A/N: Another Shrock request for my girl LT, figured it might make her feel better. Plus I've been trying to get it done forever. Enjoy! Also I don't own anyone in here except one...but I'm not telling. XD
He sat at his desk rubbing his temples as the three grown men across from him shifted and fidgeted in their seats. Chris and Striker were all wearing slight blushes on their faces while Glenn stared down at his nails; a pleased smirk on his face. Shane finally looked up, breaking the silence with a half growl.
"Now I personally don't care about you're intimate lives. But when they start interfering with your professional lives…"
"Don't look at me, my in ring work is the same as before." Glenn spoke up, his brown eyes dancing with either laughter or lust; it was hard to tell with him, he was such an odd duck.
"That's not what I mean. Each of you are still performing at or above expectations in that regard. But DAMMIT guys I'm tired of the other talent coming to me and telling me that they've run across one of you three engaged in lewd acts in the halls, in catering…"
"Catering?" Striker asked. "I've never done anything anywhere other than my locker room."
Shane sent a pointed glare at Glenn who just laughed and shrugged his shoulders.
"What? I couldn't help it, besides Hardy was trying to play in my yard." He said with a laugh. "I had to show dominance somehow."
"Not by taking the poor girl on the table with people watching and cat-calling." Shane sighed.
"I didn't hear any complaints from her." Glenn smirked.
"Alright," Shane rubbed his temples again, wondering why Chris was staying so quiet but not questioning it. "Listen, if you guys can't keep your bedroom play either in your locker rooms or in your hotel rooms I'll have no choice but to ban those girls from the events. Do I make myself clear?"
The three men nodded and filed out of the room, Striker asking if Glenn really did do something in catering and the large bald man laughing as he moved away. Shane leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, his head resting against the back of the chair. He groaned and using his foot twirled himself, opening his eyes and watching as the ceiling circled dizzily as he sped up the spinning. He was so engrossed in what he was doing he didn't hear the door close quietly; nor did he hear the soft shuffle of footsteps that sounded on the bare concrete flooring.
"So this is what the wonder boy of the company does in his spare time?"
Shane's chair came to a complete stop and he jerked his head up from the back of the chair, his eyes trying to focus as the room whirled and tilted around the person speaking. Shane's mouth worked quietly as he stared, hardly daring to believe that he was actually standing there. Granted he should have known, after all he was hosting RAW that night so it shouldn't have been that much of a shock. But the sudden jolt that rocked his body had Shane almost sweating as his eyes wandered over the fit form of Dwayne.
"Johnson." Shane murmured; his voice nowhere near steady enough to be louder than a whisper.
"I was told to report to you once my opening segment was done." Dwayne grinned; his eyes flickering over the face of the man that had once whispered seductively in his ear.
"Um, yea. Well you have complete run of tonight's events. You'll have a couple of run ins with some of the talent; notably Chris Jericho. He'll ramble on about winning the first ever undisputed championship…"
"Creative still wants him to whine about that?" Dwayne asked as he dropped down in one of the chairs across from Shane and propped his feet up on the desk.
Shane rolled his eyes and continued to read from the paper, looking up every so often to gage Dwayne's reaction—atleast that's what he told himself. A knock on the door interrupted the briefing session and both man glared at the door; hating the fact that their moment had been intruded on. Shane called a curt 'Come in' and went back to shuffling the papers on his desk; forcing himself to keep his eyes down instead of staring at Dwayne.
"Sir, there's been a little...um, incident, out in the hall."
"Like what?"
"Jacobs and Wight…"
"Are they both clothed?"
"Jacob's isn't wearing a shirt but other than that yes."
Shane rolled his eyes and called security then waved the man away; mumbling about brainless talent as he fixed his eyes once more on Dwayne. The younger man smirked and lazily put his feet back up, crossing them at the ankle and raising his eyebrow at Shane; silently asking if he liked the view he was getting.
"Seems like you need some help around here." Dwayne said; flicking his tongue out to wet his lips. "You never had these problems when I was around."
"Is that an offer?"
"Perhaps. But somehow I don't think that RAW or SmackDown is quite ready for 'The Rock' to come back. Besides if I did I'd have to wipe that little smirk off Irvine's face and embarrass him in front of that pretty little raven headed woman of his." Dwayne laughed and dropped his feet. "How have you been Shane?" He asked as he reached across the desk and took Shane's hand in his.
"Busy." Shane's heart thundered in his chest and he swallowed as Dwayne slowly caressed the back of his hand with the pad of his thumb.
"I've missed you." It was said quietly, the words mere whispers in the silence.
"I missed you too."
Dwayne opened his mouth to say something else but a knock on the door followed by it swinging open cut him off.
"Mr. Johnson, you're segment with Jericho is next."
Dwayne rose from his chair and shook Shane's hand, staring into his eyes before turning and heading through the door. The rest of the night somehow conspired to keep Shane and Dwayne apart; but when Shane finally made it to his car the lone sheet of folded paper lay under the windshield wiper. Shane plucked it free and opened it, his lips quirking up in a smile as he read and reread the flowing script.
It was a long time coming but finally The Rock returned to his one true love. And this time The Rock ain't going nowhere.
Shane smiled as he was gently pulled backwards, his back colliding with a hard chest. Lips moved against his neck and he closed his eyes; praying that when they opened he wasn't standing there by himself looking like an idiot.
