Now, let's just pretend that Shannon was the one to challenge Brocky on Smackdown! (around the 26th) (for a match on the 2nd) And Matt didn't accompany him ringside. Yep. Makes sense. This takes place after the (fictional) match between Shannon and Lesnar. Did I mention this is just a quick one-shot?
(1)Not like that. Perverts!
Shannon stormed into the locker room, pissed as hell. Lesnar would get what was coming to him one of these days, whether he had to pay someone…pity the APA weren't still around…or ambush him himself. He slowed as Matt Hardy came into view, the two of them alone in the room. "What the hell do you want?" he spat, growling angrily as he grabbed a towel and violently started drying off.
"To apologise," the darker man said softly, fidgeting nervously.
Shannon gave a bitter laugh, flinging the towel around his neck as he scrabbled in his bag for something clean. "No need. You hate me, that's all there is to it."
"I don't hate you," Matt said softly. "I…" He hesitated, staring into his lap.
"Well, you must hate my ring wear," Shannon said sarcastically. "What's wrong with them? Colours all wrong for Mattitude?"
As the younger blonde glared at him, Matt just shook his head and wisely remained silent.
Shannon gave an exasperated grunt and threw the towel around his waist. He absently started undoing his boots as he continued. "I don't think it's the hair, I mean, you put up with worse from Jeff for over three years. And I don't think-"
He unexpectedly stopped, wincing. "What's the matter?" Matt questioned immediately, getting up.
Shannon waved away his concern with a grimace. "Nothing an all-night bender won't fix. Now, where was I?"
Matt was about to respond when his eyes widened and slipped to the top of Shannon's towel (1).
"Did I do that?" he questioned softly. He sank down to one knee and lightly touched the bruise fading on Shan's hip. Shannon shifted uncomfortably, avoiding Matt's eyes as he pulled on a shirt. No matter what, Matt was still his friend.
Taking Shannon's silence as an affirmative, Matt weakly stood again, passing another glance over the deep green-yellow bruise covering at least a palm's-breadth of skin. "I'm sorry," he whispered, a deep-seated sorrow in his voice. "So sorry."
He swallowed, shooting one more look at Shannon. "I…sorry." Matt walked out of the room.
Shannon sat on the bench suddenly, his legs giving way. He bowed his head.
_Goddamnit…_
"Matt!" he called, walking out of the locker room after his friend.