Author: Grasshopper (A.K.A. The Undertaker's Muse)
Email: [email protected]
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: BtVS - "New Moon Rising," "Seeing Red." WWE - RAW (03/31/03).
Warning: F/F slash.
Pairing: Willow/Stacy
Summary: Bonding in a bar…
Author's Notes: Okay, my Willow muse decided that I needed a Stacy muse. I have yet to refuse Willow anything, so I went ahead and wrote this. My second attempt at f/f slash.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to themselves, Vince McMahon, and Joss Whedon. The story is a work of fiction that belongs to me alone. The title comes from the song "Brokenheartsville" by Joe Nichols.
Willow's POV
"I can't believe he would do something like that to me! I mean, I knew that he would look at her issue of Playboy, I really did. He's a guy; he does stuff like that. But to lie to me about it, about her? It's humiliating! I mean, Andrew's my boyfriend. Torrie's my best friend, not to mention my ex-lover. They should know better!"
I study the long-legged blond intently, hanging on to her every word. The delicate fingers, attached to delicate hands, gesturing wildly as she spoke of her philandering boyfriend. I watch as she takes a sip of her beer, wiping her mouth when a few drops dribble down her chin.
"I understand completely." The alcohol in my system helps my words to flow freely. "My first - and only - boyfriend cheated on me with some musician, then he tried to kill me. Damn stupid werewolf."
"I know what you mean. I mean, nothing against were-animals of any sort, but wolves always seem to be the most promiscuous."
"Exactly! So he leaves town, I grieve, then I fall in love with someone else. After awhile, he comes waltzing back into town expecting to pick things back up where we left off."
"That bastard!"
"That's not all. When he met up with my girlfriend Tara he could smell my scent on her. Then he proceeds to wolf out on her, like I'm supposed to belong to him and only him!"
"Men are possessive pigs. Hold it, pigs are really smart, right?" I nod. "Thought so. That's an insult to all pigs out there. Men are… They're…"
"Only good for one thing?"
"Yes! And most of them aren't even good at that."
"That's why I'm sticking with women from here on out, sweetie."
"Maybe I should give the whole lesbian thing another try."
I raise my beer bottle in salute. "You've got my support. And my number if you're serious."
Her face lights up in a smile. Goddess, she's so beautiful.
"Why give me your number? We can go back to my hotel room if you like." Her eyes widen, like she's not certain she should have said that. "I'm sorry if I was too forward-"
"No! No, it's fine."
"I'm just not used to this anymore. I mean, Torrie and I were together for a bit, but that ended a long time ago. I've been with men ever since."
"I've only been with one woman, myself. My Tara. She was…amazing. The only person who could make me feel wonderful, worthwhile…loved."
Stacy's eyes shine with sympathy. "You must have loved her very much. She was very lucky."
"I did; I still do. But I was the lucky one."
"So was she, to have someone who loved her so much. Not everyone finds that."
"Sometimes, one just needs to look in the right place." I trail my fingers along the back of her hand, smiling softly. Twining my fingers with her own, I pull her hand towards myself and place a soft kiss along the knuckles.
For a moment, I think she's going to pull away from me… I'm wrong, luckily. Stacy leans in close to me, placing a soft kiss - a mere whisper - upon my lips.
As we leave the bar hand-in-hand, I ponder my luck. My first love, I met in high school. My second love, I met in college. And what may possibly be my third love… Well, we met in a bar.
And they say that third time's the charm.