Title: Operator, What's The Number For Life?
Type: Challenge (Fingertips, challenge made by evilgmbethy)
Collection: 15 drabbles
Characters: Steve Austin, Brian Pillman, Chris Benoit, Kid Kash, Jeff Jarrett, AJ Styles, Christopher Daniels, Kane, Chris Jericho, Raven, Stevie Richards, Chase Stevens, Andy Douglas, Melanie Pillman, John Cena, Randy Orton, Owen Hart, Johnny Devine, Jerry Lynn, Joey Mercury, Johnny Nitro, Melina.
Warnings: Male/male situations, adult situations, adult language, sexual innuendo.
Genre(s): Angst, drama, humor, romance, insanity.
Summary: Fifteen drabbles centered around the themes of "telephones." An answer to the Fingertips challenge set by Mercy.
Notes: Thanks to Rya for the theme suggestion! I got a lot done out of this challenge. ^^
Operator? Yes... I was wondering... what's the number for life?
01 : Call Me, Call Me
Chris Benoit.
I keep waiting to hear your voice. I want to listen to you ramble for hours and hours; I want to smile dumbly as you chatter a mile a minute aimlessly, carelessly, thoughtlessly. I don't mind hearing you talk. I love the way you do; you have a Southern raspy voice with a faint trace of bubbliness and liveliness no one else can find.
No one knows you the way I do. No one can understand how you are. Behind those blue eyes, I can find the soul of someone lost and alone, frightened and forgotten, hopeless and dying. But ever since we met... since I found a way to make you smile, you're not like that anymore. It's rare nowadays to find you crying on the bed we sleep in, burying your face into a pillow and wishing to God that you were dead.
... Wishing to God that you were in his arms one more time.
It used to be a daily occurance. Now it's like a dream... a horrible nightmare that both you and I woke up from. I don't know why I keep waiting nervously by a phone... I should know by now that you won't do anything stupid anymore. You're awake. You won't fall back into your nightmare and start your old habits again...
But sometimes... sometimes... I just can't stop thinking--
The phone rings. My trembling hand snatches the holder and presses the receiver to my lips.
"Hello? Steve?"
02 : Everyday Convo
Kid Kash, Jerry Lynn.
"Hello darlin'."
"Hey you. It's been awhile since we've spoke."
"Miss me?"
"You doof. Of course I have. Why else do you think I'd pick up the cell so fast?'
"That's true. You don't pick it up that quick."
"Hell, I usually don't pick it up at all."
"You're Mexican that way."
"... I'm not Mexican, Jerry."
"Well, I might be, vato, seeing that I stole something."
"Oh? And that is, Mr. JL?"
"... god I hate that nickname."
"You're the one who came up with it prior to us being together, so you can blame me for that."
"Callate."
"Yeah, yeah. Keep talking, Mexican. What is it that you stole?"
"Oh, something."
"Tell me, or I'll send you to immigration."
"Qué? No intendes ingles..."
"Come on, Jerry. You know I don't like it when you tease me... unless I'm the one teasing you."
"Well... I stole your heart."
"... you fucker."
"Love you too, David."
"Pfft. Yeah, yeah. Whatever. You just want sex."
"I know you're blushing... Cashew."
"SHUT UP!!"
"You know you like your nickname."
"Shut the fuck up, Mr. JL."
"... you had to go there again, didn't you?"
"Of course. I like making you blush too."
"Asshole."
"I love you too."
03 : The Search for the Cell Phone
Johnny Nitro, Joey Mercury, Melina.
"Goddamn it..."
Joey Mercury looked up from his magazine, only to find his tag-team partner Johnny Nitro rummaging through his own luggage. "Hey!!" he shouted, throwing the magazine aside and pushing his partner away from his belongings. "What the hell do you think your doing?!"
"Have you seen where my cell phone is?"
He blinked. "Your cell phone?"
"Well, yeah!" Nitro exclaimed, flinging his hands into the air and sinking into the chair in dismay. "I've been searching all over for it... I checked in the hallway, downstairs in the lobby, and even my bag... can't find it anywhere."
Scratching his chin in thought, Joey thought aloud to himself. "Hmm... how about..." His eyes snapped open and he snapped his fingers. "Call it! You can use my cell phone!"
"Well, maybe... I don't know if we'll hear it," Johnny mused aloud, shrugging at the end of his thought. "Oh well, it's worth a try."
Digging through his backpocket, Joey produced his cell phone and handed it over to his partner. Flipping the top open, Johnny dialed in his number quickly. Four rings later, he only received his voicemail. "Dammit... I probably put it on vibrate..."
"Wait," Joey said, "didn't you have it set on a ringtone?"
"Yeah..." Johnny scratched his head in thought. "I thought I had it on You Drive Me Crazy..." When Joey gave him a look, Johnny defended himself. "It's because Melina likes it!!"
"Well, keep calling it and let's see if we can hear it somewhere," Joey concluded, shrugging carelessly.
Johnny nodded, hitting the redail button on Joey's cell phone. They walked around the room, trying to hear the cellphone vibrate on the floor, on the furniture... any sort of noise at all that sounded like movement. When the two reached the door that joined their rooms with Melina's, they heard something on the other side.
Joey and Johnny looked at each other for a second, and pressed their ears close to the door. When Johnny hit the redial button once more, both of them heard something on the other side. When he did it again, Joey and Johnny gulped as they heard the distinctive sound of someone... moaning.
The two partners glanced at one another, then Joey's cell phone.
"Should we... ?" Joey asked, trailing off as he heard another moan, one louder than the last one.
Johnny blinked; a smirk quickly formed on his face as he pressed the redial button once more. "I think we'll let Melina have fun with my cell for a little while longer."
04 : Switch-A-Roo
Johnny Devine, Jeff Jarrett.
"I believe you have my cell phone."
Jeff Jarrett turned around, half-listening to the VP of WGN, half-glaring at the man who interrupted him. "Excuse me?"
Johnny Devine grinned his infamous smile, the one that blinded the eyes and melted the hearts of everyone around the world. "Sorry, but that's my cell phone."
Snorting at Devine, Jarrett curtly ended his conversation with the VP, giving the man in front of him his full attention. "Thanks for the interruption, Johnny," Jeff snapped, crossing his arms over his silk white shirt. "That was the VP of the new channel we're being broadcasted on that I just had to hang up with..."
"You didn't have to, you know," Johnny said plainly, the smile still on his face (and distracted Jeff from his biting remarks floating around in his head). "All you had to do was ignore me, or flip me off."
"Well, I don't stoop to your level," Jeff snapped back, tilting his sunglasses down so his bright blue eyes could fully glare at Devine. "Or your kind."
Devine still smiled. "Well, you still have my cell phone."
"There you go again, with that cell phone shit," Jarrett said, rolling his eyes as he fixed his glasses again. "Haven't you gotten it yet, son? This is MY cell phone. See? It's silver, it's Motorolla, AND it has my ringtone!"
"Would that ringtone happen to be... Wannabe by the Spice Girls?"
"... who told you, goddamnit."
Johnny Devine grinned brighter (was that humanly possible?) and snorted as he produced his cell phone, the same kind and style as Jarrett's. Flipping the top open, he dialed in a few numbers and waited.
Seconds later, Jarrett heard the sound of his cellphone going off, but it wasn't the ringtone he was used to hearing. Instead, he heard the tune of Team Canada's theme song echoing from the phone.
Embarassed and shocked, Jarrett growled handed the cellphone over and snatched his back from Johnny's. "Don't say anything, or I'll fire you."
Johnny nodded, still (and always) smiling. "Sure thing, boss."
"Wait," Jarrett said, stoping Johnny from turning around. "How did you get your theme song on the cell?"
Johnny laughed and winked. "Internet, of course."
"... you're kidding."
Johnny Devine's laughter was Jarrett's only response.
05 : Connection
Owen Hart, Jeff Jarrett.
I wish there was a way to... to communicate with you.
There's nothing that can describe how much I wish I could be the one holding you at night, wanting to be the name you whisper in your sleep, desiring to touch your body and hear your breathing...
All I can do is watch you sleep, dream, and live. S'all I can do.
Y'know, I kinda wish they had a telephone line in Heaven. All I'd have to do is pick up the phone, dial in your number, and wait. I'd wait a couple of seconds for you to pick up. Then I'd hear your sweet Southern voice greet me... and... and we'd be happy.
I'd rather wait a couple of seconds than wait a couple of years for you.
There's no holy telephone, no sacred wire, no blessed way to talk to you, to speak to you... to tell you that I love you, and that I'd never leave you, and that I still watch over you and that you can stop crying for me and stop praying for me and stop... just stop remembering me and live in the present rather than the past.
You don't have to be afraid anymore, love. I'm always here. I've never left you alone. You don't... you don't have to live in the past, accidentally calling out my name when you are with AJ...
You've always had your Nugget, Jeff. And you always will.
I just wish I could tell you that.
06 : Waiting Period
Melanie Pillman, Brian Pillman, Steve Austin.
She didn't know how she put up with him. All of his crazy antics -- tap-dancing on a car in midday traffic, starting a food fight in a five-star restaurant, cuffing himself to a goal post during a high-school football game (he originally wanted to do it at the Super Bowl) -- nearly drove her to losing all her hair and gaining wrinkles on her face. Sometimes she pondered why she still loved him... how she still cared for him, though they were slowly pulling apart from one another.
Recently, she unearthed the darkest secret ever about her husband. Through a conversation on the phone, she found out the truth, discovered the real reason why Brian rarely came home, why they rarely met face-to-face and always conversed through other means of communication...
"Where should we meet, Bri?"
"Somewhere near the drug store not far from my house. Around twelve."
"What'll you tell Melanie?"
"I'll just tell her something. Don't worry, belle. I love you."
"I love you too, Pill."
Melanie didn't tell Brian she heard their conversation. She didn't tell him anything. She still smiled and nodded her head when he lied to her -- like always -- and ran off to his lover, to the one he really loved. She still laughed and giggled at Brian's jokes over phone, even though she heard the distinctive sound of Steve's laughter on the other side as well. She still cried and shouted Brian's name when they made love, despite the fact she knew full well that his passion for her was nothing compared for the unconditional love he had for Steve.
She wouldn't tell him that she found his stash of love letters or the hidden boxes of trinkets his Steve gave him. She wouldn't tell him that she uncovered old photos in an album she never saw before or watched secret videotapes of him and Steve together. She wouldn't tell him how she saw the love he had for Steve in his eyes, and how she wished he would give her that same look.
She wouldn't tell. She wouldn't yell. She wouldn't scream or bitch or cry at Brian, asking him why he lived in this facade, why he tried to feign love for her when he obviously loved another, why he didn't simply leave her and stop this insanity. She would understand if one day he left her alone and ran off with Steve. She would understand if one day he wouldn't come back home at all. Sooner or later, Melanie knew they would have the conversation Brian was desperately attempting to avoid. When and where that would happen, she didn't know.
Melanie sat on the bed she used to share with someone she loved, looked out the window stained with raindrops... and waited.
07 : Prank Call
Kid Kash, Chase Stevens, Andy Douglas.
*phone rings*
*grumbling*
*snorts*
"Yeah?"
*dial tone*
"... whatever."
*mumbling*
*yawns*
*happy murmuring*
*phone rings*
*groaning*
*more mumbling*
*growls*
"Yes?"
"Look out! A banana on the road! GASP!"
*click*
*blinking*
*eyebrows burrowing*
"Idiots."
*yawns*
*cracks neck*
*covers up in blankets*
"Mmm, so warm... sleeeep..."
*phone rings*
"Godfuckingdammit..."
*rolls outta bed*
*stumbles over to phone*
"What?"
"Is this Mark's 'Food on the Go' restaurant?"
"Um, no--"
"I'd like some chicken because YOU ARE ONE!! HAHA!"
*click*
*more blinking*
*puzzled look*
"... the fuck?"
*rolls eyes*
*slams phone down*
*crawls into bed*
*sighs happily*
"Ah..."
*phone rings*
"GAH!!"
*jumps out of bed*
*stomps to phone*
*deadly glare of doom*
*snarls*
"HELLO?!"
"Kid Kash sucks!"
*click*
*silence*
*rips phone from jack in wall*
*walks to window*
*throws it outside*
*watches it crash to the concrete below*
*cheers in happiness*
"Good riddance!"
*dusts hands off*
"And now, for some sleep..."
*walks over to bed*
*flops on matress*
*lazy grin*
"Sleeeeeeeeeep... good ol' sleeeeeeeep..."
*cell phone rings*
*eyes open wide*
*insert "Halloween" theme song*
*left eye twitches*
*head twitches*
*lip twitches*
*bares teeths*
*GROWLS*
*runs out of bed*
*grabs cell phone from pants on floor*
*flips top open*
"EAT MY COCK, BITCHES."
*hits off button*
*throws cell phone to floor*
*flops onto bed once more*
*mumbles into pillow*
"I hate you, Chase and Andy."
*dozes into light sleep*
*begins to snore*
*silence*
*quiet*
*peace*
...
*hotel phone rings*
"MOTHERFUCKER!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
08 : Hollaback Girl
John Cena, Randy Orton.
"Uh huh, this is my shit! All the girls stomp your feet like this!"
Cena slammed his head into the steering wheel of his car. "Do you HAVE to play that song over and over the entire WAY?"
"Aww, come on, John!" Randy jeered, patting his best friend on the shoulder while grinding and gyrating to the Gwen Stefani song. "You know you like the song."
"Well, I USED TO, until SOMEONE played the song twenty-five fucking TIMES in one damn DAY," John retorted viciously, glaring dangerously at the man dancing in the passenger's seat of the car.
"Oh come on," Randy said, grinning brightly as he moved his body to the song. "You know you wanna sing it!" He closed his eyes as he did moved his head to one side while snaping his fingers, and then repeating the same motion, going the other way. "Let me hear you say this shit is bananas! B-A-N-A-N-A-S! This shit is bananas! B-A-N-A-N-A-S!"
"You're bananas," Cena murmured as he continued to drive the two of them to the next arena. "This is the last time I ever freakin' ride with you..."
"Hey John!" Randy shouted gleefully as he showed off his brand new cell phone while lowering down the song. "I wanted to show you something!"
"Oh thank Heavens," Cena muttered as the song was lowered until he couldn't hear it anymore. "What, Randy?"
Fiddling around with the phone for awhile, Randy found the ringtone he was looking for and pressed play. "It's the Hollaback Girl song! I made it my ringtone so that I can listen to it ALL the time!" he said happily, a huge grin on his face.
John blinked at Randy, his face positively mortified.
"... Randy?" he squeaked out.
Orton stopped dancing and blinked innocently as his friend. "Yes?"
"I officially hate that damn song."
"HEY!! That shit is BANANAS!" Randy stopped, grinned, and started to dance to his cellphone's ringtone. "B-A-N-A-N-A-S!"
"Oh dear God..." John mumbled as groaned in disgust and helplessness. "This is gonna be one long road trip."
"Because I ain't no hollaback girl! I ain't no hollaback girl!"
"Ugh..."
09 : The Call
Steve Austin.
He wasn't worried. There wasn't any reason to be. Tonight was just another ordinary pay-per-view; unfortunately, he couldn't participate fully in it. He'd run in, screw the heel over, and help out the babyface; the fans would go wild, cheer insanely from him, and they'd go home happy as can be.
A smile creeped on his face, despite the nervousness running through his body, making his fingertips twitch and his right leg shake uncontrollably. There wasn't a reason to be scared. He didn't know why he had a premonition of darkness and suffering in the horizon. He was going to go home happy, like the fans. He was going to be with his lover soon, smelling his addictive cologne and resting peacefully in his comforting, strong arms.
Paranoid. Worry-wart. Nervous wreck. That's what he was. Steve Austin was nothing more than a silly-minded, superstitious freak. He would be okay. Brian was okay. He was just running a little bit late, that's all. Brian would come rushing into the building, steal a quick kiss from his lips, whisper condolances into his ear while changing into his wrestling gear, promise something special in their hotel room afterwards, and go to wrestle his match against Mick.
Nothing special. Nothing new. Simple and easy and normal. Nothing bad. Nothing ominous. Nothing... just nothing! Nothing nothing nothing. Everything would be okay. Everything's okay. Everything's alright--
The phone in his lockerroom rang, startling Steve from his dark contemplations. Stumbling up from his seat, he walked forward and picked up the receiver happily, a grin shinning brightly on his face.
"Hello? Brian?"
A few seconds passed. The TV screen behind him showed not the promo that would lead into the pay-per-view, but the face of Vince McMahon, solemn and broken, talking to the audience. Gasps and cries from a few people filled the air; the rest were bathed in absolute silence and disbelief.
A broken soul sank to his knees, and buried his face in his hands.
The phone tumbled in the air, and bounced on the floor.
A wailing cry pierced through the silence.
10 : Caller ID
AJ Styles, Christopher Daniels.
He's always calling him, day and night. He doesn't stop. Incessently, obsessively, he calls him every hour -- at home, on his cell, at the arena he's working that day.
In the back of his mind, he can still hear his voice whispering into his ear. At times, he can remember the feel of his lips against his skin at night after they made love. Other times, the memories are so powerful, he can imagine he's standing right beside him, his breath on his lips... whispering words of encouragement, comfort... lies.
AJ held his title belt closer as he saw the caller ID flashing on his phone. Twisting his blue eyes away, he hit the ignore button and walked away.
He should've ignored Chris as easy as that phone call years ago.
11 : Phone Sex
Brian Pillman, Steve Austin.
"Hello?"
"Hey baby..."
"... this is so not who I think it is."
"Huuuuuuh?"
"No way. You're drunk."
"Drunk on your looooooooooove."
"Brian William Pillman, go to sleep. Don't even try driving over here to my hotel room."
"Aww, baby..."
"Don't baby, me! If you come here, you'll wake up Mick. And worse! You might get into an accident! Or you'll get caught with a DUI!"
"If I was in jail, we could have kinky sex in it."
"If that's the case, then forget me bailing you out then."
"Mmmm, sexy belle... whut you wearin'?"
"I ain't telling you anything!"
"Mmm, I guess nothing... mmm, so hot..."
"Brian. William. Pillman. I am going to hang up."
"Ohhh belle... don't leave me like thiiiiiis..."
"You know I will. I'm not in the mood, and you're not gonna get me to have phone sex with you."
"Mmm... belle, come on... you know you're the sexiest thing on Earth... and you'd look so good on your knees... licking me... god, your tongue..."
"... I am going to hang up now."
"Oh noooo you woooon't..."
"Yes I am."
"Nooooooooo... mmmm, belle... you woon't..."
"Watch me."
"Then why haven't you doooone ittt?"
"........ okay, one round. Let me go into the bathroom so we don't wake up Mick."
"Heheheheh... good belle... my sexy belle..."
"Shut up, you whore."
"I'm a whooooore for yoooou..."
"... shut up."
"Love yooou..."
12 : Use Speed Dial
Stevie Richards, Raven.
"Call him."
"I won't."
"You're being stubborn, Ravenly."
"I AM NOT, Stevie Richards."
"Just call him."
"No."
"Don't use that pout on me, mister."
"I can use that pout whenever I want."
"Punk does it better."
"Shut. Up."
"His speed dial number on the cell is 501. Just dial that and you're good to go."
"I hate you."
"Tell me another lie, Scotty. Tell me another lie."
"Fuck you."
"That's the other way, you know."
"Goddamnit."
"Heh heh."
13 : Answering Machine
Chris Jericho.
Everytime he came home from the road, his would find his message machine filled with calls. He'd listen to every one, patiently sitting on the edge of his bed, running his hand through his blonde hair and sighing deeply.
Bills, family, friends -- always the same thing. Nothing new. Nothing out of the ordinary.
He hears the voice of his current lover, crying into the machine, yelling and screaming at him, wondering why he was cheating on him when he said he wouldn't do it. He hears the pleas and the shouts, the questions and the inquisitions... and he winces, like always, when he hears the phone slammed and the machine ending the message.
Always the same. Never changing. Sooner or later, he'd have the same message again... only a different person yelling at him.
Chris Jericho curled up onto the bed and buried his face into the pillow, blocking out the sound of another bill collector talking to him on his answering machine.
14 : A Receptionist's Life
Kane.
He had no clue how he was pulled into this mess. Some stupid dare he accepted from the most lowdown, idiotic person he had ever met... and he still went through with it. He really had nothing to prove. He was stronger than anybody, insaner than everyone, and honestly, no one had to shove him into anything he didn't want to do.
So why was he here again? Oh yes, that's right. He wanted those damn candy bars and free albums of Rammstein, of course. Anything for free candy and Rammstein albums. 'Everyone needs Rich in their lives,' was his motto after all.
Thus, here he was, sitting in front of a desk, with some sort of confangled headgear that attached to him like headphones. A mic was floating right on top of his lips, hovering there like some sort of "fuzzy fuzzball" that annoyed him to kingdom come. Dressed in a tight business suit, he sincerely thought that by the end of the day, either the seams on the shoulders would rip, or he'd have a nice big tear in his pants which would show off his red underwear.
And, of course, his glasses placed on the tip of his nose. He used his index finger to press them upwards, focusing his attention above on the little dots in the ceiling.
The phone went off, and he leaned forward, turning his focus from above to the call. Involuntarily, he faked a smile, and coughed, putting on his infamous "perky" voice.
I better get the fucking Rammstein DVD while I'm at it, he thought to himself.
"Hello, you've reached Titan Towers. I'm Kane. How can I help you today?"
15 : Long-Distance
Chris Benoit, Steve Austin.
"I always liked sunrises. Do you know how pretty they are?"
Chris shakes his head, a light smile forming as he imagines his lover's blue eyes glistening in merriment and glee.
"They're absolutely gorgeous. I like how the sky turns from black to purple, and then all of these... these mesmerizing hues of red and orange and yellow start to form and mix with the twilight, pushing the stars away and then..." Chris hears Steve pause. A chuckle tries to push past his closed lips. He pictures Steve's eyes lighting up even more in awe and excitement as his beautiful, rare smile appears on his face. "Then the colors erupt... the sun's rays appear over the mountains and spark in the sky like fire... it's like God comes down from Heaven, lights a match, and there's the sunrise, a flame illuminating the wold and starting the day."
Giving into the urge, Chris releases his small gruff chuckle. He walks away from his hotel bed, heading over to the window. Pressing a hand to the glass, he sees the reflection of his ice blue eyes, the moonlight shinning onto his body and through the curtains. "I love it when you speak like that, morning star. You're so innocent when you do it."
He grins brighter when he hears Steve's familiar squeak, signalling his blushing fit. "I hate you." Chris hears the faint sigh on the other side, making him listen closer to his lover. "I wish you were here with me."
Laughing gently, Chris closes his eyes. He pretends he's with his lover in California, watching the sunrise in the Mohjave Desert; he pictures holding his hand with Steve's, kissing his cheek, holding him close and never letting go.
He leans forward, pressing his forehead to the window, breathing deeply. "I am there, Steve. I'm always there, by your side. And I always will."
Chris knows Steve's smiling. He doesn't have to imagine it. "Thank you."
Opening his eyes, Chris looks outside the window and sees the sun rising in the way Steve depicted it. He smiles, the phone pressed close to his lips as he kissed the receiver, a message to his love. The image of the sun and Steve's blue eyes haunts his mind -- and will stay implanted in his memories forever. "Anything for you."
Oh? The number? Well, that's easy. ... 42.