Telephone
Wrong Number
Author: Kamikazee
Email: [email protected]
Rating: PG-13
Series/Sequel: Part 1 of the 'Telephone' series
Warnings: Not really, only about Chris's potty mouth
Category: BtVS/WWE
Pairing #: 161 (Chris Jericho/Willow)
Spoilers: None
Summary: In which, Jericho discovers an interesting new way to meet women.
Archive: Fanfiction.net, Twisting the Hellmouth, Personal Space, Quickie Challenge. If you want to post it, just e-mail me.
Author's Notes: An idea that hit me as I was lying in bed, at 3 a.m. in the morning. That's me, inspiration's bitch.
Disclaimer: I do not claim to own either the characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer or the WWE. This is simply a piece of non-profit fiction.
Author's Note 2: Answer to the quickie challenge, object group 3: a grave, chocolate, a facial, a cellphone
~
"Do you think we should say a couple words?"
"Okay, okay. Rest in Peace, stray cat, may you have better luck now that you're dead."
"So, are we done?"
"Yea, we're done. I just hope it stays dead."
Buffy Summers and Willow Rosenburg looked down at the small pile of overturned earth that marked the grave of an unknown cat. The two had been patrolling when they had discovered the abandoned pet.
Willow, being the bleeding heart that she was, had insisted on burying the deceased animal. Buffy had been dragged along for the ride. That, of course, is what led the two friends to the Rosenburg backyard.
"You know, this is really not the way I was planning on spending Valentine's Day," came Buffy's disgruntled reply.
"Stop whining, complain-a-lot," came the redhead's laughing replay, "It's better than some of your previous Valentine's Day's."
"Just because I have a bad record," Willow snorted, but was silenced by a glare from Buffy, "doesn't mean tonight was going to be the same." She finished her statement with a self-righteous nod.
"Sure, Buffy, sure." Willow's sceptical voice rung out as they returned the shovel to the garage. A roll of her eyes accompanied it.
"Well, the night's not over yet," came the Slayer's determined promise, "Come on, Wills, let's Bronze it!" She sent a bright smile in the direction of her best friend. "We'll dance the night away, maybe find a couple of young hunks."
"Hunks, in Sunnydale? We'll be lucky if they don't try to kill us," the two friends laughed together at the familiar topic, "But, really, Buffy. I think I'm just going to stay home tonight. Relax, lounge, you know, the whole deal."
"Fine," came Buffy's exasperated reply, "If you're going to be mopey-girl, that's fine, I'm going to go out and I'm going to have a good time."
"You do that," Willow had a smile on her face as she agreed with the blonde.
"I will," came Buffy's reply, she began to walk down the dark street, stopping only briefly to turn back towards the witch. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay, Wills?"
"Yes, Buffy," came her cheerful reply as she opened the door, "See you tomorrow."
~
Willow sighed as she entered the front lobby of her parent's house, alone for the first time that day. She loved her friends, she really did, but sometimes they could get a little suffocating. She was looking forward to the free time being home alone allowed her.
Quickly undressing, the redhead entered the bathroom, starting the water for a nice, hot, bubble bath. As she puttered around the small room, she began to let her self relax. Just as she was preparing to stop the water and step into her wonderful bath, she was interrupted.
*Ring*
"No, please, not now," came her mumbled prayer to the ceiling. It went unheard as another ring pierced the silence. "I'm coming! I'm coming!"
Slipping into her bedroom, Willow pulled a cellphone from the pocket of her discarded jeans. Flipping it open, she took the call.
"Hello?"
"Hi, is Lita there?" came a male voice.
"Sorry, I think you have the wrong number," Willow's reply was cheerful enough as she prepared to hang up and returned to her long awaited bath.
"Wait!" came a cry from the other end, "Did Lita just ask you to say that! Tell her I'm not letting you hang up until she talks to me."
"Really," came Willow's reply, somewhat confused at this point, "You have the wrong number, there's no Lita here."
"Okay, this is getting old fast," came the unknown man's reply, "Tell her that it's Chris, and that she should stop sulking and get on the damn phone."
"I told you." Willow's explanation was cut off.
"Tell her that she shouldn't be sitting around moping about that bastard, Matt Hardy. Tell her, that if I have to, I'll fly down there with a pound of gourmet chocolate and shove it down her throat. You tell her that."
"Listen, I would tell her. If I had any idea who she was!" Willow was getting somewhat annoyed at this rude caller.
"What?" came the man's baffled voice.
"Well, *Chris*, like I said, you have the wrong number," Willow's tone was sharp as she explained to the man, for the third time, what was wrong.
"Oh, well, sorry, I guess," came his contrite and slightly puzzled voice, "I was sure this was Lita's number."
"Yeah, well, I guess you wrote it down wrong. Or, maybe, you dialled wrong." Willow was trying to be helpful.
"Guess I must have," came his reply, "At the beginning I thought you were just covering for her."
"You know, if you think she would go as far as to ask someone to pretend it's a wrong number, maybe she really doesn't want to talk to anyone." What was she doing? Was she giving advice to some random guy who had dialled a wrong number and preceded that by being extremely rude? She was mental, and obviously starving for company.
"Probably," came his reply, and she could hear a smile on his voice, "But, if I know Lita, she's moping around the house, feeling sorry for herself. She most likely even has a facial on."
"Well. oh, crap." Willow had just realized that she had done something really stupid, "I left the bath running. Got to run. Nice talking to you. Bye!"
Willow quickly hung up the phone and rushed into her already slightly flooded bathroom. A defeated look took over her face and a pained moan pushed past her lips as she observed the mess.
"This is not of the good."
~
Meanwhile, across the country, the man known as Chris Jericho was smiling bemusedly at the phone in his hand.
"Bye," was his whispered statement.
Wrong Number
Author: Kamikazee
Email: [email protected]
Rating: PG-13
Series/Sequel: Part 1 of the 'Telephone' series
Warnings: Not really, only about Chris's potty mouth
Category: BtVS/WWE
Pairing #: 161 (Chris Jericho/Willow)
Spoilers: None
Summary: In which, Jericho discovers an interesting new way to meet women.
Archive: Fanfiction.net, Twisting the Hellmouth, Personal Space, Quickie Challenge. If you want to post it, just e-mail me.
Author's Notes: An idea that hit me as I was lying in bed, at 3 a.m. in the morning. That's me, inspiration's bitch.
Disclaimer: I do not claim to own either the characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer or the WWE. This is simply a piece of non-profit fiction.
Author's Note 2: Answer to the quickie challenge, object group 3: a grave, chocolate, a facial, a cellphone
~
"Do you think we should say a couple words?"
"Okay, okay. Rest in Peace, stray cat, may you have better luck now that you're dead."
"So, are we done?"
"Yea, we're done. I just hope it stays dead."
Buffy Summers and Willow Rosenburg looked down at the small pile of overturned earth that marked the grave of an unknown cat. The two had been patrolling when they had discovered the abandoned pet.
Willow, being the bleeding heart that she was, had insisted on burying the deceased animal. Buffy had been dragged along for the ride. That, of course, is what led the two friends to the Rosenburg backyard.
"You know, this is really not the way I was planning on spending Valentine's Day," came Buffy's disgruntled reply.
"Stop whining, complain-a-lot," came the redhead's laughing replay, "It's better than some of your previous Valentine's Day's."
"Just because I have a bad record," Willow snorted, but was silenced by a glare from Buffy, "doesn't mean tonight was going to be the same." She finished her statement with a self-righteous nod.
"Sure, Buffy, sure." Willow's sceptical voice rung out as they returned the shovel to the garage. A roll of her eyes accompanied it.
"Well, the night's not over yet," came the Slayer's determined promise, "Come on, Wills, let's Bronze it!" She sent a bright smile in the direction of her best friend. "We'll dance the night away, maybe find a couple of young hunks."
"Hunks, in Sunnydale? We'll be lucky if they don't try to kill us," the two friends laughed together at the familiar topic, "But, really, Buffy. I think I'm just going to stay home tonight. Relax, lounge, you know, the whole deal."
"Fine," came Buffy's exasperated reply, "If you're going to be mopey-girl, that's fine, I'm going to go out and I'm going to have a good time."
"You do that," Willow had a smile on her face as she agreed with the blonde.
"I will," came Buffy's reply, she began to walk down the dark street, stopping only briefly to turn back towards the witch. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay, Wills?"
"Yes, Buffy," came her cheerful reply as she opened the door, "See you tomorrow."
~
Willow sighed as she entered the front lobby of her parent's house, alone for the first time that day. She loved her friends, she really did, but sometimes they could get a little suffocating. She was looking forward to the free time being home alone allowed her.
Quickly undressing, the redhead entered the bathroom, starting the water for a nice, hot, bubble bath. As she puttered around the small room, she began to let her self relax. Just as she was preparing to stop the water and step into her wonderful bath, she was interrupted.
*Ring*
"No, please, not now," came her mumbled prayer to the ceiling. It went unheard as another ring pierced the silence. "I'm coming! I'm coming!"
Slipping into her bedroom, Willow pulled a cellphone from the pocket of her discarded jeans. Flipping it open, she took the call.
"Hello?"
"Hi, is Lita there?" came a male voice.
"Sorry, I think you have the wrong number," Willow's reply was cheerful enough as she prepared to hang up and returned to her long awaited bath.
"Wait!" came a cry from the other end, "Did Lita just ask you to say that! Tell her I'm not letting you hang up until she talks to me."
"Really," came Willow's reply, somewhat confused at this point, "You have the wrong number, there's no Lita here."
"Okay, this is getting old fast," came the unknown man's reply, "Tell her that it's Chris, and that she should stop sulking and get on the damn phone."
"I told you." Willow's explanation was cut off.
"Tell her that she shouldn't be sitting around moping about that bastard, Matt Hardy. Tell her, that if I have to, I'll fly down there with a pound of gourmet chocolate and shove it down her throat. You tell her that."
"Listen, I would tell her. If I had any idea who she was!" Willow was getting somewhat annoyed at this rude caller.
"What?" came the man's baffled voice.
"Well, *Chris*, like I said, you have the wrong number," Willow's tone was sharp as she explained to the man, for the third time, what was wrong.
"Oh, well, sorry, I guess," came his contrite and slightly puzzled voice, "I was sure this was Lita's number."
"Yeah, well, I guess you wrote it down wrong. Or, maybe, you dialled wrong." Willow was trying to be helpful.
"Guess I must have," came his reply, "At the beginning I thought you were just covering for her."
"You know, if you think she would go as far as to ask someone to pretend it's a wrong number, maybe she really doesn't want to talk to anyone." What was she doing? Was she giving advice to some random guy who had dialled a wrong number and preceded that by being extremely rude? She was mental, and obviously starving for company.
"Probably," came his reply, and she could hear a smile on his voice, "But, if I know Lita, she's moping around the house, feeling sorry for herself. She most likely even has a facial on."
"Well. oh, crap." Willow had just realized that she had done something really stupid, "I left the bath running. Got to run. Nice talking to you. Bye!"
Willow quickly hung up the phone and rushed into her already slightly flooded bathroom. A defeated look took over her face and a pained moan pushed past her lips as she observed the mess.
"This is not of the good."
~
Meanwhile, across the country, the man known as Chris Jericho was smiling bemusedly at the phone in his hand.
"Bye," was his whispered statement.