(no subject)
title: the phone call
rating: pg
author's note: haven't written crack in a while. and this is utter crap. but since i spent the last hour or so writing it, i may as well share it, yeah? also, although i tried to make it just a general fic, i couldn't help hinting (a lot) at pairings. sorry about that.
the phone call
A week or so ago, Nemanja came up with the idea to call Cristiano on the night of his birthday with everyone on the line at the same time. It was only fitting that Rio absolutely loved the idea, grabbing Nemanja into a headlock and kissing the top of his head.
Nemanja grinned in return, and looked around the room to find out the verdict.
"How the fuck are we going to do that?”
"Haven't you heard of a three-way?"
Paul smirked, nudging Ryan who snorted in return.
“Well. I -”
“Yeah, not that kind of three-way, mate.”
“I don’t see why we can’t call them separately. You two are making things so much more complicated,” Wayne laughed, tying his shoe on the bench.
“It’s so much more fun this way!” Darren exclaimed, obviously excited already. “So, when is this happening?”
Ryan rolled his eyes. “On Cristiano’s birthday.”
“It’s settled then. Remember to keep your mobiles on,” Rio finished.
“I’m not psychic or anything,” Paul whispered to Ryan, “but mine will mysteriously be out of load.”
***
“Hello? Is everyone on the line?”
“You kept me awake this late,” Gary growled from his end, “to say happy fucking birthday?”
“No, you got it all wrong, Gaz. You’re going to say happy birthday.”
“Oh, shut up, you git.”
“Should we take roll?” Nemanja asked. “To make sure. Absentees will be punished.”
“I should probably tell you, then,” Gary snorted. “That Paul’s mobile was surprisingly off. You lot can punish him when you see him next.”
“Well, other than him -” Rio muttered to himself, “I’m pretty sure we have everyone. Wayne? Wayne? Are you still there, mate?”
Wayne had been staring at the white wall ahead of him for the past ten minutes. It took him a few seconds to realize that he was being summoned. “Yeah, yeah, I’m here.”
“Good. Now, go ahead and dial, and we’ll meet you back on this line. Got it?”
Wayne clicked over to the vacant line, taking comfort in the dial tone. At least he was free from the madness of his team mates for a little while. He smiled to himself.
***
“Alright, remember the plan. No one says a word when Cristiano and Wayne get on our end.”
“Wait what? I don’t remember this plan.”
“It doesn’t matter. Just don’t speak. At all.”
“Well, fuck. How am I going to say happy birthday then? Telepathically?”
“Wes. Just. Shut up, okay?”
“Fine,” he sighs. “But I hope you’re getting my hate messages via brain waves.”
***
“Hello?”
“Hey,” Wayne smiled instantly. “It’s me.”
“Hi. How are you?”
“I’m good. Can you hold on for a second?”
“Yeah.”
Wayne glanced at his mobile, and pressed the FLASH button, then continued. “Can you hear me?”
“Loud and clear.”
“A couple of us just wanted to say something.” Wayne waited for the eruption of voices but nothing came, and he hoped he hadn’t screwed up the whole plan. And his thoughts instantly flashed to the rest of the lads on some other line, waiting (and waiting) for him and Cristiano to come on. “Um. Guys? Rio?”
“Are you feeling okay, Wayne?”
“We - I - wanted to say happy birthday!”
A laugh, “You stayed up until midnight just to greet me?”
“Actually.” The striker thought for a moment, before deciding against telling him about Nemanja’s idea. “Actually, I wanted to say much more than that.” He paused, then convincing himself that it was only him and Cristiano, added, “I wish you weren’t so far away right now.”
“Not too far away, silly.”
“I know. But you might as well be across the world because you’re not with me,” Wayne whispered. “And -”
His soul-baring speech was halted when someone swore at the top of their lungs, “SHIT!”
“Hello?”
“Fuck.”
“Rio?”
“Um,” Darren saved, and changed his voice. “I’m sorry, you have reached an unknown number. Please hang up and try again.”
“Darren?”
“Rio! I, Wesley, would like to know why you made us all stay quiet. Oh, and your brain has about fifty unanswered messages. When you have the time, please be answering them.”
“Wes, you twat!” Gary scolded. “And it was just getting good, too.”
“Honestly. I had to wipe away tears,” Ryan dead panned.
“Guys?”
Wayne didn’t have the courage to say anything, his face flushed crimson red.
“Before we forget,” Rio exclaimed, “on the count of three, everyone. One, two, and three.”
A round of happy birthdays sounded through the mobile, and Cristiano grinned ear to ear, “Thank you very much.”
“One guess as to what happened to Wayne,” Patrice laughed.
“Probably driving to Rio’s to kick his ass.”
“Or he got so red that he overheated.”
“Nemanja?”
“Yes, Rio?”
“You might as well be across the universe, because you are not with me.”
And the phone erupted with laughter.
“Oh, Rio,” Nemanja added, “I wish you weren’t so far away.”
“I hate you all.”
“Ah, and lover boy speaks.”
***
Twenty minutes later, Wayne finally found himself really alone with Cristiano.
“Well,” the winger began, “that was a surprise.”
“They were suppose to be there at the very beginning. Gits.”
“They were, Wayne. Remember?” Cristiano mocked.
Wayne laughed, and let silence consume them both.
“Did they hang up?” a voice asked.
“I think so.”
It was unmistakably Ryan and Gary.
“Wayne kind of reminds me of a younger version of Paul.”
“What? Wayne and Paul?”
“Well,” Ryan explained. “Remember that one time when we accidentally eaves dropped on him on the phone with Ole?”
Gary snorted, “He even recited poetry. I didn’t know he read poems.”
“At least there are still romantic people in the world.”
“And what is that suppose to mean?”
“It’d be nice to hear some poetry from you every once in a while!”
“You want poetry? I’ll give you poetry. Em, let’s see.” Gary didn’t say anything for a few seconds before, “Roses are red. Violets are not. Gary thinks Ryan is very, very hot.”
“That has -” but Ryan was cut off by Wayne.
“To be the worst poetry I’ve heard in my entire life.”
“What in the name of all that is normal?!”
“What do you think, Cristiano? Love it or hate it?”
“I don’t know,” the winger sounded like he was in deep thought. “But we must also take into consideration the intelligence of the poet.”
“Good point.”
“Tell anyone about this, and I will have your heads.”
“You have my word.”
“Roses are red….”
“Violets are not…” Cristiano continued.
“Wayne Rooney isn’t as stupid as everyone thought.”
They heard a distinct click.
“I think they really are gone, now.”
“Good,” Wayne smiled. “Hey Ronnie? Happy birthday, again.”
rating: pg
author's note: haven't written crack in a while. and this is utter crap. but since i spent the last hour or so writing it, i may as well share it, yeah? also, although i tried to make it just a general fic, i couldn't help hinting (a lot) at pairings. sorry about that.
the phone call
A week or so ago, Nemanja came up with the idea to call Cristiano on the night of his birthday with everyone on the line at the same time. It was only fitting that Rio absolutely loved the idea, grabbing Nemanja into a headlock and kissing the top of his head.
Nemanja grinned in return, and looked around the room to find out the verdict.
"How the fuck are we going to do that?”
"Haven't you heard of a three-way?"
Paul smirked, nudging Ryan who snorted in return.
“Well. I -”
“Yeah, not that kind of three-way, mate.”
“I don’t see why we can’t call them separately. You two are making things so much more complicated,” Wayne laughed, tying his shoe on the bench.
“It’s so much more fun this way!” Darren exclaimed, obviously excited already. “So, when is this happening?”
Ryan rolled his eyes. “On Cristiano’s birthday.”
“It’s settled then. Remember to keep your mobiles on,” Rio finished.
“I’m not psychic or anything,” Paul whispered to Ryan, “but mine will mysteriously be out of load.”
***
“Hello? Is everyone on the line?”
“You kept me awake this late,” Gary growled from his end, “to say happy fucking birthday?”
“No, you got it all wrong, Gaz. You’re going to say happy birthday.”
“Oh, shut up, you git.”
“Should we take roll?” Nemanja asked. “To make sure. Absentees will be punished.”
“I should probably tell you, then,” Gary snorted. “That Paul’s mobile was surprisingly off. You lot can punish him when you see him next.”
“Well, other than him -” Rio muttered to himself, “I’m pretty sure we have everyone. Wayne? Wayne? Are you still there, mate?”
Wayne had been staring at the white wall ahead of him for the past ten minutes. It took him a few seconds to realize that he was being summoned. “Yeah, yeah, I’m here.”
“Good. Now, go ahead and dial, and we’ll meet you back on this line. Got it?”
Wayne clicked over to the vacant line, taking comfort in the dial tone. At least he was free from the madness of his team mates for a little while. He smiled to himself.
***
“Alright, remember the plan. No one says a word when Cristiano and Wayne get on our end.”
“Wait what? I don’t remember this plan.”
“It doesn’t matter. Just don’t speak. At all.”
“Well, fuck. How am I going to say happy birthday then? Telepathically?”
“Wes. Just. Shut up, okay?”
“Fine,” he sighs. “But I hope you’re getting my hate messages via brain waves.”
***
“Hello?”
“Hey,” Wayne smiled instantly. “It’s me.”
“Hi. How are you?”
“I’m good. Can you hold on for a second?”
“Yeah.”
Wayne glanced at his mobile, and pressed the FLASH button, then continued. “Can you hear me?”
“Loud and clear.”
“A couple of us just wanted to say something.” Wayne waited for the eruption of voices but nothing came, and he hoped he hadn’t screwed up the whole plan. And his thoughts instantly flashed to the rest of the lads on some other line, waiting (and waiting) for him and Cristiano to come on. “Um. Guys? Rio?”
“Are you feeling okay, Wayne?”
“We - I - wanted to say happy birthday!”
A laugh, “You stayed up until midnight just to greet me?”
“Actually.” The striker thought for a moment, before deciding against telling him about Nemanja’s idea. “Actually, I wanted to say much more than that.” He paused, then convincing himself that it was only him and Cristiano, added, “I wish you weren’t so far away right now.”
“Not too far away, silly.”
“I know. But you might as well be across the world because you’re not with me,” Wayne whispered. “And -”
His soul-baring speech was halted when someone swore at the top of their lungs, “SHIT!”
“Hello?”
“Fuck.”
“Rio?”
“Um,” Darren saved, and changed his voice. “I’m sorry, you have reached an unknown number. Please hang up and try again.”
“Darren?”
“Rio! I, Wesley, would like to know why you made us all stay quiet. Oh, and your brain has about fifty unanswered messages. When you have the time, please be answering them.”
“Wes, you twat!” Gary scolded. “And it was just getting good, too.”
“Honestly. I had to wipe away tears,” Ryan dead panned.
“Guys?”
Wayne didn’t have the courage to say anything, his face flushed crimson red.
“Before we forget,” Rio exclaimed, “on the count of three, everyone. One, two, and three.”
A round of happy birthdays sounded through the mobile, and Cristiano grinned ear to ear, “Thank you very much.”
“One guess as to what happened to Wayne,” Patrice laughed.
“Probably driving to Rio’s to kick his ass.”
“Or he got so red that he overheated.”
“Nemanja?”
“Yes, Rio?”
“You might as well be across the universe, because you are not with me.”
And the phone erupted with laughter.
“Oh, Rio,” Nemanja added, “I wish you weren’t so far away.”
“I hate you all.”
“Ah, and lover boy speaks.”
***
Twenty minutes later, Wayne finally found himself really alone with Cristiano.
“Well,” the winger began, “that was a surprise.”
“They were suppose to be there at the very beginning. Gits.”
“They were, Wayne. Remember?” Cristiano mocked.
Wayne laughed, and let silence consume them both.
“Did they hang up?” a voice asked.
“I think so.”
It was unmistakably Ryan and Gary.
“Wayne kind of reminds me of a younger version of Paul.”
“What? Wayne and Paul?”
“Well,” Ryan explained. “Remember that one time when we accidentally eaves dropped on him on the phone with Ole?”
Gary snorted, “He even recited poetry. I didn’t know he read poems.”
“At least there are still romantic people in the world.”
“And what is that suppose to mean?”
“It’d be nice to hear some poetry from you every once in a while!”
“You want poetry? I’ll give you poetry. Em, let’s see.” Gary didn’t say anything for a few seconds before, “Roses are red. Violets are not. Gary thinks Ryan is very, very hot.”
“That has -” but Ryan was cut off by Wayne.
“To be the worst poetry I’ve heard in my entire life.”
“What in the name of all that is normal?!”
“What do you think, Cristiano? Love it or hate it?”
“I don’t know,” the winger sounded like he was in deep thought. “But we must also take into consideration the intelligence of the poet.”
“Good point.”
“Tell anyone about this, and I will have your heads.”
“You have my word.”
“Roses are red….”
“Violets are not…” Cristiano continued.
“Wayne Rooney isn’t as stupid as everyone thought.”
They heard a distinct click.
“I think they really are gone, now.”
“Good,” Wayne smiled. “Hey Ronnie? Happy birthday, again.”