Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Summary: One can only fight their emotions for so long before they decide to fight back. And, in Stephanie McMahon's case, they fight back with a vengeance. JerichoStephanie, oneshot
Um, okay. This is my first story about this couple and I'm petrified. This is possibly my OTP and just writing for them makes me all nervous and giddy and yeah. I never said I was the most collected individual, haha. Anyway, I'm really hoping that this turns out well. It's my twentieth fic on this account, and I figured I'd do something special - like write for the epic pair of Jericho and Steph. So, yeah. Please enjoy! I'd love to hear what y'all think!
Coup D'etat
It had been surprisingly simple at first.
Maybe too simple, now that she thinks about it.
Stephanie McMahon leans forward at her desk, pressing her fingers to her chin as she scrolls through the latest news popping up on her computer screen. It is a menial task, simple compared to her other duties, but it is both beneficial and damning all at the same time.
The quiet is nice, but mocking. Giving her time to rest and recharge, but also time to think. It allows her mind to wander.
And, despite the popular saying that idle hands are the devil's playthings, it is an idle mind that is the greater of two evils.
She thinks about turning on some music, but then again, that doesn't necessarily facilitate a healthy environment. Songs are tricky things; they can make someone feel all kinds of emotions, particularly the ones that have been kept at bay by an active mind, constantly busy and never allowing a moment of weakness to crack the armor so carefully put into place.
The brunette shakes her head slightly, not enough to cause concern from any passers-by, but just enough to clear the cobwebs from it before they overtake her. She smiles sardonically when she thinks that paperwork or being called into a meeting would be a welcome occurrence.
Stephanie groans slightly, the first sound to break the silence of her office in the longest time. It feels odd to make noise, having been quiet for so long, but she decides that it was probably for the best. Being silent for too long has never been her trademark. Someone was bound to think something was wrong if she hadn't made a peep since she arrived at work this morning.
She supposes she has her reasons for that, though.
Ignoring the reasons, Stephanie types a bit on her computer, entering a name into the Google search engine before she even realizes what she's doing.
Chris Jericho.
The name stares back at her, mocking her. She can almost hear one of Chris' famous insults coming her way at her foolishness. Biting her lip and feeling almost like a fugitive on the run, she backspaces over the name before even clicking search.
"Stupid," she murmurs to herself.
"You talking about your hat?" an all-too familiar voice chimes from the doorway.
Stephanie's back stiffens ramrod straight while her heart starts pounding a vicious tattoo against her chest. She should be hallucinating right now. This has to be some kind of hallucination, right? She did not just hear what she thought she just heard.
But she looks up, and almost falls to pieces right there.
Leaning against the door frame, Chris Jericho himself gives her an impish grin. "Hey, Steph."
Trying to save face, Stephanie grips the knit hat she had haphazardly placed on her head before leaving her house that morning. "My hat is not stupid."
Chris' grin only widens.
She ignores the way that grin causes her skin to feel as if its on fire, the way her chest tightens, the way her breath quickens. She can't allow herself any leeway in her current dilemma, the thing that she has tried so hard to stamp down, to restrain and shove to the back of her mind.
But it is really hard to do that when that very dilemma is standing right in front of her, looking at her in such a manner that it is distressing.
"What are you doing here?" she asks, keeping her voice level.
He shrugs and moves into the room. "Just stopping by. Had a meeting with Vince earlier."
Stephanie nods as if in understanding.
"It's good to see you," she says, trying to put a note of disinterest in her tone, when she is anything but.
Chris' grin changes from one of openly mocking to a softer one, one that Stephanie had seen countless times when he was around the people he cared about. Though, she doesn't think herself as arrogant to assume she is one of those people.
And she can't allow herself to think it, either.
"Good to see you, too," Chris says.
Stephanie tries to busy herself with her work, tries to make it look as if she was actually doing something other than contemplating Googling images of the very man in front of her. The thought of that previous action is enough to make her cheeks heat.
"Wanna grab lunch?"
The question comes out of nowhere, stealthily enough that it is like a punch to the gut. Stephanie mutes her gasp and then looks up at him, adjusting her reading glasses on her nose. "Why?"
"Because I miss you."
The simplicity of his statement takes the oxygen right out of her lungs. The unexpectedness of it all is enough to make her heart thud in her chest.
"Stupid," she scolds. Whether she is talking about him or herself is another story.
"Come on," Chris says, stepping forward. "I asked your secretary and she said you have nothing to do until three."
"That...wouldn't be incorrect," she replies guiltily.
"Then come on," he leans forward and presses a hand onto her computer monitor. "A little lunch never hurt anyone."
"I can't."
Chris' brow furrows. "And why not?"
Because it's too hard to be around you like this, the thought swims to the surface of her mind, followed by one worse. Because I care about you too much. Way too much.
"Busy."
"Liar," he sing-songs in response.
She knows Chris almost like the back of her hand, knows that he's completely persistent, never stopping until he gets what he wants. She's equally as stubborn and driven, but there is a little place in her mind that is so, so tired, and that part is weak, and wants to give in to what she's been denying so long. That part of her wants to go on this little lunch with him, just to indulge herself, to make things even worse for her psyche.
Maybe she's a masochist.
"Come on, Steph," he steps forward and places his hands on her desk. "I haven't seen you in what seems like forever."
There's a reason for that...
But there's that stupid part of her that relents, "Fine."
She wonders what she just did, what she just got herself into. She chalks it up to being without him for so long, her defenses weren't as strong as before, and he just shows up one day and demolishes them.
And then there's a moment in which she doesn't care all that much, because he's beaming at her like she's the best thing he's ever laid eyes on, and Stephanie rolls hers at him before shoving herself away from her desk. "But since you're tearing me away from my work, you're paying."
Chris' grin grows impossibly wider. "Wouldn't have it any other way."
She grabs her purse anyway and walks next to him, feeling surprisingly at ease and yet on edge at the same time.
It had been surprisingly simple at first, denying her feelings for him.
Maybe too simple, now that she thinks about it.
And now, she realizes, things are even simpler. She cares for him, more than anything, and yet she must not relinquish control, must not down the walls she had so carefully put into place.
But, then again, Stephanie McMahon had never been the type of woman who did what she was supposed to - and that both damns and liberates her at the same time.
End.