Title: What I Want (Anything could happen)
Summary: Same old, same old… Randy has feelings for Shawn, but will Shawn notice?
Warnings: I suck at chapter stories, I always lose interest and then never update. But I have mostly everything set for this one,so... Oh and Slash
Notes: Based on true events. …in my mind. Also, this is my first.. first person perspective fic. Whoo! Also.. im usually trying to be funny in fics, but with Randy, i still have to feel him out so this may be a more serious fic still.
Characters/Pairings: Shawnie and Randal. Maybe more added in later
Beaded sweat steadily washed the filmy layer of the remaining oil slicking my body as I sat down on the bench. I felt kinda gross, yet I wouldn't move until my opponent came back thought the curtain as well, until I was sure he was fine. Had to be sure.
I stared down at my reflection in the title I was holding, searching something I couldn't find.
We weren't the best of friends, no, that wasn't my territory. Although I wished we were. To call myself a close friend of his would be a dream. Not to say that i didn't like him...no, i was afraid of really liking him. I always kind of… envied him, especially when I was a lanky, acne ridden, aspiring, young wrestler. He was the man that went out there and got things done, the man that made the women swoon, the man that went out each night, and did whatever he could to make sure everyone got their money's worth.
I wanted to be him.
"Good job out there, kid."
My eyes shot up from the heavy piece of gold in my hands to the warm face calling my attention. I had been staring at it so long, my eyes were blurred. Clearing them, my lips automatically curved to see him standing before me. "To be the man, I guess I gotta job to the man, eh?"
His eyes crinkled at the corners, the reaction I was hoping to ease out of him. "Yeesh, I heard you were an ego maniac, but I didn't think I'd catch you back here, checking yourself out in the title."
I glanced down at the title, my title, still in my hands. I could feel the glinting diamonds that John Cena had put on during his reign, dance across my face with the light. "If I said that it's not what it looks like, would you believe me?"
Shawn chuckled quietly. "No, probably not. You're a good-looking kid anyways, kinda….remind me of me. Ha." He chuckled again, my heart fluttered at his words. "Anyways, I just wanted to make sure I didn't get cha too hard, did I? With the kick, I mean. Sometimes I get carried away..."
I laughed internally. He was checking up on me. "No, no not at all, the kick just got a little close-"
"Oh wow I got you good…" he shuffled over to my spot on the bench, my eyes catching the stiffness in his posture. His own crystal eyes were hard, running down the features of my face. He paused at the small, light-violet mark, staining my skin just below my cheekbone, a frown creasing his forehead. "Randy, next time I get cha that hard, just gimme a stiff…lemme know when I'm too excited! Really, I'm like a five year old, high on sugar cookies when that adrenaline flows though me."
"Don't worry 'bout it, Shawn. I'm WWE Champion, I get paid good money to get banged up. It's kinda in the job description." I paused to steal a glance behind his back. "You should know. How is it?"
"How is… what?" he looked at me with false blank eyes.
I rolled my own. "Your back, nimrod."
"Ouch!" His face contorted. "You can't steal my words and use them against me! Not fair. I call gimmick infringement!"
"Oh shut up, lemme see," I leaned over quickly, before he could object, and pressed my finger tips lightly to the small of his exposed back. I felt him stiffen underneath me, the sun kissed, warm skin contracting as he groan.
I wanted that mental image to stay in my mind forever.
"You're more sore than you should be."
"Call NASA, I think I just found Einstein."
"It's not funny," I muttered.
I wanted him to be safe.
Shawn readjusted his position on the bench to face me. "Kid, I've been wrestling for 20 years. I know pain, we're frequent acquaintances. Besides, what did you just say? 'It's kinda in the job description,' that's the perfect way to put it." He folded his arms across his chest, finalizing the end of the argument. I pursed my lips, knowing my place as a young blood to the veteran sitting in front of me.
I sighed, knowing there was nothing I could do. And it bothered me. It shouldn't- I had known many in pain, and yet I looked at them all as they're just wrestlers, it's how it should be… So why was Shawn different? Why was he always different?
I couldn't say he wasn't ruggedly handsome, even in his forties. It shone out from him, weather he liked it or not. Even sitting there, he was sight, him, staring at me with those defiant, those beautiful eyes, every muscle lining his frame bulging from the previous exertion that just took place, his wild, tangled hair curled behind his ears, and how the trails of sweat made his chest hair all point downwards, as if inviting…
"Earth to Randy? My eyes are up here, big boy!" Shawn's laugh pieced through my thoughts, and I could feel my face begin to burn as my eyes resumed the locked position on his.
"Sorry, I was…distracted."
I felt Shawn clamp his hand down on my shoulder, soothing. "I know how hard it is to be champ… tiring, right?"
"Yeah… I can't seem to focus." Especially with him still touching me.
I wanted him to keep touching me.
He smiled warmly, lifting his hand off seemingly reading my thoughts. "Well you ought to be going, then. We had a long, physical match today." I nodded in agreement. "What hotel are you staying at?"
"The Hilton, down the street," I replied, and my heart's tempo increased when I saw his eyes flash at my reply.
"Me too! The best deserve the best, eh?"
"Right."
"So…" he jerked his head to the exit. "Need a ride there?"
"W-well.." I stammered, wondering about my own car. I could pick it up tomorrow.. its not everyday that Shawn Michaels offers you a ride.
"I got a motorcycle."
My head jerked up painfully fast, searching Shawn's grinning face. A motorcycle? Me, holding Shawn's waist while his hair flowed around me, painstakingly close to him…
Shawn bounced on his toes, impatiently waiting for a response. "Is that a...no..?"
"Yes!" I choked out, finding the words, willing myself to calm down. Shawn was straight, as far as I knew. Then again, as far as anyone knew, I was straight, too.
Anything could happen.
Shawn's giggles brought me back to the present. "Hello, Randy?"
"Yeah, sorry," I muttered again. "I was thinking."
I flinched as he grabbed my shoulder again. "You think too much! Stop it."
"Einsteins have to think, Shawn. It's in our nature. Now go call NASA, I think I just thought up a new formula, that could save the world."
"Oh, yeah? What's that?"
"Me plus you plus motorcycle equals hotel. Hotel equals bed, which is the exponent of sleep, and add them all up, you get happy Randy." I grinned cockily. It was true... add Shawn in anywhere and you get happy Randy.
"You lost me after the first plus."
"Get your ass on the way to the bike." I said, shaking my head.
Shawn cracked a laugh, turning towards the locker rooms. "Gotta change first, hold on. You can meet me out there, it's the one with the HBK license plate."
"And you say I'm the egomaniac. Sure." Another resounding laugh echoed from the locker room as I passed it, shrugging on my jacket. I kept my eyes down on my feet, forcing myself to not peek in to see what exactly he was changing at the moment. What was wrong with me?
I pushed the doors open, the warm spring air slamming into my face. I stopped and inhaled, the scent making me all the more peaceful. This night couldn't get any better. I glanced around for his bike. I smiled when I found it, and that the seat cushion also said "HBK" with his arm tattoo of the heart printed on it. I chuckled softly to myself, hearing the doors close, knowing Shawn was approaching by the sound of his gait.
"Uh oh," he started, looking between me and the seat a few paces away. "Uhm…would you believe me if I said this isn't what it looks like?"
"No, probably not." I flashed a half smile before turning my attention back to the bike. "So… how do we do this?"
He stared at me blankly. "Don't tell me you never done this?" I returned his blank look. "Oh my goodness…I take back my preivous Einstein comment."
"Well jeeze, Shawn, just make me feel like a complete loser!" I fake cried, jutting my chin down to my chest like a dejected 5 year old.
"Awww, there there, don't cry. I'll buy you a ice cream cone on the way, okay?"
"Yaay!" I threw my hands in the air, squealing while Shawn laughed. I surprised myself, usually I was never this childish, even with Cena or Rhodes, or even Hunter.
"Well, just throw your leg over like this-" he swung his leg over the seat. "And grab on to me real tight; I like to go fast." Blood pounded in my ears at the words, rising only when he promptly raised one eyebrow before pulling a bandana off the handlebars and wrapping it around his head.
Damn sexy.
I jumped on the bike behind him, pleased when the slanted end of the seat caused me to lean into him more. I locked my hands firmly around him, reveling in the feeling of his chest rising and falling beneath my arms. I was just tall enough to lay my chin on the top of his bandana covered head, the scent of his hair put my body in ecstasy. I took another mental picture.
"Hold on tight, Cowboy Jr.," He repeated, a wide grin taking up his face, vibrating underneath me as the engine roared to life. I suppressed a rising moan.
I want him.
