Author: Huntress
Summary: Chris Jericho and Steph are stranded with no civilization for miles.. Can they survive the mountans, let alone each other?
Disclaimer: I don't own Chris Jericho (though I'd like to!), Stephanie McMahon Helmsly, the WWF, or anyone else my imagination orders into this story. So if you sue me, I get to counter sue. Yup dats right cant mess wit me! Nah! :P
Rating: PG-13 for language and death. ( No one important.)
Chapter 4: No use crying over spilled coffee!
~*~
Steph moaned. Her back was killing her, she lost, and worst of all, she had to do anything and everything Chris Jericho wanted. Jericho was sitting on the bed, plotting what to make her do, while poor Steph was still on the floor holding her back. She wasn't crying; she refused to give him the satisfaction. The pain in her back had finally lessened, and she was starting to wonder what Jericho would do to her. "Oh Stepppph!" His taunting voice called. "What?" She moaned. "Come here." She grudgingly stood up and went over to him. She sat down on the bed next to him. He smirked at her evilly, and took off his shirt. 'Oh God,' Stephanie thought, 'he's going to make me sleep with him!' But no, he laid down on his stomach and told her to massage his back. Steph sighed with relief. She began rubbing his back, but he made her get up and find something to massage it with. After a few minutes of digging through her bag, she found a scented lotion. She returned to the room, and he asked what she had brought. She told him, and he Ok'd it. She rubbed it into his back, and gave him the best massage he'd ever gotten. She didn't mean to; she was just a naturally good masseuse. He moaned so many times, Steph wondered if he'd ever let her stop. After about an hour, he let her go wash her hands. When she went back into the room, he was already asleep. There was a note on her pillow-- "Breakfast in bed tomorrow morning. Chris." She sighed in annoyance, but then remembered she had gotten herself into this. Damn her big mouth! He had years and years of ring experience and she didn't. What made her think she could beat him? 'My McMahon inheritance.. ego.' She thought glumly. "Oh well." She said out loud. Steph rolled over and went to sleep. :.:*:.: The next morning :.:*:.: Steph opened her eyes slowly. 'Where am I?' She wondered. Then it all came back to her. The plane crash, the hours alone in a plane with a dead body, losing to Jericho... Losing to Jericho?! Oh shit!! She jumped out of bed with a quick glance at him. The bastard was still asleep. She contemplated dumping hot coffee on him, but decided against it. She liked her back in one piece. She walked out to the kitchen and found the pots and pans. Steph smiled to herself.. cooking was one of her many talents. She began taking food out of the refrigerator, and within a half an hour had breakfast set up: French toast, eggs, grits, and a biscuit. She poured a glass of orange juice, and put it on a tray. She also had a cup of coffee, just in case. When she stepped in the room, Jericho was already sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Steph put it down in front of him. Before she could turn to leave.. "Aww how sweet! Steph, you shouldn't have!" His smug voice got to her. She turned and glared at him. "You're right.. I shouldn't have. However, there is one thing I should do." Ignoring his confused look, she turned the cup of boiling hot coffee upside down and let it spill onto his lap. Jericho screamed loudly, and Steph smirked triumphantly. "Hrumph! Enjoy your breakfast, Mr. Jericho!" She turned on her heel and walked out of the room leaving him standing there, enraged. While he cleaned up, Steph sat on the couch and flipped lazily through a magazine. She briefly wondered why he hadn't come after her. Not that she wanted him to; she was scared out of her wits. She wasn't stupid. She'd been at ringside for most of his matches with her husband. He wasn't scared, and didn't show mercy. However, she remained calm and cool on the outside. She was a McMahon, and wouldn't let an egotistical blonde out-do her. She continued flipping, and heard him come out of the bathroom. Her calm cool and collected face faltered. She swallowed heavily, trying to force saliva down her cotton dry throat. Steph could feel him glaring at her, watching her every move. She was sure he could see her shaking, and she didn't want that. "What the HELL were you thinking?" Jericho growled. Steph looked up, acting surprised that he was there, though she had known all along. "Why Chris, whatever are you talking about?" She asked sweetly. "We had an agreement. You lost, you did what I said. I told you to make me breakfast." "I did. French toast, eggs, grits, a biscuit, orange juice and.. coffee." She said with a smirk.
Summary: Chris Jericho and Steph are stranded with no civilization for miles.. Can they survive the mountans, let alone each other?
Disclaimer: I don't own Chris Jericho (though I'd like to!), Stephanie McMahon Helmsly, the WWF, or anyone else my imagination orders into this story. So if you sue me, I get to counter sue. Yup dats right cant mess wit me! Nah! :P
Rating: PG-13 for language and death. ( No one important.)
Chapter 4: No use crying over spilled coffee!
~*~
Steph moaned. Her back was killing her, she lost, and worst of all, she had to do anything and everything Chris Jericho wanted. Jericho was sitting on the bed, plotting what to make her do, while poor Steph was still on the floor holding her back. She wasn't crying; she refused to give him the satisfaction. The pain in her back had finally lessened, and she was starting to wonder what Jericho would do to her. "Oh Stepppph!" His taunting voice called. "What?" She moaned. "Come here." She grudgingly stood up and went over to him. She sat down on the bed next to him. He smirked at her evilly, and took off his shirt. 'Oh God,' Stephanie thought, 'he's going to make me sleep with him!' But no, he laid down on his stomach and told her to massage his back. Steph sighed with relief. She began rubbing his back, but he made her get up and find something to massage it with. After a few minutes of digging through her bag, she found a scented lotion. She returned to the room, and he asked what she had brought. She told him, and he Ok'd it. She rubbed it into his back, and gave him the best massage he'd ever gotten. She didn't mean to; she was just a naturally good masseuse. He moaned so many times, Steph wondered if he'd ever let her stop. After about an hour, he let her go wash her hands. When she went back into the room, he was already asleep. There was a note on her pillow-- "Breakfast in bed tomorrow morning. Chris." She sighed in annoyance, but then remembered she had gotten herself into this. Damn her big mouth! He had years and years of ring experience and she didn't. What made her think she could beat him? 'My McMahon inheritance.. ego.' She thought glumly. "Oh well." She said out loud. Steph rolled over and went to sleep. :.:*:.: The next morning :.:*:.: Steph opened her eyes slowly. 'Where am I?' She wondered. Then it all came back to her. The plane crash, the hours alone in a plane with a dead body, losing to Jericho... Losing to Jericho?! Oh shit!! She jumped out of bed with a quick glance at him. The bastard was still asleep. She contemplated dumping hot coffee on him, but decided against it. She liked her back in one piece. She walked out to the kitchen and found the pots and pans. Steph smiled to herself.. cooking was one of her many talents. She began taking food out of the refrigerator, and within a half an hour had breakfast set up: French toast, eggs, grits, and a biscuit. She poured a glass of orange juice, and put it on a tray. She also had a cup of coffee, just in case. When she stepped in the room, Jericho was already sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Steph put it down in front of him. Before she could turn to leave.. "Aww how sweet! Steph, you shouldn't have!" His smug voice got to her. She turned and glared at him. "You're right.. I shouldn't have. However, there is one thing I should do." Ignoring his confused look, she turned the cup of boiling hot coffee upside down and let it spill onto his lap. Jericho screamed loudly, and Steph smirked triumphantly. "Hrumph! Enjoy your breakfast, Mr. Jericho!" She turned on her heel and walked out of the room leaving him standing there, enraged. While he cleaned up, Steph sat on the couch and flipped lazily through a magazine. She briefly wondered why he hadn't come after her. Not that she wanted him to; she was scared out of her wits. She wasn't stupid. She'd been at ringside for most of his matches with her husband. He wasn't scared, and didn't show mercy. However, she remained calm and cool on the outside. She was a McMahon, and wouldn't let an egotistical blonde out-do her. She continued flipping, and heard him come out of the bathroom. Her calm cool and collected face faltered. She swallowed heavily, trying to force saliva down her cotton dry throat. Steph could feel him glaring at her, watching her every move. She was sure he could see her shaking, and she didn't want that. "What the HELL were you thinking?" Jericho growled. Steph looked up, acting surprised that he was there, though she had known all along. "Why Chris, whatever are you talking about?" She asked sweetly. "We had an agreement. You lost, you did what I said. I told you to make me breakfast." "I did. French toast, eggs, grits, a biscuit, orange juice and.. coffee." She said with a smirk.