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The Puckheads	By : Yhu Category: WWF/WWE > General Views: 1304 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the celebrities of WWE/WWF. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-The Puckheads
- 1
The Puck Heads
Pairing: Bret Hart/Shawn Michaels
Rated: R
Part: 1/1
Summary: Bret's pee-wee hockey team, The Hitmen, inspires San Antonio sports officials to name a pee-wee team after their own home town hero, Shawn Michaels.
Notes: A fiction challenge from Catherine :-P
Disclaimer: Not my men, not my hockey teams, not my kids XD

-

When Shawn Michaels received a summons to come down to the San Antonio athletic center, he wasn't sure what it was about. Quite possibly it could have been another award. He didn't mind getting them, but he sure didn't need another. He smiled to the men in the office, taking a seat in a plush chair. "So... What can I do for you gentlemen?" He asked smiling charmingly at them.

"First Mr. Michaels, let me say that it is an honor to meet you! You're looking quite well."

Shawn grinned a little more, fixing the bottom of his long strawberry blonde hair, and taking off his sunglasses. "But I'm sure you didn't call me all the way down here to tell me that."

"No no, we wouldn't waste your time with something like that Mr. Michaels." The official said quickly. "Do you know of a pee wee team called the Calgary Hitmen?"

At that, Shawn frowned. 'Calgary' and 'Hitman' let alone 'Hitmen' where his least favorite words. "Oh yes. I know of them."

"And you do know that Bret Hart is a big part of that te-"

"I assure you that I do not keep tabs on what HE does, nor do I care at all what HE does, has done, or will ever do." Shawn snapped and gave them a nasty look.

The look sent shivers down the official’s spine. He cleared his throat and went on. "Well, we've got a pee wee hockey team that we'd like to name after you."

Shawn blinked in shock. "I'm touched, gentlemen. I'd be very honored... But I don't know how to play ice hockey, nor have I ever ice skated."

"That's okay, Mr. Michaels. The only thing that matters is that the kids get to see you once in a little while. They were very excited when we mentioned it, seeing as how they know that Bret Hart-"

"And how do young kids know of Bret Hart?! They weren't even gleams in their parents eyes when HE was wrestling!"

The official and his assistants exchanged glances with one another.

"Bret Hart is a worthless, washed up, mountain man and if you think that by using a little hockey team to get me to apologize to HIM you're sadly mistaken!"

"Now now, Mr. Michaels! That's not what we want to do... We just wanted to give some inner city kids memories and lessons that will last."

Shawn frowned again, ashamed at his actions. "Oh. I'm sorry, when ever that man is mentioned in any type of context I just get a little worked up. I didn't mean anything. I would love to be a part of the team, and I really am honored that you want to name them after me."

"Very good then! Very good! They have a practice right now, if you'd like to come with us, they'd love to see you."

He nodded and stood up walking with them. "Of course- what's the name of the team?"

"The Heartbreakers, of course."

---

When Shawn first saw the team christened with his namesake, he didn't know what to say. For one thing, he didn't know a thing about hockey, and what makes a good player. Though he did have the inkling that these kids had about the same amount of time he had in a hockey ring.

"You'll forgive them. They're used to street hockey, not ice hockey. But once they get some practice in the rink, they'll be playing with the big boys!"

Shawn nodded and took a seat on the bench. The kids did seem to perk up when Shawn came in the room. He waved to them eagerly, and they did the same. Though his being there didn't help their tumbling around on the ice any. "So, who are they playing?"

"Actually, you'll see them in a little bit. Why don't we go closer to the rink, we have to call them in so the other team can practice- We only have one ice rink."

Again, Shawn followed the official down to the coaches and entrance to the rink.

"Alright guys, lets bring it in! We have to be out of the way!"

One little Latino boy stumbled as he came in from skating, glaring at the men angrily. "Why do we have to let them use our rink? How can we be good if you let them take our practice time?!"

Shawn frowned and knelt down beside him. "It's good sportsman ship, which everyone needs to learn. Besides, you can watch and see what they're good at and what they're bad at."

The boy nodded and seemed to consider this. "Okay, HBK! You're the boss!"

And how Shawn liked being the boss. He patted the boy on the head and watched as the rest of them filed on in. He took a seat beside the kids, watching the door on the opposite side of the rink for people to come in. Soon enough they were rewarded with a troop of boys wearing pink and black uniforms, carrying their equipment and looking more like NHL players that little kids.

"Are... Are those the Hitmen?!" Shawn demanded, though quietly to the official sitting next to him.

"Yes, well... I guess you could say that I forgot that they were the first team..."

Shawn snarled a little and gave him a disgruntled look. "For some reason I don't think you forgot at all."

"Look HBK! There's Bret Hart!" One of the Heartbreakers said, tugging on a lock of Shawn's hair.

"So it is." Shawn said in a manner that frightened a few of the kids. He cracked his knuckles, his eyes sweeping over his most hated nemesis. So he was a little older, it was still him. And if he didn't know better, THAT was his particular shade of strawberry blonde. Bret seemed to be sporting khaki pants and a black shirt, but it was hard to tell exactly what the older man had packing.

"Mr. Michaels!-- where are you going?!" The official asked nervously as the blonde superstar got off the bench and walked toward the ice. "You need skates for to go on there- MR. MICHAELS!"

--

Bret Hart had been watching the commotion at the opposite end of the rink- surprised to see Shawn acting like a primma donna NOT in front of a camera. Of course watching him slip, fall, get up, slip, fall, and get up again as he headed toward the middle of the ring was rather amusing- he had to put an end to it before some one got hurt. "Adam, give me your skates. I've got to put an end to this before he hurts himself."

The coach nodded and gave Bret his skates. "You're a good man for dealing with his nonsense."

"I'm the only one who ever could." He sighed aggregately and skated fluidly out on to the ring. He went circles around Shawn, only pissing off the younger man more.

"Stand still! Just because you can skate and I can't is no reason to show off!"

Bret sighed and came to a skidding stop, showering Shawn with ice flakes and debris. "Look, my team's just here for a game."

Shawn snarled and whipped his face off. "You jerk, you didn't have to do that!"

"You looked like you were ready for a confrontation." Bret said idly. "You needed to cool off. But don't get too mad, Shawn. Your hair looks perfectly fine."

Shawn scoffed and tried to cross his arms the action though caused him to wobble unsteadily. "Like you ever notice anything about me."

"You're still pissed for 17 years ago, you little brat." Bret said amused.

"You bastard, you think breaking my heart is funny!" Shawn whispered angrily, a hot flush creeping up his neck and to his face. "You always did- and you never apologized!"

Bret rolled his eyes dramatically. "Shawn, that was one date. How could I have broken your heart on one date? Besides, I have a lot more to be angry with you about then you could possibly imagine. And you never apologized for that either!"

Shawn gave him a bitchy look. "Maybe I wouldn't have had to do that if you hadn't-"

"Oh don't give me that! We were both young and stupid!"

The bickering on the ice continued, attracting attention from both sides. No one really could hear them, but they happened to hear a few words-- such as...

"1988"

"Guns and Roses"

"Broken hearted"

And some more expletives. Then finally, both of them shouted words that drove shivers down both teams spines.

"IF YOUR TEAM WINS, I'LL SERVE YOUR TEAM IN A HOOTERS UNIFORM AND PAY THE BILL!" Shawn shouted and shoved Bret only succeeding in knocking himself over though.

"FINE! Your team wins, then... I'll pose naked in Playgirl! Something you never did ALL the way! And if it's a tie, I'll do it anyway!"

"If I could stand up right now, you'd be in some serious pain right now! And ya know what, not that it'll matter because WE'RE going to win, but if it is a tie, I'll STILL play waiter!"

Bret rolled his eyes. "Oh sure. You sound real frightening down there. I'll see you at the hockey game in a week." With that he turned around skating toward his side of the ring, leaving Shawn to be picked up by the officials.

---

"So, you're saying I can be a part of this pee wee hockey team thing?" Michael Shane asked as he looked at the near desperate face of his older cousin Shawn Michaels.

"Yeah! You used to play ice hockey, right?"

"Until I was 15, yeah."

Shawn grabbed his hands from over the table and looked to him with the most desperate look he'd ever seen. "Please come help coach! I've never played hockey, I don't like watching it or anything! I've never even been on the ice before until now and I made an utter fool out of myself!"

Michael thought about it for a second, and then nodded. "Alright, Shawn. You got it. I'll coach your little team." He sighed and shook his head. "I don't see why this is such a big deal to you. You've lost worst bets before."

"This is different. This is BRET HART."

Michael rolled his eyes. Bret Hart, Bret Hart, Bret Hart. All he heard for his short life during the family reunions, picnics and parties were rumors of Bret Hart doing something awful to his cousin. He knew him and Shawn hated each other, but was never given a proper explanation as to why. "Shawn, please. Tell me, why do you really hate Bret so much? What did he do that was so bad that you can't seem to forgive him?"

Shawn stiffened, frowning deeply. "I suppose I owe you an explanation for this after you've agreed to help me..."

"Yes, you do."

"Fine." He took a drink out of his water glass and sighed before continuing. "It happened 17 years ago... I was 23, and he was 31. I suppose I should have guessed a man 8 years older than myself would be less than interested in me personally. Here he was, a seasoned veteran, and me this 23 year old kid who was just starting out in the WWE. I was real optimistic about starting with Marty, but I suppose I was far too naive to think that I was anything important to the bigger stars. I was attracted to Bret right from the start. I love men with dark hair-- as you know-- and I wanted nothing more than to get close to him. "

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Bret... Um, can I talk to you?" A young, blonde Shawn Michaels asked as he approached the object of his crush.

Bret knew the newest superstar had a painfully obvious crush on him- he was pretty flattered, but not in the least bit interested. He didn't have the time to deal with little boy crushes. But he could at least indulge in him for awhile. "Sure Michaels, what's up?"

Shawn fumbled with the pair of tickets in his hand as his voice trembled. "W-Well, I've got two tickets to a Guns N' Roses concert, and I was hoping you'd like to come with me."

Bret looked at the tickets- He couldn't resist. It had been awhile since he had been to a concert. "Guns N' Roses? Yeah, alright. I like them. Give me them and I'll meet you at the venue."

Shawn's eyes shot open in surprise. "Really? You'll really come with me?"

"Of course."

"Wow! Okay! I'll meet you in front at 8 PM." Shawn said giving him the tickets. "Thanks Bret! I can't wait!"

-

And he really couldn't. Shawn got to the concert an hour early at seven, hanging around the front till 8 PM came and went. Then 9. Well, he missed the first song. He could hear it from the inside- and it wasn't one of his all time favs, so he could deal with it. Bret was probably running late due to concert traffic. No big deal, really.

10 PM.

11 PM.

1 AM.

The concert was over.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So... He left you standing in front of the venue till 1 AM?"

"Yeah, I was getting bitten by bugs and everything. I wish I hadn't given him both tickets, but I probably would have stayed out there waiting for him anyway. Pretty pathetic, huh?"

"Did you find out why?"

Shawn nodded and answered in an emotional tone. "Yeah. He was watching the Flames play. He forgot about me." He put his head in his arms sighting softly. "He said he wasn't interested in me anyway, that I should stop crushing on him."

Michael reached over the platter of Hooters chicken wings to stroke some stray locks of Shawn's hair. "You never did, did you?"

"Nobody likes a smart ass, Michael."

"Suppose so." He grinned a little and pinched Shawn's arm to get his attention. "And relax, we're going to get those bastards."

---

"You just left him outside of the concert till 1 in the morning?"

Bret frowned at his assistant coach. "Yeah, it was an awful thing to do. But I forgot about the playoffs- and you know how it is when hockey comes on. Most everything else gets blocked out. Especially things having to deal with going to a concert with a guy as young as Owen with a crush on you is a little disturbing."

"I see what you mean. But did you have to do that to him? Why couldn't you have just taken one ticket?"

"Because I honestly did want to go, and I figured with Shawn having that huge crush he'd probably loose them. And you know what?"

"What, Bret?"

"Even if he did have his ticket, he probably wouldn't have gone in anyway. He would have waited for me." Bret murmured feeling pretty damn guilty. "But I wasn't interested in him! I told him over and over that I didn't want his affections- It was borderline stalking. I tried being gentle when I turned him down, but it wasn't working."

"Mmmhmm."

"No really, Adam! He thought I was just teasing him. It took him missing that concert to realize that I just didn't care about him."

"Okay, okay. You don't need to tell me twice." He said and shrugged. "But... if you didn't care... Then why did you go out on the ice like you did today? Especially when I thought you didn't care."

"I... Well you didn't think I'd just let him try to get over to our side of the rink- It would have taken forever and he'd probably need yet another spinal surgery from all the spills he was taking!"

"Are you sure you don't care about him?"

Bret nearly choked on the french fries he had been eating, casting Adam a dark glare. "Not in the way you're thinking."

"Okay, Bret. Whatever you say."

---

"You know, Bret's over there." Shane pointed out as Shawn munched on some chicken wings.

The older man gulped down his food with a start, glancing over the packed Hooters crowd to make out a head of what Shawn always described as 'limp and lifeless' hair that almost certainately had to be Bret Hart's. "I see. He is."

Shane watched his cousin get up from the chair frowning a little. "What are you going to do?"

"Nothing- Just use the bathroom. What's the matter with that?" He asked nonchalantly.

"Oh um- nothing. You do what you have to."

Shawn shrugged and brushed past Michael, adjusting his blue jeans on his hips, lowering them just enough so the tops of the sides of his thong could be seen. He didn't like wearing much underwear, if any at all, but jeans chaffed when you wore nothing- and thongs solved that problem nicely.

---

Bret took a drink out of his beer, trying hard not to think about Shawn being in the same damn Hooters as him. There were 12 of these in the city-- why did they have to pick this one?! He felt something brush past him, recognizing Shawn's long hair under a backward baseball cap, and a more famous... asset. A pair of ridiculously snug blue jeans just... hugged.... everything great about Shawn's backside. Not only that, but those strings that were poking out seemed to beckon him to 'come and get a better look, big boy'. And worst yet, it seemed like Shawn knew he was watching. He stopped to linger at something bending over just a bit. Everything good became even better. Finally Shawn moved on to the bathroom and Bret could finally relax.

"Something the matter, Bret?"

He shook his head and waved his hand in dismissal. "No Adam, I just got lost in thought there."

"Ah, alright. You want another be-"

"Yes, better make it two. Real quick."

By the time Shawn had gotten out of the bathroom (about 5 minutes, for those keeping track of the time) Bret had finished one of those two beers. He figured that if he were slightly intoxicated, he could blame that little bit of ogling on the beer.

"What what you're looking at, you dirty old man." Shawn muttered as he passed by Bret. "And while you're at it, you might want to take a picture- it'll last longer with you than I ever would."

Adam blinked at Shawn's retreating back, then looked to Bret.

"Look, he's over sensitive." He said quickly and began to chomp down on chicken wings and guzzle beer preventing Adam from asking more annoying questions.

---

"What did you do over there?" Michael asked as Shawn got back to the table with a very smug look on his face.

"I just went back to the bathroom, Mikey. Nothing more. Nothing less." He said just as coolly as he had spoken before he left the table. He took his seat again, sipping out of his glass of Pepsi.

The manager had spotted local celeb Shawn Michaels the moment he walked in. What a good amount of business it would be for him if he could get the man to do some sort of promotion for him. "Excuse me, Mr. Michaels. Hate to bother you but could you do me a favor? With all of the other Hooters around, we could use your support to make us special. If these people know you eat here, we might get better business. We'll comp you on your next few meals if you agree to it.."

Shawn thought about it and a sneaky smile began to form. "Okay... If you give me a microphone and start up Dirty Deeds on the jute box, I'll promote the hell out of this place."

"Sure thing, Mr. Michaels!" He said excitedly and zipped off.

"Now what are you doing?!"

"Nothing illegal, Michael. I assure you."

Michael sighed watching Shawn head over to the bar. He didn't understand why the older man had to do what he deemed completely irrational all of the time. He summed it up to Shawn's excessive want for attention 24/7. He heard ACDC's Dirty Deeds pick up over the stereo, and heard Shawn testing out the mic in front of the bar.

"Helllloooo San Antonio Hooters lovers! Ya'll know who I am." Shawn said pointing to the each of the letters on his H B K tank. The crowd cheered on the home town hero as he stepped up on to the bar. "And ya'll know this song. There's SOMEONE in this bar who thinks I ONLY do dirty deeds, and I always do them dirt cheap."

The crowd booed and Bret ducked his head down a little. No matter what Shawn said, the Montreal job was a dirty deed, it was done dirt cheap, and he was probably given a nice reward for it.

"But everyone also knows that I am a changed man, but that doesn't mean that I hate doing dirty things. Like some types of dancing... Now I know I don't have big ole melons in my tank top, or tiny little orange shorts but... Any of ya'll wanna see me dance at my favorite Hooters?"

More cheers, and both Bret and Michael ducked their heads down pretty low. Both men knew of Shawn's love of showing off-- especially in public.

---

Bret watched out of the corner of his eye as Shawn began to dance. The younger man moved so well it was like he was dancing on ice- though not like the 'amazing' display of ability he had shown on the rink the other day. He kept his movements relatively clean, except for when he turned around to move those hips and show off what he had. Bret knew from earlier that he had a whole hell of a lot but god, watching him dance... The way his... everything... looked so damn good.

Some smart ass Hooters girl in the audience tossed Shawn a lasso so he could recreate Nancy's infamous dance from the Miller graphic novels. Bret suddenly felt targeted by those crystal blue eyes, and the business end of a lasso soon followed. He was yanked off his chair, hit the ground, and soon enough was hog tied by heart break kid.

"Ahhh, Bret Hart! One should know better than to step foot into this one horse town when the home town hero is none other than ole H-B-K."

Bret looked up to the smarmy face of Shawn and growled. "I'll get you for this."

"Ohhh sure. Just like how I'm going to loose our bet. Welllll you should know that you're going to be placing a few calls to Hugh to get in Playgirl. My Heartbreakers are going to wipe the floor with your Hitmen- so you might as well just pack up and head home."

Michael quickly walked over to Shawn and frowned deeply. "Are you finished making a spectacle of yourself or do you have something else you'd like to do?"

"Nope, I'm fully done here. Mostly because I can't think of anything else." Shawn grinned broadly and dusted himself off. "Let's get going."

---

The next morning, Bret woke up with so much determination it felt like the moment before winning a title. He cracked his knuckles and took out his credit card. He was going to get Shawn back, and not just by beating his thug hockey team. If the blonde wanted to take things up a notch, then he wasn't above turning it up even more.

He left the room before the head coach, Adam, woke up. He had a few things he needed to take care of that he didn't need a peanut gallery for.

He bought himself some brand new clothing- things he would never EVER normally buy. He had to go low for this. The only way to deal with trash is to sink down to it's level.

---

Bret had been helping out some of his younger players with a few moves he had learned from his days as a hockey player when he saw Shawn and his little team of rough necks. "Michael, start getting ready to call it in. It's just about time to give the other team a chance to use the ring to practice."

The boy nodded and looked up to Bret with a sad expression on his face. "Will you be mad if we loose?"

He blinked a little at that- he hadn't thought about what this little bet was doing to the kids. "No, no Michael- I won't be upset. I'll only be mad if you guys go out there and don't show these guys what Canadians are really made of."

Michael nodded and grinned. "They'll never forget us, Bret!"

"I know. You guys have never disappointed me."

Michael smiled broadly and zipped off to collect his gear as the rest of the team started to finish up. Bret looked across to see what Shawn was thinking of his outfit, smirking a little to himself. Good. Part one was working well.

---

When Shawn had come in to the arena, he hadn't expected to see this. Bret working with the kids was nothing new... But the pants and the shirt were. Never had he seen Bret in any leather but a jacket. Never pants. Never in a million years. He was sporting a deep pink shirt- looked like it was made of satin or silk. And the long tresses Bret had grown back were tamed and looked ever so soft to the touch.

Something was up.

Bret was a strict jeans and flannel guy. He wouldn't wear something like that if you had paid him. But there he was- there had to be a reason for it. He watched Bret zip around the team with ease on those skates like it was nothing at all- he couldn't help but feel a little jealous... Bret could do something he can't.

"Mikey, can you go get me some coffee?"

"I didn't become your coach to get you coffee all the time."

"Just this once?" Shawn gave him a pleading look. "For me?"

"Argh- Fine, fine. But this is the LAST time."

Shawn sighed in relief- he didn't want Michel seeing him ogle Bret- hell, he didn't even want to see himself ogling Bret. He walked over to rink entrance, leaning against it to watch. He hated to admit it, but Bret was always so good with kids. That was one of the major reasons he was so attracted to him in the first place. Maybe he shouldn't have humiliated Bret in public like he did. That was pretty rotten of him. Bret wouldn't have done that to him if he had the opportunity.

---

Bret saw his opening. Shawn was just standing there watching, unaware of him. He zipped by and took him by the arm, pulling Shawn out on to the rink with him.

"AHH! WHAT THE HELL?!?!" He shouted as Bret whipped him around like a rag doll. "Let me go!"

He didn't reply. Instead he swung Shawn up over his shoulders and started spinning around quicker than most people could have ever assumed that anyone could go on the ice.

"Rrrrgh!! I'm gunna hurl!" He sobbed pitifully on Bret's shoulders- but that didn't make the other man stop. Oh no- he went faster. "Uncle, uncle, uncle!!"

Bret stopped suddenly, Shawn's body giving a nasty lurch. He dropped Shawn down to the ice looking at the twitching body, and slightly greened face. "You want to act like an immature child, then I guess I'll have to act that way to you. I'm tired of your stupid little games, and maybe this will teach you FINALLY not to mess with me."

Shawn reached over, grabbing Bret's leg in an attempt to pull himself up. "I... I..." He paused for a moment coughing up something on the ice then looking to Bret again. "I wanted to say I'm sorry..."

The hard look on his face softened as he looked at the sickly, weakened expression on Shawn's face. He sighed and offered him his hand. "As you should be. All of this makes you look like the asshole here-- not me. When are you going to grow up and act your age?"

Shawn took his hand and staggered weakly to his feet. He said nothing to Bret's words, only looking down at his feet in what Bret might have thought was shame.

"I mean you just turned 40, you shouldn't be acting like a crazy 14 year old. What kind of role model are you for these kids?"

Again, no answer.

"Maybe this is finally sinking in to your head that you-"

Sadly Bret never got to finish- he wound up on the wrong side of a nasty low blow that nearly shot his balls up to his stomach. He crumpled down to the ice, holding his shattered dreams*.

*sorry, couldn't resist :-P*

"You're an ass hole Bret- I thought you were different. I saw you looking so good out here in your sexy clothes, helping out the kids, and it made me realize why I liked you so damn much in the first place! I was even thinking about calling off the bet after what I did yesterday, but forget it! It's on! And I really hope you've got something to show for the ladies and gents who read Playgirl-- that is unless I kicked everything you got up inside you!"

---

Shawn discovered from his first attempt at getting into a rink with out skates on that it was very difficult to stand. Luckily Michael had come back with the coffee and was able to rescue Shawn before anything happened to him.

"What did you do?!" He hissed helping him toward their side.

"The bastard did it to himself!" Shawn said and pouted to his younger cousin.

"Why do I have a hard time believing that a man who looks like he was kicked in the nads, kicked himself in the nads?"

"He didn't do THAT, but he made me do it!"

Michael frowned and shook his head. "Nothing is EVER your fault, is it?"

"Of course not. Everyone asks me to be the way I am."

He rolled his eyes, sighing. With Shawn safe on solid ground, and Bret being carted off by coaches from his team, he could finally look at the group of bright eyed boys, waiting for instruction.

"Alright guys! The big game is just a few days away! Now, I know you've all played street hockey in the past. It's just a matter of bringing that knowledge onto the ice to use those skills. I'm very much aware that all of you here have as much skill as Shawn does out there when it comes to ice skating. But you have one up on him, because you go out there with skates on."

Shawn ignored Michael's snippy comments and exchanged them for a flip of the bird while he continued.

"I know you all like him, but don't do what he does-- He can get you into big trouble."

Another middle finger from Shawn, and Michael moved on. "So today, I'll be teaching you all how to ice skate. Any questions?"

One of the boys, Chris, raised his hand. "Can we kick the other team in their privates like Shawn did to Bret?"

"Yeah! We'd win if we did that! Lets kick them in their dicks!"

Shawn gulped and cleared his throat. "Kids- No. No low blows. This is hockey! And in hockey you need to get the ball-"

"Puck." Michael corrected.

"Right right, puck. You need to get the puck in the net-"

"Goal, Shawn. It needs to go in the goal."

"FINE, goal. You need to get the puck in the goal, and not be scoring cheating moves like that. And if you're the goalie, you really need to wear extra padding because getting hit with one of these things looks like it would really hurt."

Michael wondered how Shawn thought goals were won in hockey, if he actually thought that the players had to hit the goalie to get a point, but he banished that from his mind. Shawn wasn't that inept at hockey. He hoped, anyway. "He is right though. Hockey isn't about hurting the other players. Fights do break out, and sometimes that's half the fun. But you guys are a little too young to be fighting on the ice like that. You want to make it to the junior leagues next year, right?"

Murmurs went through the group of kids, and finally they all gave a collective nod.

"Good. I'm glad you all agree."

---

Bret was sitting on his hotel bed with a massive ice pack on crotch. He didn't have much else on other than a pair of boxer shorts- anything else hurt too much. A retracted testicle. In all of his career, he never had one of those, nor did he know it could happen. The doctor said it was going to come down-- they just didn't know when that would happen.

"Room service, Mr. Hart!"

He frowned a little. He didn't order anything, and he couldn't move. Bret let out a groan as he tried to sit up. Shooting pain shot through his groin, biting on his lip. "Jggh- Come in. I can't get up." God, that sounded pathetic.

The bell boy wheeled in a small dessert cart, with a large chocolate slab of cake, topped with a generous helping of chocolate ice cream, hot fudge, and whipped cream.

"Ummm now... who is that from?"

"One large chocolate cake slice with ice cream care of Shawn Michaels."

"I don't want it."

"Sir, this is a $15 dollar dessert!"

"I don't care."

The bell boy frowned and handed him the card. "Well, here. This is the card that it came with."

Bret glowered down at the card adorned with a small child standing out in the rain. 'Sorry it rained on your day' was written at the top in blue, but Bret didn't really care about the card. He frowned, opening up the card and began to read.

'I'm sorry I was a bastard, Bret. I didn't mean to give you a retracted testicle. I hope the ball drops soon.

Shawn.'

He wasn't so sure how sincere this actually was. Shawn never apologized for anything he ever did, and the words on the 'heart felt' apology on the card seemed more like a joke than anything else. He ran his hand over his hair then looked to the plate of chocolate. That looked more apologetic than the smarmy card. Bret did love his chocolate- he couldn't resist it in fact. "Alright, I'll take the cake then. I'll put your tip on my bill, I can't really get up at the moment."

"I know, retracted testicle- I read the card."

Great. A nosey bell boy. That's just what he needed. He grabbed the plate and the fork as the other man left, figuring this would at least count toward helping with his medication. He needed to take them all with something in his stomach- as much of a pain as it was, he needed them to kill the pain quicker than ice was in his lower regions.

It really wasn't bad. In fact, it was damn good, but his body wouldn't allow him to enjoy it too much- it did come from HBSlut. Though, Shawn must have felt pretty damn bad that he did that-- He didn't try to poison him yet, well... he guessed anyway. No signs of numbness or anything in the like.

Bret had finished off the cake, took his pills, and eased himself out of bed to go brush his teeth. It was still early in the night, but he knew he wasn't going any where any time soon.

---

"Look what I did to you..."

"Yeah, you did a lot here, honey." Bret said sarcastically as he looked up at Shawn who was standing a bit away from him looking just as dramatic as ever.

"I didn't mean to kick you that hard- hard enough to do that..." He said falling to his knees to crawl over to the older man. "Did it drop yet, Bret?" He asked with an all out pout.

"Yes, yes. A little while ago." He said though aggravated. He watched Shawn crawl ever closer- enough to press his face into Bret's calf.
"I'm so, so sorry... Can I do anything to help take away from the pain...?"

Bret looked down at Shawn's pouting face. He looked so upset, so genuine... An actual emotion he could trust. "I don't know, it dropped a little while ago, but there's alot of aching going on."

"Maybe I can help with that." He murmured trailing his fingers up between Bret's thighs to trace the long length of his cock.

"Ahh- No! Get away from there!" Bret stammered and looked down as Shawn didn't heed his demand. Instead he slipped his hand into the hole in the dark blue boxer shorts he had on. Shawn pulled his length out, gingerly licking the head of it, as if testing to make sure he hadn't hurt him.

"Did that hurt any?"

It's been awhile since some one had gone down on him... Especially some one with such soft lips. "No... You can go a little further. It's helping the ache."

"Mmmm... Maybe should I try licking the sides of it- like a Popsicle."

"Y-Yeah, and you could put your mouth on it some more."

"Maybe I can massage away the ache with my tongue. People say I've got a really gifted mouth..." Shawn said idly as he tested out that talented tongue with a few little testing licks up Bret's quickly hardening shaft.

Bret stifled a moan then looked to Shawn looking so eager to please him. "You... um... want to make yourself a little more comfortable?"

"By taking off my clothes, you mean? Oh Mr. Hart, you horn ball." Shawn said coyly as he stood up. "What should go first, my shirt or my pants?" He asked tugging on the bottom of his shirt.

"Depends... What have you got under those pants?"

"Oh.. Something small, black, and made of satin that barely covers certain parts of me..."

"The pants." Bret said quickly though he didn't want to sound too eager.

"You like to get right down to business, don't you?" Shawn grinned unbuttoning the top of his jeans. "I like that alot, Bret Hart.."

---

Bret snapped up, blinking in shock. He just had a nice little wet dream...

About Shawn Michaels.

God, he could almost feel those lips and that tongue! ... He passed it off as loneliness, and the surprise of getting an I'm sorry gift of the best kind. Bret sighed a little- he always wanted to believe there was something good about Shawn Michaels... Maybe that want gave him the dream. It had to be-- Bret always had the ability to try and see some good in even the worst people.

It wasn't the fault of Shawn being sexy. Oh no, that wasn't it at all. Though... As much as Bret didn't want to, he had to admit that Shawn was still damn attractive.

And that was great for everyone who liked the very blonde type. Bret however wasn't even going to go there. Well, now that that was that... He couldn't go back to sleep. It was only 8 pm, to his dismay, as well. Sighing, he figured maybe he could go to the rink to let out some of his frustration. Growing up in Calgary, he'd been skating since he could stand-- it was one of his all time favorite hobbies.

Bret tested himself as he slowly got out of the bed. The pain was there, but most of it had ebbed away due to the medicine finally kicking in. He got dressed, pulling on a pair of jean shorts and a black tank top- He had forgotten just how hot it could be in San Antonio.

---

"I don't know about this guys..." Shawn said looking helpless to the group of kids from the Heartbreakers, and his cousin, Michael Shane. "Why do I have to learn?"

"Because if you don't, you'll be falling all over the place. Besides every time you go out there you attempt it in your shoes-- which is a big no no." Michael grinned. "You'll like it once you get used to it."

Shawn gave them all a slightly terrified look. There were a ton of people out on the rink, and he honestly didn't want to look like a fool in front of them. But the happy faces of all those kids was something he couldn't turn his back on. "Okay, okay. I'll try. But I gotta hold on to you all other wise I'm going to fall."

The kids let out a gleeful sound and all took a hold of Shawn. Michael stayed behind him just incase something rotten happened. The mass of people slowly started skating around the side of the rink, which thankfully happened to be for beginning skaters. It wasn't as bad as Shawn thought it might be, but he still was too shaky to stand up, or let go of Ricky and Matt on his sides.

A couple of times around the rink changed that though, as Shawn's insufferable confidence began to show through. It wasn't always a good thing, Michael noted.

"Hey guys, I think I'm alright to try it on my own. You're right- it is easy!" And hopefully fun too. He grinned to them as he slowly parted ways from the group. "And I'm standing! I'm doing it, I'm really-"

Oh, the horror. No one was expecting it, no one figured that it would happen, but it did. Some of the more advanced skaters who had linked arms in a complicated move had accidentally grabbed on to Shawn's outstretched hands. They whipped him around like a rag doll, and some how he had ended up in the very center of the rink, trapped with no where to turn to. Hell, he was so dizzy he couldn't bring himself to stand.

"Oh no, HBK! What are we going to do?!" Mark asked looking up to Michael as if he knew the answer to everything.

"Don't worry, I'll go get him. You guys go get off the rink and wait on your side-- I won't be long."

The boys nodded watching their coach try to break in through the impenetrable layers of skaters zipping around like mad men.

---

Meanwhile, in the middle of the rink, Shawn was petrified. There was no way he could get out with his ten minutes of skill he had just earned. He couldn't even bring himself to stand up with out falling over. He saw Michael trying his best to get past everyone to come save him but it didn't look like he was going to get in. Great... Just great.

Warm, strong hands grabbed him from behind lifting him up to his feet. "You know Shawn, you shouldn't be trying to skate if you don't know how! How did you even get out here?"

Shawn looked to the face of his savior, and was racked with confusion. Bret Hart hated him. And hell, he just gave him a retracted testicle hours before- he shouldn't even be standing yet. But he didn't care. He grabbed onto Bret as tightly as he possibly could. "I got caught by some people and yanked into the center... But how are you here? Did the ba-"

"Yes it did." Bret grumbled shortly. "I'm on a lot of pain medication to be able to stand, and move."

"I'm really sorry, Bret. I didn't mean to kick you that hard." Shawn said and gave him a truly sincere look. For the first time in his life, Bret actually believed something Shawn apologized to.

"It... was a freak accident. Don't worry about it anymore, okay?"

Shawn gave him a beaming smile, all too familiar of one of the ones from the dream. He felt himself flush a little looking to the blonde star of his earlier fantasy, trying to shake the recent memory from his mind. "You're a good man, Bret. Much better than myself. I can be so petty and stupid sometimes, and you almost never act that way."

Bret felt a little flattered, and he smiled. "Well Shawn, that's nice of you to say."

"Though... you were always a bit of a wet blanket too."

"Do you want me to leave you in the center of the rink?"

"NO." Shawn whimpered and clung tighter.

"Alright then, do you think you can skate back with me...? Or did you hurt yourself being flung over here?"

Shawn shook his head. "I'm fine. Just don't let go." He said- or rather demanded as he took a hold of Bret's arm. "If you value anything you own, do NOT let go of me."

Bret smirked and started to move them away from the middle. "Don't worry, I've got your back." He promised- He'd never let Shawn go- The man was obvious terrified! And couldn't stand on his own two feet with out his legs and knees shaking. "Stiffen your self up a bit, you don't have to look like you're hobbling along."

"But if I fall then I can't hurt myself if I stay close to the ground!"

"I won't let you fall. Now, stand up." Bret said reassuringly. Shawn did as he was told, proving to him that no matter what had happened to them over the past few years-- Shawn still trusted him. It made him feel good to say the least. "There, see? It's not so hard."

Shawn's skates clacked unsteadily on the ice as Bret tried to move him, and ended up clinging to him again.

"Don't give me that look, I know you can do this. ...Have you ever roller bladed before?"

"A few times."

"Alright, well this is alot like it. The only difference is in the material you're on. It's just skating, Shawn! Will you trust me on this one?"

Shawn remained quiet for a few moments, then he let out a slow shaky sigh. "Okay. You've never given me a reason not to trust you. Despite me giving you plenty not to trust me."

"You're not kidding. Now, when we start try to relax. The more you relax, the easier it is."

He let out a shaky breath and sighed. "Okay, okay."

---

What a surprise it was to see Shawn coming back unharmed! "Shawn! Are you okay?! ... Oh my god." Michael stammered looking to the one, the only, Bret Hart. "You... You..."

"Yeah, I saved him. Here you go."

This was the first time Michael had ever seen the Hitman up close! He looked a little older, a little more warn, but he still had that presence that claimed all the greatness he deserved. It was so awe inspiring.

"Thanks again-- I'd probably be still out there if you didn't save me." Shawn carefully pulled himself off of Bret and instantly latched on to his cousin.

"You're welcome." Bret said as he looked to them with a strange unreadable expression. "What's the matter with him?" He asked pointing to Michael.

"Oh, he's never met you before. Only heard the stories."

"Ah, okay. Those must be some awful stories, judging by the look he's giving me."

"They were. But I'm sure you told stories about me."

"Nah, I'd always tell the family that you were just some punk kid with a big crush."

Shawn laughed and nodded. "Damn straight, Bret."

There was a bit of a painfully shy pause between the two of them before Bret cleared his throat. "Suppose I should be going."

"Yeah, us too. Gotta get the kids back home."

"Yeah, I shouldn't even be here- doctor's orders."

"Right, right."

They separated then and there, Bret vanishing amongst the skating couples. Shawn watched him go and then let out a sigh. "No matter what nasty thing I may have to say about him... He's a real man."

"You're Bret Hart!" Michael finally blurted out- then it dawned on him. "He's gone."

"Yes, and you're more like me than you think you are." Shawn rolled his eyes, giving his cousin a look.

---

"A bet's a bet, guys. Just because he may have saved my butt a few days ago doesn't mean a thing." Shawn explained to the bus load of students. "Just because you guys are going to win, and he's gotta pose naked doesn't bother me at all."

Amongst the cheers of the kids, one very clear, very perceptive, and yet very meek voice stood out from the back of the bus.

"What if we lose?"

The silence on the bus was almost palpable. Shawn looked to Michael, who looked to the kids, who looked back to Shawn. Finally, Shawn spoke. "It doesn't matter in the long run guys, as long as you try, I'll be damn proud of you."

"But what about the bet?"

"That doesn't matter..." Shawn said quietly. "If I do end up in Hooters shorts... Serving The Hitmen... We'll get im' next year." He grinned and put his hand in the middle of the aisle. "Hands in guys."

The beaming kids all put their hands on top of each other-- even Michael put his in. "Goooooo Heartbreakers!"

"Not that it matters, HBK! We're gonna beat those jerks and send the back where they belong!"

A murmur of agreement rippled through the kids, as the rest of the ride was filled with hyped up comments.

---

Just about the same amount of energy was felt on the bus carting the challengers to the rink across town. There was a lot riding on the game and it's outcome and everyone knew it. Unwittingly so, both men had put enough pressure on the boys to make it a constant reminder of what they were facing in this match. Their heroes, pitted against each other through them, facing rotten stipulations through only humiliating defeat!

Even though the fire between them had momentarily cooled off, they still were suffering fear, guilt, and hurting pride. Neither of them wanted to go through with their bets-- needless to say, they were praying for victory with everything they had.

The mood was far too solemn to be anything but tense. Both men tried to break the seriousness surrounding them, but it was very, very difficult. Good jokes got warm-but brief-chuckles, and so did amusing stories and antic dotes. Their guilt began to grow; how could they do something like this to the kids? If they had kept the bets between themselves instead of making a scene on the ice, then maybe their teams wouldn't be clutching their sticks in white knuckled grips right now.

As of right now, watching his team skate out on to the ice, Shawn was wishing that he hadn't gone out to the ice and challenged Bret in the first place. Why did he have to do that? Why did he always have to make a scene like a big show off? Why couldn't he have just taken the time to think of what would happen to the kids instead of just going out there like a crazed mad man?! What the hell was the matter with him?!

"Shawn I bought you a-" Michael began as he handed Shawn a can. His cousin seemed to be in such a deep state- he hated when he went into those. Shawn wasn't always stable, he often acted on the first thing that came to him, no further questions asked.

"Why am I such a bastard?"

"Pepsi." Michael said looking to Shawn with a bit of surprise to say the least. "Why do you say you're a bastard?"

"Because I don't think things through, and everyone always pays for what I end up doing. I have an on going feud with Bret, but because I didn't think right, I brought the kids into the whole mess. And now they're out there playing on my behalf!"

"Well, maybe this is your wake up call to start looking before you leap."

Shawn sighed and popped the top off his can. "Yeah, maybe. I hope."

"Just remember this next time."

Shawn nodded and looked to the kids playing their hearts out in the rink. "...Do you think they're having fun?"

Michael reached over and rubbed his cousin's shoulder. "Yeah, Shawn. Of course they are! They wouldn't be so willing to try if it wasn't some what of a good time for them!"

"Guess you're right."

"And as much as you'd like to think so, not EVERYTHING revolves around you. Right now, they could be having the time of their lives out there and have forgotten all about what's riding on the game."

He frowned and took a sip. "One can only hope."

---

"Why'd I agree to it Adam?" Bret murmured looking to his favorite of all the assistant coaches.

"Well, he seems to be able to push all of your buttons... at once."

Bret rubbed his temples and sat back against the lockers. "Well, yeah. He always has. Since the second I met him. Maybe it's because him and Owen were the same age. Owen had his own antics, but Shawn's were always so much worse. I'd catch him doin’ all sorts of stupid things, that'd make me go gray! On the rare off chance that'd we'd be traveling together, ESPECIALLY after the GNR incident, I'd always feel ten years older than what I was! I can't keep up with him, and it always bothered me. Not to mention every time I'd see him, I'd picture in my mind Owen doing all of those things... I know I shouldn't have connected them, but it was like having another younger brother to look out for."

"Is that why you saved him yesterday?"

"Somebody had to. He'd never get out of there if I didn't. Even after he kicked me in the balls, I went out there for him. There's parts of Shawn that I've always liked. He's got a good heart deep down. He sent me an 'I'm sorry' sundae after what he did yesterday. I just don't know how to deal with him. Everything I try never works."

"Standing him up at a GNR concert wouldn't work with anyone."

Bret rolled his eyes and gave Adam a look. "I was desperate, and I explained that to you already."

"I know, I know. I wanted to push your buttons for once. Shawn can't have ALL the fun."

He decided to change the subject then, turning to look at the game. How could he put all that pressure on the kids like that? This was their battle; nobody else’s. Despite telling them that loosing is alright, that he wouldn't care if he had to go through with the bet, they cared. They didn't want their hero being degraded in any way, shape, or form. He couldn't tell what the score was, but he knew it was getting pretty close to the end.

He looked across the way to catch Shawn's eyes for a second. He frowned at him, and got one in return. The blonde pointed off to the side, standing up to walk in that direction. "Adam, I'll be right back."

"Better hurry though, the game's almost over, and it's in your favor."

---

Bret found Shawn out toward a darkened section of the arena, close enough so that they could still see what was going on. "What?"

"I... I can't do this. They're killing themselves out there! Not just my team, but yours. It's not fair to them."

"I know it's not, but if we stopped the game right now, they'd be pissed at all their hard work. Those kids are as stubborn as you and me are, and you know it."

The blonde let out a sigh. "Yeah... Yeah. I know they are. We're a bunch of fools, aren't we Bret?"

"Yeah, of the worst kind. But it could be worse, there've been no major injuries other than a few scrapes and bruised knees. I've seen much worse."

"In a pee wee hockey league?!"

"No! Of course not, Shawn. When I played in high school, I almost got put through the fiber glass on the side."

"Wow! Well, that's because you're short."

Bret gave him a miffed look. "I'm only 2 inches shorter than you."

"Shortly." Shawn teased with a big shit eating grin.

"Slutty."

"Shortly."

Bret grabbed him, wrenching his arms behind his back and pinning him up against the wall. "That's enough outta you there, boy." He said amused.

"Ouch! Abuse! Abuse!" Shawn laughed squirming against him. "You jerk! Let me go!"

"Not until you say uncle..." He grinned twisting his arms a little.

"Uncleuncleuncle!"

Bret released the blonde, but to his surprise, Shawn countered wrapping his arms around his neck and clinging like a magnet to him. "Hey...!"

"I know you don't like me so I'm just gonna cling on to you until you say uncle." Shawn said with a smirk. "How the tables have turned, my friend."

"At least you smell good."

"You don't mind me hangin' off of you like this?"

"Not as much as you thought I would."

"You know what? You're no fun." Shawn pouted and went to move off of him.

Bret grabbed Shawn's hips, holding him in place. "You're not going any where."

Shawn put his arms around Bret's neck again, looking into his dark eyes with his own light blue ones. "Getting pretty cozy here with me, aren't cha?"

"Guess I am."

"Thought I wasn't your type."

"Never said that, just that you were far too young for me."

Shawn laughed and shook his head. "No way. You make yourself sound like an old fart. You know, to me, age doesn't matter. It's how young you are inside."

Bret smiled a little at that, finding his eyes trailing down to look at Shawn's bee stung lips. "So I'm not too old to kiss you then?"

"No way." Shawn grinned cocking his head to the side. He gave him an attractive look, pouting his lips a little- a look far too reminiscent of his Play Girl spread.

"You're not going to call me a dirty old man?"

"If I was going to, I would have already. So stop stalling and kiss me already!" He said poking him in the chest.

Bret leaned over taking his one hand off of Shawn's hip to touch the back of his neck, massaging the space beneath his ponytail. The blonde let out a small moan, as if he had been waiting in agony just for a simple touch. To tell the honest truth, Bret was nervous. Shawn was still just as gorgeous. He seemed to get more attractive as time went on. But those beautiful blue eyes always stayed the same. So expressive, so clear.

Shawn wouldn't let on to it, but he was nearly about to pass out. He'd never been this close to Bret before. He thought he might have been over that extreme crush from 17 years ago, but being in the embrace he had dreamed of so frequently brought back feelings he had locked away. Blush tinged his cheeks as he felt Bret pressing his lips against his in a soft, endearing kiss. He was overwhelmed with the powerful scent of Bret during their embrace- He smelt so good, like AXE spray. Damn commercials were right- it's a friggen turn on when your lover smells so good...

The buzzer went off, singling the end of the game, but Bret and Shawn were so into what they were doing that they didn't notice right away. They pulled apart after a minute or so afterward...

"The game ended." Bret murmured a little in shock over what had just happened. He could taste Shawn all over his lips-- needless to say, he liked that a hell of a lot.

"Yeah, I heard the buzzer. What's the score?" Shawn asked being brought crashing down to reality. Damn, he could taste Bret all over his lips-- There was no way that this was going to be the last time.

"It's..."

---

Bret had just finished his call to Play Girl magazine. He supposed it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe it'd bring him some decent publicity to say the least. What a game. What a night.

He grinned to himself, looking to the unmade side of Shawn's bed. The blonde had left to do some errands before they had to meet up for lunch. Shawn had a nice place here-- Well designed, comfy with about being frumpy, and everything just seemed to scream Shawn. Normally jumping into bed like this would have been a no no, but he had known the blonde for sometime now, and definitely wasn't worried about it.

He could get used to having Shawn as a lover. For sex like that... He'd dance with the devil himself. The lips, the touch, the taste, everything that Shawn did was so artful, so perfect. He did feel stupid for pushing Shawn away now, but sex was just a part of a relationship. He had a long way to go with the younger man. Like he had told Adam... He never knew how to handle Shawn. Never knew what was coming. But maybe he needed that in his older years. Someone to spice up the day, and heat up the night.

With a sigh he got up from Shawn's big bed, walking over to his bag. After all that, he needed a shower first of all. He didn't want to be smelling like sex.

---

Bret came into Hooters in a black tee shirt and shorts, waving over to the team of kids at the table. "Hey guys!" He said cheerfully taking a seat by Adam and the head coach. "Good game last night."

"We're sorry we tied. Now you have to go get your picture taken." Michael, the blue eyed goalie said remorsefully. "I could have saved that last goal!"

"No no, Clifford. It's okay. We tied- They didn't beat you, and yeah, I have to go get my pictures taken. Let this be a lesson to you, a real man faces the bets he makes when he looses them, but a better man doesn't make them at all."

The boys all nodded their heads solemnly. It wasn't sooo bad. At least they got free eats.

"So where's our waiter? I've been waiting all morning for this!"

"He's getting the chicken wings. He brought you out a Labatts. How'd he know to get you one?" Adam asked quietly.

"I told him this morning."

Adam blinked at him, and Bret cursed silently to himself. Adam was the worst gossip he had ever met before. "Do you have sex with him?!" He hissed.

Bret took a sip out of his beer, deciding it was better for himself not to say anything.

"You did, didn't you?!"

"For your information, I did no such thing."

Adam gave him a skeptical look, but that all changed as Shawn walked out carrying two huge trays of chicken wings. "Check it out man! That is a LOT of chicken wings!"

The kids cheered as Shawn put an astounding 300 wings down on the table along with two more pitchers of pop. "There you guys are. I better get a good tip from SOMEBODY at this table." Shawn said and strolled causally by Bret, pausing to bend over and tie his shoe.

Bret popped open his wallet snapping some bills in part of Shawn's exposed thong. "There's your tip."

Shawn stood up and pulled out the cash, looked at it, then groaned dramatically. "It's Canadian!"

"So what? The exchange isn't as bad as it used to be. We have your president to thank for that!"

Shawn stuck his tongue out at him and sauntered on into the backroom again.

"So you did have sex with him."

Bret gave Adam a dirty look. "No, I slept with him to be exact-- and it was wonderful. And I do believe we'll be doing that again tonight if I'm lucky."

Adam pulled Bret off the stool, ushering him over to the side so the kids couldn't hear. "What happened last night?! I thought Shawn wasn't your type-- that you couldn't figure him out!"

He gave the assistant a sheepish smile and a shrug. "Yeah, I know what I said. But last night I realized something about him that I didn't before. He cares about people other than himself... The way he worried about putting unwanted stress on the kids, the guilt over me... I was wrong, and I see it now. I don't like being wrong, but here I was. I know it's going to be hard, but I'm going to try and forge a relationship with him."

"Oh. So... Was it good?"

Bret blinked at him; of all things he would have pictured being asked, that was the least of them. "What do you think?"

"I'm thinking there are many reasons why you can't wipe that smile off of your face, and all of them are good." Adam finally said looking at the older man and rolled his eyes. "Come on Tiger, lets go get some of those wings before the kids eat im' all."

---

"Ohhh, Bret! I can't walk if you keep that up!" Shawn giggled as Bret attacked his neck with kisses. Bret steered them both into the living room, collapsing on a near by leather sofa. Shawn plopped down on his lap, laying down on his chest. "Mmm. You guys and your wings. I've never seen anything like it before."

"They're growing boys." Bret smirked kissing him on the cheek. "And I love wings- They're one of my favorite foods."

"Yeah, I could tell. You ate almost 30 yourself. Better watch that you don't start growing in other places." He teased poking him in the belly.

"Har har- That's never gonna happen." Bret made a face and began to rub his thighs a little. His eyes roamed around the room, glancing around at various objects before coming to rest on something in a shadow box. "Hey-- What's up with the stuff in the shadow box?"

"Oh- That's my Guns N Roses stuff." Shawn said causally as he got off of Bret so the older man could get up and see.

"Damn Shawn! Axl's bandana, Slash's guitar..." Bret murmured looking at the huge amount of memorabilia from each member of the band from around... 1988. "Shawn... How did you get all this?"

Shawn sighed watching Bret from over the couch. "Remember when you left me stranded out in front of the concert hall?"

"Yeah..."

"Well..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shawn whipped the tears from his eyes, and finally got up. Bret had left him here, to miss the concert, and left him out of a hundred bucks... He had never been so heart broken in all of his young life. He hung out by the lamp post trying to hail a cab. He never felt so humiliated in all his life either, now that he thought about it.

He watched as a long, black, super stretch limo passed by him playing obscenely loud music. That had to be the band... At least he got to see their limo. He suddenly felt very bitter, crossing his arms across his chest. Suddenly, the limo went in reverse and pulled up right in front of Shawn. The tinted window rolled right down and none other than Axl Rose popped his head out. He leered seemingly leered up and down at the big haired blonde wearing black leather pants and matching biker jacket. He smirked a little and opened the door of the limo, beckoning to the young blonde. "Come on in love, we'll give you a ride..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Wait. Wait just a second. What did you do in that limo to get you all this stuff, Shawn Michaels...?" Bret asked eyeing the blonde with an unreadable expression.

"Ohhh... I did enough, and we'll leave it at that." Shawn said walking over to put his arms around his neck.

Bret opened his mouth to disagree, but something about the mix of a cute expression and the deadly look he was getting from Shawn's pristine blue eyes made him shut up.

"Now, I think it's about time I get out of these little shorts-- they're starting to ride up. Want to give me a hand..?"

Bret forgot all about Guns N Roses the moment Shawn had guided his hands to his firm ass. He grinned following tightly Shawn up to his bedroom. Well, he forgot for the moment, anyway...

FIN.
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