Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Summary: "You just want to wear my sparkly-amazing jacket, don't you, Steph?" And, well, he was right, but she wasn't going to admit that. JerichoStephanie, oneshot
Okay...my second JerichoStephanie. I'm pretty excited about this, yet I'm still nervous about writing for this pairing. It's rather lighthearted compared to the other JerichoStephanie fic I have under my belt, which is cool, because lighthearted things are really fun to write, but it still has bits of angst and fluff and whatnot. Anyway! I hope that I do these two justice! Thanks so much for reading!
Lights
Stephanie McMahon honestly wondered what went on inside Chris Jericho's head.
It must be a frightening place, she surmised. There were plenty of things to justify this reasoning, but the one blatant, glaring reason was staring her right in the face.
He was standing in front of her, adjusting the collar of his trademark, light up jacket, an almost childlike grin on his face. She let her eyes linger on his trunks and boots, both a shade of royal purple, an amused smirk overtaking her features. Stephanie cleared her throat, making her presence known, but she had an idea that he already knew she was there.
"Is your drag name Christine Jericho?"
A smirk crossed Chris' face before he turned around, replied, "Christa, actually. But I do like Christine. Classier."
"What are you doing?" she asked, unable to help herself.
Chris jolted lightly, having not noticed her presence for the longest time, it seemed. "Waiting for my match," he said, simply. "What are you doing?"
"Looking at a Lite Brite, obviously." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, crossing her arms in front of her chest as she did so. Stephanie didn't have to look at herself in the mirror to know that the smile on her face was more smug than friendly. And, really, it was Chris, so he should expect these kinds of things from her.
"Oh, where'd you get that joke from? A toddler?" Chris joked, being so bold as to nudge her with his elbow. She could actually feel the little prickling of the lights that were embedded onto his jacket.
"I thought it seemed more aligned with your type of humor, Chris," she said, a glint in her eyes.
He grins at her, and as a result, her stomach feels as if it had been turned upside down in one swift motion.
"You're just jealous," he replied.
"Oh?" she said, her response slightly confused, coming out in a higher pitch than usual. She ran a hand through her hair in that moment, trying to come off as nonchalant as possible.
Looking at her, slightly puzzled by her lack of a proper, McMahon-like comeback, Chris stepped forward, shoving his hands into the pockets of his ridiculous jacket.
"You just want to wear my sparkly-amazing jacket, don't you, Steph?"
Stephanie looked at him, aghast and incredulous at the same time. She tried to form words, but ended up gaping at him like some kind of clueless fish. This was not like her. She did not gape, and she did not want to wear Jericho's idiotic jacket.
Her silence said everything, apparently, because in the next moment, Chris was taking off the aforementioned jacket, a playful glint in his eye, one that caused her heart to skip. She decided to put the traitorous thing out of her mind, and instead tried to ward him off by waving her hands.
"Chris," she said, a warning tone to her voice. But, if she were to be honest with herself, she honestly didn't mind.
He stepped forward, and in one swift motion, the jacket was over her shoulders, dangling on her like a cape. Stephanie blinked dryly at him, ignoring the way her pulse was bounding.
"Now put your arms through," he coaxed in that gentle and friendly way of his. "You look like Wade Barrett got hung up in the Christmas lights."
Stephanie snickered at bit at that, but relented, sliding her arms through the sleeves. The jacket was large on her, and heavy, but it was his.
Chris reached forward, causing Stephanie to flinch slightly at his movements. She felt foolish when she realized he was just fluffing her hair out from beneath the jacket's collar. His fingers brushed gently against her neck in the process, and she felt a shiver go down her spine as a result.
"There," he said, softly.
Stephanie swallowed, disliking the closeness between the two of them as much as she craved it.
"Don't you need it back?" she prodded, her voice quieter than she would have liked it.
"In a minute," he said, a grin coming over his face. "I do like the view."
Stephanie scoffed and then immediately started taking the jacket off. This was dangerous territory they were venturing into. She folded it over one forearm before handing it to him, noting the odd way he was looking at her. The brunette couldn't put her finger on it, but there was something in the way his eyes grazed over her form that was unbelievably sad.
Chris took the jacket from her hands, their fingers touching for the briefest of moments, and gave her a nod. "Good to see you, Steph."
"Good luck with your match tonight."
Chris smiled at her in that moment, slipping his jacket on and heading in the direction of the ring. "Thanks."
And Stephanie watched him walk away, a familiar ache settling in her chest.
End.