I wrote this a while ago and just recently found it. It's just a fun short story I actually really like. I have no idea why I never posted it before.

Paul kicked off his shoes and slammed the front door behind him. His back ached like mad and he felt like he had been run over by a steamroller. Why he had folded to Shawn's demands about living on a ranch was a mystery. He let out a pained grunt and arched his back in attempt to crack it. The back did crack and Paul moaned out in a mixture of relief and discomfort. Stupid Shawn, he cursed. Stupid wooden fences which needed fixing. He was a businessman, not a rancher.

Paul stood up straight and took in the hallway. At least Shawn had done something with his day. The hallway was cleaner than it had been when Paul had gone outside to fix the fence this morning. The wood flooring had been swept and cleaned and Shawn had even laid out new mats. The pictures on the walls had also been straightened and polished. Paul smiled; the smell of bleach hung in the air. There was nothing better than coming into a clean home.

"Shawn, we really need to talk about this rural living." Paul called through the hallway in hope his spouse would hear him. Paul kicked his mud trodden boots into the corner of the hallway and walked into the living-room.

The living room was how he had left it. The Television was off, his coffee mug was still sat on its usual spot on the oak coffee table and his sofa still had his body-shaped mould from where he had previously sat in the soft leather. Without a second thought, Paul plopped himself down into the space and put his feet up on the coffee table. Now he could enjoy himself. Shawn was somewhere lost in their huge ranch and Paul could watch TV without the constant nagging and reminders of pending tasks. He flipped the television on by the remote.

"Paul, have you seen Mr Whiskers?" Shawn's voice yelled from the kitchen which was a door way from the living room. Paul frowned, that stupid stray cat. All it ever did was lick its ass, sleep on Shawn's lap and hiss at Paul. His day would be much better if the thing had fallen into the washing machine.

"No." Paul muttered before he pressed the 'up' button for volume on the remote. Safe and snuggled up in his sofa, Paul felt his back muscles relax and relief rush through his tired muscles. Working the ranch was just as tiring as wrestling and he had given that up full-time a while ago. He rubbed his nose and took in the television programme. It was about couples who bought antiques and took them to auction. It amazed him what crap some people bought.

"I can't find him…. Mr Whiskers!" Shawn's voice boomed and echoed throughout the house. Paul turned up the volume on his TV again. "Here Mr Whiskers! I have some treats for you!"

The first couple, Couple A as the orange host had referred to them as, had found some kind of strange bronze lamp. Its base was shaped like a petite angel with both arms raised above her head. In her hands, she held the light bulb. The thing was damn ugly and Paul had already decided Couple A were stupid for wasting a dollar on it let alone sixty-five.

"Paul…. I can't find the cat." Shawn's voice was normal and close. From the corner of Paul's eyes, as he could not be bothered to turn around from his position, he saw Shawn standing in the kitchen doorway with his hands on his hips. Paul returned his gaze to the television.

"Maybe it's outside or on the bed," Paul said with a shrug. "It'll come back when it's hungry."

"It's gone six o'clock and he's normally back at five for din-dins…" Shawn paused and Paul knew what was coming. "Can you help me look?"

"I'm not searching for a stray cat just because it's a little late for dinner," Paul said incredulously. He did his best to keep his eyes on the TV as he spoke. Team B were searching an antique store for something to rival the ugly lamp. "It'll come back when it's hungry. Which reminds me, what are we having for dinner? You said yourself it's gone six."

"Nothing until we find my cat." Shawn said spitefully before the kitchen door slammed shut. Paul whipped around harshly and glared daggers at the door which vibrated from the impact. Paul scrunched up his nose in irritation but turned back to his television. His other half could be such a child at times.

Paul's stomach roared when the clock chimed for seven o'clock. Shawn had been quiet for the rest of the evening and no smells were prevalent from the kitchen. True to his word, Shawn was not going to start cooking until his stupid cat was back. Paul stood up from his place on the sofa and his back sang out in dull ache. He hissed, closing his eyes as the ache subsided. He needed a bath and a massage. He walked into the kitchen.

Several bags of cat treats were slung all around the work surfaces and on the floor were two full bowls of cat food. The smell was revolting and made Paul gag. He hated the cat and he hated the shit it ate even more. He had planned on making a sandwich but at the state of the kitchen; ordering a takeaway would be much more hygienic.

"Shawn! Have you found the cat?" Paul yelled into the air. Mentioning the state of the kitchen would only put Shawn on the defensive.

"No!" A faint yell returned. Paul growled, stupid cat. His stomach growled again. He was so hungry.

"Shawn, I'm going to order in. Should I get your usual?"

"No!" Was the second faint yell.

"Well, what do you want then? I'm getting Chinese."

"Nothing"

Paul blinked. "You've got to eat something… maybe they'll bring your cat back."

The kitchen door burst open and stood in the doorway was a very frustrated and slightly angry Shawn Michaels. Paul smiled, perhaps his joke about the cat was a little premature for his partner's taste. Paul raised his hands in surrender before Shawn could open his mouth.

"I know. I'm sorry. Look, your cat is probably just out for a walk and will come back when it's ready. Cats usually have two homes so maybe he's hanging out there?"

Shawn looked even more offended. "My cat would not go round to the neighbours when he has a perfectly good life here."

"Shawn, you did find the cat. You never adopted it. Maybe… he went home?"

"His home is here." Shawn stomped into the kitchen and snatched a packet of cat treats from the kitchen table. He shook the contents in hope the feline would catch the sound and come running in. It never did. Paul sighed.

"Shawnie, please don't make me go out searching for it. My back hurts and I just want to relax."

"Your back hurts? Oh I'm sorry, I guess I forgot how bad your back can be after a few hours of hard labour." Shawn crossed his arms and scowled. "Thank god we don't have kids. Heaven forbid if you have to search for a lost child with a back like yours."

Paul rubbed his brow and just sighed. Shawn could be impossible when he got like this. Paul lowered his hand from his face and took in the red face of his spouse. Shawn was difficult. Far too difficult. Paul felt the dull ache of his back kick in again. He needed to sit down.

"I've been out fixing a stupid fence because all this stupid labour has made your back worse, if that is even possible. Maybe, just maybe, if we lived somewhere which wasn't a ranch you wouldn't be losing cats or small children and you might not need a walking stick some days."

Shawn threw his arms up in the air in exasperation and swore. Immediately, Paul had regretted his words. Shawn was a proud man underneath. Shawn was a man who did not like to show weakness. Paul took a small step forward and placed his hand on Shawn's tensed shoulder.

"I'm sorry but you started that. Shawn, just forget about the cat and come sit down with me. If it's not back in the morning we can go searching when it's light." Paul gave his partner a gentle shake. "I promise I'll look for the cat when it gets light. Just leave the back door open and the food out until we go to bed. He might turn up."

"Yeah… yeah you're right." Shawn said softly. He wrapped his arms around Paul's middle and buried his face into his chest. "I'm sorry I lost it a little there."

"Its fine," Paul said softly as he embraced his lover. "I'm used to it."

The cat had not peeked its head around the kitchen door at any point of the evening. Paul could smell the disgusting food through the open doorway but he had bitten his tongue. It had been his idea to leave the shit out in hopes of coaxing the feline in.

The television had been awful and that was just how Paul liked it. They had watched a television show about a couple buying a home abroad and after that a television show about a couple with a stupidly high budget making their dream home. Shawn had been oddly quiet through and through. Paul had tried to pry little comments from him which had worked but his partner did not rant or commentate like he normally would have done. The cat must have hung heavily on his mind.

"Shawn…" Paul whispered up at the form on top of him. Shawn, who had one side of his face pressed into Paul's chest, looked up at the sound of his name. Paul entwined his fingers through the thin locks of his partner. "Did I wake you?"

"No… just thinking." Shawn said softly as he lowered his face back against Paul's chest.

"Don't strain yourself or anything." Paul said a toothy grin. Shawn made no effort to even whack him which was unusual. Paul frowned again. "Shawnie, please don't be mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you…"

"You've barely said a word to me all night. Usually I can't get you to stop."

"I thought you would have liked that…"

"But it doesn't give me a reason to kiss you. Not that I need a reason…" But somehow I doubt you'll want to; Paul thought. His fingers continued to play with the thin hair. His fingers gently pushed against the scalp. "I hate seeing you sad. I'm sorry I seemed careless before."

"You never liked Mr Whiskers. You're probably glad he's gone." Shawn muttered.

"Well I…" Paul bit his lip. "I'm sad he's gone because with him being gone, it makes you sad. You know I'm not an animal person, babe. I tolerate him though… the mangy looking thing. I let him sleep on the bed with us."

"After you complained for hours! Just last week you complained you woke up with cat fur in your mouth."

"I suppose it made a change from your hair. Look, Shawn," Paul pushed himself up against the sofa arm and wrapped his arms protectively around his leaner lover. "I'm sorry your cat is gone but there's nothing I can do. If you'd let me, I'd like to take your mind of it."

"Is that a sleazy way of asking for sex?" Shawn muttered. "Thank god it's not a child."

Paul sighed. "Why are you being so difficult? I said I'm sorry. Look, if you don't want to then fine but stop having a go at me." He pulled his arms away from Shawn and got off the sofa. The familiar dull throb returned in his back. "I'm going for a bath. Goodnight if I don't see you before bed."

Shawn had opened his mouth but before his words could tumble out, Paul had already left the room with an odd limp.

The lavender bath salts, bubble bath and bombs always worked for Shawn. That's what Paul told himself as he finished adding the old lady smelling liquid into the warm water. He turned off the taps and already felt his back begin to loosen from the warm condensation that fogged up the mirrors and cabinets.

He got up from his knees, removed his clothing and wasted no time climbing into the bath tub. His toes burned instantly from the poor circulation and mixture of cold into hot. It had been years since he had sat in a bath. He was a shower man. He wanted to be in and out, no mess and fuss. Showers were Shawn's deal. Shawn claimed it was just because of his back but Paul knew better.

The water worked wonders to soothe the muscles in his back. Paul moaned softly, sinking back further into the water until his shoulders were covered. He closed his eyes and lost himself within the moment. He lowered himself further in, the back of his head encased his water. Water filled his ears and all he could hear was the dull echo of his body splashing about in the water.

A foreign, dull noise echoed underneath the water. Paul opened his eyes in curiosity and almost lost his balance when he saw Shawn standing over him. He sat up instantly which caused water to splash up over the side.

"I'm in the bath! I don't just walk in when you're in the bath!" Paul snapped. He grabbed a handful of bubbles and slung them at Shawn. The white bubbles clung to Shawn's nose and mouth.

"You're acting like I've never seen you naked." Shawn muttered as he wiped the bubbles away from his sharp features.

"I'm trying to have a bath in peace. I…" Paul forced himself to stop. He did not even know why he was angry. He sank back further into the bath until his shoulders were covered yet again. "Did the cat come back or something?"

Shawn shook his head. "No. I just wanted to see if you needed any help with your back. I… I know how painful back pain can be."

Paul raised his eyebrow. "You want to help me with my back?"

Shawn shrugged. "You always help me with mine. If you want me to that is…. I don't mind. I just thought you might like your back washed and then a massage when you get into the bedroom."

The unexpected affection from Shawn brought a smile to Paul's lips. It was very unlike his other half to apologise because that's what this was.

"A massage sounds nice… mind if I just enjoy the bath to myself and meet you in the bedroom?"

Shawn nodded. "No problem. I'll be waiting to take you mind off it."

A knowing smirk appeared on Shawn's face and he winked his eye before he took his leave. Paul shook his head and laughed a little. At last his evening was going the way he had hoped.

Paul, with a towel wrapped around his waist, begrudgingly turned around and forced himself to bend over so he could pull the plug to empty the bath. His back, although once soothed, cried in pain which made him hiss. He could have kicked himself. How could fixing a fence do this to him when throwing himself off of high metal cages just bruised him?

On the bright side: Shawn had a small promise Paul was sure his partner was looking to fulfil. Paul forced himself back up straight and made his way towards their bedroom, his back throbbing dully as he moved. He felt like an old man as he pushed open his bedroom door, took the few steps towards his bed and flop down face first into the cushions. He let out an aggrieved moan.

"Having to move from the bath to the bed is the hard part."

Paul lifted his head up and looked back at his partner. He had not even realised Shawn was in the room until he had spoken. Paul pushed his face back into the pillow and moaned. He had never realised how much the bed 'arched' until his back was in pain. He felt a familiar presence at his side.

"Welcome to my life," Shawn said with a small chuckle. "Just follow your own advice."

"What advice is that?" Paul mumbled into the pillow.

"Well before you start tenderising my back with those big mallets you call hands; you tell me to relax and enjoy myself."

"You're a real source of comfort baby."

Paul heard his other half rummage around one of their bedside draws.

"Do you think the cats okay?" Shawn asked almost meekly from above him. Paul closed his eyes and buried his face deeper into the pillow. He had expected a question like this but not so soon. He really hoped the cat was not dead. If Shawn's behaviour was anything to go by; Paul could tell Shawn would have an emotional breakdown. Perhaps it was a bad idea to give Shawn pets considering how attached he got.

Within a few seconds of Shawn's questions; two callused hands which were slick with a coconut smelling oil began to rub semi-circles around his back. Words were suddenly lost as the hands soothed his tense muscles. Shawn dug his fingers into all the right places. Paul groaned softly as his eyelids became heavy and drooped. Shawn had a way with his fingers that much was certain.

"Your muscles are tight…" Shawn muttered quietly from above Paul. Paul made a curious hum but groaned again when Shawn's nimble fingers dug a little deeper into his side. He liked this side of back pain even if the pain itself was torture. Two fingers prodded Paul's side and pushed down hard. The muscle began to spasm but the fingers rubbed small circles against it. Paul felt his toes curl as he pressed his face deeper into the pillow.

"I hope the cat's eaten…" Shawn's voice sounded almost distant and that was a good thing. He was worried about the cat not having eaten? Paul was starving. Part of him wished he had ordered that takeaway and let Shawn's dirty looks be damned.

"How's your back feeling now?" Shawn asked. Paul lifted his head lazily from the pillow and smiled. It felt better than it did which was a godsend.

"Yeah… feels good." Paul muttered.

"When was the last time we went to a spa?" Shawn asked as his fingers kneaded the tense muscles around Paul's shoulder blades. Paul buried his face back into the pillow unable to answer. "It's been a while… I never used to like spas. I guess when you hit forty the idea of beautiful women digging their fingers into your wrinkling flesh just makes it more appealing."

"Or maybe when you hit forty you actually need a spa visit?" Paul muttered tiredly.

"Nah that's when you hit fifty."

"You've not got long to go."

"Don't remind me. It's bad enough I've got grey in my beard and a smooth spot on my head."

Paul cracked a smile before Shawn pressed his knuckles into his flesh. Paul grunted, his back tensing for a few seconds before it relaxed again as the muscle loosened. Fifty. The number seemed almost unreal. When he had first met Shawn he had been in his late twenties, maybe early thirties. It made him think of his own age and the situation he was currently in. A back massage because fixing a fence was hard work. Where had the years gone?

"Your memory is shot too." Paul muttered playfully. He hissed when Shawn's knuckles dug in a little too deep.

"My memory is perfectly fine! I'm just a forgetful person."

"You're old and forgetful." Paul snickered.

"I'm not old!"

"Old man Hickenbottom with the lazy eye and bad memory."

"Alright that's it!"

Paul anticipated the first move and despite the yell from his back, rolled onto his stomach and caught both of Shawn's wrists before they could do whatever they were going to. Their eyes met. Shawn's narrowed and determined whereas Paul had a mischievous glisten. Shawn tried to pull his wrists free but Paul's hold was firm yet gentle.

"Your reflexes are shot too old man Hickenbottom." Paul taunted.

"Whattheyoudon'tIcan't-" Shawn yelled incredulously into the air like he always did when he was frustrated. Paul shook his head. Shawn was such a goof and he did not even mean it.

"You're really cute when you're frustrated."

"I am not cute! I've never been cute!" Shawn huffed. "It's not my fault you always take advantage of me when I'm in vulnerable situations."

Paul rolled his eyes at the talkative goof. The cat was out of his mind and for the first time this evening his full attention was on Paul. Using the wrists, he pulled Shawn down closer against him and smashed his lips into Shawn's pouted ones. It took a second or two but Shawn did kiss back. Paul loosened his grip on Shawn's wrists and placed both hands on the small of Shawn's back.

Meow.

Shawn stopped the kiss and pulled back slightly, their lips only an inch apart. Paul looked up at his lover who had a look of perplexity on his face. The room was quiet except for their laboured breathing. Paul moved his hand up and pushed Shawn's lips back against his own to resume the kiss.

Meow.

"The cat." Shawn muttered against the Paul's lips. He lifted his head up, fighting the hand that tried to push him back down. "The cat came home!"

"Great. See, worrying for no reason. Now come 'ere…" Paul tried to push Shawn back down but the older man rolled from on top of him and onto the floor. Paul sighed, he could hear the frantic feet of Shawn clambering down the stairs. He looked up at the ceiling. His lips still tingled from their kiss. He hated that cat.

"Mr Whiskers! You've been fighting!" The loud yet cooing voice of Shawn echoed. Paul shook his head and listened to the returning footsteps. "Paul, I think we need to go to the vets. The cat's got a cut on his head."

Paul raised his arm and covered his eyes with it.

"No. Shawn, we're not taking the mangy shit to the vets. Not if it's a little cut. If the little shits covering the floor with blood and passing out from the loss of it – I might consider it."

"You're being unreasonable again."

"I don't take you to the hospital when you cut your finger." Paul looked to the doorway where Shawn was. In Shawn's arms was the beast. Its ginger fur was ruffled and patchy like it normally was but this time it was dirtier than usual. As Shawn had said, there was a cut on its head near its ear. He could see where the fur was a different shade of colour.

"What if the cat that attacked him had rabies?" Shawn demanded.

"Then we tie it up in the shed and shoot it." Paul said with a smirk. Shawn did not see the funny in the joke.

"Shawn. Please do not make me take it to the vets"

"Paul…"

"Shawn, I mean it. I am not taking it to the vets."

Forty minutes later

Paul was sat in the waiting room in perhaps the most casual looking clothes he had ever slung on. Jogging bottoms, a white vest and sandals. He crossed his arms and glared at his partner who was sat next to him. The ginger cat sat on his lap casually licking one of its filthy paws.

"Mr Whiskers?" A young woman in a white coat asked from one of the white doors, a stethoscope around her neck.

Emergency Hours – double the bill. Paul crossed his arms and groaned in frustration as Shawn got up and entered the vet's office with the fleabag in question. Paul hated that cat. He hated that cat so goddamn much.