Title: Anyone But Me

Chapter 5

Author: Kora

E-mail: or

Rating: R, someday I promise to try and write something with a more tame rating.

Disclaimer: The following characters belong to WWE and all the people and companies who deal with all that legal stuff. I am simply using the characters for my own twisted enjoyment.

Author's Note: I was surprised by the success of 'Anyone But You', as well as how many people asked for a sequel. I hadn't really planned on one but since so many people wanted one, I thought-why not!

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Jericho looked in the mirror and frowned. He ran a hand over his beard. Had it really gotten that long? He didn't normally take any of Molly's jabs to heart but the crack about his beard had him thinking. Maybe it was a little too long. He supposed it could stand a trim. He swore to himself he wasn't doing this for her but for himself as he went about it.

Once he was done he pulled back and smiled. He had to admit. It did look better. He looked younger, like he had when he'd first come to the WWF or WWE or whatever they were calling it these days.

He ran a hand over his face and looked himself over. He hadn't packed anything special for this trip as he had mainly been focused on getting through the week rather than having a good time. After all, he was stuck with Molly.

But now that their bet was in place and they were set for this 'dinner' he had decided to try and find something nice to wear. If he had to pretend to be a pussy he may as well live up to the part. God knows Hunter did a good job. Prissy rich-boy fuck he was and hell, still is. Jericho never understood what Steph saw in him.

Stephanie.

He hadn't meant to bring her up, drag her out into the open. His personal shame and sadness were his own. Maybe now him and Molly were finally even in the revelations department. No one knew about Stephanie and his situation with her. Not Christian, not even his own mother.

Jericho had kept it all a secret because it had all caused him so much pain. It was an embarrassing thing to admit - that a girl had ripped his heart out and done a tap dance on it. But now Molly knew.

It had been wrong of him to compare the two. To say Molly would never be like Stephanie to him.

He knew why he had said it. She had almost said it for him when she'd brought up that night in the motel room when he'd been in the bathroom. He couldn't believe she had heard him, heard his crying and his comment about 'anyone but you'. It was so embarrassing it made him want to hide for the rest of the week.

It was embarrassing because they both knew now what Jericho had meant by that statement. He had meant anyone but her to be the one to break his walls down. Anyone but her to get to him again. Because Molly reminded him a great deal of Stephanie. They fought and tore away at each other and yet there was this passion...this desire.

The only difference here was Molly was, essentially, stronger than Stephanie. Jericho had seen her in the ring and he had to admit he admired her skill. She worked hard, harder than most women in the women's division who, while lovely window-dressing, were shit in a match.

And while she was head strong, stubborn, and intent on always getting her way she could also be very sweet, nice, and cute. Not to mention she also carried the aforementioned attributes, cementing personality traits they had in common.

Jericho shook his head and looked at himself again. He brushed his hair then pulled it back in the normal ponytail. He looked slick and gave himself a cocky smile that faded as he really looked into his eyes. He shook his head, "Good luck, handsome."

With a heavy sigh he turned and opened the door to the bathroom. After Molly had taken her shower she had gone off to get dressed and he had entered the bathroom to take his own shower and straighten himself up.

He now exited to the smell of dinner cooking. He walked towards the kitchen and stopped when he saw the tiny table set up in the living room near the fireplace.

Molly had obviously done some work while he had taken his shower. The table was set with plates and utensils. A candle in the center. He frowned. Maybe she had gotten the wrong idea about this. This wasn't a date.

His eyebrow rose at that. This wasn't a date....right?

He heard Molly call from the kitchen, "Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. Dinner's almost ready."

"Like I want to eat any crap your making..." he muttered under his breath.

"What was that?"

"I said, 'Like, I want to eat any snack your baking'." Jericho hollered back, pleased with his quick cover. He pulled out his seat and sat down, his fingers rapping on the table nervously. He didn't know what he had to be nervous about. It was just Molly after all. There was nothing sexy or striking about her or anything she was just...Molly.

This changed the moment she appeared.

She was carrying a large tray of food but it couldn't block how stunning she looked. She wore a dark blue skirt and light blue blouse, her legs clad in sheer pantyhose, make up done, hair curled. She looked so stunning Jericho almost fell out of his chair, doing a double take as he found himself saying aloud, "You look hot."

Molly merely grinned as she set down the food, pressing her hands to her cheeks, "Feel hot too. Probably came from cooking."

"Oh. Yeah." Jericho muttered, glad she had misunderstood what he had just blurted out. Still, he had to admit his vocal assessment was true. She did look extremely good.

He couldn't even believe she had gone through the trouble of make up and her hair...he had never really considered the possibility that Molly could dress up and be as lovely and girly as the other women he worked with.

In all their moments and kisses and every thing for some reason he had overlooked the fact that she was a woman, and very good-looking woman at that. Despite all his remarks about her weight she actually didn't look big boned but instead, well defined, her curves windy and appealing.

He shifted in his seat, embarrassed by the fact that this new acknowledgement of her attractiveness was causing him to have the normal male reaction.

She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear and looked him over, "Wow, you trimmed your beard!" He merely ran a hand over his chin and nodded while she added, "You look very nice."

He leaned back, an eyebrow raised, "I think I look spec-tac-u-lar thank you very much, Miss Holly." He ran an appreciative hand over the black jacket he wore. He had found a black jacket and pants, a white shirt beneath. It wasn't quite a suit nor was it by any means a tux but it would do for this evening.

Molly merely crossed her arms and gave him a supine grin. Jericho seemed to realize, with some reluctance, what she wanted and added, "You look good too."

"Why thank you, kind sir." Molly retorted, pleased enough and pulled back, looking at the table, "Hmm. I forgot the glasses. I'll go get them."

With that she turned and walked towards the kitchen. Jericho's eyes followed her and he could see her in the kitchen, opening one of the cabinets. The glasses rested on the top shelf and Molly reached up high, causing her skirt to rise up her leg at the motion. Jericho found his head craning to the side, his eyes scanning up her leg, watching as he skirt rose higher and higher, almost showing...

Molly managed to snatch up two glasses and lowered herself back down. Jericho snapped his head upright and tried to look nonchalant as she walked back over. He scratched behind his ear, pretending he hadn't done a thing as she made their drinks and put food on his plate.

He eyed the food for a moment, wondering how talented her cooking skills were before he dived in. It wasn't great, but it wasn't bad either so he merely shrugged and dug in.

"How is it?" Molly asked.

"Mmm." was Jericho's only answer as he chomped away. He prayed to god this food wouldn't come back on him later as he cleaned his plate. Molly seemed satisfied enough, thinking that his devouring the food before him was a good sign.

Once he was done he belched loudly and Molly looked at him with wide eyes. He looked back at her with a frown, then suddenly realized what she wanted, "Oh, excuse me."

"You're excused." Molly muttered shaking her head.

Jericho rolled his eyes, "What?"

"You know, Jericho, you were right. You were never a gentlemen and you sure as heck can't be one."

"Hey, I think I'm doing pretty damn good considering I don't even want to do it, much less even know how to begin to fulfill your requirements. One of the only reasons I agreed to this test was to please Bischoff. He said we had to give him something interesting on camera, right? This'll do."

Molly's lips went up on one side and she looked a little deflated. Jericho didn't know why he felt bad but he did. Maybe it was because she looked so nice this evening. He scowled and got to his feet, scratching the back of his head.

He was no good at this whole gentlemen romance thingy or whatever it was she was expecting. He hated acting all...gushy. Still, he wanted that money, and surprisingly, he found himself wanting to erase that sad look from her face even more so.

He thought hard, trying to think of what someone else in his situation would do. He had bagged girls before, how did he seduce them? He looked around and spotted a radio. He picked it up and turned it on, scanning through the stations. Molly watched him with some amusement, "What are you doing?"

"Shh," Jericho hissed, waving a hand at her as he searched for a good station. He landed on some deejay blathering on about some girl named Norah Jones and then a soft song started playing. He bobbed his head to it shortly, then set the radio back down.

He turned to Molly and held out his hand, looking rather sheepish as he asked, "Would you like to-um-dance or something?"

"You dance?" Molly asked skeptically.

"Do you want to or not?" Jericho snapped, then replaced it with, "Uh-I mean-I would be...honored if you'd...um..."

She sighed and gave him her hand, "I'll give you an 'A' for effort."

He held her close and frowned, trying to remember how to do this. He hadn't slow danced since high school. He seemed confused as to where to place his hands and Molly found his confusion adorable. She decided to help, placing his hands in the right places and slowly beginning to move. Jericho followed suit, some of it coming back to him.

They moved about slowly, Molly letting out a yelp now and then as Jericho stepped on her toes. He would mutter a gruff apology and she'd give him a tight smile, saying it was fine. The music was the only sound next to Molly's yelps for quite sometime and eventually Molly's eyes caught Jericho's. He looked at her and felt something in him melt.

It was almost embarrassing as he looked at her, his eyes darting away now and then. Molly too, seemed overcome with this sudden and unexpected feeling, her own eyes darting. They both felt like they were eighth graders at their first formal dance again. Both uncomfortable around the other. The only level ground being whenever Jericho stepped on Molly's feet.

Eventually Molly drew away, "That's enough. I don't think my feet can take anymore."

Jericho muttered another 'sorry' and Molly merely shook her head, saying with true meaning that it was fine. They looked at each other a moment then Molly reached out a hand. Jericho backed away slightly, wondering what she was going to do.

She gave him a sympathetic smile and took hold of his ponytail gently, removing the rubber band. She shrugged, "You look good with you hair down...very handsome."

Jericho's lips quirked into a smile and he found his own hand reaching out to brush her cheek quickly, "You look good with make up on."

She blushed, "I don't normally wear it."

"I know. Thank you."

Her head fell back and she sighed, "You know, I like when you try to be a good guy but...I think I prefer you as a jerk. This feels too weird and it also hurts my feet."

Jericho laughed, "Well, I can't say I prefer you more as a frigid bitch 'cause I like this softer side better."

Instead of being insulted, which one would normally expected, Molly surprised him with an outraged laugh, her hand snatching out to slap his arm playfully. Jericho chuckled and for a few moments things seemed as normal as it had ever been between them when suddenly it sank back in to oddness, Jericho looking at Molly with genuine interest.

Past all that grand standing and feminist garbage, she was actually something of a catch. He liked her laugh, liked how she looked, like how it felt when she touched him.

He took in a breath and asked softly, "You know, I've been wondering...why did you come into the ring that night. You know, during my match with Triple H. Why did you come out there and why...I mean, you took a sledgehammer for me."

Molly blushed, her eyes cast downwards as she shrugged, "I dunno, I just...you were in trouble and I wanted to help. I was mean to you backstage, unfair, and I guess I just wanted to make up for it."

Jericho nodded, "Thank you."

"Welcome." Molly whispered. They looked at each other in the silence that followed. Not touching, not talking, not breathing, merely looking at each other. Jericho felt as if there was so much to say and yet nothing at all.

All these words and feelings were balled up inside him, resting at the tip of his tongue yet he didn't release them, instead backing away on one foot to chicken out, saying, "It's late..."

"Yeah."

"Better get on to bed."

Molly nodded and gave him a small smile, "Well, thanks for the evening and the dance, even if my toes don't thank you."

"And thanks for dinner and getting at least half way decent for me to look at."

Molly shook her head and replied good-naturedly, "Whatever. Night."

She walked away from him, headed for the bathroom and Jericho knew she was changing for bed. He charged up to the bedroom and shut the door behind him, leaning against it a moment or two as the evening's events washed over him. He shook his head and began to get ready for bed.