Title: Home For the Holidays
Author: Jinni (druscilla@cox.net)
Rated: PG13
Pairing: W/Brock
Genre: BtVS/WWE Crossover
Disclaimer: All things BtVS belong to Joss Whedon, et al. All things WWE belong to Vince McMahon, et al.
Distribution: Wrestling Fate, Aislin, WLS, BMP, NHA.
Author’s Note: Holiday Quickie #11. Pairing #115 at the Quickie Challenge.

~*~

She felt the impact long before she actually ran straight into her partner’s outstretched arm.

That is to say, her brain registered what the contact was going to feel like and started screaming at her to just stop dead in her tracks, threatening her with the promise of pain.

The actual pain itself she didn’t feel until she did slam right into that arm, letting the force of the impact carry her backwards and flat onto her back.

At least she landed properly.

But that didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt.

"Ow."

"Ow?"

"Yeah. Ow." She grumbled, climbing to her feet to glare at her practice partner. The glare was made considerably less threatening by the fact that she had to look up, up, up; just to do it. He was too tall, she decided once again. Too tall and too muscley and. . .

‘And you still think he’s the greatest thing since sliced bread.’ She reminded herself with a wry, internal grin.

"Earth to Willow. Are you there?"

The red head blinked at the over muscled wrestler, giving him a grin.

"Yeah, Brock. I’m here. Just a little winded, I guess. Running into your arm is sorta like running into a steel girder, you know. The other guys at least give way a little when I run into them."

The wrestler smirked, but nodded that he understood just the same. He was a big guy. He knew that. Everyone else knew that. There were relatively few people in the company that were even willing to use him as their workout partner.

And Willow was one of them.

She had taken the world of wrestling by storm, never talking about her past, the friends and family she left behind. Not even three months had passed since the day she first set foot in the company, bringing with her waves of destruction that made even Kane and Undertaker proud. She was Hell on two legs, a true spitfire of a women’s division wrestler. And she packed it all in this little bitty, teeny tiny, package that looked like she could break under the first good breeze.

He hadn’t been fooled.

Women that look innocent and fragile usually are not. Especially in this line of work.

"That’s enough for today." He stated firmly, noticing for the first time that they were the only ones left in the gym. How time flew when he was practicing with her, as though every minute was something to be treasured and . . .

Wow. The Next Big Thing was strung out on a girl. He shook his head, turning to Willow wouldn’t see the soft smile on his face.

"But I don’t wanna stop. . . I’m fine. . . really."

"Willow." Brock sighed, his expression controlled when he turned back to her. "It’s Christmas Eve. Go back to the hotel. Call your friends or family or whoever and share some holiday cheer with them."

It was the wrong thing to say, though he didn’t know it until the words left his mouth, traveled to her ear, and her face crumpled like a wad of paper in his hand. Before he could even open his mouth to apologize for whatever it was that he had done to upset her, she was crying. Standing there, in the middle of the ring, she was sobbing her pretty little heart out.

"Hey . . ." He murmured, taking a step closer to her. When she didn’t back away from the advance he moved even closer, until finally he was close enough to just take her in his arms and hold her while she cried out whatever misery was in her heart.

"Friends?" She sniffled into his chest. "What friends? My friends told me they never wanted to see me again. And all because of one mistake. One little mistake. Sure, it was a big mistake, not really a little one at all. But aren’t friends supposed to be there for you? Through thick and thin and all that?"

"I thought so." Brock sighed, understanding. She had run away from her friends, from her problems. And he had just reminded her of them. Reminded her that she had no one to spend the holidays with, when he was pretty sure, now, that she had already been quite painfully aware of that fact to begin with. "So – what were you planning on doing tonight?"

She shrugged, still sniffling in his embrace, though now her face began to heat up as she realized that she was in Brock’s arms. Brock. The one that she had those terribly naughty dreams about once or twice a week. Her workout partner and friend. Goddess, could life get any more complicated?

"Go back to my hotel room and order a bottle of their cheapest wine and drink myself senseless?"

Brock raised an eyebrow, quietly wondering how many other nights she had done what she just said. Probably many more than he would have liked. Far more than she deserved to have to go through. She was smart, pretty, and a wonder to be around. The despair of drinking was something she definitely did not deserve.

"How about you come back to my room, we’ll order room service and some pay-per-view movies?"

To Willow’s ears, it sounded like a date. Albeit a very on the road type date, but a date nonetheless. To Brock’s ears, he sounded like a fool, inviting a woman that he had come to like back to his room for something as silly as room service and movies. If he could have dreamed up his idea of a worst first date, that probably would have been it.

But, she surprised them both.

"I’d love to. Let me get showered and changed?"

~*~

Willow snuggled down into the crook of Brock’s arm, lifting another spoonful of ice cream to her mouth. She wasn’t sure what they were watching at that moment, and if anyone asked her what had only *just* happened on the screen, she would have been at a loss to say. Her entire mind and body was focused on one thing.

Well, two things, if you included the ice cream she was molesting currently.

Brock.

She was sitting so close to him that she was, literally, nestled in the crook of his arm. His thigh was brushing up against her legs. It was hard not to feel like a child next to a giant when sitting with him like this, a thought that caused her to snicker.

"What’s so funny?"

The red head smirked.

"Nothing, really. Just that I look like a child sitting next to a giant." She gestured down to where their legs touched, his thigh large and thick. "We really are an odd couple."

Dear, sweet, Goddess.

Had she really just called them an ‘odd couple’.

Couple.

As in, two people that are currently together. The ‘together’ that denoted dating or marriage or something similar.

She held her breath, hoping that the man next to her wouldn’t notice her slip of the tongue.

‘Please, please, please.’ Willow prayed silently. This wasn’t how she wanted things to happen, after all. She didn’t want to tell him at all how she felt about him, much less in this way, sort of blurting it out when least expected.

"Couple?" He was confused and she was mortified.

"Was just a figure of speech." She blushed. "I didn’t mean ‘couple’ as in, you know, dating or anything else. Because, we’re not. We’re friends."

Brock frowned.

"Yeah, friends."

Willow was left to ponder the expression on his face as he turned back to the movie. She took another spoonful of ice cream and then, deciding that the look on his face warranted at least one more, innocent, question, she ventured,

"Are you happy being just friends, Brock?"

His eyes were dark and unreadable when he turned to look at her. She found herself memorizing the lines of his face while she waited for an answer, any answer. He was handsome, in an over muscular, ‘I can rip you apart with my bare hands’, type of way. On all of the other guys in the WWE that turned her off. On him, it made her warm and fuzzy.

She saw his mouth open, and held her breath expectantly for her answer.

Only to be greeted by a question.

"Are *you* happy with being just friends?"

"Oh, no, mister." Willow shook her head, putting her bowl of ice cream on the nightstand next to the bed. "You will not be turning this back around on me. I asked you a question and I demand an answer." She paused, her eyes pleading. "Please?"

Brock sighed and shook his head.

"No. I’m not happy with it. I’d like to be more. But your friendship means more to me than trying anything. So you don’t need to worry."

Willow bit her lip.

"I don’t think I’ll be worrying about it very much." She chuckled, before throwing herself into his lap, smushing her lips to his in a kiss that she intended to be warm and caring.

And that turned out to be quite the opposite – passionate and decidedly sensual.

"Is that the answer to *my* question?" Brock asked carefully, his eyes wandering over the swollen lips of the woman that had thoroughly invaded his lap in one leaping pounce.

"If you want it to be." Willow replied with all sincerity. "You’re the best thing that’s happened to me since getting here, you know. And I know we didn’t hit it off that well to begin with. What with your manager being a –"

"Pig?" Brock snorted. Paul Heyman was now, fortunately, long gone from the WWE. He had harassed far too many of the female wrestlers and they had organized a Paul bashing event which left the rotund manager bleeding and broken. He had been warned, anonymously of course, that if he came back after his stay in the hospital they would do far worse.

And so he had, wisely, stayed gone.

"I think calling him that is an insult to swine around the world." Willow smirked. She trailed a hand lightly over the t-shirt that Brock was wearing. It was just a plain white one, and adhered nicely to those muscles of his chest and stomach.

"That could be true." Brock smiled. "So – are we an item now."

"I’d like to be." Willow admitted, blushing shyly.

"Then that’s settled." This time it was Brock that initiated the kiss, his lips tender on hers despite his size and the demeanor he presented to the world during each and every match. He was a tender giant, at least to her.

"You know. . ." Willow smiled, pulling away from him. "They say home is where the heart is. . . And right now, I’m thinking I did manage to go home for the holidays."

~*~The End~*~