Hello and welcome to one of my WWE Christmas Extravaganzas! This idea, although ridiculous, I hope, will fill everyone with some much needed Christmas cheer. So far this year, all I've heard is people moan about having to write on Christmas cards and stuff – not exactly the spirit of Christmas, in my opinion!
I don't own any of the characters in this story. The majority of them are owned by that lucky billionaire Vincent Kennedy McMahon, apart from one very special guest and his friends.
Please, don't take this seriously; it's just a light hearted, Christmas drabble and quite different to anything I've done before so I hope you enjoy it!
It was a crisp, chilled day in the middle of December. The Heartbreak Kid Shawn Michaels settled down to his morning coffee and late breakfast, consisting of a light fruit salad and granary toast. With it being just over a week until the most over indulging day of the year, the Texas native knew that it was in his best interest to rest up as much as possible, eating only the healthiest - and slimming - of foods.
As he listened to the morning Church service on his portable radio, his eyes gazed slovenly over the day's newspaper, shaking his head in mild disgust at some of the less attractive stories of rape and murder.
It bothered him that the folk of the world failed to co-exist, especially within an arm's reach of Christ's Birthday. He tutted, his features slumping a little with concern for the state of humanity.
His world became happier as his sweet wife's serene humming came into earshot. He beamed at her appearance, his face still a little melancholic.
"What's wrong, honey?" Rebecca questioned, running her soft hands over his broad shoulders.
"Nothing, sweetheart," he attempted to lighten up, resting a warm hand against her. "It's just such a shame that people can't get along in this world."
"I know," she pouted in agreement, laying a tender kiss against his blonde locks, smoothing out the strands of hair back into the pony tail. "Here's some mail for you."
"Thank you, darling." he replied, smiling gratefully to his beloved as she took his dirty dishes and began to clear up.
Shawn eyed the mail in an almost level expression, trying not to let his scepticism get the better of him. There were the regular bills, fan notes and other stuff that usually littered his house for days on end until he could be bothered to tidy away after himself. But there was one letter that caught his eye today.
The red swirled writing against the green background was evidently unique, cheery and very appropriate for the now commercial time of the year. The vague smell of candy canes swayed under his nose, the temptation of opening becoming too great to resist.
Picking up his reading glasses from beside him, he smirked as he saw the barrage of baubles and trees acting as a boarder around the beautifully hand written note. Squinting, he thought his eyes were deceiving him whilst reading the letter.
Dear Shawn Michaels,
I'm writing to ask of you a favour, a favour that may help save Christmas for all of the girls and boys around the world. That is all I can say for now. No doubt you are a little suspicious, thinking this is a prank of some sort but I promise you it is certainly not.
Please find enclosed your first class plane ticket to the North Pole where I shall explain more, if you so decide to come.
Yours sincerely,
Santa Claus.
Shawn snorted, sceptical of 'Santa's' notion that he could mistake the bizarre letter from a prankster. It wasn't until he searched in the envelope again that he began to take it seriously; sure enough, there was one first class plane ticket, on the direct route to the North Pole.
He did consider that that too could be a fake. Yet, he'd seen far too many plane tickets in his time to know this one was perfectly legit. But that didn't stop his mind pacing with racing doubts.
Rebecca, strolling back into the kitchen, eyed her husband curiously. Although she'd seen the same bout of confusion etched on her husband's face millions of times before, never had it seemed so probing, so indecisive.
"Is everything alright, baby?"
Without uttering a single word, Shawn thrusted the note into his wife's hands, his elbows resting on the table as his head slumped in his palms with hopeless uncertainty.
"What's this?" Becky quizzed, turning the letter over multiple times.
"Just read it," the Icon urged, watching his wife's beautiful face mimic his previously perplexed expression.
"Santa Clause? Huh, yeah right!" she snickered, flipping the paper back down beside her hubby.
Although dubious of the note, Rebecca, like her partner, couldn't help but have a niggling feeling that the aeroplane ticket was authentic. "What do you think?"
"I don't know," Shawn sighed deeply, annoyed at himself for getting this worked up over a seemingly trivial matter.
"What do you think you're going to do?" Becky spoke calmly, trying to be diplomatic.
"You know what? I have no idea, darling."
Hearing her husbands deep, boarder line exasperated sighs, she took a seat beside him, her hands taking his, their skin touching smoothly like silk.
"You know what I'd do?" she began, Shawn now looking at her directly in the eyes. "I would try calling the airport and seeing just how legit this ticket is. If they say it's not, then don't bother going. If it is, give this bizarreness the benefit of the doubt."
Nodding as he reluctantly looked through the phone directory for the airport phone number, Shawn didn't want to confess to his wife that he thought the letter was utter rubbish. Santa Clause was a character that most people realised wasn't real by the time they were ten.
Yet, why was something in his stomach telling him otherwise?
-----
Paul Levesque, known to his legion of fans worldwide as the Game, Triple H, stifled an unconvinced laugh as he dragged his semi-full suitcase across the floor of the airport, eyeing the travel ticket dubiously. The letter he'd received this morning seemed too silly to possibly be true, something too ridiculous for words.
However, the plane ticket was real, ordered through the credit card of a Mr. S Claus. He'd called the customer services department a little under two and a half hours ago and was now stood in an airport, about to venture on an aircraft that was suppose to take him to the home of St. Nick.
He wasn't convinced and although frightened to admit it to himself, he was almost a little scared of flying out to this guys house; he knew his superstar profile could bring as much destruction as benefits. What happened if it was a prankster's idea of a joke, a trap for him to be lured into?
His wife, Stephanie McMahon-Levesque, had offered to fly out with him. He told her not to be so silly; it was one of their only days off and, besides, someone had to take care of baby Aurora.
It was something he felt he had to do on his own anyway.
Taking another perplexed glance at his airline ticket, he felt a shoulder bound into his, a person he didn't expect to see bouncing right back at him.
The Kings of Kings snorted, pissed off not only to be losing one of his valuable days off but to nearly have his ticket fly out of his hand.
"Hey, watch where you are going assh-...Shawn?"
The slightly shorter blonde stood straighter, juggling his rather hot coffee between both hands. "Hunter?"
"What are you doing here?" they yelled simultaneously, even more confused than ever with the sudden appearance of their bestest buddy who lived hundreds of miles away.
"Ladies first," the Cerebral Assassin lightly mocked.
The Icon rolled his eyes, not in the least bit offended; he was use to that kind of playful abuse from his long time friend. "Well, this morning, I got up. It was a fairly warm morning actually - pleasantly surprising considering this time of year..."
"Shawn," Hunter sighed, stroking a hand over his now wearing face. "Not to be rude but can you speed this whole thing up? By the time you've finished explaining, we can say goodbye to Christmas and hello to Easter!"
"IGOTTHISLETTERFROMAGUYCALLEDSANTA-WHOIKNOWISN'TREAL-BUTIBELIEVEITISFROMHIMCOZOFTHEPLANETICKETANDWHENICALLEDTHEAIRPORTTHEYSAIDITWASREALSONOWI'MHEREANDTHANKTHELORDI'MNOTALONE!"
Shawn took a moment to breathe, away from the garbled nonsense that Hunter was only just beginning to work out.
"What about you?"
"Same reason...I think."
The friends stood in near silence for a few minutes, the hustle and bustle of the airport disappearing around them.
Peeping at one another's tickets, they were glad that they had found each other as they headed towards gate 24, unbeknownst to them what their future held...
To be continued...check back for more, soon!
Thank you for reading! Please take a moment to review, just so that I know what you think!