Chasing Shawn
Rating: R
Pairings: Bret Hart/Shawn Michaels
Summary: Bret hires the Undertaker after the 97' Survivor Series Screw job to take care of Shawn... BUT his conscience starts to get to him... Based on the events of 1997, altered a little of course :)
Genre: Suspense/romance
Warnings: Slash
Chapter 2
I must have driven for ten years... At least it felt like it. I sighed and looked back at my captive. He was making all sorts of little noises- Great. He'll be up in no time.
About ten minutes later I heard him shifting around. "Mmm.......!!! MMPHH!!!! MPPPPHHHH!!!"
Oh great... here we go. I pulled the car off to the side of the road, looking back at the struggling man with annoyance. I watched his face as he saw me- it went from shock- to surprise- to fear. I knew it was against my better judgement as I reached over and tugged down the gag.
"Don't kill me!!!"
I blinked slowly at him. "Um..."
"Please don't kill me Bret!" He sobbed. "I'm sorry I lied .. I'm sorry!! You were leaving the fed, I thought it was pointless for you to have the belt for a few days and then go!"
"I'm not going to kill you..."
Shawn stared at me with an undescriable look on his face. "You kidnaped me... But you're not going to kill me..."
"No, I'm not. Don't get me wrong, I'd love to. But I won't. Sorry."
"... Oh my god, you're going to rape me! Bret if you fucking touch me, I swear I'll rip it off!!"
I rubbed my temples slowly, reaching over to yank the gag back up. "You just lost your talking privilages. Shawn, I ain't going to rape you either. So just sit back and try to be quiet." I should have thought less of him. I figured he'd be afraid and would do what I say... Yeah, I was wrong.
He must have decided that it was a good idea to kick the back of my chair as I drove because he kept doing it. I never thought one person could kick so long... "Quit it, Shawn." I gritted through my teeth, looking back at him.
He only glared at me and kicked my chair harder.
Why do I have a conscience? Why couldn't I have left Shawn to the Undertaker? It would have been so much easier that way. Why couldn't I just have no conscience what so ever? I should have just thought of when Shawn rolled around on the Canadian flag at Survivor Series... I growled softly, and at the next red light, I brought my seat down all the way on him.
I heard him cry out in pain, followed by angry shouts of protest.
"That was for the Canadian flag." I said feeling proud of myself.
He made more angry shouts, each one making me smile brighter and broader.
"Sorry... I just can't understand you. I don't speak idiot Texan." I grinned turning up the radio.
I watched him in the back ever now and then. He was trying to scream at me- I could tell. And about an hour later, he had screamed himself so hoarse that all he could do is glare at me angrily from the back.
I turned down the radio and pulled into a motel. "I think that's enough traveling tonight- we should be far enough away." For now anyway... I thought grimly. I locked up the car, buying a room for the night. Unfortunately, I don't have much of a choice when it came to what was in the room. I'll just make Shawn sleep on the floor. He's my captive, he has to do what I say.
I pulled Shawn and my bag from the back seat, and of course... he put up a fight. What made me think he wouldn't? I don't know. He tried to run three times, kicked me in the shin, and head butted me once in the stomach by time we had reached the room.
"KNOCK IT OFF!" I shouted shoving him into room. "I'm doing this for your own good!" Do I tell him who exactly? Maybe he'd behave if I did... I doubt it. Later. I'll tell him later.
I could tell he was trying to sneer at me through the gag.
"Look, if you promise to behave, I'll take the gag off."
Shawn nodded widly.
"Fine." I sighed and took the hankerchief off his mouth.
"You fucking JACK ASS! I'm going to call the police on you, you bastard!!"
"Shawn.. Calm down..." I said glancing around nervously. How thin are these walls? Can the people next door hear us...?
"CALM DOWN?! NO!! YOU FUCKING KIDNAPPED ME!! HELLLP! HELLP!!!! SOMEBODY HELLPPPP!!!"
I yanked the gag back up around his mouth. "God, just SHUT UP. No one likes you!" Alright, that was immature. He just makes me so mad, I can't think some time.
I watched something flash across his eyes, before he got a real mean look in them. He shouted something- usually when he tries to shout with that gag in place I can't understand him- but this one I made out RIGHT away.
"You did not say that."
Shawn nodded fiercely.
I pulled down his gag again. "Then say it to my face."
"The Flames suck." He sneered, then promptly spit in my face.
Rage infuriated me- I don't know what happened, I really don't. But I didn't stop what came over me. I was on Shawn in a flash, trying to choke him for all he was worth.
I soon found out why Shawn liked those damn cowboy boots so much. They -really- hurt when you get kicked in the crotch with them. I mean REALLY hurt. I rolled off of him holding my groin as I hissed in pain.
Shawn scooted away from me, coughing loudly. "I hate you.." He got out between gasps.
"Likewise.." I moaned.
We laid on the ground panting, weezing, and moaning. It must have been five minutes before we heard a loud banging on the door.
"OPEN UP IN THERE! THIS IS THE STATE POLICE!"
Oh fuck. I try to make up for something stupid I did... and now I'm going to be arrested because of some loud mouth hick. Beautiful. JUST beautiful...
TBC
Rating: R
Pairings: Bret Hart/Shawn Michaels
Summary: Bret hires the Undertaker after the 97' Survivor Series Screw job to take care of Shawn... BUT his conscience starts to get to him... Based on the events of 1997, altered a little of course :)
Genre: Suspense/romance
Warnings: Slash
Chapter 2
I must have driven for ten years... At least it felt like it. I sighed and looked back at my captive. He was making all sorts of little noises- Great. He'll be up in no time.
About ten minutes later I heard him shifting around. "Mmm.......!!! MMPHH!!!! MPPPPHHHH!!!"
Oh great... here we go. I pulled the car off to the side of the road, looking back at the struggling man with annoyance. I watched his face as he saw me- it went from shock- to surprise- to fear. I knew it was against my better judgement as I reached over and tugged down the gag.
"Don't kill me!!!"
I blinked slowly at him. "Um..."
"Please don't kill me Bret!" He sobbed. "I'm sorry I lied .. I'm sorry!! You were leaving the fed, I thought it was pointless for you to have the belt for a few days and then go!"
"I'm not going to kill you..."
Shawn stared at me with an undescriable look on his face. "You kidnaped me... But you're not going to kill me..."
"No, I'm not. Don't get me wrong, I'd love to. But I won't. Sorry."
"... Oh my god, you're going to rape me! Bret if you fucking touch me, I swear I'll rip it off!!"
I rubbed my temples slowly, reaching over to yank the gag back up. "You just lost your talking privilages. Shawn, I ain't going to rape you either. So just sit back and try to be quiet." I should have thought less of him. I figured he'd be afraid and would do what I say... Yeah, I was wrong.
He must have decided that it was a good idea to kick the back of my chair as I drove because he kept doing it. I never thought one person could kick so long... "Quit it, Shawn." I gritted through my teeth, looking back at him.
He only glared at me and kicked my chair harder.
Why do I have a conscience? Why couldn't I have left Shawn to the Undertaker? It would have been so much easier that way. Why couldn't I just have no conscience what so ever? I should have just thought of when Shawn rolled around on the Canadian flag at Survivor Series... I growled softly, and at the next red light, I brought my seat down all the way on him.
I heard him cry out in pain, followed by angry shouts of protest.
"That was for the Canadian flag." I said feeling proud of myself.
He made more angry shouts, each one making me smile brighter and broader.
"Sorry... I just can't understand you. I don't speak idiot Texan." I grinned turning up the radio.
I watched him in the back ever now and then. He was trying to scream at me- I could tell. And about an hour later, he had screamed himself so hoarse that all he could do is glare at me angrily from the back.
I turned down the radio and pulled into a motel. "I think that's enough traveling tonight- we should be far enough away." For now anyway... I thought grimly. I locked up the car, buying a room for the night. Unfortunately, I don't have much of a choice when it came to what was in the room. I'll just make Shawn sleep on the floor. He's my captive, he has to do what I say.
I pulled Shawn and my bag from the back seat, and of course... he put up a fight. What made me think he wouldn't? I don't know. He tried to run three times, kicked me in the shin, and head butted me once in the stomach by time we had reached the room.
"KNOCK IT OFF!" I shouted shoving him into room. "I'm doing this for your own good!" Do I tell him who exactly? Maybe he'd behave if I did... I doubt it. Later. I'll tell him later.
I could tell he was trying to sneer at me through the gag.
"Look, if you promise to behave, I'll take the gag off."
Shawn nodded widly.
"Fine." I sighed and took the hankerchief off his mouth.
"You fucking JACK ASS! I'm going to call the police on you, you bastard!!"
"Shawn.. Calm down..." I said glancing around nervously. How thin are these walls? Can the people next door hear us...?
"CALM DOWN?! NO!! YOU FUCKING KIDNAPPED ME!! HELLLP! HELLP!!!! SOMEBODY HELLPPPP!!!"
I yanked the gag back up around his mouth. "God, just SHUT UP. No one likes you!" Alright, that was immature. He just makes me so mad, I can't think some time.
I watched something flash across his eyes, before he got a real mean look in them. He shouted something- usually when he tries to shout with that gag in place I can't understand him- but this one I made out RIGHT away.
"You did not say that."
Shawn nodded fiercely.
I pulled down his gag again. "Then say it to my face."
"The Flames suck." He sneered, then promptly spit in my face.
Rage infuriated me- I don't know what happened, I really don't. But I didn't stop what came over me. I was on Shawn in a flash, trying to choke him for all he was worth.
I soon found out why Shawn liked those damn cowboy boots so much. They -really- hurt when you get kicked in the crotch with them. I mean REALLY hurt. I rolled off of him holding my groin as I hissed in pain.
Shawn scooted away from me, coughing loudly. "I hate you.." He got out between gasps.
"Likewise.." I moaned.
We laid on the ground panting, weezing, and moaning. It must have been five minutes before we heard a loud banging on the door.
"OPEN UP IN THERE! THIS IS THE STATE POLICE!"
Oh fuck. I try to make up for something stupid I did... and now I'm going to be arrested because of some loud mouth hick. Beautiful. JUST beautiful...
TBC