Disclaimer: WWE Inc owns the names and characters that I mention.
Note: I've decided to try my hand at this wacky thing known as fanfiction. I don't guarantee quality, but I guarantee my best effort. Leave feedback if and when you can, and if you want to be harsh, then feel free. Hell, I even encourage it…
Chris Irvine stretched his arms a bit as he waited by the gorilla position for the cue for his match. He could hear the energy of the fans, and he smiled. It was only his third match back, and he already felt like he was right back into the swing of things…
"You ready, Jericho?" Paul Levesque asked from behind him. Chris rolled his eyes as he continued stretching, not looking back at his opponent for the night.
"About as ready as I'll ever be," he answered, not sure whether to be ecstatic that he was given a top-level feud Triple H, or whether to be disappointed to be working with a man who almost refused to make him look good in the ring.
"Good," Paul said, somewhat irritated that the blonde man in front of him wasn't even bothering to look at him. He was about to ask just what the hell his problem was, when he felt a womanly arm wrap around his waist.
"Ready?" Stephanie McMahon asked as she kissed his cheek, and he nodded, before jerking a thumb towards Chris's direction.
"See, this is why I hate working with him," he whispered to her, and she gave him a stern look.
"Don't start," she warned, before going over to where Chris was stretching his arms over his head. "Hey you, long time no talk."
He glanced over at her and smiled. "Yeah, a week is such a long time," he teased as she put one hand on her hip, smiling back at him.
"You remember the finish?" she asked as Paul stepped up behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist.
"DQ, I got it," he nodded, before hearing his countdown hit. His smile grew as he felt the familiar wave of adrenaline through him. Without giving Paul even a remote glance, he turned and headed towards the stage, disappearing behind the curtains…
Paul waited until he was through before he turned to Stephanie angrily. "Did you see that? He's such an asshole, he can't even acknowledge me, what the hell is that about?"
She rolled her eyes at her boyfriend. "I don't know, but maybe he has nothing nice to say to you and so you know, he's just saying nothing at all."
"He comes back like he owns the damn place," Paul muttered in disgust, and Stephanie just patted his hand that was on her waist.
"You should focus on your match and quit worrying about Chris so much, it's his time to do his thing," she reasoned, and this time Paul rolled her eyes. "Just remember the finish, all right?"
"I'm The Game, you don't have to tell me twice," he said as he let her go. She gave him another stern look but he just smiled at her. "Trust me," he said before leaning in to kiss her. She bit her lip and watched him as he disappeared through the curtains when his music hit, before heading back to find a monitor to see how this match would go.
Chris charged at Paul before delivering a stiff clothesline, sending the older man over the top rope. He leaned against the ropes, catching his breath and reminding himself that the DQ finish was close as he dropped and rolled out of the ring.
Paul crawled over to the timekeeper, shooting a look over his shoulder at Chris who was arguing with the referee about something. He smirked and grabbed the bell, pulling it close to him as the fans started booing.
"Get back in the ring!" The ref shouted at Chris, who just sneered at him. He started to turn around to see if Paul was close to the timekeeper yet, but he barely turned all the way before he saw something whirl in his face. It was too fast for him to get a hand up or turn away…
Paul slammed the bell right into Chris's face, and then mentally cursed when he saw the Canadian spin and drop the floor, holding the side of his face in legit pain. He had definitely gotten a bit carried away, putting way more force into that than was necessary as the referee signaled for the match to end via disqualification.
Chris closed his eyes as he lay on the floor, groaning from the pain as he rolled onto his back, clutching the side of his head. He could vaguely make out the referee asking him if he was okay, but his mind was already spinning as the pain started to slowly drift away…
He opened the door to his locker room to find Stephanie McMahon standing on the other side… he looked at her in surprise when he saw the strange look in her eyes, clearing his throat hesitantly.
"Uh, you need something, Stephanie?" he asked, somewhat uncomfortable by the way she was looking at him.
"You, Chris," she said as she licked her lips and stepped closer to him, closing the door behind her. "I need you…"
"But Paul, he's your boyfriend," he said as he felt his heartbeat quicken in his chest. She ignored what he was saying as she leaned in close to him, teasing his lips. He swallowed hard but somehow found himself unable to move.
"He's not exactly around…" she let her fingers lightly travel down his chest until they reached the waistband of his ring tights, teasing him as his breathing started becoming more labored – and yet, he still couldn't move.
"What are you doing?" he asked, closing his eyes as she leaned in to kiss his neck, sucking gently on the skin as she slipped one hand into his ring tights. He bit back a groan, squeezing his eyes shut as she proceeded to drive him crazy…
"Chris…"
"Chris… Chris, can you hear me?"
He shifted his weight as he slowly opened his eyes, wondering where the hell he was. He found himself staring up at a few EMTs who were looking down at him, their faces set in concern. He squinted, the bright lights of the arena making him dizzy as he tried to sit up. They immediately helped him, and it was then he noticed that there was a stretcher next to him.
"Can you walk?" someone asked him, and he nodded as he turned over and got on his knees. He winced and rubbed his head, the cheering of the crowd drowning out a bit to him as he remembered his weird dream.
Where in the hell had that come from? he wondered, standing up with the help of the EMTs. He leaned on one as he started the long walk towards the back. He tried pushing it out of his brain, telling himself that Paul must have hit him harder than he thought…
