A/N: I wrote this fic years ago, around the same time I wrote Bottomline (which was written two weeks before Shawn's actual Hall of Fame induction). In fact, this can be somehow of a "prequel" of that. So yeah, it has really been that long. I don't really remember why it took me this long to upload this. This one's written in Triple H's point-of-view. It seems like first person P.O.V. type is what I can write best. Here it goes…

Screw You

"I don't know that we've decided all that. I get the final decision on that and it's hard to narrow it down to one, and that's what I've been telling him. I've got it down to two. And I'm running out of time."

–Shawn Michaels on if Triple H is inducting him

"Got it down to two". Two weeks to go before the ceremony itself and there are still two people he's choosing from. I understand he's taking his time and all but seriously, we've got to announce a name before the induction, but he hasn't given us anything yet. And if that isn't a problem already in itself, it does not bode well to me at all that Vince has been pestering me constantly to pester Shawn to give us a name.

The last time I talked to Shawn, I didn't bring up anything work related at all. We've come to a point in our lives that there is something more to life than championship belts and storylines. I mean, we've both settled down now—with our respective partners, may I add—and are fathers to at least two kids each. A one hour phone call is never enough to discuss the mischief of Aurora and Cheyenne alone. We need another hour to discuss Cameron and Murphy, and another full hour for the latest addition to my family, Vaughn. Long gone are the days when a three hour conversation was about Shawn Michaels for the first hour, Triple H for the second and everyone else for the third. But then again, those talks were done face-to-face rather than phone.

There are probably two reasons why I didn't bring up the topic of his induction for the Hall of Fame during that last phone call. One, we were both so into discussing the progresses of our children—what they've been up to and what we're scared they might do next; and two, I think Shawn has had enough of it already from everybody—from Vince to radio interviews to his Twat, I meant, Twitter followers. Plus, it's awkward for me to keep reminding him about having to make that decision because he already knows it; moreover, I don't want it to come off as me implying that he should pick me. I mean, will you really pressure your best friend to pick you as the best man in his wedding? That decision has to VOLUNTARILY come from the groom, right?

He has talked about having narrowed it down to two already, but seriously, there are still two? Why does he have a choice to make anyway? It seems too obvious to everybody who shall be inducting him, so why does he seem to have a hard time picking? I mean, who better to induct him than the guy who has been there with him for the past sixteen years, through thick and thin, and who probably knows him better than anyone else?

He says he wants it to be meaningful. But at the same time, he wants it to have that surprise impact that people will be buzzing about it even before the ceremony is held. I'm not surprised. That's always how Shawn has been. He wants it to be fun, to be "controversial" in a way, to be the "IT" thing of the night. That's why Shawn has been tagged as the "Showstopper". He always, always wants to steal the show.

I'm not quite sure whom the two people he has narrowed it down to are, to be honest. He has mentioned a couple of names… Kev, myself, and even Bret. I don't want to assume that I'm one of those two, but sometimes, I just can't help it. I mean, I don't want to get my hopes up, but I think if you have the same relationship I have with Shawn, it's hard not to expect. Fortunately, I haven't lost sleep over this matter yet, but as we get nearer and nearer, I think I'll blow up suddenly one day if Vince doesn't get off my case.

I won't expect. I'll just hope and wait. And if that announcement comes, I'll be ready.

I'm disturbed from my thoughts by the ringing of my cellphone. You know the feeling when you're having the best dream then suddenly your alarm goes off? Makes you want to kill someone, right?

"Hello." I answer nonchalantly. Although I'm trying my best to keep my irritability at bay.

"Levesque!" It's Kev. Why does he sound too enthusiastic for my liking?

"Big Man! What's up?" I don't have a good feeling about this call, but I'm going to try to play it cool.

"So I believe congratulations are in order?", he asked teasingly.

I remain in my seat dumbfounded. Congratulations for what? Stephanie isn't pregnant, is she? She would tell me before anyone else, right? "For…?" I think I just managed to spurt that out on auto-pilot.

"You mean you don't know?! It's all over the Internet now… Shawn has made a decision.", he divulged as a matter-of-factly.

"Oh! You mean…" I rushed to the nearest computer and reached for the mouse. Google Chrome. Double click. . Enter. Then there it was.

In big bold letters: FRIENEMIES. Both best friend and arch rival to induct Shawn Michaels into the Hall of Fame.

On one side of the picture, there was Shawn, with that mischievous grin on his face that lets me know that he's up to no good. And on the other side, there's me.

And Bret.

"Son of a…", I mutter automatically. I forget Kevin's still on the other end of the line up until I hear him speak again.

"He said it's his night, so he really doesn't deserve to be given a hard time deciding. So he'll rather let you have the hard time. See you in Atlanta, man!", he finished off with one last teasing chuckle.

I placed my phone down with a bit more force than necessary. Shawn always had his way of getting what he wanted. He wanted it to be meaningful; he wanted it to be controversial. And he got it.

Screw you, Shawn. Screw you.

Then my phone beeped. "No Hunt, I just screwed you. :-)"