Remind Me [WWE] [Shawn Michaels] {Book 2}

Chapter Thirty-Three: Do What You Need To Do

|Kat|

Circa 1997

Shawn sat on top of the hotel sink, while I tended to his scrapes. He had already taken off his shirt, which was stained with his own blood. Just another one of many pieces of clothing we would have to replace. Those stains weren't easy to remove.

I held a warm washcloth up to Shawn's eyebrow, where he was sporting a long cut. His lip was busted too, and his cheek on that same side was starting to turn purple.

He flinched as soon as the cloth made contact with his skin, pulling back from me.

"Come on, Shawn. I'm just trying to get you cleaned up."

"Sorry, it just fuckin' hurts," he said through gritted teeth. He let me wipe away the blood from his face without moving this time. "That asshole..."

I let out an exasperated sigh. "Would you just leave him alone? You can't keep getting in these fights."

"Bret got what was coming to him. He starts it as much as I do, you know."

"Yeah, Shawn, I know." I placed a bandage over his brow, covering most of the cut. That would at least stop him from getting blood everywhere.

Every week, Shawn's backstage antics got worse. I was afraid that one day he was going to pass off the wrong guy and be seriously injured.

"Davey's the one who busted my damn lip open. Fucker couldn't just leave well enough alone."

I looked up at Shawn. "You know Paul would, and has, done the same for you."

As the adrenaline wore off, he started calming down and losing his bravado. "Well, yeah. Paul's my best friend."

"Davey, Jim, Owen... Those guys are Bret's friends. His family, even."

The Bret hate train didn't stop. "They're all assholes. You know what Bret fuckin' said to me? He said I'm your dad's pet." Shawn spat that last word out like it was poison. He worked his ass off to be in the position he was in in the WWF, and he despised anyone hinting that he hadn't.

I couldn't help but shake my head at him. "If you don't stop talking, I can't fix your lip."

Though he wasn't happy about it, he obliged and kept quiet long enough for me to bandage the cut on his lower lip. It was swelling up a bit, making his pout look even bigger than it was.

"There," I said. I gave him a quick kiss, trying not to cause him any pain. "All fixed up."

"Thank you, Kat." Shawn hopped off the counter and wrapped his arms around me. "What would I do without you?"

"Bleed out in an alley somewhere after a bar fight?"

He laughed into my shoulder. "Yeah, probably."

As he pulled away, I held his face in my hands. He still looked like hell, but at least he wouldn't get blood all over the sheets. "Promise me you'll leave Bret alone? I don't care what he says, it's not worth you getting hurt. Or worse, fired."