Part 1 in Series
Author: Midnight
Email: bratd19@charter.net
Fandom: Wrestling
Series: Is This Love?
Rating: FRT
Warnings: Bad language, angst,
slash m/m relationships
Disclaimer: Don’t know ‘em.
Don’t own ‘em. This is fiction.
After Raw 4/11/05
His anger was the only thing about the
promo that was real. Deep, raging anger, it was, and the only thing keeping
Bischoff’s head on his shoulders was the small, nearly insignificant fact that
it wasn’t him that he was pissed off at. The fear in Bischoff’s eyes was real,
tangible. He thought Shawn was going to kill him. He’d considered it, actually.
Killing him. It might have broken the rage, allowed him to go back to the man
he really was pissed at and have a nice, calm, rational conversation. Instead,
he’d savored the look in the other man’s eyes and waited impatiently at the end
of his tirade for the cameras to stop rolling. He’d turned on his heel when
they did, ignoring Bischoff’s attempt to talk to him, and stalked off.
His blood boiled as his lover’s promo flashed
before his eyes. He’d wisely avoided him after that, hoping to cool his anger.
It hadn’t worked. Especially after that farce of a match with Daivari. Big
deal, it was predetermined. So he’d known what was coming. Who cared? It was
still ridiculous. It still pissed him off. And having to team with Hulk Hogan?
Who’s brain dead idea was that? He decided on Vince. The old bastard
loved screwing with their heads. He was just lucky Bret hated him so much or
he’d be teaming with him for “one more match”. The very thought made him
utterly sick. If there was one person on God’s green earth he hated more than
Chris Benoit, it was Bret Hart.
Somehow, since Hunter
seemed to follow him nearly everywhere since he’d come back, always worried
about his back, he’d managed to find an empty room and be alone, to watch the
rest of the program. He’d turned off the volume during Benoit’s match,
preferring not to listen to Edge, and just sat back and tried to burn a hole
through the man’s head with his glare. Obviously, it hadn’t worked, as Benoit’s
head was not ablaze with pretty orange flames. Against his better judgment, he
turned the volume back up and listened to Dave’s interview. The stupid prick.
All confident and cocky and oh, what he wouldn’t give to see Hunter get the
best of him this time. He didn’t.
He’d
almost cooled down. Almost managed to bury his rage. Until the end. Which was
ridiculous really. Not that that mattered to his battered ego and
uncontrollable temper, which flared as hot as ever as he jumped to his feet and
headed out the door. He was back here somewhere. He had to be. The show was
over. He stopped cold when he saw Hunter and slipped inside the closest room.
Now was not the time for him to be dealing with Hunter. Hell, now was not the
time for him to be dealing with anyone unfortunately for his lover, whom he was
going to find and rip to pieces. Maybe. Sighing, he dropped down on the floor
and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes. Maybe he’d just stay here for
the rest of his life. It was definitely a tempting idea. Hiding out for the
rest of his life. Never having to face his friends or fans or the man he loved
ever again. He nodded to himself. Yes, that’s what he was going to do. He was
going to sit here forever and just let the whole miserable world pass him by.
Or not.
The door swung open and he stepped
inside, letting it swing shut behind him. Not noticing his lover sitting
dejectedly by the door, his anger suddenly remembered and burning in his eyes,
he strode across the room and unzipped his bag, dropping the World Championship
belt inside it. Suddenly, he stood upright, as though he felt the hole being
burned in the back of his head, and turned, his eyes drifting lazily over the
room. When his eyes landed on Shawn he looked shocked to find him there before,
suddenly, that grin lit up his face. That grin that made Shawn’s knees go weak.
Made his heart hammer in his chest, pounding so damn hard he thought it was
going to burst out of his chest. Made his pulse race and any normal, rational
thought suddenly incoherent. Not this time. Shawn was on his feet, his fist
clenched before Dave was halfway across the room. Maybe he was too stupid to
realize how angry Shawn was. Maybe he didn’t care. Shawn tried to back away as
Dave stopped in front of him, inches away, hit solid wall and cursed under his
breath. Dave was looking down at him in amusement and Shawn exploded.
“What the fuck is so funny, huh?” He burst
out, shocking the amused look from his boyfriend’s face. “Thinking about how
stupid I am, are you? About how you can go out there and just be all over
someone in front of the camera and claim it’s all part of the show? Enjoy your
time with Benoit, did you, Dave? And what about JR?” Now he was just being
stupid. Well, stupider. “You looked pretty fucking chummy with him, too!”
“Shawn.” Dave sighed and reached out for
him but Shawn pushed him away. Dave sighed again and stood back, his arms
folded across his chest, deciding to just let Shawn run out of steam.
“Don’t fucking touch me! Not now not ever
again! I saw you out there with Benoit all fucking touchy feely. Enjoyed that,
I bet. Being able to fondle your ex on live television in front of millions,
right under your boyfriend’s nose. Expected me to just let it go did you?
Ignore it?”
“Shawn--”
“And now you’re going to say it was just
for show. It didn’t mean anything. That it wasn’t sexual, right?”
“Right.” Dave muttered resignedly, barely
refraining from rolling his eyes.
“If you wanted him, why’d you leave him?
Why’d you ask me out?” He waved away Dave’s explanation, brushing past him to
retrieve his own bag, slinging it over his shoulder. “You know what? I don’t
even fucking care. Go be with Benoit, if that’s what you want.”
“And if I said it wasn’t?” Shawn looked
up, gazed defiantly into his eyes, and shrugged.
“I’d say you were lying and to go to
hell.” Dave sighed and hesitantly walked closer. Shawn let him get within two
feet before he held up his hand. “Stop right there.”
“Shawn. Don’t do this.” Shawn ignored him,
brushed by him to leave, but Dave caught his arm. “Shawn, please. This is
ridiculous. You know I love you.”
“Right.” Shawn muttered, tugging his arm
away. “Is that why you were all over Benoit tonight?”
“I wasn’t all over him. So I patted his
back or whatever, big deal. Why does that automatically mean I want him back?”
Shawn ignored him and Dave sighed. “If you leave now, like this, over nothing,
we’re through.” Shawn laughed humorlessly.
“You pay such close attention, don’t you?”
He asked bitterly. “We were through the second you touched Benoit.”
The End