness of a few sleepless nights. His eyes were spidered with red, his lids dull and droopy, and his feet seemed to drag like they were too dumb to work.

Normally he would have been at church with his family, but today he would have felt too awkward, and his mind was so tired of chasing itself. Going and sitting through a less than memorable sermon wouldn't do him any good anyway. It would just remind him of what a hypocrite he was, what a mistake and failure he was.

There had been apologies for that night last week when their attempt at sex had ended in a blow out, but more confrontations came up when Grace tried to get Chris to open up. Each time Chris put his walls up and let Grace pound at them unsuccessfully. For the life of him he couldn't think of how to tell her, he couldn't even comprehend saying to her what he felt, he was so afraid of her reaction, and he had so much to lose.

Chris startled at the buzz of his phone whirring against the glass coffee table. He snatched it up and was relieved to find Shawn was calling him back. He had it to his ear quickly.

"Shawn…" He exhaled the name deeply, so happy to hear a familiar and understanding voice.

"Chris." He could just picture Shawn's warm smile from the way he spoke. "How's it going?"

"It's so good to hear your voice." To Shawn, Chris' voice seemed too wobbly, though he was trying too hard to keep it from breaking. "It's going…not so well." Chris finally confessed hanging his head in shame. There was silence on the line. At a hotel in Ohio Shawn sat on his bed, his hair still ratty from sleep, dragging his tongue over his lips to moisten them. The night he had ended up with Mark and Chris the young Canadian had confided to him his 'problem' with dressing in womens clothing. Apparently there was more to the cross-dressing issue that some wild-streak coming out to play, it was something Chris needed. He had explained it to Shawn in terms he could relate to, that it was like a drug.

"I know it's hard to kick things that um…have a hold on you like that."

Chris faltered remembering the lie he had told Shawn after they tossed Mark out of the room.

"_I'm sorry Shawn, I can't do this." Tears pricked at his vibrant blue eyes, clouding them with pain. His shoulders sank and his cheeks colored pink with embarrassment. "I-I'm ashamed."_

"_Of being with a guy?" Shawn chuckled. "It's okay Chris…the others might not be able to tell, but I can. I know a lot of the great stories you tell are bullshit. It's okay if you've not really been with a guy before, don't worry about it." Shawn took Chris' chin in his hand and smiled reassuringly. Hell, Shawn had no clue. This wasn't about sexual orientation, it was about so much more. _

"_Th-that's not it Shawn." Chris closed his eyes tight warring with the urge to confess everything. Sometimes he just wanted to stop keeping his secrets, he just wanted to let go of the burden, but so much had happened in Chris' past that he knew he couldn't even tell Shawn the truth. He thought about shooting down Shawn's 'gay' comment by bragging about how he had shown many a male-ring rat in his day what it meant to be dominated—a complete fabrication. He knew Shawn would see straight through that one, besides, if he made his lie a little closer to the truth he could judge Shawn's reaction._

"_What I meant was that I'm ashamed of…the way I dressed tonight, the way I acted." Chris palmed the tears from his cheeks harshly, not wanting Shawn to notice them. Luckily for him the Texan was looking down at his toes as he listened to Chris talk._

"_What's to be all upset about?" Shawn asked with a shrug. "It's not like you do it all the ti—oh." Shawn saw the look on Chris' face and stopped his sentence short. Now Shawn was getting a little antsy. He liked the kid a lot, considered him a good friend, but the way their conversation was heading was something Shawn had never handled before. He ran his eyes up and down Chris trying to read him and all he saw were fingers pulling the sheet tighter around his body, his eyes shifting this way and that unable to connect with Shawn's. Chris was still hiding something deep, but Shawn was really hesitant to prod any further. _

"_I'm trying to stop." Chris whispered. He closed his eyes again forcing his tears back. He couldn't let his idol see him break down, but just saying that phrase out loud stirred up so many emotions. He'd been trying to stop the way he felt for such a long time. His mother's voice shrieked in the back of his mind, her fingers wrapped around his small shoulders shaking him in her frantic helplessness, she just didn't know what to do with her son anymore. Stop it Chris, just fucking stop it! Chris, Christopher do you hear me? For God's sake stop this, you just have to stop, you have to! _

"_Chris?"_

"_Stop it!" Chris frowned when he realized that Shawn's hands, not his mother's, gripped his shoulders. "Oh, Shawn I'm sorry."_

"_Don't worry about it." Shawn squeezed Chris' thigh. "Look, you'll be home with your wife and family. It should be easier to not do it there, right?"_

_Chris considered for a moment, and nodded reluctantly._

"_And if you need to talk, well, you can call me and burn my ear up. Okay?"_

"Chris are you still there?" Shawn was sure the blond had hung up on him. "Hello?"

"I'm here. Sorry." Chris apologized. "I was just…thinking…Shawn I-I wasn't really, what I mean is I didn't really tell you…" Chris pulled his fingers through his long hair in frustration. He just couldn't do it, he couldn't confide in his wife, and he couldn't confide in Shawn either.

"I know you didn't tell me everything that night. I could tell. I don't expect you to tell me anything unless you're comfortable with it, okay?"

Chris nodded on the other end as though Shawn could see him.

"Okay." Chris echoed. "It's just that it's causing so much friction here, with Grace, I don't know what I'm supposed to do. No one understands how—how fucking hard I'm trying."

Shawn wasn't sure but thought Chris might be weeping. It truly bothered Shawn to know something was bringing Chris this much misery, he liked the guy much better when he wasn't angsty or conflicted.

"Sorry if I sound funny." Chris mumbled in attempts to cover his emotions. Even though Shawn couldn't see Chris reclined back on the couch, wiping at his eyes and nose, Shawn knew he was. "I have a sort of head cold or something."

Shawn refrained from growling at the phone, barely. He was annoyed with Chris's continuous lying.

"I don't pretend to understand, I don't really know what it is you're dealing with, but I do know one thing. You can't live your life in the shadow of a lie. You have to make peace with your demons." Shawn remembered when some of his closest friends had "came out". He hoped Chris would find the courage he needed to follow in their footsteps.

"Shawn…" Chris trailed off with a sigh. He knew the older man was right, but he couldn't tell him what those demons were. _I'm trapped Shawn, I'm trapped in the wrong body. I'm so fucking trapped!_

"Look Chris, Raw's gonna be in Canada in about a month. Keep in touch and when we come up your way I'll take you out. Hopefully by then things will ease up on ya."

For the first time in a long time, someone other than his children had made Chris feel truly happy. Shawn cared, he really did.

"I can't wait."

"Alright, bye Chris."

The phone was closed with a click and Chris felt his spirits lift a little. He thought of Shawn coming in a month and felt comforted that he would see him again, the familiar face of the man he admired so much. He rested his head back against the throw pillows that were stacked up at the arm of the couch, and the weight of his weariness came down on him hard.

When Grace and the kids came home from church Chris was snoring on the couch, one hand dangling numbly over the side, his mouth ajar. Tyler and Livy avoided looking at him. It wasn't normal for him to be home from church unless he was sick, and both older children knew he wasn't. They didn't understand what was happening but since their father had been home the dynamics of the household had changed. Sometimes when Maddie was asleep, and when she was supposed to be too, Livy poked her head out from the doorway of the bedroom the sisters shared. Most of the time she saw her older brother sitting in the hallway, his eyes focused at the door on the end where light filtered from the bottom of the door and muffled arguing could be heard. The tension between their parents was not hidden as well as the two adults would liked to have think.

The two older kids disappeared upstairs and ducked into Tyler's room. Livy fussed with the straps of her white shoes while Tyler flopped onto his bed, staring at the ceiling.

"You think Mommy and Daddy are okay?" Olivia asked quietly crawling up next to her brother.

"No. Since Dad's been home he's been actin' weird." The ten-year-old replied wrapping an arm around his sister. "And they fight a lot too." He added sadly, turning his eyes to Livy who confirmed this with a solemn nod.

"Maybe he don't like bein' around us anymore." The little girl pressed her cheek to the shoulder of her brother, two years her senior.

"Not me at least, you and Maddie are his favorites…" Tyler sighed. "He does stuff with you guys all the time and I get left out. I don't think he likes me very well." He sniffled, and Livy turned concerned eyes on her brother, wondering if he was going to cry, but he didn't.

"I just wish they dinnit fight so much."

"Me too."

Grace ushered Maddie into the kitchen and made her a quick lunch—a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She couldn't wait to get upstairs and change out of her heels and dress, and so left her daughter to her meal. On the way to the staircase she stopped to watch her husband for a few moments. She was so concerned for him, but didn't even know what to be concerned about. Her eyes rimmed with tears when she easily recalled their arguments and the stress of everything lately. She didn't understand why he was making this so hard on everyone, keeping his big secrets. She tried to stop her thoughts from running wild with horrible possibilities, she knew Chris and he was a good man. Whatever this was could not be as bad as some of the foolish thoughts she had considered. She crossed the room to the couch and absently touched his feet which were propped on the arm of the couch, and icy to the touch.

"Oh, Chris." She sighed. "I just wish you'd let me in."

She gave his toe a little squeeze, and smiled when he snored softly.

Once in the bedroom she stripped out of her Sunday clothes and put on yoga pants and a sweatshirt. Before leaving she opened the drawer of Chris's dresser and pulled out a pair of socks for her husband's naked feet. She pulled them apart only to find both socks had holes worn in them. She put them aside and checked another pair, finding them just as pathetic. Why do men insist on wearing their socks and underwear until they disintegrate? She reached in the back hoping to find a heartier pair but her hand closed around something else. Frowning in confusion she pulled out the three circular objects she felt in her hand. When she opened her fingers, her heart tumbled in her chest. She held her missing cosmetics, but why would Chris have those? She leaned back on the bed, closing her eyes and hoping she was wrong.

_**Okay, you know what you do now, tell me how horrible it is! :) Lol. What do you guys think about Shawn? The kids? Grace? Has Chris been found out? Drop me a line if you feel fit…then go check out a fic DarkKaneanite and I are doing. It's under her account and is called A Melding Bodies, A Mending of the Heart. It's Matt/Chris aka Matticho. Check it out and let us know what you think! 3 **_


	8. Exposed

_**As always, thank you for the reviews much love sent to: Nefatiri, Darkaneanite, Reita Yuki, AnonymousPunk, takers dark lover, Souless666, and Animal Luvr 4 Life. **_

Grace couldn't bring herself to confront Chris about her make-up, after all, her mind was probably jumping to insane conclusions, driven there by the tension that had been separating the two of them lately. She'd put them back right behind his socks and left them there trying to think of a reasonable explanation for why her husband would be hoarding her make-up. Maybe he wanted her to wear less of it? Maybe one of the girls really had gotten into her make-up and lied about it when Grace had confronted them, then Chris had found it. She decided to stick with the last theory, Chris was partial to Maddie whether he would admit it or not and most likely she was the one who had done away with her mothers cosmetics. None the less, Grace couldn't help but keep a closer eye on her husband, because at the back of her mind that one far-fetched notion tickled and made an annoyance of its self.

As for Chris, he was still disconnected and quiet. Their conversations were strenuous and often times ended up with short jibes at one another or arguments that had already been hashed over time and time again. Chris took to sleeping on the couch or in the guest room more and more, sometimes because Grace ordered him down there, and sometimes just so he could be alone. Most of the time he would stir awake in the middle of the night or Grace would come down to check on him and Maddie would be curled at the end of the couch or nestled in the crook of her Daddy's arm.

The more things became strained, it seemed the more Madison held tighter to him. She seemed to always be at his side like a shadow. It made Grace feel hollow inside that Maddie seemed to be the main source of Chris' happiness these days, that she was not really a part of that happiness. Part of her felt that she was failing him as a wife, but she wasn't sure what else to do or where to go. Ever since he'd quit wrestling things had changed. She'd urged him to go back to it or at least to find another job, not because they really needed it, but because she thought it might help. He blew her off and said he was working on his book, and when he wasn't entertaining Madison or the other children he was locked away in the den glued to the computer.

Today was one of those days that the computer had seemed to eat Chris' soul. He'd gone down sometime in the wee hours of the morning before the sun had even crept up and soon the kids would be home from school, and he hadn't moved from that spot unless it was for a necessary function.

Grace watched him for a few moments, hunched at the desk and scrolling through something. As she came closer he must have felt that he wasn't alone, because he glanced quickly over his shoulder then closed the window, as though it were some big secret.

"Chris, are you going to stay in here forever?" She asked tracing her fingers through his long hair that laid loose down his back.

"No." He sighed and reached up to touch her hand and rub it softly. There was a moment of silence, Chris could tell she wanted to say something else but wasn't sure. She was probably gnawing on her lips. He swiveled around on his chair and saw that she was. He knew he wasn't being a very good husband since he'd been home, but there was so much going on that even Grace didn't know about. He felt horrible about how all of it was affecting their relationship, after all, it wasn't Grace's fault for the things he felt and tried so hard to suppress. He wrapped his hands around her hips and pulled her down onto his lap and held her there, running his hands up the sides of her body and wondering why she had been made right and he had been screwed up.

She kissed his lips softly, almost reluctantly.

"I think we should go talk to Pastor Phil."

Chris quickly shook his head in the negative.

"No, we don't need to do that." _The last time someone dragged me to talk to a member of the clergy it was a nightmare. _That was many, many years ago, but in his mind it was still as clear today as it was then.

"Yes Chris, we do! We have to do something, we can't keep things the way they are."

"I'm trying." Chris murmured.

"Trying what? You're not trying anything, you're hiding."

"I've been hiding my whole fucking life!" Chris shouted, standing and almost dropping Grace to the floor. Luckily she grabbed the desk for balance.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean!" She shouted back, upset that he'd just about dumped her on the floor. "Tell me something that makes sense Christopher, stop playing games!"

"Grace, leave me alone." He shot back and started to storm away, but she dashed in front of the door and closed it, blocking his way. The two of them stood there glaring daggers at one another, both mustering the most hateful scowl they could, until one became victorious over the other and broke their opponent. It was Chris who broke, his anger wavered on his face and his eyes flashed turning slick with water. Grace couldn't understand what she saw in him, there seemed to be something greater than his anger, something that seemed like fear. She reached to cup his face and rubbed her thumb against his cheek.

"Chris what are you afraid of baby?"

His eyes fell to the floor and a couple of drops slid silent and slowly from the corners.

"I know that you'd never…" _You'd never accept me if I told you. I'm afraid of the disgust I'd see on your face, the harsh words, the fight, the end of us and our family. God, if I told you it would destroy us._ "I know…that you'd never stop loving me." Chris lied. "But I can't go into this."

He moved her aside gently and left the room, he suddenly felt claustrophobic and needed to get away form her and clear his head before the kids got home. They didn't need to come home to another blow out or the tense, tale-tale aftermath.

"Chris!" Grace called after him and followed him through the kitchen and into the living room. "I'm making an appointment and we're going. I'm not going to let this tear us apart. We have the children to think about."

"I am thinking of our children." Chris said as he took the staircase upstairs.

"Chris!" Grace stamped her foot at the bottom of the flight, her annoyance at him pursing her lips into a tight line. She decided he wasn't going to talk about it anymore when she heard the slam of a door upstairs, so she took out her phone and dialed Pastor Phillip Stephens.

Chris pulled some clothes from his closet, just jeans and a t-shirt. He'd been in his pajamas all day and thought it was time to de-robe and toss them in the dirty close basket. He tossed his pajamas aside and looked down at the clothes on the bed, typical male attire. He started to step into his jeans, one of his favorite pairs that were worn at the knees, but he stopped with an idea springing to his mind.

He knew he shouldn't indulge his desires, but despite that he padded over to his wife's closet and opened it. On the inside of the doors were full length mirrors and he ignored his form reflected from different angles. He moved hangers screeching against the rods until he could reach into the back where Grace kept her 'fat' clothes, some of the things she had worn after Madison was born before she got back into shape. He pulled out one that had been her favorite, a simple bright blue cotton dress with capped sleeves and a scoop neck. It was accented by a black band at the bust line.

It had been months since he'd actually worn women's clothing, just having it in his hands made him feel better, and when he slipped it over his head he felt relief and normalcy wash over him. He looked at himself from all angles loving how the material hugged his body, although he would have rather had a body that was curvy and less male, it was enough right now just to see himself in the dress looking pretty. He swiveled his hips enjoying the swish of the fabric as it moved.

Caught up in the moment he bounded over to his dresser and dug out the make-up that he'd been trying to use less and less. He was soon back in front of the mirror excitedly applying chocolate liner to his eyes that made the blue in them pop brighter, and some of Grace's eye shadow that made a sexy, smokey look. Last he swept the gloss over his lips giving them a pouty fullness and a shimmer. He let out a pent up sigh as he looked at the woman in the mirror, it almost gave him a buzz to see her again, it was a happiness he couldn't describe and he tried to enjoy it while he could because he knew it could never last.

He thought about what Grace had said about calling Pastor Phil. Even though he was against it he knew she was probably going to do it anyway. The last time a woman in his life had sought help for him from a member of the clergy, it was his mother, and didn't go so well.

_Chris peered around the door frame, half hiding behind it as he listened to his mother's voice. His eyes were still bleary with a few lingering tears and his face was still hot from the sting of her hand across it. _

"_I thought he had grown out of it." She spoke quietly, her voice tinged with worry. "He's twelve years old now I thought he was over it." She repeated into the phone. Chris sank back against the wall and slid down and hugged his knees to his chest. "This has to stop. I found ladies underwear." She dropped her voice even lower, to a shameful whisper. "No, he admitted to wearing them."_

_She had backed him into his closet waving the offending article in his face until he owned up to wearing them. Her face contorted and writhed until it looked like she might be ill._

"_You disgust me!" She spat and tossed the panties onto the floor. She disappeared leaving Chris wiping his nose and reaching for the discarded item. He started to slip it in his pocket but she was back and tore it away from his fingers and shoved it into the black trash bag that was in her other hand. In a frenzy she dragged his drawers out and dumped them on the floor finding anything she felt offensive and berating him as he begged her not to throw it away. He watched through tears as she loaded the garbage bag with pieces of his being and tied a knot in the end and dragged it away. _

_He'd spent most of the evening cleaning everything up and mourning the loss of his true self. After he had his room back in order he trudged downstairs and heard her in the kitchen talking in low tones. It was there that he continued to listen as she cried into the phone._

"_I don't understand this, he's my son, he's supposed to be my son." She sniffled. "Maybe he's sick. I don't know, there's just something wrong with him. I didn't raise him this way."_

_Chris wiped his eyes and picked at a worn spot on the knee of his jeans. Was he really sick? He just wanted to be allowed to be a girl, but he was stuck in this stupid body that technically made him a boy. He hated it, he hated it so much._

"_I'll bring him to see you Rev. Luther." Chris heard her sniffle again and hang the phone up. "Chris?" She called but stopped short finding him huddled up near the book shelf._

"_I don't want to go." He whined. "I'm not sick."_

"_Get up, I'm your mother, don't sass me."_

_He saw the scissors in her hands and was at first confused at what she had them for. She turned him around and grabbed his ponytail with one hand and before Chris could protest the blades gnawed threw it and cut it away. He spun around and reached behind his neck, alarmed to find it missing, his mother held the long remains in her hand._

"_Things are going to change." She said coldly, her eyes burrowed into him and she steered him towards the back door, dropping her fistful of his hair into the garbage right on top of the trash bag that had his other things in it._

_Evening was starting to fade when they arrive at the small white church that sat atop a lonely hill, the parking lot was deserted accept for a battered station wagon that had definitely seen better days. Son and mother both knew it as Rev. Luthors' car. _

_As Chris watched the graying clouds come up behind the steeples he felt a shiver down his spine. They spoke of storms ahead, their black underbellies seemed furious and hateful, ready to cast the world into a flood._

"_Come on." His mother urged as she tugged his door opened and undid his belt. He sat in the seat dreading this meeting, and watching as the wind picked up and sent a bird fluttering from the belfry, an eerie call was usurped by the wind as the avian silhouette flew high against the raging clouds. His mother tugged at his arm, her fingers biting. He jerked it away and with a scowl that would become his trademark later in life, he reluctantly followed he up to the church and through the heavy oak doors inlaid with dark stained glass. _

_Inside the church smelled musty and old. Chris had often wondered if it was from the building itself or from the gaggles of old folks who shuffled in every Sunday morning to fart and snore through the sermon. It was always a smell that bothered him, it was like impending death. _

_His mother kept poking him in the back, an annoyance that made him want to snap her finger off, but instead he just glared harder and grumbled as he walked further through the dimly lit foyer. His eyes darted back and forth from shadowed pictures of Jesus and Mary, their faces darkened further by a layer or two of dust, their eyes seeming to watch him just as harshly as his mothers as he passed._

_He stopped abruptly at the doors to the sanctuary, not wanting to go further._

"_Go on Christopher." His mother demanded. "We're taking care of this."_

_He walked in ahead of his mother and looked around at the room. It was a small church and even without the usual patrons it seemed crowded. The pews seemed like soldiers lined too close. They were like still, silent, judges watching as Chris made his way slowly up the isle. The evening light filtered in through the tall stained windows and sent a mixture of shadow and dappled colors onto the worn carpet. The clouds outside moved eerily and must have blocked the setting sun, because as Chris came closer to the altar the room grew dimmer. The heavy shadow of the cross above the pulpit fell over his frame and he backed up into his mother, wanting desperately to leave._

_She took his shoulders and steered him to where Rev. Luthor was bowed over the railing, next to a pot of decaying lilies left over from Easter._

_The Rev. looked up from his prayer and smiled at Chris' mother. When his gaze turned on young Chris it turned less friendly but serious and hard. He broke the lace of his fingers and motioned for Chris to come closer and kneel. Reluctantly, he shuffled over to the robed man and dropped to his knees. He folded his hands at the railing and looked to the man on his left nervously._

"_Christopher."_

"_Yes sir."_

"_Your mother tells me you are in need of guidance." Chris startled when Rev. Luthor laid a large hand on his shoulder. He hesitated and looked into the mans' crinkled face. His faded green eyes seemed to judge him from under a creased brow that seemed wizardly with its eccentric, fuzzy, white eyebrows that seemed more like flicking cat whiskers._

"_Ye-yes sir. I guess I do sir." Chris whispered, bowing over his hands and hoping it would be over soon. He was afraid Rev. Luthor would erupt into one of his fiery sermons where he bobbled up and down the isles like a seething red headed rooster._

"_Lord, I come to you on my knees with young Christopher."_

_His mother knelt at his other side and laid her hand over his._

"_Yes Lord." She whispered, tears clinging to her lashes as she squeezed them tightly closed._

"_He is in need of Your touch, he is in need of Your guiding light Jesus!" _

"_Yes Jesus!"_

"_Heal his mind! Set him on the right path! Cleanse him of this wickedness which our foe the Devil has planted in him! Yes Lord, take away the darkness, take away the sin and wash it white as snow Jesus! Wash him with your blood and make him a new creation, a child of God, a child of Light! Oh Lord, take these blasphemous desires, take them Lord we give them over to you!" Rev. Luthors' prayer rose in power and supplication until his voice was a painful shout in Chris' ear. He cracked his eyes open and watched as the Rev. Luthors face quickly went to its usual purple, spittle lined his lips white as he raged on, louder and louder, his mother on the other side gripping his hand tighter and echoing her pleas and praises._

"_We know Lord that this thing has afflicted young Christopher from an early age, Lord we come to You now in supplication for our lost one here, Lord this demon that plagues him, we cast it out! In the name of Almighty, All-Powerful, Sweet-Lord-Jesus who saves us, hallelujah!"The chords in the reverends neck stood out with each word that erupted from lips, as though he was struggling to keep from choking on the divine intervention. Outside a rumble of thunder rattled the stained glass windows and lightening shuddered sending strange, harsh, light and shadow flashing over the preachers craggy features. Chris wanted to get up and run out, he wanted to run far away. He struggled against the hand that held his shoulder but it bit harder and was joined by a second shoving him back to his knees and keeping him there with painful force."No Satan, you are not going to take this young man from us!" Luthor shouted._

"_Amen!" His mother cried grasping his hands harder, scrabbling her nails against his skin. Chris started to tremble, afraid that they would never let him go._

"_You're power is limited Lucifer, the Lord has triumphed over you, Amen! Yes the Lord Jesus, Sweet-Jesus has conquered you! It is him that we call upon to send your tormenter, your servant demon, back to the depths!" The two voices mingled in frantic shouts, unified in horror, a torrent of rain burst against the roof and knocked at the windows like millions of tiny, fingers demanding in, a clap of thunder sounded like an explosion and drowned out the voices around him. "In His Name! In His Name we command you!"_

"_Please let me go!" Chris wailed, and was completely ignored. He closed his eyes hard and didn't know how long it went on before he was finally released and he crumpled away from the altar, slicked with a fearful sweat. His mothers' arms wrapped around him and cradled him. His eyes dripped with tears. I hate you mother._

"_I love you Chris." She whispered and dabbed at her eyes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Everything will be okay now."_

_No, it wont._

"_Chris, Chris do you hear me? Chris?"_

"Chris!" His name was shrieked and it took him a moment to realize it wasn't his mothers' voice. With clarity tracing a terrified pulse up his spine, he knew. _Oh God, no._

"Chris wha-wha--" She couldn't seem to get a hold of any words as she tried to fathom what she was seeing.

Chris turned to face his wife, wearing her dress. He hadn't even noticed that the room had grown dimmer, rain tapped at the window, and in the distance, a rolling thunder.

_**Talk about a draining chapter. Tense!! *gives gift of Cena dartboards to everyone* XD**_


	9. Just Like You

_**WOW been forever since I updated this. I've tried and it has jut not wanted too cooperate very well. This is a lot shorter than the rest, but at least it is an update on things. I can't promise when the next will be, but hopefully some of you have stuck with this story and are still out there wanting to see what's going to happen next. I WILL finish it no matter how long it takes me, because I do like this story very much. Thanks!!**_

There were no words to express the shock. She kept blinking at her husband, hoping she was having some crazy hallucination, but there he was, his face draining of color as he stood caught guilty in an act that had Grace feeling sick to her stomach. The backs of her knees hit the bed as she backed up and she sat down on it hard, feeling like all the air had been sucked from her lungs. She didn't know what to say, what to think, and Chris just stood there staring at her wringing his hands without words. Thunder rumbled outside, and in the distance lightening flickered eerily, but neither of them really noticed. Her eyes flicked over Chris and her lips pulled back in a grimace at the way the blue cotton hugged his husky frame, showing the slight curves of his pecks, the roundness of his backside. It was horrible, why would he be wearing her dress? Her heart pounded at her sternum as she tried to grapple for reasons. Chris was a joker, maybe this was his idea of some silly prank. Maybe he had intended to swagger down stairs in it and pitch his voice up high to send his wife into a laughing fit. She knew that wasn't true, she knew it because Chris wasn't smiling or trying to humor her, his face was the face of a child caught taking a dollar from his mothers' purse.

"Christopher." Her voice came out quietly, a whisper in the room. It barely met Chris' ears as he stood there feeling completely bare and exposed. The expression on her face bore into him, killing him a little inside. It was verging somewhere between shock and rage, and finally converted more to the later. "Take it off!" She wailed, her voice threatening to break into a sob.

"I-I'm sorry…" The words ghosted from Chris' lips and were almost usurped in a crash of thunder. Flashes of light strobed like eerie effects in a horror movie, and Grace watched as the slats of light danced over Chris' face which she now noticed—was painted with make up. No, it wasn't was it? She stepped closer to him, but hung back, as though if she got too close she might catch a disease. She was horrified, completely horrified. Chris dropped his eyes from hers again. He looked akin to a puppy slinking away from an angry master, tail between its legs, afraid it was going to be hit with a rolled newspaper.

"What—what—what!" Grace shrieked, unable to say anything else at the moment. Chris sulked over to the bed and pulled the dress off over his head and laid it over the quilt, smoothing it with his hand. Sighing, he picked up his jeans that he had laid out there earlier and stepped into them. "Chris what—what were you doing!"

He slipped his shirt over his head, his face twisting and relaxing as though he wasn't sure whether or not to scowl. He pulled his long, blond, hair out from his t-shirt collar and let it settle around his shoulders.

"Grace…something—somethings wrong with me." He said quietly, watching the shock and anger mingle on her features.

"Oh yeah, something is wrong with you Chris if you get off on this." She nearly spat, crossing the room to their bed, she snatched the cotton dress from the bed and disappeared into the closet. Chris was quiet as hangers screeched against the rod and clattered together as she messed with them. Rain tapped at the windows. Chris shivered, thinking of that church his mother had dragged him to as a child, in the middle of a raging storm, not too dissimilar from this one. The voice of that preacher rose in his ears, declaring his sin, and begging for his demons to be vanquished. Whatever power those prayers had, they weren't strong enough to make Chris into a man. Maybe a well acted charade of a man, but not a real one. His shoulders slumped.

Grace came out of the closet and sat on the bed, trying to calm her breathing, running a trembling hand through her hair.

"Grace, sweetie…I-we-I need to talk to you. I have to…explain."

"That would be nice." She snapped. Chris reluctantly rounded the bed and sat next to her. She wrinkled her nose and gripped the quilt and he wondered for a moment if she was going to scoot away form him, or get up entirely. When she didn't, he gently touched her shoulder, saddened when his own wife flinched away from him. "What is this? Is it…some sort of sexual thing? A fetish? A fantasy?"

"No, it's not a fetish." Chris closed his eyes for a moment, gathering all the courage he could. He was hanging on her reaction, begging it to be one of understanding and support, but knowing in some deep place that she would not react in such a way. Maybe he was asking too much of her, after all, he had been the 'man' in her life for years and she had no reason to ever suspect the elephant which was hiding in his refrigerator, so to speak. "I'm…I can't keep living this way." Chris struggled, fighting with the tears that wanted to wet his cheeks. "I wanted to make it work so bad, I just wanted to be "right" I wanted to be what my body says I'm supposed to be. I can't—I'm not—I'm wrong." Chris griped her hand and rubbed the back of it, praying, pleading for her understanding. He brought his tearful, oceanic eyes to meet hers. He saw in them fear, fear that he was about to say something that was completely far fetched and impossible.

"What are you talking about?" She gasped, her chest clenching, literally struggling for breath. She pulled her hand out of his and pressed to her chest as though if she didn't hold her hammering heart that it would just fall out of her chest and flop around on the floor in an epileptic frenzy.

"I'm—I-I'm like you. I'm like you inside. My biology screwed up and I have this body with the wrong parts, please Grace please, don't cry. Don't look at me that way--"

"How am I supposed to look at you! Do you understand what you're saying? You're insane! Chris there's no way-no way! I'm your wife, the woman you make love to, the woman you have children with, did you forget? I did not marry a woman!" She got up from the bed, shaking, pacing, muttering to herself. Chris was crying silently, his heart breaking. He'd ever only wanted acceptance from those he held close to his heart, but they could never look past the physical aspects that nature had given him. They could never see the person who was trapped within, wanting a chance to live, and denying it again and again just to try and be "normal" to fit into their perfect little molds of what was acceptable and what was not.

"You need help Chris. We need help. We're going to go get help for—for this—this nonsense. You have a family to think of, did you forget about your children? They have a father, a _father_ Chris not some-some freak. I don't know what's wrong with you, what's gotten in to you but—this is ridiculous. Look at yourself, you're a wrestler for gods sake! There's nothing female about you so you just better stop this and forget about it!"

Chris chewed his lip, battling with whether to say anything more or keep silent. He felt like a child again, his mother backing him into the corner and slapping him for being caught wearing her slip and her lipstick.

"I've tried with everything inside of me, I've tried my whole life to forget it! It's always here, constantly, I can't forget it nags at me all the time! I feel like a lie when I look in the mirror!"

"Just STOP IT!" She screamed, darting towards the door. Chris stopped her, wrapping his hand around her wrist.

"We can work this out, I-I'll just do it in private when the kids are at school--"

"No! NO!" She shrieked, pulling away and grasping the doorknob.

"Please, if you can just be okay with me doing that—I—I think I could be okay. I just need some relief, some time to be myself please, Grace please! I don't want to tears us apart, I don't want to hurt you or the kids—God I don't want to hurt the kids!"

There was a long silence between the two of them. Grace was pressed against the door, her eyes wide, panting, tears streaming down her face. Chris' eyes bore into her with despair, begging, pleading for her to agree to this insanity, this impossible request. She shook her head, her hair falling loose form her ponytail.

"No. You are not going to be some fucked up he-she-tranny. That's not who you are. This is absurd, and it's going to stop. Do you understand?" Her voice rose in pitch form fear, her face collapsing, a couple of devastated sobs escaping from her lips. "You're my husband Chris, you're my man. Don't do this to me, don't do this to the kids. Don't shatter us."

A ripple of thunder vibrated through the house. Two sets of weeping eyes kept trained on each other, each wondering when they'd became so distant, so lost.

"Grace…do you love me?"

The words were so quiet in the room. The whisper hung between them and for the longest time Chris waited, and then pulled away form her, convinced she was not going to answer.

"Yes, Chris I love you." She sniffed, wiping her nose against the back of her hand.

"If you love me then please…help me."

Grace stayed pressed to the door, her mind working for something to say as her husband seemed to break in front of her. How did he expect her to just wrap him in her arms and agree to teach him how to be a woman, to go shopping with him, or get their hair done together, to sit down their children and explain that Daddy decided he was a girl, and that it was just wonderful! He waited, waited for her to answer.

Just as her mouth moved to speak, they both heard the sound of the door slamming downstairs and eager little feet running through the house. Grace straightened up and pushed her hair away form her face.

"The kids are home." She said quietly, and opened the door. "I'm going down to get them a snack." On weak legs she walked out, putting on a happy smile for the kids as they rushed her at the foot of the stairs, flinging their soaked little bodies onto her.

"Mommy!" Maddie shrieked, her voice shrill and happy. "It's rainin' outside! It's stormin'!"

"It sure is sweety." Grace replied, slipping her daughters pink backpack form her small shoulders. She shooed the children into the kitchen after kissing each of their wet heads and went about getting snacks for them and asking the older two about their homework. Chris drifted into the room, and she noticed with annoyance that he'd forgotten to wash his face off. She grabbed his arm and hauled him over to the sink before the kids could notice and angrily shoved a towel into his hand, barking at him to wash that shit off his god damn face, under her breath.

She sat down between Tyler and Olivia and chattered with them as they dumped the contents of their back packs onto the table. Maddie turned in her chair, leaning around it, peering at her dad as she nibbled at an Animal Cracker. After a few moments of intently watching him at the sink, she slid from the chair and tip-toed over, wrapping herself around his legs.

Chris dropped the towel onto the counter and turned, looking down at his youngest. A smile curved his lips and he knelt to take her into a hug. When her little arms wrapped around his neck he couldn't help but feel guilty, that maybe he was on the verge of destroying his family. The last thing he ever wanted was for his children to be in pain, especially because of some stupid action on his part. _I've made it this far in my life pretending to be this man. Maybe I can just…maybe I can go on. _Even as he thought it, he knew it was untrue. Sure he had pulled it off and well for many, many, years but in secret there were always those times when he hated himself for doing it, when he got into his stash of womans things and dressed in them to feel whole, to feel real, and more and more he felt unable to shut those desires out. He sighed, feeling exhausted, and released his daughter from the hug. She gripped his chin in her hand and with a grave, serious, expression looked into his eyes. It was a simple gesture that rocked Chris to his soul. Children, sometimes they really didn't know the kind of affect they had—or did they?

"Daddy, are you okay?"

Chris nodded his head reluctantly and forced on a big grin.

"Sure baby, I'm just fine." He patted her rear and sent her back to the table, where Grace looked up at him and glared, the look not going unnoted by all three of the kids.

**_Review pretty pwease? :D_**


	10. Wish

_**Nope you are not hallucinating. Nuther update…though it is short again. I think Shawn is going to come in soon. He said he was going to take Chris out when Raw came to Canada and I feel that coming on very soon. So stay tuned!!! And thanks for the reviews as always, reviews=my drugs! Lol…CM Punk is not happy. XD**_

The night was warm and wet from the earlier thunderstorm. Grace had gone to bed early, claiming a migraine. Chris had put the kids to bed after they watched wrestling and cheered for their various favorites—Maddie complaining that her Dad was the only one that deserved to be champion. Tyler and Livy launched into a wrestling match which ended when Olivia crashed into the coffee table, splitting her eyebrow. Chris carried her into the bathroom and joked with her to try and get her mind off the pain, and cleaned up the thin trail of blood that ran down her face. He found some butterfly bandages and used them to pull the cut together, then kissed her forehead and put her to bed, followed by Tyler and Maddie.

After they were all tucked away Chris trudged to the kitchen. He was exhausted from the weight of the day and the constant arguments and conflicts. He wanted his own bed but couldn't bear the coldness Grace would most likely show him if he crept into the room and ducked next to her under the covers. He could almost hear the rustle of blankets as she pulled away and turned her back to him, weeping softly into her pillow. He sighed, wishing he didn't have to feel guilty about his true self, but he always did—and now even more so than ever before. His mother had been the first to plant that seed into him, but it had only had time to grow and grow over the years, and now that his children were involved there was no way he could not feel the guilt. They were wrapped up in all of it, anything he did would directly affect them.

Chris opened a cabinet and moved bottles until he reached the one in the very back—a nearly full bottle of Grey Goose. That's how he had ended up on the back porch steps as the night closed in around him, hugging him with its wet heat, as his eyes glazed over with tears and the stars in the sky became nothing but blurs. He raised the bottle to his lips and drank, the strong liquid blooming in his mouth and burning with tingling hotness as he swallowed it.

He looked down at his bare feet, curling and uncurling them against the wet grass. He wished they were smaller and daintier instead of big and ugly. They'd never look quite right in heels. _Stop thinking stupid things. _He half heartedly chastised himself. He clutched the bottle and swirled it around looking down the neck at the clear liquid at the bottom. He wasn't sure now how long he'd been outside contemplating and hurting, but most of the bottle was emptied. If he stood up he'd probably be dizzy. Oh well, it didn't matter. He took a long drink of it, finishing off what was left and tossing the glass bottle into the yard where it landed somewhere amongst the tall grass.

Behind him, a little worried face pressed to the glass doors, her nose smooshing against it as she watched her Dads' shoulders slump and start to tremble. She unlatched the lock and slid the door open padding out over the damp wood on the deck, wetting her socks. When a tiny hand fell feather light onto his shoulder, Chris quickly shut off his tears and wiped quickly at his eyes before turning.

"Hey little bitty." Chris wrapped his arms around the little girl and pulled her down into his lap. Her corn-silk colored hair was tangled around her face from sleep and it caught the moonlight, almost seeming to glow. Her wide, blue eyes, moved over her fathers face in the darkness, long, nearly white lashes fluttering over them when she blinked. "Why aren't you asleep?" Chris asked, smiling and tweaking her button nose. She giggled and wiggled.

"Daddy, you don't got my nose." She uncurled his hand. "It's just your thumb!"

"You're too observant, you know that?" He said, drawing her close to him. She rested her head on his chest, listening to his heart beat.

"You were cryin'…how come you're upsest?" She tilted her head up to look at him again.

"I wasn't crying." Chris answered looking out over the dark yard. He spotted the Grey Goose bottle in the grass, the neck of the bottle barely visible but the round lip of it was catching the light from the starry heavens and winking it back at the two of them as they sat on the steps.

"Your breath smells yucky too." She wrinkled her nose as Chris' vodka laced breath puffed against it.

"_Way_ too observant." Chris repeated petting her soft hair.

"What does ab-sor-bent mean?"

Chris laughed.

"Not absorbent, observant. It means you notice everything."

"Yup. Like Daddy, you came in the kitchen earlier and you had lipsticks on. Were you kissin' Mommy?" She puckered her lips and made kissy faces at him, tilting his head down so her lips touched his. She giggled. Chris heart sank.

"Yeah…yeah I was kissing Mommy." Chris stated sadly, wishing that was all it was.

"I dunno Mommy didn't look like she wanted kissed. She looked mad. Daddy do you kiss bad?"

Chris smiled in that lopsided way of his. This little girl was too smart for her own good, not to mention rather entertaining. Where did she get that from? He ruffled her hair and shifted her on his lap and he pointed at the night sky.

"See that really bright star up there?"

The little girl peered into the darkness, her eyes wide in childish wonder. She grinned and nodded her head excitedly, pointing her own little finger.

"That really, _really _huge pretty one!"

"Uh-huh. You know what kind of star that is? It's a wishing star."

She gasped and chewed on her lip wiggling in Chris' lap as she kept her eyes trained, fascinated, on the dazzling ball of light somewhere far, far away.

"How many wishes!"

"One."

She slipped her finger into her mouth, chewing at the end of the nail for a few moments. They were both just quiet, taking in the sounds of the night, the chirping of crickets, the way the leaves of the trees rustled wetly against the tepid breeze. After a bit of time, Maddie slid from Chris' lap and climbed up the steps, stopping to tug at her Dads long hair.

"C'mon Daddy lets go to bed!"

He got to his feet, wobbling a little, and she wrapped her hand around his fingers leading him back to the sliding doors. They slipped inside and she asked him for a drink before he put her back to bed. He gave her some chocolate milk and they sat at the table, Chris watching her as she drank it and pulled the plastic cup away with a brown mustache dripping from her lip. Laughing, he swept her up from the chair and wiped her mouth against his shirt sleeve, flying her up the stairs as though she was an airplane, and into her room as though it was the hanger. He sat at the edge of her bed, tucking the covers up under her chin.

"Daddy?" She asked as he straightened up, having kissed her forehead.

"What Maddie?" Chris asked, brushing some of her hair out of her face.

"Know what I wished? I wished…I wished that you would be happy. Cause lots of the time you don't look very happy." She added quietly, her pretty lips turning down into a saddened frown. Tears hung on her lashes, and she sniffled. Chris enveloped her in his arms, at a loss for what to say.

"Honey, don't you worry about Daddy." He said as he rubbed her back, hoping that she hadn't noticed the crack in his voice but she always noticed everything so most likely she'd heard it. He sighed and laid her back on her pillow, picking up a stuffed animal that was on the floor and tucking it in next to her.

"You goin' to sleep with Mommy tonight?" She asked as he rose from her bed. He stopped in the doorway and turned back to her.

"Don't worry about Daddy." He repeated, flashing her a smile.

"You can sleeps with me." She said quietly holding the plushie to her face. "Please?"

He was going to say no, but her huge pretty eyes were pleading with him, the blue depths glittering as she held her gaze to his. He went back to her and slid under the Hannah Montana covers. She turned towards him and curled up into his chest, sighing contently as he stroked her hair.


	11. Lie

_**Alright, it's short, but it's an update. **_

Chris' was aware of a strange sensation against his backside. The vibration cut through his sleep, and forced light behind his eyelids, along with a slow, bleary awareness. _My phone is ringing._ He rolled over, forgetting that he was crammed into a tiny bed with his little girl, and toppled off onto the floor with a squeaky yelp. He got up to his knees and pulled his cell from his back pocket, as his eyes ran over the curled form of his sleeping daughter. He flipped the cell open and pressed it to his ear, and smiled softly as he pulled the covers up to his daughters chin, and then quietly left the room.

"Hello?"

"Chris!" The familiar, cheerful voice took him off guard, and as low as he had been feeling lately, it seemed like a ray of sunshine breaking through a canopy of gray storm clouds.

"Shawn!" Chris exclaimed, and almost danced for joy in the hallway. He quickly made his way down stairs, the phone sealed to his ear, his ears hurting because he was smiling so wide. "Oh God, Shawn you don't know how good it is to hear your voice!"

Chris sighed, and sank down onto his couch.

"I can do you one better."

Chris could almost see the smirk in Shawns' voice. Just by his tone and way he spoke, Chris knew right off that the pretty blond was up to something.

"What?"

Before he could get an answer from Shawn, a knock sounded at the door.

"Hold on, someone's here." Chris said, and went to the door. He undid the locks and pulled it open.

"Hey handsome, wanna buy some Girl Scout cookies?"

Chris nearly burst through the door. His phone fell to the floor and almost broke the screen door, forgetting that it was latched. He quickly got it open and drowned Shawn in a hug. He closed his eyes tight and reveled in the feel of the familiar man against him, the sound of his voice actually here, the softness and delicate smell of his hair…

"Chris, air?" Shawn coughed, being a complete drama queen. Chris reluctantly released his friend, and Shawn shook his head, laughing.

"You're not glad to see me, are you?"

"You don't even…Shawn…you just, can't even begin to know!"

Chris took Shawns' hands in him, and ran his thumbs over the smooth backs. So many things spun through Chris' mind, all the fights between him and Grace, all the turmoil being stirred up in his home, not to mention those ever dancing demons within. Chris was sure he would have lost his mind soon, he was so torn over everything. But something as simple as seeing Shawn again just made him simply happy again. Maybe it reminded him of his old life, before he'd made the decision to leave wrestling to 'deal with issues' and _ha _that had been going _so _well.

His mind went back to his last night, the night he and Shawn had went out clubbing in drag, how they'd met up with Mark, all of it. He wanted that life back, the life where he was on the road, away from his wife, who seemed like she didn't love him as much as he thought she did. He had hoped she would help him, not become a replay of his mother. He should have known better than that. He should have just stayed on the road, surrounding himself with men he loved and who loved him back with deep friendships. He should have stayed where he could spend nights alone in his hotel room, dressed the way that made him feel normal, just laying on the bed and watching a movie or listening to music, and not worrying about whether what he was doing was going to split up his family or ruin his life.

"Chris, are you okay?" Shawn narrowed his eyes at the blond, he was thoughtfully chewing his lip and his blue eyes had seemed to become darker, as though something was struggling in their depths.

"Hm?" Chris blinked at Shawn, and glanced down. It suddenly dawned on him that he was holding Shawns' hands. He was stroking them. A dark blush crept up his neck and he dropped Shawns' hands.

"Sorry, just so glad to see you." He explained, smiling crookedly. Shawn clapped him on the shoulder.

"Wanna grab some breakfast? You do have Dennys in Canada, right?"

Shawn laughed, and made his way down the steps. Chris shut the door behind him and eagerly followed Shawn to his rental. After a bit of driving, they ended up at their destinations, with coffee and Grand Slams in front of them.

Chris immediately sent a barrage of questions at Shawn about what had went on since he'd left. It was approaching a year now, though it seemed hard to believe.

"I bet the company's just went to hell without me there." Chris joked, flipping his long, golden hair away from his face. Shawn smiled, and sipped his coffee. He was glad to see Chris so genuinely happy, he had been beginning to get concerned. The last few times Shawn had talked to him over the phone, he'd seemed on the verge of a mental break-down. Shawn watched Chris' expressions carefully, and wondered if the young man was having problems with his marriage.

_Maybe those were the issues Chris left to fix. _Shawn thought to himself. _But it's not my business really._ His thoughts roamed back to the last night he'd been with Chris before he left. Chris had hinted that he might be gay, something that Shawn was pretty sure of. Shawn thought back to his own struggle, when he had 'come out' so to speak. Although everyone else had seemed to know he was gay long before he did, so maybe it wasn't so much as coming out of the closet, rather than him just _realizing _he wasn't even in a closet to begin with. He'd started to experiment with Marty, and that's when he'd really begun to come to terms with himself. Then, well then there had been Bret. Shawn frowned.

"…and maybe in the future I'll be back…Shawn?"

"Sorry." Shawn hid his frown with his coffee mug, pushed Bret to the back of his mind, and took a long drink before setting the white mug back down. "So, how are things going for my favorite Canadian?"

"Shawn, I'm not Bret." Chris meant it as a joke, but it stunned Shawn just a little that he'd just been thinking of Bret, and then Chris attempted a joke about his former lover.

"He's my least favorite." Shawn muttered.

"I'm sorry." Chris said lowly, dropping his eyes. "I didn't mean to--"

"No, I know. It's ancient history!" Shawn waved his hand at Chris, and blew off the failed attempt at humor. "Go on, tell me about your exploration into…what are you now, a house wife?"

Now it was Chris who frowned. _That's not funny either._ Shawn wondered what he had said wrong now, but he didn't say anything. He just waited for Chris to reply, and shoved his scrambled eggs around on his plate with the tines of his fork.

"Grace wants to go to a shrink." Chris blurted out all at once. "I…she…she found out about this major thing and now—she just thinks I'm really fucked up. I _am_ really fucked up." He added, stabbing his fork into his stack of pancakes and leaving it there.

"Chris, there is nothing screwed up about you."

"Oh, you don't even know the half of it!"

"I know you very well. I know you're a great guy with a good heart. What more can a woman want?"

_A man, for starters. _Chris thought. The scowl on his face deepened.

"Don't scowl, you're too pretty for that." Shawn grinned.

Chris blinked back at him, the blush from earlier once again making his skin warm.

"You think I'm…pretty?" Chris asked, his voice barely a whisper. The simple statement touched him deeply, Shawn could never understand how much that meant to him.

"I meant it as a compliment. Don't take it badly, I get told that all the time." Shawn flipped his hair, and winked playfully. He was glad when it drew a smile from Chris, but it slowly faded. Chris dropped his eyes to his plate, only he wasn't focused on the food that was there. In fact, he wasn't even hungry anymore.

"Talk to me." Shawn said quietly.

Chris chewed on his lip, and from the way he was fidgeting, Shawn could tell his hands were in his lap and he was picking at his nails.

"Is this about you and Grace?"

Chris nodded his head a little.

"Kind of…but it really goes beyond that." _Far beyond that._

"Chris, sometimes people fall in love, sometimes they fall out of love. Nothing in life is concrete, as we go through this journey, we learn new things about ourselves. Some are hard for others to accept. But you can't live your life in a lie. If you're gay--"

"Shawn, i-it's not about that."

"It's okay. It's not a big deal."

"Shawn, it _is _a big deal. What this is all about, it's a _really_ big deal. Since I was little…"

"Men and women come out every day, and you know you have my support."

"I'm not gay!" Chris exclaimed, just a little too loudly. Some people from a neighboring table cast the two blonds curious glances. "Well, not really."

_How do I tell him? He'll just be disgusted with me, he'll just turn away from me like Grace. _Chris' looked into Shawns' beautiful blue eyes, full of kindness, and love. _I can't throw that away, I can't tell him. _

The thought of Shawn turning his back on him was just crushing, and made it almost hard for him to breathe. There was no way he could take that on top of Graces' rejection. Her harsh, hateful, words played over again and again through his mind until his eyes prickled with swimming tears.

"Chris, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you." Shawn reached for Chris' hands which were resting on the table, but his elbow knocked over a glass of ice-water and sent it into Chris' lap. Shawn apologized again, and tossed Chris some napkins. Chris dabbed at the wetness spreading over his jeans, not really caring. He'd been looking forward to a good time with Shawn, maybe even a chance to confide in him, but now he thought that clamming up and keeping this pain to himself would be a better option. Shawn only thought he was gay, and that was probably better than letting him know the truth.

"So, how about coming by the arena tonight?" Shawn asked, as he grabbed more napkins and gave them to Chris. "Some of us could go out afterwards. Catch up, y'know."

"Sounds good." Chris answered, trying to lace his words with false enthusiasm.

_And I'll just keep lying to everyone. I'll lie, and lie, and lie and maybe some day I'll forget what the truth really is. _

_**Next chapter: More Shawn and Chris interaction…and Mark is going to be in there too. No promises on how soon it'll be though. Stick with me please and thank you! *loves***_


	12. Trust Me

Mark shoved another drink down Irvines throat, and steered him towards the dance floor. The moment he'd laid eyes on the blond after the show that night, his stomach had tied its self in knots.

With just one look his intuition told him that things were out of sorts for the usually energetic young man. When Mark walked up to him backstage, talking with Shawn—or rather Shawn was doing the most talking which was the first red flag—because anyone who knew Chris knew that he like to hold the bigger end of a conversation. Sometimes he rambled on to the point where you wanted to tell him to shut the hell up. When Mark had seen him then though, he'd barely been saying two words, nodding his head listlessly, as his eyes seemed to be elsewhere, lacking their usual bright glimmer.

It had been Shawn who had suggested they all go out clubbing, and Mark's feeling only became worse when Chris almost declined. Mark refused to let him, and practically dragged the blond along with them. He was sure getting Chris into a club with music blaring, hot bodies dancing, and alcohol—well that was a win, win, win combination. But even that hadn't seemed to lift his spirits. Chris sat up at the bar towards the corner, leaning on his elbow, looking down into a barely-touched glass of whatever it was he was drinking.

Mark left the girl that was hitting on him behind. The little red-head wasn't too happy about it, but she was quickly dissolved into the crowd and taken up by other needful dancers, bodies writhing to the beat. He sat down next to Chris, and followed his line of sight, which was now entranced with a group of scantily clad females, all dancing near or on each other. The curves of their bodies undulated as they shimmied and rocked with the electric feel of the loud dance music.

Mark was momentarily distracted, as he watched supple asses bump and grind, and globes of cleavage strain against tiny shirts as the women moved, weaving hands through long tresses, parting their lips seductively, a couple gnawing at each others long, slender necks. Mark managed to pull his eyes away, even though he was rather enjoying the show. He fidgeted on his barstool, and glanced back at Chris. He seemed to be looking at that group of women with an intense longing, and Mark figured the kid was lonely. Maybe him and his wife were having problems since he'd been back home.

He reached over, startling Chris when he moved some of his pretty blond hair away from his cheek, and stroked his cheek.

"Hey Irv, what's wrong?"

Chris barely let his eyes make contact with Mark's silvery-green ones. Scenes from their last encounter and escapades were still fresh in his mind, and he felt so many things from that night that he could barely place a finger on any of them. Then, those women. He didn't answer Mark, just cut his eyes back to them, watching entranced in their beauty, wondering glumly with a heavy heart why they had been created so perfectly, and he'd been made such a fuck up. He couldn't have been given a beautiful body like that, a proper one, that matched his true being. It seemed like some awful, never ending practical joke, and that everyone was pointing and laughing, laughing and pointing.

That was when Mark started ordering drink after drink, and forcing it on Chris, in hopes that he'd loosen up. He was in need of a serious good time, this being lost and depressed thing wasn't going to work for him. Now Mark's hands were around his waist as he guided his stumbling path towards the dance floor. Chris started to unwind a bit, the alcohol clouding and warming his mind, making him feel dizzy and light footed as he danced with Mark, against Mark, grinding and panting against his lips as words slurred out of his mouth.

"Wuh you like me, Marky-Mark if I wassawoman?" Chris laughed, as he ran his hands over Mark's legs, and up his thighs, over his hips, to come to rest against his chest as they moved with the music. "Would I be a buhyootiful woman?"

"Chris, I think maybe I got you a little too wasted." Mark laughed.

"I'm serious. Ah mean it…lookit, if I looked like them…eh." Chris pointed at various women around the dance floor. "Mark dun laugh…I'm serious!"

Mark threaded his fingers through Chris' hair, and tried not to laugh as Chris went on with his silly, liquored questions.

"What would you thinkame if I was a woman? Stop laughing!" Chris' fingers curled tightly into Marks shirt, and he stopped dancing. "Issnot funny, don'laugh at me."

Chris's mind flashed back to his wife, yelling at him, putting her hand on his package to remind him it was there and what it meant. His mother, dragging him to church because of his horrible desires, that preacher who later reminded him of a nightmarish Brother Love, was raging in his mind. Voices all around him were laughing, in college, when he'd came closest to feeling normal, brave enough to dress how he wanted and not care, until the time when his "friends" deserted him drunk in an alley and he'd woken up the next morning beaten and bloody, dirty, and worse.

After that, he'd tried hard to hide that side of his life away. He'd started to work out and think of doing more male type things, there was hockey, and later wrestling, and his life became the carefully crafted lie of a man who had everything he wanted out of life. All the while, he had nothing. Nothing but laughter behind his back, when he went out with the guys dressed that way 'as a joke' he'd tell them, and they all thought he was the biggest and best party animal among them.

"Stop laughing! It's not funny!"

Chris shoved Mark away from him, and tears spilled down his face. He ran, stumbling over his leaden feet. He managed to weave his way through the crowd, and outside, to where he sat down at the curb, his head in his hands, as he watched tears fall between his feet and drop like rain into a dirty puddle at the curbs edge.

Behind him he heard hurried footsteps, and Shawn was crouching next to him, saying things. Another hand was on his shoulder, and without seeing he recognized it as Marks. Shawn was paying at his hair, trying to move it away from his face, but all Chris wanted was to be shielded away from them.

"Chrissy, look at me." Shawn spoke lowly, and pulled Chris' chin up. "Talk to me."

"I wanna be pretty…"

"You are pretty, Chris. You were voted Manitoba's Sexiest Man…"

"Not like that!" Chris spat, knocking Shawn's hand out of the way.

He got to his wobbly feet, and moved a bit away, glaring and weeping. Shawn started to go after him, but Mark held his hands up, and had a few words with Shawn before going off to Chris himself. Mark took Chris' hand in his, and led him across the street where there was a dock jutting out into a still, green, lake. Chris was still crying, and Mark sat on a bench positioned on the dock, and lowered Chris between his legs. The Canadian rested his head against Marks' thigh, as long fingers found his hair again and played with it.

"I'm sorry Chris. I saw you were upset and it…kind of…it worried me. I thought a few drinks would help, not make things worse."

Chris nuzzled into his thigh a little, and Mark could feel wet drops against his jeans.

"Please Chris, will you tell me what's bothering you? You're changed from the man I knew."

Chris sniffled, and rubbed at his sore eyes, and looked out at the moonlight over the lake.

"Do you think people could be made wrong?"

Mark stroked Chris' hair, thinking about the words.

"You mean like, deformed and stuff?"

Chris hugged Mark's leg, and rubbed his nose against the rough fabric.

"Kind of, yeah I guess."

"I'm not sure what you mean Chrissy. I'm a big slow jock, explain."

Chris looked up at Mark, his face tilted towards the sky, and Mark's lips were twisting with a smile. He touched the tip of his finger to Chris' nose, and made his blue eyes turn inwards to look at it, and look silly.

"What I mean is…" Chris paused for a long moment, his eyes going back out over the lake, as he ran his finger up and down the stitched seam on the side of Mark's jeans. "I mean…sexually." Chris said lowly.

Chris waited to feel Mark fidgeting, or for him to change the subject, but he did neither. There was little to nothing that ruffled The Deadman's feathers. He just kept threading his fingers comfortingly through Chris' long hair.

"Do you mean to tell me you're gay?" Mark finally asked.

"No. That's not what I mean. I mean…_physically_…sexually."

"So yer sayin' you have a curvy dick or something?"

Chris laughed at that, he couldn't help it. He wiped at his tears.

"My dick isn't curvy."

Mark pulled Chris up into his lap, and pressed their foreheads together. His breath came softly against Chris's lips, and he could feel the young blond shaking, as though he was afraid.

"I'm not going to judge you. You can trust me." Mark took Chris hand, linked their fingers, and moved their joined hands up, then down. "I give you my word."

Something about the way Mark spoke, and the firm grip of his hand, made Chris feel safe. He leaned close to Mark's ear, wondering if he was really about to divulge his secret, his innermost feelings, his true self. His face burned hot with embarrassment as he pressed his lips against Marks' ear, the coolness of Mark's pale cheek against his felt soft and comforting. Mark's arms circled his waist and held him close.

"I…Mark…" Chris fidgeted in Mark's lap, gripping his shoulders tightly. Mark's fingers ran up and down his back.

"Go on."

"I'm…different on the inside." Chris said quickly.

"What do you mean babe?"

_It's now, or never._ Chris closed his eyes, and willed himself to go on. He really did feel as though he could trust Mark, pretty much everyone in the locker room did. Mark knew all sorts of things about everyone, things that no one else would ever be entrusted with. It wasn't only that, Chris wanted to tell someone, someone other than his wife. He wanted someone to understand—not that Mark could understand how he felt—but he wanted to stop being alone in his suffering and confusion. Somehow, maybe telling Mark would help.

"I'm a woman inside." Chris breathed out, with trembling, almost silent words.

He was ready to hear a sound of disgust, to be dumped from Mark's lap, and onto his ass as tears fell over his hotly colored face again. But Mark held him closer.

"Chrissy, I'm so sorry." He said quietly, stroking Chris's shoulders and arms, relieving the tension in the tight muscles. Chris was still trembling against him, like a poor frightened little child, and it touched the big man deeply. He couldn't imagine such a thing, and how to deal with it, and how alone and frightened Chris must have felt. He understood now, why Chris was looking at those women in the bar with such a sad, lost, longing. He didn't want one of them, he wanted to _be _one of them.

"How long have you known?"

"Always." Chris answered simply. His shivering was lessening, and he was relaxing into Mark's touches, and laid his head against Mark's shoulder.

"Does anyone else know babe?"

Chris moved his head 'no' but then sighed.

"Well, my wife…I told my wife." At this he sounded completely dejected, and Mark could only imagine how poorly that had turned out. He admired Chris, for having such courage to tell anyone at all. He placed his hands on Chris's hips, and straightened the young man up. His corn-silk colored hair was stuck to his face from where he'd been crying, and his cheeks were still rosy.

"I'm sorry Chris." Mark said, his deep green eyes capturing Chris' sad blue ones, their feelings interchanging between a long gaze.

"Thank you."

Chris leaned in, and captured Mark's lips. The kiss was sweet, and a little too brief for both men, but night was quickly becoming morning.

"You don't know how much that means to me." Chris sniffled, as Mark moved him out of his lap.

The two of them walked hand in hand back towards the club, a lot less cars now jammed into the parking lot. Shawn was sprawled out on a bench near the entrance, fast asleep like a hobo. Mark smiled at Shawn, then at Chris. He leaned in and kissed Chris once more.

"Give me your cell phone."

Chris did, and Mark pushed some numbers, then handed it back.

"That's me." Mark pointed to the number on the screen. "You call me any time, day or night. Do you understand?"

Chris nodded, and stood up on his toes to wrap his arms around the big mans neck.

"Alright princess, we better get you home to your family." Mark said, squeezing Chris' hand. He then bent down, and flicked Shawn's ear. The smaller blond sat up with a speed quick for a sober man, let alone a drunk one, and Mark and Chris both laughed. "Come on baby girl." Mark said to Shawn. "We have to get Chris home before my rental turns back into a pumpkin."

All three men laughed, and Shawn and Chris each tucked themselves under one of Mark's arms, as they walked towards the car. When Chris got home, he stayed up in the living room. It had became his permanent sleeping place. His pillow and blanket was always kept there these days, and the muted t.v. often kept him lonely company until he drifted into fitful sleep. Right now, the t.v. screen was flashing soft meaningless pictures over the shadowed room, and the man sitting with the fleece blanket wrapped around him. He wasn't paying any attention to the t.v. though. He was looking down at the green screen of his plastic cell phone, running his finger reverently over the small black numbers, and the name next to it. Finally, for the first time in a long time, he felt as though he wasn't completely alone.

_**A/N: Sometimes I don't know how I feel about this story, lol. My Chris muse will kill me if I even THOUGHT of not finishing it. Which I haven't thought of, I am finishing it. I have to. It's mandatory from the muse squad. Please keep letting me know what you think. I'm kind of in love with Mark, because bless him, Chris needed that. I never know where my chapters are going to take me, so this was really nice for me. Chris finally has someone he can really rely on. *warm fuzzy feelings* But he's certainly not out of the woods yet, not by a long shot. Thanks for reading :)**_


	13. Confrontations

_**A/N: I know I've put this sort of note up before, but I'm doing it again. Just because Grace and the Pastor are jerks doesn't mean all Christians are like this. Their views do not accurately reflect all of us-cause I am a Christian and don't hate at me because of people like them!!! Yes, there are Christians who are like that, but that doesn't stereotype all of us into the same category. There are idiots and cruel people of ALL religions and backgrounds, just sayin. I don't want to put it out there like Christians all=The Devil. Lol. ALSO--thank you all for reading and reviewing. Much love!**_

Sunday morning, and the house was a bustle of confusion as Grace hurried to ready the children for church. There was never a smooth Sunday, there was always something going wrong—Tyler spilling orange juice on his polo shirt, Maddison stuffing her Barbie down the toilet, or Chris attempting to feign a headache _again _just like he did to try and get out of an awkward attempt at a tumble in the sheets. With a whispered barb into his ear, Grace reminded him that this was church, not sex, and that he was going with the family. Besides, afterwards the kids were going home with Grace's sister and Chris and Grace were going to stay and have a long talk with Pastor Stephens. Seemingly, Chris had no choice about that either. Thoughts fluttered around his head as he sat at the breakfast table, not eating, remembering less pleasant things from his childhood regarding church, and preachers, and a woman who thought he needed fixed—could be fixed—with just a prayer and a rousing round of "Amazing Grace".

He thought of the conversations he'd been having with Mark, who seemed to accept him for what he was and not bat an eye. It was strange after all his years of hiding and being afraid of what he was, that there was finally someone who didn't hate him or become disgusted by something he couldn't help. For those brief, treasured moments on the phone with Mark, Chris could be himself—or rather—herself.

"Come on Chris, let's go." Grace said flatly, reaching across the table to fix Tyler's collar.

Reluctantly Chris followed his family out to the car, drove them to church, and sat in the pew with them. He paid little attention to the songs being sang, or the words being spoken, or the prayers being offered. He'd long since grown tired and weary of them, because in his life they'd been twisted into things that hurt and terrified him, rather than footholds of comfort and peace as they were meant to be.

After the service, the kids ran off with their aunt, and Chris was dragged into a small office with his wife and Pastor Stephens. His heart started to thunder in his chest, like the hooves of galloping horses, as things from his childhood threatened to converge with the here and now. His wife tugged at the sleeve of his shirt, motioning for him to sit down. He did, keeping his eyes away from the man in the sweater who sat behind the looming desk, as though he was God's appointed principal over the little school children and Chris was about to get a whipping for breaking the rules—for being made wrong.

His palms were sweating, his hands shaking, and he raked them against his pants. Chris didn't want to be here at all, he wanted to run far, far away where these two sets of eyes wouldn't be boring into him, as though his soul was laid naked and shivering for them to see each flaw and imperfection, and then judge them all by standards Chris felt couldn't apply to someone like him.

"Your wife tells me, Mr. Irvine, that you've been having some problems?" The way he spoke was like a vocal nose-crinkle. The distaste was obvious in his voice, and Chris felt like a piece of garbage tweezed between unwilling fingertips, held as far away from the nose as possible, as it was taken to and gladly disposed of in the trash can.

Chris's head was lowered, as he fidgeted with his hands in his lap. His cobalt eyes cut briefly to his wife, wishing she might at least attempt some form of comfort—a small smile, a pat on the shoulder, taking one of his hands to help him find the words to express something so personal and weighty as this thing that hid inside wishing only for a life of her own. Chris's lips moved hesitantly, but nothing came out. He chewed on them, anxiety racing through his mind and nerves as he tried to figure out how to say it, or how to avoid saying it, because he already knew the words that were coming for him when he confessed.

"Chris, what your wife has talked to me about…these things are not natural. These ideas in your head are planted there by Satan in order to pull you away from the Lord and his will for your life. When the Lord created the Earth, he made Man and Woman, there are no in-betweens, there are no alternatives, there are no mistakes."

Chris could hear the creak of the chair as the Pastor got up, and rounded his desk. He knelt in front of Chris and lifted his chin, forcing his tearful eyes to meet the ones looking ill behind a thick set of glasses. Chris glanced pleadingly over to Grace, wishing for any support at all, despite knowing it wasn't there to begin with. Her eyes were as cold as February.

"Mr. Irvine, the things you think you're feeling are no more than seeds of sinful thoughts and desires, and you must confess them before The Almighty and ask his forgiveness. Then, they'll be washed away. You'll be free from their damning grasp."

The words echoed in Chris's ears and mind: _not natural…Satan…mistake…sinful…damned._ How could this man know anything, _anything_ at all about the things Chris felt on a daily basis, for what he could remember of his entire life. How could he say there were no gray areas, there were no mess ups, when Chris knew different because he lived the mistake every day. His mother and the preacher he'd grown up being yelled at by, all said the same kinds of things. His mother had him on his knees every night begging to be forgiven for wanting to play with the other girls, wear what they wore, do what they did, be what they were. All those times he'd cried by his bedside, wanting just to be normal, his sense of whatever that meant skewed and confused in his young mind, and God had never taken those desires away, he'd never lessened the confusion, he'd never given an explanation for why Chris was a girl but had a boys body. After a few moments of hard silence, that seemed like choking hands, Chris managed to say something, his teary eyes trained on the dark ones in front of him.

"If a child has a cancer, do you operate to make the child right and well? If its born with a deformed face, don't you do anything you can to get it fixed so it can live as normal a life as possible? If it's crippled don't you take it for tests and therapy and surgery—anything? How can you say there aren't mistakes? How can you say that sometimes things don't fit together the way they're supposed to? Sometimes things get messed up, and they come out all wrong…" Chris's thought trailed off.

Chris knocked the Pastor's hand away from his face, and got out of his chair, pacing around the tiny office, tugging at his long hair. Grace and Pastor Stephens were both quiet, allowing him the chance to vent, or whatever it was he was doing. He reached over to a bookshelf with various religious books crammed into it, and plucked up a framed photo of little girl with a big smile on her face.

"Pastor, your daughter's autistic, right? If a cure was discovered for it would you take that opportunity or would you damn your kid into living less than what they could be just because you believe God doesn't make fucking mistakes? Why don't you go tell your kid to pray for her sin, or is that wrong?"

"Chris, stop it!" Grace hissed.

"Mr. Irvine, there is a big difference in the things you mention." The Pastor huffed, as he snatched the photo away from Chris, clearly offended. "Look at you, you're a man—you do not physically have female anatomy, this is all in your mind which has been twisted and deceived!"

"You're the only one that's twisted!" Chris snapped, his words no more than hurt shouts, as a tear coursed down his cheek. "I'm tired of being stomped on and damned to hell because I got put together wrong—it's not my fault!"

"Mr. Irvine--" Pastor Stephens reached for him again, and Chris shoved him, sending him sprawling onto his desk, the leather Bible toppling open to the floor, the cup of pens with the church name and logo stamped onto it tipped off the corner and scattered its contents, the name plate and a stack of announcements and hymn books crashed over like uprooted trees. The Pastors glasses were knocked off. When Grace got up from her chair shrieking, she stepped on them.

"Christopher!" Her shrill voice raked out, like fork tines screaming against china.

He ignored her, the tears falling freely as he bolted from the office, the church, and locked himself up in the car to try and get a hold of himself. He wiped his palms against his wet eyes, searching the glove box and center console for tissues or napkins to wipe his nose, at last settling on his sleeve as makeshift handkerchief. Was there no one who understood? It was always the same—they saw his man body and that's what he was. They saw a sturdy, muscled, wrestler and if he were to say that he was a woman it would be a joke. He rubbed his hands over his arms, feeling the curves beneath his shirt. It was nothing more than overcompensation.

He'd loved wrestling as a boy, that was true. He'd watched it admiring some of the early women wrestlers, wishing that some day he'd grow up to be that beautiful. When it came to his attention that he was a boy, and would never grow up to be a striking woman, his interest in it shifted, to closely watching the men in order to mimmick them, because he didn't know how he was supposed to act as a boy. He did things he thought were expected of boys—like play sports, impress girls, grow a beard, whatever it took because in his experience trying to be the girl he was only resulted in pain, cruelty, and abuse. After being beaten badly by a group of guys in college for what he was wearing, it had finally been driven home that in order to survive and be something acceptable in the world, he had to become this actor, miming the actions of other males until his life was what it was supposed to be—at least on the outside. He'd obviously done a fantastic job of convincing everyone else—millions of people in fact, who had watched him make his living doing something he actually did fall in love with, despite knowing that he'd fit in better in the Diva's locker room.

But he'd never been able to convince himself, and no amount of pretending could change his heart, and the things it so deeply longed for.

"I can't believe you!" Grace spat, as she pried open the car door, and slung herself into the seat next to his. She let out a frustrated growl, and slammed the door so hard the vehicle jarred. "Aren't you even going to say anything?" She bit out, watching Chris cry pathetically as he hugged himself. She shook her head, her lips pressed together in a tight angry line, as she cried too. "I can't stand you! Let's just go Chris. I want to go home."

"That makes two of us then." Chris snarled, opening his door and getting out of the car. "Because I can't stand me either!" He threw the keys at his wife, they hit her arm and fell onto the floorboard. "Drive yourself the fuck home." He slammed the door this time, and walked away from her.

He spent his time walking, and trying to push out all the negative things that seemed to want to consume him. He was planning on just calling a cab, but the more he thought about, he really didn't want to go home at the moment. He'd just end up prisoned in the house with his wife hovering around like the worlds angriest storm cloud, and they'd blow up at each other again. Instead, he walked a few miles to the Wal-Mart that was nearby. There was something inside that was calling out to him, he needed that special comfort that made him feel like a real person.

He was glad that when he went to the women's clothing section, that there were only a couple others nosing around the racks. Neither of them seemed to pay him any attention as he grabbed things from the racks, hung them over his arm, and ducked into one of the dressing rooms. It seemed like forever since he was allowed this simple pleasure of putting on some clothes that made him feel better. He'd thrown all of his woman things away over a year ago when he'd ditched wrestling, trading it to come home and try and figure out these big issues of his life, wrongly hoping for an understanding wife to be his support system.

He stripped out of his button up shirt, khaki pants, and shoes quickly, and with shaking hands pulled their replacements off of hangers. Once he was dressed again, he turned to the full length mirror hung on the wall of the small cubicle, and sighed in relief. He felt _normal_ for this one moment—the feeling was euphoric almost as he saw in the mirror the woman he was. Maybe the clothes didn't look quite right, they didn't fit exactly how they should—his shoulders were too wide, his chest wasn't big enough, his strong arms stretched the fabric of the sleeves, but it didn't matter. It just felt good, it just felt _right._ Chris turned around at every angle, mentally imagining his frame to be curvy and flowing like the cursive lines of femaleness. He savored the feel of the clothes against his skin, the way the jeans hugged his hips and rear, with the cute little sequins on the pockets even. He pulled the band from his hair and let the bleached locks fall in waves over his shoulders, framing his pouty face, as he pressed it close to the mirror, and looked into the depths of oceanic eyes that no longer seemed foreign.

"You're not a mistake." He whispered quietly, to the tearful expression in the looking glass. He pressed his palm to the one reflected back at him, and whispered it again. "You're not a mistake."


	14. A 'vorce

_**Thanks all for reading/reviewing. Please continue! Here's the next (short as it is)! **_

_**Btw: Unforgettable--Nat King Cole.  
**_

After the failed council in the Pastor's office, there were months of fighting. Finally, it just died down into coldness. Chris was thankful for that at least. He hadn't ever wanted to fight in front of the children, especially about this—but there were times when it had gotten so out of hand that the two shouting, screaming voice woke up the trio of innocence and Chris would stop, guilt swallowing down his words, when he saw the three small faces peeking from between the rails on the stairs, one of them angry, one in tears, and the other just placidly observing. Grace blamed him, of course, continuing to hiss bitter, angry things at him as she stomped up the stairs and untwined each of their gripping hands, leading them all to bed, only to return to degrade Chris in the worst way possible—attacking him as a father. She had a right to think of him as low, because of his gender confusion, when she basically went for a verbal assault akin to a physical groin hit. She might as well have dug a knife into his chest and pried out the beating, bleeding, pieces of his heart.

He knew he wasn't the best parent. When he'd been on the road of course he could be there for so many occasions, both special and mundane, although to him every moment he got to spend with his children was special. He'd missed birthdays, holidays, school events, his son's t-ball and baseball games, the girls dance recitals, and countless other events and occasions because of his job. But damn it, he called them nearly every night and spoke to each one of them, always telling them goodnight, and that he loved them. For a while, Maddie went through a stage where she wouldn't sleep unless Grace called Chris on the road, and he'd talk to her and sang to her one certain song, until the phone went limp in her hand from sleep, and Grace took it away.

_Unforgettable, that's what you are  
Unforgettable though near or far  
Like a song of love that clings to me  
How the thought of you does things to me  
Never before has someone been more_

_Unforgettable in every way  
And forever more, that's how you'll stay  
That's why, darling, it's incredible  
That someone so unforgettable  
Thinks that I am unforgettable too_

The words went through Chris's mind just now, softly, falling from his lips in whispers as he sat down stairs in the darkness. He sighed, laying his phone on the coffee table, and stretching out on the couch which was now his permanent bed. At least it was plushy and comfortable, but it still made for a bit of a tight squeeze and the occasional toss of the side in the middle of a dream. He'd just got done talking to Mark earlier, spilling at least an hours worth of problems onto the man, and the man who was portrayed as a demon, was such an angel.

Mark just listened, he didn't say much of anything idle, when he did speak his advice or opinions were straight to the point. There were never any wasted words with The Deadman. It was something Chris found himself being grateful for. He never had to try and decipher any hidden meanings with Mark, or root around for the pearl of wisdom among a mountain of stones, it was always just handed to him, right under his nose, how it should be. It was always comforting to hear Mark's voice, and even not to hear it, but just to know his olive eyes were hard in concentration, taking the time to listen to his soft-spoken words without tossing him under the bus, or screaming over them.

But, even Deadmen have to get their beauty sleep, or at least some sort of sleep, so Chris said his goodbyes and reluctantly hung up. Now he was here staring at the vaulted ceiling, listening to the night sounds of the house, and being surrounded by the coldness of it all. It wasn't a physical coldness that etched fingerprints onto him, but an emotional coldness. It was the lingering of icy feelings between the two adults who lived here, and had once loved here.

"Daddy?" The little voice startled Chris out of his thoughts. He jumped a bit, and turned his head to face his youngest, an automatic smile stretching across his face, as the cold bite that had surrounded him suddenly grew warm.

"Hey little bity." Chris said, as Maddie climbed onto his stomach and lay down with her head against his chest, snuggling a small stuffed bear to her face. "What's up doc?"

He stroked her silky blond curls, as she nuzzled close.

"I gotta ast' you a question." She said, turning her face up to his, and getting up to a sitting position. She clutched the bear close to her body, propping her chin on its fuzzy brown head. The pout on her face was too much of a mirror of the way Chris new he looked when he'd been offended, or was sad. He didn't like to see that familiar play of emotions settled on his daughters pretty face.

"Ask away."

Her round, cobalt eyes, captivated his, glittering and shimmering beneath salty wetness. They were so pure, so innocent, so vibrant and intelligent. It was as if her child eyes could lay him bare with one stare, seeing into him and through him, everything he was and wasn't, and yet they never cast judgment for any of it. They always loved. She blinked, her fine, long lashes flitting closed, then open again.

"Daddy, are you and Mommy getting a 'vorce?"

Chris knew what she meant right away, in her childspeak. His heart constricted in his chest, his breath hitching. The word 'No' almost spilled automatically from his lips in the need to give her that reassurance and comfort her from something as tragic and catastrophic in a childs life as that one looming word. Yet, he didn't know exactly where he and Grace stood right now. It wasn't in the best of places, yet neither had spoken that damning word, even in the midst of their most heated battles.

"Why would you think that baby? Who told you that?" Chris asked, forcing his voice steady as he stroked the pink curve of her cheek with his thumb.

"My friend at school said her Mommy and Daddy fought a lot, and then they got a'vorce. She had to go live with her Mommy and she don't get to see her Daddy that often. Her Mommy calls him bad names, just like Mommy calls you…but I don't think she oughta call you that stuff. It's not very nice." Maddie sniffled, rubbing her reddening nose against the bears furry ear. "And Mommy don't wear her ring no more either." She added, glancing down at Chris's hand, and putting the tip of her finger to the thick gold band that rested there. "Does that mean I'm not gonna see you…like when you used to be a wres'ler?" Her voice wobbled with the last added sentence, the tears apparent in it, despite her obvious courageous attempt at trying to battle them away.

"Maddison…"

Chris pulled his daughter close to him, wrapping his arms around her miniature frame in a hug. Her cheek rested against his, the wetness of her lashes brushing against his skin, and it completely broke his heart for her. She was doing a better job of not crying than he was, as a heavy tear dripped from the corner of his eye and seeped between their bonded faces.

"Maddison." Chris tried again, this time making his voice work better. "Adults don't always get along, sometimes Mommies and Daddies do really stupid things, like fight and argue with each other. Mommy and Daddy just…aren't agreeing on some things right now." Chris shifted so he was sitting, and situated Maddie in his lap, tilting her chin up so he could look into her eyes. "I'm telling you right now precious, no matter what happens between Mommy and Daddy, that's never going to change how much I love you, or your brother and sister. There's nothing in the world that can take us apart. As long as my heart beats, it beats for you. Understand?"

Chris sniffled, as Maddie placed her palm against the cotton fabric of his t-shirt. Her rosy lips turned into a smile as she felt the thundering pulse, and the rise and fall of Chris's breathing, beneath her touch. She giggled, forgetting for now the diamond-like tears that still held to her golden lashes. She pressed her ear to the middle of Chris's chest, and he kissed the top of her head.

"I can hear it go _boom-boom-boom_!" She exclaimed.

She was clearly fascinated with the simple, never-changing rhythm. It must have been comforting to her, just the way the warmth of her small body was to his, just laying there, unconditionally loving and accepting. There surely must be no greater bond, Chris thought to himself, as he laid his hand against her back, and felt the slow breathing the told him she'd fallen asleep. He eased himself back into a laying position, situation Maddie without disturbing her at all. He reached for the blanket that was draped over the back of the couch, and pulled it over them.

The night crept slowly upon him, working its fingers at the edges of his tired mind, but teasing and refusing to take him totally under. Despite the peaceful child sleeping on his chest, he couldn't help but have those words keep rolling and looping through his mind, spoken in just the way she had. They coupled with Grace's tearful, offended, shriek.

_Look what you're doing to this family, Christopher! Don't you care? Is this just about you? Do you think this only affects you and your perverted little dreams—you fucking bastard! You're killing this family!_

Tears slithered mutely into his ears as he willed his mind to quiet itself. It wasn't enough that the days were filled with external feuds, but even when Grace was tucked away in bed, the fighting didn't stop. When night came in with its inky shadows, the battling just shifted inwards. The turmoil rang in Chris's ears, gripping his heart, wearing him down until he was forced to swallow some Tylenol PM down with a vodka chaser just to be rid of the ever roiling conflicts, and get some sleep. Tonight he had a couch partner though, and he didn't want to disturb her by moving her so he could rummage the medicine and liquor cabinet for his trusty friends. Instead, he spent hours trying to focus on the soft, steady, sound and feel of her breathing, hoping it would lull him to a natural-induced sleep.

That night, sleep didn't come though. His eyes drooped, but still refused to close as slats of morning sun peeked through the blinds and spilled in patterns over the carpet. Maddie stirred, and woke up, and with a big yawn, she screwed her fists into her eyes.

"Morning." She said, instantly wide away and bouncing.

"Sleep well?"

"Yup!" She leaned down and kissed her Daddy's nose, making him grin. "But you look tired." She frowned.

"Nah, I just look like a big ugly monster in the morning!" He growled, grabbing her sides and tickling her until she squealed and laughed.

Their morning consisted of wrestling on the floor, then Maddie decided her dolls wanted to have a fashion show. She bounded up the stairs and moments later re-appeared with arms full of Barbies and their multitudes of accessories. After about an hour of that, the Barbies were left abandoned on the floor amid a clutter of tiny clothes and shoes. It looked like a shrunken wardrobe had thrown up after a bender, and no one had bothered to clean up after it. That left father and daughter in the kitchen, because Maddison was hungry. Chris gave her the pick of anything she wanted for breakfast, and her outstanding choice was chocolate chip pancakes. She had seriously whispered to her Dad that Mom never let her have them, because according to her they weren't healthy.

Now the two of them were at the counter, Maddie up on a kitchen chair, Chris with an apron, as he assured her that it couldn't be 'that hard' to make them following a recipe. He'd found one in Grace's cookbook. Now the two of them were mixing things together, and flicking flour at each other, as Chris not-so-discretely stole some chocolate chips from the bag, and Maddie took him to task for it with a finger wag and giggles. By the time they were done and sat down at the table, they were both smeared with batter and white, powdery smudges. Maddie smiled happily as she chowed down on the stack on her plate, wearing syrup and chocolate as lipstick.

"Unforgettable, that's what you are…" Chris serenaded her, using his fork as an impromptu microphone.

"Daddy, you're the best." She said, sipping her milk from a plastic cup. She sat it back on the table, and now wore a milk mustache, to accompany the rest.

Not long after Chris and Maddie had finished breakfast, the other two kids were up and about. They roamed in to the kitchen, and sniffed at the nice smells wafting around. Chris offered some of the untouched pancakes to his elder children. Olivia took some, but Tyler snubbed him without a word, just an angry glare as he got a box of cereal from the pantry instead.

"Don't you want some chocolate chip pancakes?" Olivia asked, poking her brother's hand gently with the sticky tines of her fork.

"No." He snipped, pouring milk into his cereal bowl. "Dad made 'em, and Mom doesn't let us have 'em."

He said simply, slouching over his bowl and glaring daggers at his father's back as Chris cleaned up the dishes. He could hear the kids talking, despite them using hushed tones, and without seeing it he could feel the burning stare, and knew just which of them it belonged to. Suddenly, Chris felt more tired than ever. He sighed as he leaned over the sink, his hands doused under the soapy bubbles, as he looked out across the yard, past the empty swing set. The way the pair of swings hung lonely from the beam across the top, made him think of the two kids behind him, whispering negatively about him in low tones. Something inside of him ached, knowing that his family was never going to be the same again, no matter what happened. He dropped his eyes onto the foamy water as his hands moved beneath it, feeling guilty, and just devastated.

_You fucking bastard! _Grace screamed against the inner confines of his skull._ You're killing this family! You're killing it!_


	15. I'm Coming Home

_**A/N: Yes, I realize it's short, REALLY short but this gets to a new position in the story, and I swear I'm not copping out, the chapter just wanted to end there. It felt right. I am following along real timelines here. Chris was gone from wrestling, came back with the Y2J, and I'm going to follow along the storylines. That means not too long from now, diving into that oh so interesting feud between Chris and Shawn. I can't wait. Thanks for sticking with this, and thanks for reviewing, now I shut up. :)**_

Not too long after Maddy had asked that hard question, in her little girl voice, Grace had brought it to a reality. Another argument, another night the kids spent at their aunts, away from the ruckus but still lying awake and knowing it was going on all the same. They'd heard it enough times, that even away from home the two oldest could still imagine the harsh, angry words flying from Mom and Dad. These things usually ended with everyone in the house crying, alone, behind different doors. Even that night, the middle child Olivia was crying quietly against her older brother who held her tight to his small chest. Maddy crawled in next, but was growled at and kicked out when she whined that she missed Daddy. That sent her out in hiccupped sobs to find her aunt, and crawl into bed with her instead, rejected by her own siblings who had once been protective of her. She didn't understand why they didn't like her or Daddy anymore. She just knew that it made her really sad inside.

At home, silence had engulfed the two adults. Grace stood apart from Chris, watching his face as tears steadily streamed over hers.

"I've filed." She said, playing with the empty, pale spot on her finger where an elaborate ring had once held meaning. "This isn't right for the children." She added, sniffling her nose and brushing it against the back of her hand.

"I know." Chris said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes closed slowly, the familiar sting of tears pricked beneath the darkness of his lids, and when he opened them again her face was blurred through the pools. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for putting you through this, Grace I swear to you I am." His words came out wobbly, as he tore his ashamed gaze from hers, and down to that same spot on his own hand. No gold band circled his finger anymore, just a permanent tattooed reminder that things had once been right, and he had brought it all crashing down because he wasn't strong enough to fight himself, or _her_self, in order to save his family. "I am so…so fucking sorry." The tears came harder, and his arms hugged his torso because they were the only comfort there to find. Once Grace's would have held him, but never again.

"Chris…" Her voice for once was void of shouting, and rather the opposite, it sounded weak and frail, worn and heavy with a burden that should have never been hers to bear. "Did you ever love me, or…or was it all a lie? Did you look into my eyes, did you take my heart into your hand, and lie to me?" Her trembling hands went to her face, and she just stared at them, fighting for her words to come forth from her weeping. "Was I…n-nothing more than your attempt to have a normal life? Is that all I've been, a hiding place?"

"Grace, I told you when this first came out, I told you I loved you. I didn't abandon you, I never lied to you when I said those words, _never._ You abandoned me when I needed you the most, you lied to me when you said you loved me--"

"I loved the man I married. What have you done with him? He's not here anymore, he's not here!" She broke down, leaning against the bed sobbing into one of the pillows. This is was what heartbreak sounded like. This is what it felt like; a numb flood.

Chris could barely feel his legs moving beneath him as he left her behind in a curl against the flowery bed. He holed up in the study where the computer sat in one corner, the desk strewn with his notebooks of songs, thoughts, unanswered questions, and writings. A splatter of various guitars were against one wall, under a variety of metal posters and framed, autographed pictures, from some of his favorite bands. None of it seemed to matter too much just now, and he pulled one of the pictures from the wall and slammed it against the desk, cracking the glass front. He crumpled into the chair at the desk, elbows propped on the dark wood, head in hands as he watched the tears fall onto the small raised letters of the computer keyboard. His life was becoming nothing, and there was only one beacon in the distance that felt like the slimmest possibility of hope.

He closed his eyes and various faces moved like dancers through the troubled landscape of his mind. Memories of times that had made him happy swirled like an inviting tide. He felt the familiarity of the ropes against his palms, the matt against his booted feet, the lights raining down as if from heaven itself. The need to be back there had been tapping at the edge of his mind and soul, the arms of his passion calling out to him to let her embrace him and carry him back to a better place. Never before had he felt so homesick for one place, and next time he was in that ring, he was sure he was going to kiss the canvas. It seemed to be the only place to run to, the only place that felt right, and with him away his family could go back to putting themselves to some kind of order and peace.

Chris wiped at his eyes, thinking over words Vince had discussed with him last time they'd talked. He'd been toying with the idea of going back to wrestling, and there were some long conversations spent on the phone with Mark, Shawn, and most of all Vince. Creative had practically lined up the idea of his return, ensuing storyline, and new gimmick. Chris just had to call McMahon and give him the final word that yes, Chris Jericho was coming back. He slipped his phone from his pocket and dialed Vince's personal cell instead of his office.

"I'm ready." He said simply into the phone, still wiping at his eyes.

"What ever happened to hello?" Vince wanted to know, in his gruff tone. "Well, I do like a man who can get straight to business, Irvine. You're ready to be back, good. We'll start the buildup to your return." After that, Vince's voice dropped off a little. Chris had almost thought he'd hung up, but then it was back, and toned down to a softer level. "You've told me it's been rough with your wife sense you've been off the road, at home…are you mentally ready to come back?"

"I have nowhere else to go Vince. I want to come home. I'll do anything, I'll be anything, I don't care I just want to come home." Chris couldn't keep the whimper out of his words, as the tears started up again.

"Alright Chris, we'll get you back where you need to be."

Advertising for the return of Y2J started in September, very shortly after Chris had made that call. The short videos were cryptic binary codes similar to the matrix digital rain featured in The Matrix movie. The videos contained hidden messages alluding to Jericho, and phrases such as "Save Us" and "Second Coming". The promotion of his return to the ring lasted through early November, giving him and Grace time enough to sort out the divorce and matters with the children. November 19 was due to be the date of Chris's return, his long blond locks cut short, to add to the change in character. Sitting in the barber's chair and watching as those pretty golden waves fell to the floor around him was not an easy thing to do. It seemed like only one more piece of his hidden away, true, identity was being stripped away once more. But on the other hand, it seemed kind of right. He was trying to look at his return as a new start. _The same way you looked at your departure from WWE._ But this time was going to be different, because this time he was going to try to separate Chris Jericho—the mask of maleness he had created over the years—from Chris Irvine who was female, and his true identity.

It was an easy promise to make to himself, and was going to be a harder one to fulfill. The road ahead seemed to be so long and treacherous, but there was comfort in knowing a few of his closest friends would remain as rocks for him to lean on. They had already been so much to him, through the last two horrible years spent in the midst of a disintegrating marriage and family. This was the last step towards going back—the airport.

Grace had been kind enough to drive him, although the tension and quietness in the car had been akin to death lingering in a tomb. There were no words spoken between the two exes before getting out of the parked car, only grumbled complaints from his son about not wanting to go inside to see his expletive father off. The words stabbed hard into Chris's heart, but he felt that his son was justified in his anger and bitterness. It killed him to not know if their relationship could ever be repaired, or if his son could ever look at him again without hate seething from his childs eyes. Olivia refused the hug Chris gave her, by staying limp in his arms. When he pulled away, her eyes were far away and steadily draining silvery tears. He wanted to hug Tyler too, but the moment he'd thought of it, the boy seemed to sense it and barked not to touch him.

"Daddy…" Maddison climbed over the other two, and threw herself into Chris's arms. Her little face nuzzled his neck and shoulder, before turning up to look into their matching eyes. Her small hands took the sides of his face, so gently, and her soft lips pressed to his cheek. "Love you Daddy." She said simply, and wrapped her arms back around his neck, hugging tight, the only one of his family not willing to let go of him.

"Fucker isn't coming back, you know?" Tyler spat.

"Yes he will." Maddy said, her reply not laced with annoyance at her brothers harsh words, just said with a finality that showed the depth of her trust in the man who held her. Her lips curved up into a smile, her cobalt eyes smiled with them. "Remember the song, Daddy? Can you sing it…please?"

Chris's voice choked in his throat, as he watched her bright innocent eyes, and the words of the song he'd sang to her so many times over the phone from lonely hotel rooms tumbled through his mind.

"Unforgettable, Maddy that's what you are." Chris started off, his voice ragged with his emotions. "Un…unforgettable…" He couldn't go on with it, and just held her tight to himself, savoring the moment of unconditional love, that made all seem at peace, for just a fluttering moment of time. If only the two of them could stay there forever, then things would be fine with the world.

"…though nears or far." Maddy sang sweetly against his ear. "Daddy, if you ever get sad…sing our song, and I can hear it even if we're really far apart."

"Right baby." He said, pulling her back, and kissing her button nose. He hoisted her back into her seat. Tyler snorted and kicked the back of his chair. Olivia wiped her nose on her shirt. "I love you Maddison, and I love you all, Tyler, Olivia."

Now backstage in the familiarity of it all, readying for his new entrance, Chris felt a bit of nerves building in his belly. He played with the chain hanging from his black pants, underneath the silver vest he wore. Randy Orton was out there, running his mouth in the ring with the strap draped over his shoulder. Very soon was Chris's moment—the codes would flash across tvs—Did you break the code? The code is the answer. SAVE_US.Y2J. Then the fireworks would flash, like lightning and thunder from the clouds, and his music would hit. Chris Jericho would work the mic, as Chris Irvine looked through his eyes, still waiting for her time to break the walls down.


	16. Congratulations

_**A/N: Thanks for continued reviews and reading. I hope this chapter isn't confusing. Everyone really had a lot to say it seems like. Shawn and Marky Mark come back into the picture along with Chris making a big-small step. **_

"Oh man!" Shawn grinned, wrapping Chris into a hug before he was barely even back in the gorilla. "That was great Chris, just great! It's real good to have you back kid." He patted Chris's back, and took a couple of steps back to look him over. "And your hair, I can't believe you lobbed off all that gorgeous blond hair—but it looks good." Shawn reached up to play with the spiky bangs.

"Thanks Shawn, it's really, _really_ good to be back."

Chris sighed, for the moment not caring that Shawn was messing up his do, which he was known for being fussy over. Chris pulled the older man back into their previous hug, not too delighted that the first one had ended as quickly as it had. It felt good to have familiar arms holding him close, giving him some sort of caring affection. Those sort of touches and comfort had been pretty much zapped from his life lately, seeing as how three-fourths of his family wanted nothing to do with him. Shawn's hands stopped playing in Chris's hair and he just let the younger man hug him and rest his chin on Shawn's shoulder. He knew Chris was dealing with some difficult situations in his life right now. He knew about the divorce, and then there would be the coming out when Chris got around to it, and although that shouldn't be such a big deal to his co-workers (after all, many of them had found themselves in similar circumstances) but it would no doubt continue on as it had, being a tough internal struggle for Chris.

Shawn finally pulled away from Chris once more, again breaking the hug, after allowing it to linger for longer this time. He squeezed Chris's hand for a moment.

"It's going to be okay Chris." Shawn reassured, and then dropped his voice a little. "You and I both know there are a lot of guys around here who swing that way, and a lot more who do and aren't willing to openly admit it. I'm just saying, I don't think there's anyone around here who will give you a real hassle about that side of things. Know what I mean?"

_Not this again…_ Chris thought to himself. He held Shawn's sparkling blue eyes, watching the sincerity of them, and underneath the small curve of his lips.

"Shawn, that's…that doesn't have to do with..."

Chris trailed off, the never ending-burden of his unique mismatch as ever heavy upon his shoulders. Now was certainly not the place to discuss this with Shawn, and honestly he was afraid to explain what was wrong with him to Shawn, not after how his wife reacted. Everything seemed so horribly fragile right now. Relationships in his life were so very few and he needed them so badly, and he was terrified that revealing himself—herself—to Shawn would just break one more cherished bond. Shawn was in many ways similar to his wife, with his strong and deep religious convictions, and although Shawn made it a habit not to judge, Chris just could not take that chance. If Shawn wanted to go on thinking this was about a sexual orientation, then for the time being that would be alright, Chris supposed. Sooner or later, however, she was going to have to be herself completely and that meant _everyone_ would see Chris Irvine in a dramatically new light. Everyone would know, and not everyone would accept.

"Chris, hey don't worry about it." Shawn rubbed his palms softly over Chris's shoulder. The unsettling look in Chris's beautiful eyes had him concerned, but he decided to drop the topic and leave it for a different time. Here, people were passing them, sweaty and winded from matches, some stopping to give Chris a nod of acknowledgment or a slap on the back in congratulations of his return. Shawn forced a smile to shove the worry away from his face, and slapped Chris's chest playfully. "Come on hotshot, why don't I rustle up a group of the guys and we'll all go out and celebrate your return to us the right way! Hell, first round of drinks will be on The Heartbreak Kid!" Shawn cheered.

"Sounds great." Chris said, following Shawn towards the rows of dressing rooms, a small smile breaking out for real. Right now, a night spent with his old family felt like a wonderful option.

Shawn disappeared into his own dressing room to shower and change out of his chaps, while Chris slipped into his to peel away the black slacks and silvery vest. He tossed them into a corner and rummaged in his bag. He hadn't had a match that night, only the promo with Orton, so showering wasn't necessary. He just needed to change clothes and fix up his hair that Shawn had rumpled up.

Chris moved towards the mirror with the clothes in his hands, for what had became a torturous ritual over the years, he imagined his near-naked body shaped differently from the reflection. Well, one thing at a time, Chris told himself as he dressed, and then inspected his image again. The jeans he had chosen looked far more feminine than any he'd ever worn in public before. In fact they were brand new woman's designer jeans, distressed, and when he put them on they seemed to hug in all the right places. They really did look good, and what was better was that they _felt_ right. Next came the shirt, nothing extremely feminine there—he didn't want to go that far right off, and besides the goal was not to be a slut, only to feel more comfortable in his, or her rather, own skin.

Sure, Chris could pull off the guy, that was what his whole life had been spent perfecting. There was never much doubt that he was a confident, cool guy, at least he figured he'd pulled it off well. He could keep doing that, and keep living that lie of a life, but now was the time to start peeling the constructed male Chris away and to start letting her real self peek through. There was no denying that she was scared. It wasn't as though Chris had never dressed in drag before but that was very different. He'd always done that as sort of an outlandish way to party, and there had always been one or two others that he'd convince to do it so the outlandish before was only seen as silliness, never anything more. But those things were put into his past when he'd left wrestling to come home to his family and try to be the man they needed. Those things were still going to stay in his past. This wasn't about hiding himself behind a wild night of partying in high heels and a mini-skirt, this was about a change in a false lifestyle. This was about a change in a false person, this was about Chris trying to step out little by little and live _her_ life as she'd wanted it since a she was a small child, being forced into a role that never felt fit.

Chris smoothed his shirt down and looked over the whole thing—honestly there was nothing that screamed 'woman' to anyone who would look, and he hadn't meant for it to. Right now subtly was the best way to go. There was no sense in making some flashy show to everyone, that was not the point of things. The point was that she felt comfortable, and she knew what the things she was wearing stood for. To anyone seeing Chris wearing the questionable jeans and the lavender t-shirt they might only raise an eyebrow or wonder which team he was batting for. That didn't matter, because Chris knew he had been wondered about for years, and a couple of his male co-workers had become brief lovers, or objects of his flirtations, but there was never anything really out in the open as far as a relationship.

He had never felt really comfortable enough to maintain anything too serious with one of his co-workers because of so many entanglements—the main one being a fault of his own doing. After he had hyped up his own sexual prowess with so many made-up conquests over the years, he had been always afraid of getting in bed with one of them and then being unable to live up to the expectations they had in mind, based on the tall-tales he had weaved to further solidify this charade he was hiding behind. After all, part of being a man was bragging to other men about your sexcapades.

The truth was that part of Chris's life was not very impressive anyway, because he wasn't fond of the equipment he'd been given. There had only been one person he'd ever really loved enough to force past those things, but Grace had harshly removed herself from his life. Their love for one another had long since dried up and empty like a parched creek bed, sapped off it's once running water. He had considered Shawn, who he had felt so close to, and undeniably attracted to for a very long time, but he had yet to make any sort of sign to the other man that he might like for their deep friendship to be taken a step further. Under the circumstances, he didn't feel as though that was something that could be considered right now, even though he could admit to himself that he did hold Shawn very dear to his heart.

A soft knocked sounded at Chris's door, jarring him away from his thoughts. He gave one last look in the mirror, and fixed the short hair a little more before turning to walk towards the door, not realizing that there was comfortable movement to his walk even, that had not really been there before.

"Wow, you look amazing." Shawn greeted him, moving his eyes up and down Chris's body. Shawn laughed a little, as Chris moved out into the hallway with his duffle slung over his shoulder. "Looks like you snagged those jeans from Dave's closet, but I gotta say that they suit you a lot better." Shawn grinned.

"Oh yeah, definitely." Another voice chimed in, low and gravely.

Chris spun around, bursting into a wide smile at the man who owned the voice. He flung his arms around Mark's neck, as the big man returned the hug. Mark took the moment and the position it put them in to whisper against Chris's ear.

"Hey Princess, welcome home."

He moved away from Chris and held the blond back at arms-length, approvingly looking him over, not with a look that seemed akin to appraising a piece of impressive meat, but a look that said 'I'm proud'. Unlike Shawn or anyone else who might see Chris tonight, Mark realized what Chris was wearing and why, and to see him taking that step, as subtle as it was, had made Mark's night already. This was a big step from the weeping, conflicted man Mark had talked to many times over the phone for hours over the past stretch of two years—although Mark was not stupid enough to suspect all conflicts had been washed away—that would have been completely foolish for anyone in the know to think such a thing. Mark knew that this was only one tiny baby step, but it was in the right direction. He had a feeling that Chris meant to do this, and do it all the way, and for that there would be many trials and tears waiting for him on that path, but Chris could rest assured of one thing, and that was that Mark planned to stay nearby and help him as well as he could.

Mark had always admired the young man and his work ethic, his fun-loving personality, and the way he was committed to his family. They had been friends for some time, but over those tumultuous two years that Chris had spent away from the company, their bond although distant from each other literally, had grown all the more closer. So many nights Mark had been laid up in his hotel room, worn ragged from a match, aching in new places, but he would stay up for hours just listening to Chris because as much as his joints and muscles were sore, his heart hurt more for him. It was true that Mark was known to be more of a loner, and he didn't often tangle his heart up in things, but this thing that he and Chris had was special, and Chris had entrusted him with such an intimate knowledge of himself that such a close tie building was nearly inevitable. When Chris would cry over the phone about things his wife had said to him—especially regarding the children—Mark had nearly crushed his cell a few times, and even more had wanted to leap through it and strangle that bitch of a woman. Now that Chris was back here, Mark had to admit that he was relieved. Chris was now somewhere that Mark could physically be with him and keep an eye on him rather than having to be miles and miles away with no way of offering a better comfort than words.

Although, sometimes words could mean more than the hug attached.

"Thank you." Chris smiled in that way of his, one corner quirked up. His eyes met with Mark's gray-green ones, and between them was a special understanding.

"Come on guys, we're gonna miss the fun!" Shawn urged, tugging at Chris's elbow.

Mark moved between the two of them, wrapping one arm around Chris's waist and reaching over to ruffle up Shawn's hair, knowing how Shawn would freak out and go dramatic over it. Mark laughed, as indeed Shawn stomped and hollered about his hair, while taking the tie out and attempting to re-do it.

Soon the three of them were at a familiar bar. It was one on the list of most of the superstars who were into that sort of thing, when they were traveling in these parts. They spent most of the evening there, then hopped to a few more, before the party dissipated and all headed back to their hotels, some coupled up and some alone. There had been some mumbled talk among some of the younger talent about Chris but for the most part there was nothing major—the common consensus was that it was just good to have Chris back among the unique wrestling family.

The blond was successfully wasted by the end of the night, and had pretty much lost track of where he was or what he was doing. Sure Chris liked to drink, but he really hadn't set out with the goal of getting trashed that night. It was just that being his return others seemingly felt the need to buy him drinks all night and he wasn't about to turn one of them down. The drunker he became, the quicker the drinks seemed to come, as faces and people around him began to blur and the voices and laughter began to trip over each other and meld into an indistinguishable whirl-wind. Apparently, he was good entertainment when he was drunk, and he didn't really mind. He knew that Mark was sitting in a corner watching in amusement, nursing a beer, and that The Deadman wouldn't let him do anything too extreme. Chris wasn't coherent enough to realize that that scenario had attempted to take place and was indeed diverted by Mark. Chris could barely walk, and leaned heavily on Mark as they waited for their cab. By the time the cab reached their hotel, his head was slumped over onto Mark's chest, his glazed eyes closed.

In the morning Chris would wonder where his shirt was, and why he was in bed next to Mark. Mark would laugh, assuring him that nothing like that had happened. Then he would go on to tell Chris about how he'd climbed onto the bar and stripped out of the shirt he was missing, while nearly falling off in the process, and then had begun to wiggle out of the designer jeans that had been soaked with spilled alcohol. That's when Mark had taken Chris down from the bar, and latched up his pants, before deciding it was time that they'd left. All in all it was a good night, and a great way to be welcomed home, although the morning after was hanging around until noon with its damages. Mark urged Chris to go back to sleep, and as his eyes drifted closed again, Mark gave him the word that everyone had been brandying around last night, but that he had yet to tell Chris for himself.

"Congratulations." Mark said, not meaning the word for Chris's return home. The deeper reason was held only between them, and before the sleep completely overtook Chris, he reached for Marks' face and brushed a long strand of dark hair away from his pale cheek. From all the well-wishes given to him, that one would be held the dearest.


	17. Will You?

**Thanks for continued reading and reviews :-)**

Chris' short lived feud with Randy had run its course. He had stood in the ring vowing to save the WWE Universe from Orton. The events led Chris and Randy to Armageddon where they wrestled for the title. Chris won their match-up after JBL interfered, but Orton retained the title. Next up was a feud with JBL, which led to The Royal Rumble.

Since Chris' return to his WWE home his wrestling life had been rewarding. His life outside the ring was still unsteady as each day every small choice he made seemed to be monumental. Even choosing what to wear was difficult, wanting to feel comfortable, acknowledge his true gender, while trying to gain as little negative attention as possible. Chris knew that eventually all the subtly wouldn't matter anymore, because he meant in time to take more drastic steps and then there would be no discrete quirked eyebrows: they would know.

A big part of Chris' free time was spent researching his condition and the various methods of changing it. Some transgender people chose to live their lives as their true gender simply with their attitude, mannerisms, and ways of dress, while others opted for hormone therapy, or even the most altering: gender reassignment surgery. It was a very personal decision and based on ones own concept of gender. Was gender a psychological mindset? A cultural role? A biological characteristic?

Chris had answered all of his own questions long ago, and he had simply hidden those answers away and tried to mark over them with his constructed male person. He already knew where he wanted to be eventually on his journey, and it was both exciting and terrifying. There was so much to lose, and the biggest loss had already occurred. His family was basically gone. His ex-wife spoke to him only briefly, and always coldly, when he called to try and talk with his children. His son refused to be put on the phone, and his oldest daughter barely spoke when she would accept the call. Maddy was the only one to remain loyal and ever loving of her father, and they spent long hours on the phone talking of everything and nothing, as her giggles poured over the miles and brought both happy and sad tears to Chris's eyes.

The main family Chris had now was his wrestling one, and all of that too was at stake in this journey. Mark was still the only one to know that Chris was a woman, but soon enough the evidence of change to accommodate his true self would be gradually noticeable, and it would have to come out.

It had been just over five months since Chris had returned in September. For five months he had been showcasing himself as a more feminine version and the only jokes or inferences easily tossed about were about his orientation rather than anything more, which he was used to already. Some of the guys had even been supportive, thinking that the divorce of his wife and subsequent changes were evidence of Chris 'coming out' and accepting what he was. In this assumption they were both right, and wrong.

Only recently had Chris made another step by speaking to a doctor about these things. The physician hashed over the options that Chris had already researched himself, and then suggested Chris see a therapist or psychologist before making any life-altering decisions. Chris spoke with Vince about seeing one of the company recommended shrinks. Chris allowed Vince to believe his reasons for needing the extra guidance was because of the divorce, and having seen the catastrophic fall-out of divorce among his employees many times before, Vince had no reason to suspect otherwise. A busy schedule allowed for few actual office visits, so most of the sessions and talks were done over the phone.

"Hey Princess." Mark said, moving over to the bed opposite of his after the blond had hung up the phone. He pulled his ear buds out and dumped the player onto the nightstand between the two beds, having been enjoying some Guns N Roses while he gave Chris his privacy for his phone session. He wrapped an arm around the smaller mans' shoulders. "You doin' okay?"

"Alright, I guess. It's rough sometimes, talking about all of it." Chris sighed. "Dr. Roberts wanted to know about when and why I made the decision to live male all these years, why I didn't do this a long time ago." Chris moved his fingers to pick at one of the sequins on the lip of his jeans pocket. The tiny circular ornament glinted and winked as his fingers bothered it. "I don't even really know the guy, and I'm supposed to share all this deep, dark stuff with him. It took me years to even face my wife and try to tell her, and yet I'm supposed to bare it all to a stranger?"

"You could always bare it all to a friend…know what I mean?" Mark joked, hoping to brighten Chris's mood. He grabbed Chris's sides and tickled them, pulling the blond into his lap as he wiggled and begged Mark to stop through a flood of uncontrollable laughter. Mark began to speak again, but his phone vibrated in his back pocket. He pushed Chris out of his lap, and got up to answer it, mouthing 'Shawn' at Chris. Chris's lips quirked up into a smile at the mention of Shawn's name. Mark was on the phone a few moments, before hanging up.

"Shawn wants us to go out with him and a couple of the others tonight." Mark said to Chris, who agreed with him wordlessly by sauntering over to the door, and bending to pick up the boots he had tossed off earlier. Mark couldn't help but watch the way Chris' hips swayed as he moved, and with a small laugh he hurried over and swatted at Chris' rear. The blonde yelped and quickly straightened up, falling back against Mark's strong chest. Chris spun around, pretending to pout.

"What was that for, assclown?"

"I'm sorry, where were my manners? I just saw this lady with a nice ass and they kind of escaped me." Mark picked up one of Chris's other shoes—the ones he'd been wearing around the hotel room. They were a pair of cute little heels, with pointed toes that had peeked from under the cuffs of Chris' jeans. "You think I would look good in these?"

Chris laughed, and pulled on his other boot.

"Mark, you're the best."

"Hell Irvine, I know that." Mark grinned. He was glad to see Chris's mood righted to a happier one. He sat the heels on the bed and moving over to Chris. "You ready?"

The two of them met up with Shawn and Hunter in the hotel parking lot. Together they made it to the bar where Dave and Cena were waiting at a table in the corner of the bar, which had a big booth seat wrapped around it in a horse-shoe shape. Shawn rushed over ahead of the other three and slid in next to Cena, reaching over to flick the kids ear. Dave laughed, and nodded to the other men as they filled up the booth. The newcomers ordered drinks, and the group shared some loud chatter, stopping only when another fellow wrestler came up to the table and fairly loomed over it.

"Hey, Big Paul!" Mark greeted the giant, and Dave and Hunter clinked their beer mugs together, as if in a toast.

"Have room for another guest?" Paul asked, looking around at each face, smiling.

"Oh shit—I don't know man. We might have to pull up a few more chairs." Hunter ribbed, causing John to choke on a mouthful of his stout Guinness.

"Move your ass!" Paul shouted, jovially squeezing in next to Hunter. He managed to get most of his ass onto the cushion. "So, what are you gonna buy me to drink, Jericho?" Paul asked, reaching over the table to ruffle the blonde's hair. "You're so cute and little." He joked, just to see Chris put on his fake pout.

"Not gonna buy you anything now." Chris huffed, pretending to be upset. The others laughed.

"Aw, don't feel bad Big Paul." Shawn said, flipping through the drink menu. "I'll buy you something." Shawn waved the waitress over, and tapped his finger at a picture in the drink menu.

"Oh hey—and bring me another beer." Dave put in.

"Me too!" Cena said, holding up his glass which sported only a bit of foam left in the bottom.

"Here-here!" Hunter chimed in.

"Whoa, wait a minute!" Shawn squawked. "You guys think I'm made of money?"

"Yep." Mark chuckled, tipping his mug to his lips. A hearty laughter rippled through the group.

The waitress gave them all a grin, and flounced away to get their drinks. The conversation started up again, and soon disintegrated into crude jokes, multiple conversations trying to be heard over the others, and some innocent play-flirting, the latter mostly dished out by Shawn. The seven men looked up when the waitress brought their drinks back. A gale of crazy laughter erupted when she placed the last drink on the table—in front of Paul. It was a big pink drink decked out with all sorts of frilly toys. Paul took a good minute just choking on his laughter, as his face turned a bright hue of red. Finally he managed to get it down to just intermittent giggles, and wrapped his lips around the curly straw that came with the drink. Cena whipped out his phone and snapped a picture. Paul broke out into laughter all over again, prompting the others to roll too. He jabbed a big finger at Cena, and good-naturedly threatened his life if the picture leaked out onto the internet.

"God, this shit tastes horrible!" Paul shook his head, having taken another sip. He licked at his lips, his nose scrunching up in disgust. "Here Hunt, try it." Paul pushed the drink towards H, who shook his head.

"I'm not drinking after you. Give it to Shawn, he's not picky about what his lips touch."

Shawn's mouth fell open in shock, and he landed a quick slap to the back of Hunter's head as the table erupted again. The drink was passed to a few of the other guys, who all decided it was too girly for their manliness to handle. Dave passed the drink to Chris.

"You take it CJ, it's too fruity for me. I think it suits you better." Dave chuckled.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Chris asked with a smile, and gave Dave a wink. Chris sipped at the drink, enjoying the sweetness. Dave returned the wink, adding a pucker of his lips.

"No thanks Animal, I'm not into bestiality."

"Hey Jericho—that would be THE Aniaml." Dave clarified, trying to look threatening over his designer sunglasses. It just wasn't working. Chris went quiet, and listened to the chatter of the others as he played with the umbrella in the drink that had now become his. He was glad to be having a nice night out with his friends, but still his mind went back to deeper thoughts. A pang of sadness bit at his heart, as he looked around at each face, afraid that some of them—and other friends who weren't with them just then—would reject Chris once they all knew about her.

He glanced at each face, and a few of them he couldn't imagine judging him so harshly: of course there was Mark, then Shawn, and John Cena with his cute dimples and kind smile, and surely Big Paul wouldn't be so harsh, having been dealt his own biological faux pas in form of his massive size. Someone was talking to Chris, snapping him out of his thoughts. It was Shawn, and Chris managed a smile at him, as he felt a warm blush creep across his cheeks. He had been sneaking peeks at Shawn all evening, he looked just killer wearing a tan shirt, the top button popped, with his trademark and poked fun at high waisted jeans. His long, pretty hair was pulled back into a ponytail that hung between his shoulders. For some reason, a flash of that night years ago barreled into his mind—that night when he had convinced Shawn to go out with him in drag, and oddly enough they'd ran into Mark at the gay bar they'd stumbled into. Chris' blush heated further, remembering the way he helped Shawn with the mascara, and the corset, and how bothered Shawn had made him—flirting like fiend as usual, and then leaving Chris practically gasping. Any chance he had ever had with Shawn had most likely been blown that night, when Chris had freaked out over the sex.

"Chris, are you okay?" Shawn asked, once more scattering the blonds' roaming thoughts.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just…gotta go to the little gi—boys room."

Chris made his way to the restroom, and ducked in. He hated the men's bathroom. Despite having the same anatomy as all other occupants, he always felt embarrassed and out of placed. Luckily he hadn't excused himself to whip it out, only to splash some cold water onto his face. He grabbed a paper towel and dabbed at the drips curling down his face, and when he'd patted his skin dry he tossed it away. He took a couple of steps back to get a better image of himself in the mirror. He straightened his shirt a little—a close fitting, light pink tee with a white guitar and red roses on it. He'd loved it the moment he'd seen it, it just seemed to fit many of aspects of his personality, and the pale shade of pink looked pretty with his blond hair and blue eyes. His hands moved down his body, and his fingers plucked again at one of the sequins around the pocket of his jeans. Chris took another step back, not even noticing a reflection in the mirror, and bumped into the man who was passing behind him.

"Watch what you're doing, fucking twink." The man snapped, moving over to one of the urinals with a glare.

Chris left the bathroom just as the sound of flowing urine reached his ears. He sauntered back over to the table, and sat back down, seeing everyone quiet.

"What?" He asked, looking around at each face.

"Nothing." Multiple voices said at once. Chris narrowed his eyes at them. John seemed to be trying awfully hard not to laugh.

"Right, what did you guys do?" Chris looked down at his drink. "Did someone spit in it, or what?"

"Oh, come on Chris, we wouldn't do that." Hunter said, his voice sounding a little too sweet.

"You all did something."

Chris said, looking warily at his drink. Cautiously, he took a sip, and the look of disgust on his face made everyone go off into another group fit. The sweet fruity drink now tasted horrible—and Chris looked over at the two shakers on the table, to see the one which would have contained salt, completely empty. He grabbed up his napkin and wiped his tongue on it, shuddering at the taste that didn't seem to want to leave. He grabbed Shawn's coke and drank from the glass until the horrible taste was mostly gone.

The evening passed with many drinks, jokes, stories, and plenty of laughter exchanged. Paul decided to leave a bit earlier, and not long after, Cena and Dave left too. Mark moved out of the booth, groaning when stood up.

"I have to go outside and stretch my legs a little, my damn knees are killing me."

"I'm gonna go too." Hunter put in, scooting out of the booth. He and Mark headed towards the door, with Mark limping a little, as Chris watched after him.

"Chris?"

Chris turned to Shawn.

"So Chris, I was just wondering, are you seeing anyone?" Shawn asked, reaching over and plucking one of the decorations from Chris' tainted drink.

"Uh, no."

"Really?" Shawn pulled the strawberry from the blue stick and nibbled at it. "I thought maybe you and Mark were together. Hm, you mean to tell me a good looking guy like you can't get a date? Or…or is it too soon, y'know after the di—Chris, I'm sorry." Shawn laid the strawberry aside, and took one of Chris' hands into his.

"It's not really about the divorce it's just…Shawn, there are some pretty heavy things going on in my life right now." Chris answered, his eyes keeping watch on Shawn's hands cupped around his. It felt warm, and good to have Shawn touching him.

"I know." Shawn said, smiling.

_No._ Chris thought. _Shawn, you don't know at all._

"But Chris, you can't keep being afraid like this. I was thinking that uh, maybe sense you don't have anyone right now, that we could get together sometime." Shawn released Chris's hand, and picked up the blue stick again, and stabbed at the strawberry with it. "Doesn't have to anything real serious, just two friends testing boundaries, you know? It might be good for you. What do you think?"

Chris' head had been sent spinning. Shawn had vexed him for ages with his irresistible everything, just as he had many others. It had crossed Chris' mind many times to ask Shawn out, or to try and end up curled up with him some night, maybe after a little too much alcohol, but he'd never got around to doing it. Shawn was known to be picky in his choice of partner, despite the countless jokes about Shawn being 'easy'. Under the show of confidence Chris often put on, he had always been secretly afraid of being rejected by his long time friend and even longer time crush. Now here was Shawn asking him—and his brain had seemed to self-destruct. He knew he couldn't date Shawn now, not with everything else that was going on, not with everything that Shawn didn't know—and yet that one word tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop it.

"Yes."


End file.
