Disclaimer: I do NOT own the following wrestlers, or any of the events that actually happened on camera, or anything recognizable.

I respect the actual beliefs and sexualities of the following wrestlers.

So, this is a third one that was written as a part of the Secret Santa Writing Challenge 2009. This one's for DX-Dynamite and BellaHickenbottom; I hope you both enjoy it. It was fun to write. So, a few things: This takes place around Christmas 1995- that means Shawn's not active now, the Kliq's still traveling together, and Bret Hart's world champion. Undertaker will be the one to face him at the upcoming (storywise) Royal Rumble, which is also when Shawn returns.

On a separate note, to everyone who has yet to write their stories- DO NOT watch the 'Woodland Critter Christmas' episode of South Park while writing. I almost had this finished last night, but then I saw that, and I couldn't finish it until today. That is one truly demented Christmas story. Now that I got all that out of the way, go ahead, read.

Cold Hands, Warm Hearts

Snow danced down from the darkened sky, falling gracefully onto the ground. The air was frigid, nipping and biting at any piece of bare flesh. Shawn Michaels rubbed his hands together for warmth, but it did no good; now, all he could think about was why the hell did he decide that he needed a James Dean jacket.

The leather jacket provided little in the way of warmth, and Shawn was shivering way more than he'd like to, straining his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. His friends, Kevin, Scott, and Hunter, were supposed to come pick him up, but they were nowhere in sight. Plenty of superstars already left, and Shawn was alone, the snow falling on his long blonde hair.

Shawn decided to figure out where in the world they were, so he made his way to a payphone, quickly paying a quarter and punching in Kevin's car phone number. The phone rang twice before he heard Scott say, "Do I just pick it up?"

"Well, duh. It's a phone. How do you use a phone?"

"Just keep your eyes on the road, baboso!" Scott turned to the phone and said, "Hello?"

"Where the fuck are you guys?" Shawn said bluntly, hugging close to himself.

"Oh, hey chico... well, that's a long story... thank the giant baboso next to me..."

"Okay, this is not my fault!" Kevin said, voice filled with indignation.

"Who took a left and kept us on the free way when we were supposed to exit?"

"Who was supposed to tell me to turn right to get on the exit?"

"Will you two shut up?" Shawn said. Once the arguing ended, Shawn said, "Now, when are you getting here?"

There was a silence, but then Hunter spoke up. "We're still on the freeway."

"WHAT?"

"Calm down, chico! We just haven't found the next exit yet."

"What am I supposed to do, then?" Shawn shouted, "It's fucking freezing!"

"I told you to buy a coat..."

"Not helping, Kev," Scott said, before returning his attention to Shawn, "Look, Shawn, just ask one of the others for a ride. Whose still there?"

Shawn looked around and sighed. No one was outside, but, even though the mall where they were signing autographs was closing, he knew there were two people still in there.

"Owen and Bret," Shawn finally said.

"Well, then, it's settled. Ask the Harts to drive you-"

"Oh, hell no! Shawn, don't-"

"Would you prefer he froze?" Scott shot back, quieting Hunter. "Go ask Owen for the ride. You don't even have to talk to Bret." He knew Shawn and Bret's relationship was straining; although you couldn't call them friends before, they were still friendly. But now, you could feel the tension between them.

"I can wait..." Shawn said, not looking forward to asking them to drive him over.

"Shawn, we're still on the freeway, going in the wrong direction," Scott reminded him gently, "It's Owen. We all love Owen. Just go ask." Shawn was about to argue again, but his time on the phone was running out, so he said his goodbyes and hung up the phone.

After a few minutes of waiting, Owen and Bret came out of the mall, chatting amicably. Shawn gulped and began walking toward them, only to be stopped by a deep, throaty laugh.

Shawn turned in circles, looking for the source. His eyes landed on a car, the window rolled down. Mark Calaway was in the driver's seat, mirth written plainly on his face. "What the hell do you want?" Shawn said.

"Oh, nothing. Just want to watch you ask your 'rival' for a ride." Mark chuckled. "Go ahead, ask Hart for a ride. Of course, it's not like you haven't a million times before."

Shawn went closer to the window and leaned forward. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Come on, Michaels, do I really need to explain that one?"

Shawn spared a glance at Bret before saying, "I don't know how you know, but I swear, if you tell anyone-"

Mark couldn't help but be amused with the smaller man who was threatening him. He smirked and said, "Don't worry your pretty little head. I won't tell a soul. Say, how about I give you that ride?"

Shawn laughed hollowly. "And why would you do that?"

Taker grinned. "Because I want to rile the champion up before I go after him at the Rumble. And what better way then to make him watch me drive off with his boy toy?"

Shawn shrugged. Well, he was cold. And ever since he and Bret started this secret relationship, things had become different in public: they were more like forced acquaintances than friends. Bret was only the man Shawn first fell in love with in private now.

"Sure." Shawn got into the car and Mark began driving. He stopped in front of Bret and Owen's car, grinning at the brothers. "See you guys at the next show." Shawn waved cheerily, unable to stop himself from feeling jubilant when he saw the obvious anger in Bret's eyes. Owen waved back, and Bret managed to get out a gruff "See you around".

Mark and Shawn drove away and, within seconds, they broke into hysterical peals of laughter. "Did you see his face?" Shawn asked.

"God, Bret looked constipated." Mark shook off the laughter to say "So, where's the Three Musketeers? Or did three months on the bench make them forget you existed?"

"They got lost," Shawn shook his head in disbelief, "You would think three grown men could understand a freeway."

Mark snickered. "No offense, but your friends aren't the most brilliant of people. I mean, book wise, sure. How to put on a good show, they're great at that. But common sense wise- eh, not so much."

"I can't bring myself to be offended by that."

"I wouldn't care if you were anyway." Mark looked him up and down. "Do you think blue is a nice color on you or something?"

"What?"

"You're only wearing a leather jacket. You must be cold."

"The fans loved the look," Shawn said, brushing him off.

"But it's not exactly a winter look," Mark pointed out.

"I'll be fine."

They kept driving, and then Mark said something that shocked Shawn. "What the hell are you and Bret keeping things quiet? I know that, if I had you, I'd be parading you around in front of everyone, making sure they knew you were taken- especially Hunter, his eyes are always trained on you..."

"Hunter's a friend."

Mark made a sound of disbelief. "Hunter wants to do things to his 'friend' that would make the virgin jobbers blush. So, like I was saying- why the hell are things being kept on the hush?"

Shawn wanted to say it was none of his business but, before he knew it, he was spilling his heart to the bigger man. "Bret's part of one of wrestling's biggest families... it would cause too much attention, especially since we're both superstars now... I don't want anyone to say I slept my way to my first world title... and Lord only knows how my family would take it..."

"I thought the Heartbreak Kid didn't care what people thought."

"They aren't just people, Mark. They're my parents."

"And what if you guys get serious?" Mark pushed.

"What makes you think we aren't?" Shawn growled.

"Well- if you're at that stage when you two are serious, actually thinking about spending the rest of your lives together- wouldn't you eventually have to tell your parents? What, going to get married in secret and then pretend to be a bachelor for the rest of your life?"

"We'll figure it out by then," Shawn said softly. Mark heard the sadness in Shawn's voice and didn't push further; Shawn actually loved the cocky Canadian, it seemed.

They got to the hotel, and they walked inside. Once they were in the lobby, Shawn turned to Mark and said, "Thanks for the ride-" Suddenly, Mark's mouth was against his, tongue running against his chapped lips. Shawn didn't react until Mark moved away, both cheeks turning red from what just transpired. "Was that also to tick off Bret?"

"Do you see Hart around here?" Mark asked. Shawn looked around and, indeed, Bret and Owen hadn't arrived yet.

"Then why did you do that?"

"Because red's a much cuter color on you than blue." Shawn started blushing more, and Mark said, "I meant what I said in the car. If I had you, if you were mine, I'd show you off, make sure everyone knew that you were off the market. I'd treat you like royalty day in and day out. I would know that I was lucky to have you... I hope Bret knows, or else he's a complete idiot. Well, happy holidays, Shawn. I'll see you around." He walked away, leaving Shawn completely stunned, standing in the lobby. He put his hand to his lips, almost able to still feel Mark's against them.

Did that really just happen?

There it is, everyone. Happy holidays, all.