Well here goes nothing. This story is an adaptation of a short story I wrote for my Creative Writing class this past year (which I rocked in, thanks to the writing I've done on here!). That story was good but it wasn't wrestling-based (the characters/personalities were the same though), and it lacked a lot of detail that I was limited in using (I maxed my page limit..). So I hope this one is better, since I can develop it more and play it to my personal liking…

Anyways, that's enough of that…

I don't own any of these characters and names… hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. :D


Wrestlemania X8, 2002

Chris Jericho had never been more pissed in his entire life. Who exactly his anger was directed at though, had yet to be determined. All he knew was he was pissed, and wanted to do nothing more than go get absolutely shit-faced at one of the local bars. He clenched his fists and yearned for nothing more than forget this night had ever transpired.

He ignored the looks that he was getting backstage as he made a beeline straight towards his locker room. Each time he passed by a couple of wrestlers who hushed at the sight of him, his anger kicked up another notch. When he finally found his locker room, he stood still for a moment as he stared at the plaque that met him.

CHRIS JERICHO: UNDISPUTED HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION

Carefully and with tremendous heartache, he reached up and let his fingers graze over the engraved plaque that hung on his door. He closed his eyes and imagined that he once again was carrying his two babies, his prides of joy, one glorious belt slung over each shoulder, proof to the world that he was the real deal, a threat to the business and someone to be reckoned with…

The absolute fucking best in the world… he sighed, remembering how Stephanie had promised him that this would be his night. A night to remember, as she put it.

Yeah, right.

"Nice match out there Jericho," He heard a familiar voice say. Quickly, the Canadian's dangerous temper flared as he opened his eyes to gaze at his source of interruption. He was met with an Olympic-sized grin. "Tough, but nice match all around..." Kurt Angle put his hands on his hips as his mocking smirk took his features.

"What do you want, Angle?" Chris demanded in a low voice.

"Geez, someone's suffering from lack-of-belt-tinitis, huh?" Kurt said, snickering. The Canadian staring back at him was not amused. "Anyways, I just wanted to congratulate you… and ask how it felt to play second-fiddle to Hogan and Rock? That must've sucked royally, I bet. An old geezer and a movie-star wannabe outshone our premier main eventers… never thought I'd see the day."

Chris could feel his heart pounding in his chest and his face getting hot as he stepped up to Kurt, who stood his ground. "At least I've main evented a Wrestlemania, you stupid son-of--"

"Chris!" Stephanie suddenly exclaimed, finally having caught up with him. She was not in the best of shape – as a matter of fact, she was still a little woozy from that Pedigree, but she was a McMahon, damn it. Triple H of all people was not going to bring her down. She'd rather die first.

Chris felt her grab his arm and pull him back away from Kurt. He immediately pulled his arm away and practically knocked the door to his locker room off its hinges before stalking inside, startling the two watching him. Stephanie sighed heavily and turned an icy glare towards Kurt.

"What are you doing here?"

"Just wanted to rile up Jericho a bit. You never know, he might get that title back –"

"Oh, he will, don't you doubt that for a second." She interrupted with an edge in her voice.

"Well, whatever the case may be Steph… I'm due for a shot around here, so I figured a few mind games wouldn't hurt." He shrugged innocently, earning a look of contempt from Stephanie. His eyebrows shot up, legitimately surprised. "Whoa, what's that look about? Come on Steph, we're friends, right?"

"I don't appreciate you riling up my business partner, because guess who has to go in there and calm him down?" She demanded in a loud voice. "Not you, me! So do me a favor, dear friend, and don't make my life harder than it needs to be!"

"Sorry Stephanie, I'll leave you alone." Kurt mumbled, before glancing up at the plaque that still remained on Chris' door. "You better take that thing off though, before somebody else does."

Stephanie glared at the departing Olympic Champion and then looked at the plaque in question. All of a sudden, she felt a pang of guilt ride inside of her – a relatively new sensation for the young Billion Dollar Princess. Yes, part of her actually felt slightly responsible for Chris Jericho no longer being champion. Sighing again, she carefully removed the plaque and braced herself for what she knew would be one hell of a confrontation. After a moment of contemplating, she opened the door and stepped inside the locker room.

He was sitting on a steel folding chair, his head in his hands, a towel draped around his shoulders. He hadn't even bothered to change. His eyes were squeezed shut, and she couldn't tell if he was about to cry or go absolutely berserk and lose all the control he had left.

She wouldn't blame him for either, although the first would be less expensive to repair. She hesitated but determined that this wasn't the best course of action for either one of them to take.

The sound of her clearing her throat seemed to echo in the small room.

"Chris?"

He didn't budge. She sighed and put the plaque from the door on a chair nearby, wondering what was the best approach to take in this situation. Her business partner had one hell of an ego, but even more than his ego weighed his pride.

Which made this a potentially volatile situation.

"Where the hell were you?" He said in a low voice, almost startling her. He raised his head, and she could register nothing but fury in his blue eyes.

"Chris, I tried –"

"You tried?" He sneered, standing and slowly advancing towards her. She raised her chin but the look in his eye was slightly discerning. "Was that my end of the deal after everything I did for you? You trying your best?"

"Chris, I don't think you're in a reasonable state of thinking right now…" She tried to argue rationally as he continued getting closer.

"Oh, I think I am, Steph. I was in a reasonable state when I agreed to this little proposition of yours to be business partners. I was in a reasonable fucking state when you sent me on all your bullshit little errands these past few months!" He practically shouted, waving his arms for emphasis.

She had never seen him this mad before. His face was growing red as the towel that was around his shoulders dropped to the floor. He was literally fuming with anger, and it was slightly unnerving.

Unnerving, but damn sure not intimidating. She was a McMahon…

"I said I would help you, Jericho, not hand-feed you." She bitterly spat out, holding her ground. "If you couldn't get the job done even with me giving you an extra hand, that is not my problem."

"So I suppose being my fucking business partner means absolutely nothing then? You know what?" He snarled, raising his voice even more. "Get the hell out of my locker room, I never want to see your face again. You're worthless to me, and you always will be."

The words somehow stung her. She thought she was better than that, better than letting someone like him get to her.

Two could play that game.

"Worthless huh? You know what, Jericho?" She angrily spit out his name in disgust. "Maybe everyone did have you figured out back in January. You remember that promo you had with The Rock before the Rumble?" His eyes darkening at the mention answered her question. "Everyone around here does view you as a joke! Because that's all you are, Chris. You were nothing but a fluke when you won that title last year, you were nothing but a transitional champion while you carried it, and now, you're nothing without it!"

The only sound in the room was Chris' labored breathing as he stared a hole through her. She smirked triumphantly, grating on his last nerves like no one had ever done. He watched as she turned on her heel and marched back towards the door, a swagger in her step.

If he had ever been overcome with a blind rage, it was at that moment.

Just as she was reaching for the door handle, she felt him grip her arm tightly and swing her back around to face him. Well, yank was perhaps more appropriate, as she yelped from the tight grip he had on her. He shoved her back roughly against the door and pinned her arms next to her head.

Now, she was no longer intimidated by him. No, now she was actually legitimately scared of the man who was currently manhandling her as she struggled to free herself from him. The more she struggled, the tighter his grip on her became.

"Chris, stop!" She squealed in pain, pleading with him. "You're hurting me!"

"Take those comments back!" He snarled in her face while she continued to fight back. "Take them back right now!"

It was no use fighting him. He was too strong for that. She stopped struggling and glared at him, giving him the meanest, bitchiest look she could muster while she tried getting her breathing back under control.

"Make me." She spat out angrily.

"Don't try me." He said dangerously, also out of breath. Whether that was from his anger or from struggling to hold her back against the door, it was hard to tell.

They stood almost nose-to-nose for a tense ten whole seconds, each daring the other to back down first.

"Like I said," She repeated, in a calm voice that also dripped with venom. "Make. Me."

If ever he had wished that she was a man so he could knock the living shit out of her, it was at this moment. Instead, he glared as she stared back at him defiantly. As if daring him to do something to her, she mockingly raised an eyebrow, as if silently prompting him: Well?

No longer thinking rationally, his ego and pride both having been deflated in too close a period of time, he lowered his gaze to her lips and thought of the next best thing he could do to her. She followed his gaze and her eyes grew wide.

"Chris Jericho," She stated in a warning tone, as he licked his lips hungrily, "don't you dare –"

His lips came crashing down on hers forcefully, much to her chagrin. She squealed against his mouth as he released his grip on her arms to grab the sides of her face and force the kiss deeper. She pounded against his shoulders and his chest, but he just backed her up again roughly against the door. The force made her gasp and inadvertently gave him full access to her mouth.

The feel of his flush bare skin against her was almost sweet torture to Stephanie, who hadn't had a man touch her like that in only God knew how long. His touch making her weak and also turning her on, she stopped resisting how good he was making her feel. Instead, she let her hands trail down his chest, teasing the hot skin under her fingertips that felt like it was on fire.

No longer caring that he had violated their "just business partners" agreement, Chris moaned his approval against her mouth as he relished in her touch. For just that moment, his thoughts about being the number one wrestler in the business had been tossed out the window.

He wanted her. But more importantly, he needed her, needed her in the worst way. Triple H could go out and enjoy his newfound championship, but Chris was going home with the real prize…

And with that thought, never breaking his hot kiss with her, he wrapped one arm around her waist and hooked her leg with his other arm. He effortlessly lifted her up and she instinctively wrapped her legs around him while simultaneously deepening their kiss, making him groan with pleasure as he lead her over to the sofa, where they collapsed together as one.

It turned out to be a night to remember after all.


To continue or not continue? That is the question... you tell me :D