A/N: Thanks to those who either favorited this or reviewed! I really appreciate it!
Chris Jericho slowly snaked his arm out from under the blankets that covered his head. His hand started patting around wildly, searching for the nightstand that contained the source of the offending sound. His fingers lightly grazed the edge of the table and he moved his hand from side to side like a blind man, trying to figure out where he'd set the alarm clock last night. It took him a few more seconds to finally locate it, but once his hand smacked into the offending piece of equipment, he slapped the top of it, causing it to cease its buzzing. He let his hand lay on top of it for a second before pulling the covers back enough to see what time it was.
He groaned when he realized that he planned to be up thirty minutes earlier. He slowly rolled his way into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes as he rested his elbows on his thighs. His long blond hair was no longer the tame, combed mane that it had been when he went to sleep – it was now laying in every direction possible. He ran a quick hand through it, trying to make it at least all fall in the same direction, but it simply went back to the way it was before.
He felt like he was hung over, with the nauseous feeling that was starting to settle its way into the pit of his stomach, but there was no way that he could be. After he left the arena last night, he came straight back to the hotel, showered and went to sleep. He hadn't touched anything that would make him feel this way.
"Except her." He mumbled to the empty room.
If Chris was going to be completely honest with himself, he hadn't quite felt right ever since his match last night. It felt stupid to say, but ever since that he almost felt…buzzed for lack of a better word.
He had the Walls of Jericho locked in and Kurt was tapping out. But the referee wasn't able to see it since he was busy stopping the youngest McMahon from entering the ring and interfering in the match. Chris had the match won, and the freaking ref wasn't even paying attention to announce him as the victor.
After a few more seconds of watching her try to make her way into the ring, he grew agitated and dropped Kurt's legs, walking over to the referee and grabbing him by the shoulder to remind him that there was a match going on that he was supposed to be calling. He remembered shouting something at the incompetent official, but he couldn't remember exactly what he said. Without warning, Kurt came up behind him and shoved him into the referee, knocking him into the corner and down to the mat.
With the referee down, he saw Stephanie start creeping her way into the ring with that hideous outfit. He could see that she had something in her hands, but he couldn't make out what. He and Kurt both started to make their way back to their feet. With the referee down, he wasn't sure who posed the greater threat – Stephanie or Kurt. He opted to keep his eyes on Stephanie. Right as he made it to his feet he saw her rushing towards her with her damn title belt in her hands. He ducked at the last possible second and turned around in time to see her knock Kurt out with it.
She stood there for a moment, perhaps in shock, over the fact that she had just knocked out the wrong person. She dropped the title belt and walked back over to Kurt, checking on him, while holding her hands out to her sides. Chris was already walking towards her though, almost like a predator to their prey. He slowed down when he came within a few feet of her. Her head whipped up to stare at him, and her mouth was still hanging open from her mistake. He suddenly found himself wondering about that mouth…those lips… He smiled at her, knowing exactly how to get her to leave the ring without having to force her out.
He took a step towards her and she took one back. He continued to get closer and closer towards her, while she shook her head at him, trying to get him to back off. He reached out suddenly, his left hand cupping the side of her face. She raised her hand to slap him, but he blocked it with his other hand, and shoved it away, using both hands to pull her towards him roughly. Their lips smacked together fiercely and she started to struggle against him. He started to lower her towards the mat, just a little – and when her flailing hands came to rest upon his head, he dropped her on her back and she rolled out of the ring, staring at him in shock.
Kissing someone who was supposed to be your sworn enemy wasn't exactly the textbook way to handle things, but Chris Jericho rarely followed the norm. He only wanted to throw her off her game. He had lost the match after all of that, but for once he wasn't really upset about it. After he had kissed Stephanie, he felt…strange. Like he was standing outside before an electrical storm and the hair on the back of his neck was standing up. She left him feeling…more aware, for lack of a better way of describing it. Chris couldn't put his finger on what it was exactly, but there was definitely something about that kiss that was unlike any other he'd ever known.
He found himself remembering those lips and those few seconds that his had been pressed against them. A ghost of a smile appeared on his face for a moment, before he shook his head and wrinkled his brow.
"She probably gave you some kind of disease." He told himself, throwing the covers off the bed and swinging his legs off the side to let his feet touch the ground. He went about his morning like usual and it wasn't until he was brushing his teeth that he remembered the dream that he had been abruptly awakened from.
He stared at his own reflection in the mirror as pieces of it flowed back into his conscious mind. He had been…married to Stephanie and he was concerned for her. He snorted as he continued brushing his teeth. That was a new one. He'd done something to piss her off and he was trying to stop her from leaving. Something bad happened to her. He wrinkled his brow. As he spit the toothpaste into the sink and turned on the faucet he remembered something else. He remembered running into John Cena. He looked back up into the mirror with his brow wrinkled.
"Who the hell is John Cena?" He asked his reflection.
Jericho had been with the company for 10 months and he had never heard anyone use the name or even talk about the name John Cena, yet in the dream they had spoken like they knew each other well. Like Cena was one of the boys or something. He shrugged and shook his head, dismissing the dream.
"Have you ever been driving along the side of the road…and you see a piece of road kill? And maybe you nudge it with the toe of your shoe. And you might even grab a big branch and start to poke at it… Well…last night, I kissed the nasty road kill!"
Chris sat in the trainer's office with a bag of ice between his thighs. Not only had she slapped him for his comment this time, she'd also kicked him in the crotch. He had to say that he preferred getting slapped to getting kicked in his crown jewel. He pulled the bag away for a moment and sat it next to him as the door opened. He narrowed his eyes at her.
"You know, Jericho…" Stephanie McMahon said as she entered the room, wearing the same outfit that she had on earlier. "If you want to stay here in the World Wrestling Federation, you might want to think about how you treat the people who run it."
"Really?" Jericho asked her with mock innocence. He smirked at her. "Well, Steph, if you want to keep making money and selling my merchandise, you might want to think about not trying to emasculate one of your top performers."
"Maybe next time you'll think twice before putting your filthy hands on me." She said, stepping closer to glare at him. He stared into her blazing grey eyes – his cool blue ones reflecting something mischievous. He smirked.
"You know something, you're right!" He said to her. "I will think twice. I was lucky I didn't catch some kind of deathly disease from you last night! My God, my beautiful face could have been scarred forever!" He stood up as her mouth fell open. He patted her on the cheek. "Thanks for being concerned, Princess." He said, and walked out, leaving her to stare after him.