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 5
We were driving in silence. I'm not sure where we're heading, but I suppose thats a good way in some sense. Then I can't tell anyone our location.
I glanced over to Shawn. He looked bored, gazing out the window at farm landscape. "Can't we listen to the radio?"
"Sure." I muttered flicking on the radio. It was tuned into my favorite metal station in the U.S. I loved heavy metal- strangely though, not Canadian metal bands. They weren't strong enough.
Shawn made a face and changed the channel.
"Alternative?!"
"Yeah, I like alternative, thank you." Shawn sniffed. "Metal gives me a headache."
"Take some asprin then." I growled and switched it back.
Shawn glowered at me and switched the station again. "Alternative."
"Metal." I growled back.
"ALT-ER-NA-TIVE, Canada boy. Or do I have to spell it out?"
"Hey, this is MY CAR. And what I say I want to hear, I want to hear because it's MY CAR. And you just happen to be my kidnappe, you don't have a say in radio choices?! How many people let their victims pick the radio station THEY want to listen to!" I fumed. He's my victim, he should be terrified. Not arguing me with me over listening choices... "And do you know what I choose to listen to in MY car, Shawn?"
"Metal?"
"Exactly. So shut up."
"Fine." Shawn pouted- but I didn't like that look on his face. It was a bitchy look. An evil bitchy look. I've noticed that when he does that look, I'm usually in for it.
But my favorite W.A.S.P song came on so I didn't think too much more on it. Stupid, stupid, STUPID me.
Shawn yawned and he... he... he POPPED his jaw. I HATE it people do that. Or crack their knuckles. It sent shivers down my spine. I adjusted a little in my chair, trying to keep my mind off it. It just happens, it wasn't like he had done it on purpose.
Until... I heard it again.
And again.
Again.
"STOP!" I hollered. My damn brother in laws would always do that. Drove me crazy- like nails on a chalk board.
"Stop what, Bret?" Shawn asked yawning and popped his jaw yet again.
"The popping! Stop the god damn popping!"
"What popping?" Shawn asked innocently.
"Popping your jaw! I HATE that!"
Okay, never tell your nemisis what you hate. It's the worst possible thing you can do.
"Is" He paused and popped his jaw. "This-" Pop. "Is-" Pop. "The-" Pop. "Noise-"
I switched the station back to the alternative one Shawn liked so much. Alright, so he had one the battle, he ain't winning the god damn war.
"Thank you Bret."
"You're NOT welcome." I said sincerly and at the risk of sounding immature. But look who I'm with. A spoiled rotten man child. I can afford it, I think. "Wait... Why are you thanking me?"
"Because you're giving me what I want."
"Only because you're driving me insane. If you weren't we'd still be listening to heavy metal. I don't do nice things for bitchy, pushy, bratty people like you."
"I'm not pushy!"
"Fine, then you're bratty and bitchy."
"I can live with that."
This was too moronic for me to continue. I shut my mouth before I acted out on my want to hurt him even more. It was hours before either of us said anything else. It would take something huge to make me talk to him again. And sometimes that something huge happens when you desperately wish for it not to. To something important that it shouldn't happen to. Namely, my car.
We started loosing speed- and steam began spurting from underneath the hood of the car. "Fucking hell! I just had this thing in for a tune up a week ago!" I pulled off to the side of the road and turned off the car.
"How old is this rattle trap anyway?"
"Ten years." I said angrily.
"Oh my god, Bret. Why don't you just buy a new one! You can afford to!"
"It's the principal of the thing! Just because it's old, doesn't mean that it needs to be thrown away!"
"But if it doesn't work anymore..."
"Shut up and stay in the car." I muttered and took out a tool set I kept in the back. Yeah, I knew my way around a wrench. I've fixed my car several times before, I can do it again. I popped the hood, watching steam shoot in the air. Damn it.
I waited until it cooled down before skimming my tee shirt and jacket off. I always got hot when I worked, despite the nice temperature it was outside. I started working hard, pushing Shawn out of my head as much as I could. It always made me feel happy to work on my car. Like I was helping an injured person. I always liked it when people depend on me. Makes me feel important, ya know?
Shawn's POV
Why does he have to go out and work on the damned car? Wouldn't it be easier to call AAA? Maybe he thinks I'll blow him in for it. Maybe I should. But... I don't want to. I like teasing Bret. It's fun! Like I have a captive audiance who hates me but has NO CHOICE but to listen and take what ever I do! It's great.
Sometimes Bret is stubborn. Sometimes he's stupid. But right now he's both! Does he even know what to do under there? Maybe he's trying to impress me by displaying feets of automotive knowhow.
I don't know why he's kidnapped me. At first I thought I drove him to insanity and he snapped. And then I thought he just wanted to have sex with me. But then... Then Taker showed up. He got pretty scared. So I have to assume he wants to protect me from him. But what does the Undertaker want with me? I've never done anything to him. And why... why would Bret want to help me? Guilt. He must be guilty of something.
I got out of the car after a rather loud string of profanity. There he was shaking out his hand as if he had burned it horribly. He probably did, the engine has to be hot. I took the first aid kit with me and sat it on the roof of the car. I shook my head slowly. Dumb ass.
And then I saw something I don't normally see. Bret with his shirt off, sweaty, and hair clinging to his face. I know that sounds pretty average considering our line of work. But there was something errie about it- something I couldn't explain. It was as if someone hit me over the head with the stupid stick or somethin'.
Bret's POV-
I muttered 'shit' one more time before looking up to see Shawn standing there. He was stareing at me. "Can I help you...?" I asked in an annoyed manner.
"Let me help you." He offered. "Come on Bret, ya hurt your hand..."
He seemed sincere. SEEMED being the key word here people. It was like playing hot hands.. Was he going to be nice or hurt me more? ... "I'll live through the pain."
"Stop being a dumb ass!" Shawn shouted at me and took my hand. He turned my hand over so my palm was facing up. He ran his fingers gently over my burned skin, making me have to fight wincing at the slight pain. "You really burned yourself here... Why didn t you wait for the engine to cool down a little more before sticking your hand in there?!"
"Because we don't have that luxery of waiting here!" I protested. Shawn had to know that something was up after the Undertaker had made an apperance this morning...
"Well you're going to wait. Because this is a pretty bad burn, and it needs to be taken care of!"
As much as I hated to admit it, he was right. My hand needed to be tended to. "I suppose you know how to do such a thing?"
"Yeah, infact I do."
I watched Shawn like a hawk as he whiped my injured hand with burn ointment. I hissed softly as he pressed a compress to it and held it there. My skin throbbed violently underneath. He finally pulled it off, wrapping my hand in some gause.
"Thanks..." I said trying to get my hand free. "You did a good job."
"You're welcome." He murmured blushing a little.
Okay, why is he blushing? Why won't he let go of my hand? What the hell... He leaned forward a little, closing his eyes as if he wanted me to kiss him. Okay... That's weird. That's just plain weird... And wrong. VERY wrong. Shawn should not be wanting me to kiss him. He's supposed to hate me. He's also supposed to fear me as his captor, but he's not doing that well either. "I ain't kissing you, Shawn."
"Why not?!"
"Because me kissing someone..." I started and ripped my hand away from him. "Would require me liking them. And I hate you."
For the briefest second, I could have sworn I saw a flicker of something in his eyes. It looked kind of like pain. "Well I hate you too!" He shouted and climbed back into the car. He slammed the door shut and turned away from me.
Again... what the hell? ...I think I have to be the first person to ever deny him anything. EVER.
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 5
We were driving in silence. I'm not sure where we're heading, but I suppose thats a good way in some sense. Then I can't tell anyone our location.
I glanced over to Shawn. He looked bored, gazing out the window at farm landscape. "Can't we listen to the radio?"
"Sure." I muttered flicking on the radio. It was tuned into my favorite metal station in the U.S. I loved heavy metal- strangely though, not Canadian metal bands. They weren't strong enough.
Shawn made a face and changed the channel.
"Alternative?!"
"Yeah, I like alternative, thank you." Shawn sniffed. "Metal gives me a headache."
"Take some asprin then." I growled and switched it back.
Shawn glowered at me and switched the station again. "Alternative."
"Metal." I growled back.
"ALT-ER-NA-TIVE, Canada boy. Or do I have to spell it out?"
"Hey, this is MY CAR. And what I say I want to hear, I want to hear because it's MY CAR. And you just happen to be my kidnappe, you don't have a say in radio choices?! How many people let their victims pick the radio station THEY want to listen to!" I fumed. He's my victim, he should be terrified. Not arguing me with me over listening choices... "And do you know what I choose to listen to in MY car, Shawn?"
"Metal?"
"Exactly. So shut up."
"Fine." Shawn pouted- but I didn't like that look on his face. It was a bitchy look. An evil bitchy look. I've noticed that when he does that look, I'm usually in for it.
But my favorite W.A.S.P song came on so I didn't think too much more on it. Stupid, stupid, STUPID me.
Shawn yawned and he... he... he POPPED his jaw. I HATE it people do that. Or crack their knuckles. It sent shivers down my spine. I adjusted a little in my chair, trying to keep my mind off it. It just happens, it wasn't like he had done it on purpose.
Until... I heard it again.
And again.
Again.
"STOP!" I hollered. My damn brother in laws would always do that. Drove me crazy- like nails on a chalk board.
"Stop what, Bret?" Shawn asked yawning and popped his jaw yet again.
"The popping! Stop the god damn popping!"
"What popping?" Shawn asked innocently.
"Popping your jaw! I HATE that!"
Okay, never tell your nemisis what you hate. It's the worst possible thing you can do.
"Is" He paused and popped his jaw. "This-" Pop. "Is-" Pop. "The-" Pop. "Noise-"
I switched the station back to the alternative one Shawn liked so much. Alright, so he had one the battle, he ain't winning the god damn war.
"Thank you Bret."
"You're NOT welcome." I said sincerly and at the risk of sounding immature. But look who I'm with. A spoiled rotten man child. I can afford it, I think. "Wait... Why are you thanking me?"
"Because you're giving me what I want."
"Only because you're driving me insane. If you weren't we'd still be listening to heavy metal. I don't do nice things for bitchy, pushy, bratty people like you."
"I'm not pushy!"
"Fine, then you're bratty and bitchy."
"I can live with that."
This was too moronic for me to continue. I shut my mouth before I acted out on my want to hurt him even more. It was hours before either of us said anything else. It would take something huge to make me talk to him again. And sometimes that something huge happens when you desperately wish for it not to. To something important that it shouldn't happen to. Namely, my car.
We started loosing speed- and steam began spurting from underneath the hood of the car. "Fucking hell! I just had this thing in for a tune up a week ago!" I pulled off to the side of the road and turned off the car.
"How old is this rattle trap anyway?"
"Ten years." I said angrily.
"Oh my god, Bret. Why don't you just buy a new one! You can afford to!"
"It's the principal of the thing! Just because it's old, doesn't mean that it needs to be thrown away!"
"But if it doesn't work anymore..."
"Shut up and stay in the car." I muttered and took out a tool set I kept in the back. Yeah, I knew my way around a wrench. I've fixed my car several times before, I can do it again. I popped the hood, watching steam shoot in the air. Damn it.
I waited until it cooled down before skimming my tee shirt and jacket off. I always got hot when I worked, despite the nice temperature it was outside. I started working hard, pushing Shawn out of my head as much as I could. It always made me feel happy to work on my car. Like I was helping an injured person. I always liked it when people depend on me. Makes me feel important, ya know?
Shawn's POV
Why does he have to go out and work on the damned car? Wouldn't it be easier to call AAA? Maybe he thinks I'll blow him in for it. Maybe I should. But... I don't want to. I like teasing Bret. It's fun! Like I have a captive audiance who hates me but has NO CHOICE but to listen and take what ever I do! It's great.
Sometimes Bret is stubborn. Sometimes he's stupid. But right now he's both! Does he even know what to do under there? Maybe he's trying to impress me by displaying feets of automotive knowhow.
I don't know why he's kidnapped me. At first I thought I drove him to insanity and he snapped. And then I thought he just wanted to have sex with me. But then... Then Taker showed up. He got pretty scared. So I have to assume he wants to protect me from him. But what does the Undertaker want with me? I've never done anything to him. And why... why would Bret want to help me? Guilt. He must be guilty of something.
I got out of the car after a rather loud string of profanity. There he was shaking out his hand as if he had burned it horribly. He probably did, the engine has to be hot. I took the first aid kit with me and sat it on the roof of the car. I shook my head slowly. Dumb ass.
And then I saw something I don't normally see. Bret with his shirt off, sweaty, and hair clinging to his face. I know that sounds pretty average considering our line of work. But there was something errie about it- something I couldn't explain. It was as if someone hit me over the head with the stupid stick or somethin'.
Bret's POV-
I muttered 'shit' one more time before looking up to see Shawn standing there. He was stareing at me. "Can I help you...?" I asked in an annoyed manner.
"Let me help you." He offered. "Come on Bret, ya hurt your hand..."
He seemed sincere. SEEMED being the key word here people. It was like playing hot hands.. Was he going to be nice or hurt me more? ... "I'll live through the pain."
"Stop being a dumb ass!" Shawn shouted at me and took my hand. He turned my hand over so my palm was facing up. He ran his fingers gently over my burned skin, making me have to fight wincing at the slight pain. "You really burned yourself here... Why didn t you wait for the engine to cool down a little more before sticking your hand in there?!"
"Because we don't have that luxery of waiting here!" I protested. Shawn had to know that something was up after the Undertaker had made an apperance this morning...
"Well you're going to wait. Because this is a pretty bad burn, and it needs to be taken care of!"
As much as I hated to admit it, he was right. My hand needed to be tended to. "I suppose you know how to do such a thing?"
"Yeah, infact I do."
I watched Shawn like a hawk as he whiped my injured hand with burn ointment. I hissed softly as he pressed a compress to it and held it there. My skin throbbed violently underneath. He finally pulled it off, wrapping my hand in some gause.
"Thanks..." I said trying to get my hand free. "You did a good job."
"You're welcome." He murmured blushing a little.
Okay, why is he blushing? Why won't he let go of my hand? What the hell... He leaned forward a little, closing his eyes as if he wanted me to kiss him. Okay... That's weird. That's just plain weird... And wrong. VERY wrong. Shawn should not be wanting me to kiss him. He's supposed to hate me. He's also supposed to fear me as his captor, but he's not doing that well either. "I ain't kissing you, Shawn."
"Why not?!"
"Because me kissing someone..." I started and ripped my hand away from him. "Would require me liking them. And I hate you."
For the briefest second, I could have sworn I saw a flicker of something in his eyes. It looked kind of like pain. "Well I hate you too!" He shouted and climbed back into the car. He slammed the door shut and turned away from me.
Again... what the hell? ...I think I have to be the first person to ever deny him anything. EVER.
TBC.