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I've spent my life waiting
For that famous final scene
I believe you know the one--
When he falls in love with me

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Shawn drove slowly down the dark street, his headlights flashing over the wet, glimmering pavement. Rain pattered softly on the windshield, a subtler echo of the thud of his heart as he moved closer to this destination that had taken him years to arrive at. His hands gripped the wheel, soaked with nervous perspiration. He wiped his palms against his jeans and with an unsteady sigh replaced them, turning the wheel to pull into the driveway. The pace of his heart picked up until it made him dizzy.

For a few moments time seemed to crawl by as he sat there dragging his palms again and again over his jeans, trying somehow to buy just a little more time, as though enough time hadn't already been thrown away. His cobalt eyes pierced the night, damp with tears that stung his eyelids when he blinked, and looked through the runners of rain towards the house in front of him, only the glow of the porch light illuminating the brick face.

He thought over all the years, all the hurt, anger, bitterness—all of it was allowed to get so out of control that anything else two hearts had once felt had been buried under it all. It was time to peel those things away, for Shawn at least. He was terrified to find out how the man inside that house felt, as though he didn't know. His dark haired dream and nightmare surely could not just simply erase those words that had been whispered against Shawns' ear so many times before that love went sour, and turned to tragedy.

His eyes slid closed and he offered up a desperate prayer in whispered breath before opening the door, and slipping out of the car. He stood near the silent vehicle, looking at the house again, playing with the fob on his keychain. He knew what needed to be done it was just a matter of getting there. He forced his feet to move, the heels of his boots scuffling against the wet concrete. Sooner than he had imagined, he was at the door, his fisted hand hovering over the painted wood. Every fiber of his being was singing out, ringing out with the tension of the moment, any thought of turning and leaving was now impossible, because he felt paralyzed to the doorstep. Shawn knocked, and held his breath.

The couch creaked as Bret stirred. He'd been verging on the edge of sleep, in his hand he held the stem of a glass which had been filled with wine, until he'd dozed off and dumped it onto the cushion. He cursed and slammed the glass onto the coffee table, breaking a piece of the round bottom. He rubbed at his eyes and squinted across the room at the clock over the fireplace. Who the hell was knocking at the door at this time of night. With a growl of annoyance he padded to the door and unlocked it, yanked it open, ready to lay in to the dumb ass who was—

Any words he had been ready to spit out with sarcastic acid dried up on his tongue. Bret stood there in his boxers, undershirt stained with a scarlet dribble of alcohol, and terrycloth bathrobe, the tie dangling precariously from one loop. His mouth hung agape, and when he realized it, he snapped it closed, his brain grappling for something to say, but only stalling like a flooded engine, as too many memories and emotions crashed over him like hurricane waves breaking against a cracking levee.

His shocked, hazel eyes seemed to be bewitched with the form in front of him. He even rubbed them, thinking he was hallucinating, though he'd fallen asleep before even finishing one glass of wine. Still, that angel—or demon?—was there on his step, aglow under the porch light, the moonlight sparkling through his golden mane and dancing in those beautiful, blue depths. Maybe I'm dreaming? Bret thought to himself, fighting for some answer that would not be what he knew was the truth—Shawn Michaels was legit standing there, his hands nervously playing with themselves, his lips pursing into a tight line as he thought of something to say. Finally, Bret was forced to accept that Shawn was for real there, because he spoke. That one word cut through him, Shawns' voice, in that soft, husky, tone still after all these years made Bret shiver. Or maybe it's just the rain. He tried to reason, but his heart knew a simple raindrop was not pumping his blood faster.

"Bret."

Shawn shifted from foot to foot and chewed at his lip. He'd gone over and over what he'd wanted to say, but now he couldn't remember the constructed words. When Brets' face filled his sight, he melted, and now his silent tears streaked his face, melding with the cool drops of rain.

"Can—can I come in? I uh, I understand if you don't wanna see me but Bret I really—"

Bret had shut Shawn out of his life for so long that his reflex only seemed natural. He wrapped his hand around the brass knob and swung the door, ready to keep Shawn where he was meant to stay—out. But Shawns' boot wedged itself between the door and the jamb, and those cobalt eyes looked into his pleading.

"Please, please Bret I just wanna talk. I have to—we have to."

Silence hung between them, the tension seeming like an unseen choke hold.

"Please?"

Hesitantly, Bret opened the door and gestured for Shawn to step inside. What the fuck am I doing? Letting him in? I promised to never let him back in to my life. Bret shook his head and motioned towards the couch. He remembered the wine, and walked past Shawn to flip over the cushion before he sat down. Bret moved as close to the end of the couch as he could, farthest from Shawn as he could, but even being in the same room with him was too close. He wanted to drag Shawn out of his house and kick him to the curb, yet he wanted—almost more than that—to wrap his arms around that body one more time, to feel that heart beating against his in a song that was in need of no words to express the emotions behind it. Suddenly, Bret felt exhausted, old even. How long are you going to hold on to these thorns? Cast them aside Bret. He grabbed the glass from the table and found the bottle he'd started to drink. When he started to pour it he realized his hands were trembling and he felt stupid, oh well. He tucked the wine bottle between the couch cushion and gulped down half of what was in the glass before turning to Shawn. The blond was poised on the edge of the sofa, his hat in his hands, worrying the brim of it.

"Wine?" Bret asked, his own voice sounding weird and foreign to him. Damn Shawn Michaels for doing this to me. Bret thought as Shawn refused the offer.

"I need to ask you something." Shawn said, pulling his eyes from the hat in his hands and linking them with Brets' soft hazel ones. The older man was smiling, but as Shawn studied his face—more creased than he had remembered it but just as handsome as it ever was—he could see straight through that curl of his lips, it wasn't genuine. Shawn knew Brets' true smile, and it was one he had sorely missed at many points in his life.

"Ask away Shawn, it must be important for you to come all the way to me, and at this time of night? I'm old. I need my sleep." Bret drank down the rest of the crimson liquid in his glass and poured some more.

"I don't want to talk about Montreal. It's been dissected every which way, and only the two of us know the real story behind it. I'm not here for that Bret. I'm not here for us to talk about the pain. We've both been hurt by each other and by ourselves. It's not a question of why, or regrets, or forgiveness. I just want to know Bret…can you tell me when you've been happiest in your life?"

Brets' knuckles blanched white as his grip on the glass tightened. The answer came to his mind straight away, it was a time in his life he had replayed in his mind over and over again reliving it in a bittersweet way that only lost love is remembered.

"I—I'm happy right now Shawn. Right now, I have never been happier."

Shawns' lips disappeared into a tight line, his brow furrowing hard.

"I want you to tell me the truth Bret. That's why I came here tonight, whether it was wise or not, and I'm not going to leave until I hear your answer, or else you physically remove me. You can't lie Bret, you never could, and you forget that I know your smile better than anyone…and that's not it."

"Shawn…" His name came out in something that seemed too close to a sob for Brets' comfort, and with embarrassment he realized he was crying. His hands covered his face for a moment, fighting to palm away the tears. He gave up trying to make them stop and dropped his head down in shame, watching as stray drops trickled from his chin and dappled his bare legs. He closed his eyes, and flashbacks like a movie—like pictures pasted into a cherished photo album—flickered through his mind. This was the last time you felt true happiness. Those memories were as real as if they were today: the feel of Shawns' hand against his, their fingers linking, those gorgeous eyes mating with his, the taste of his lips like petals of honey, the way his golden hair stuck to his face after they made love for long, lazy, hours. Most of all, those sweet, soft, sounds haunted his ears with the things they had promised to each other, their lips whispering words from the deepest reaches of their souls. And they managed to fuck it all up, such a beautiful love, and both of their egos crushed it.

Looking back, as Bret had many times, what he had gained from his own stubbornness seemed lesser and lesser, compared to what he had lost. Happiness with the one person he had ever truly loved. He'd been through the bitterness, the regret, the depression, now he didn't know what it was anymore. Confusion might be a good word to describe it. Or maybe, it was just more denial.

"What do you want me to say Shawn?"

Bret looked up, noticing that Shawn had moved closer to him. Their hips were nearly touching, and just that closeness had Bret feeling more alive than he had for a very long time. Shawns' hands covered his and Brets' tears dripped onto the rough knuckles.

"You don't have to say anything if you don't want to." Shawn said lowly, watching Brets' profile illuminated by the soft glow of the lamp. His warm, earth-tone, eyes had the look of deep thoughts, glazed over with tears, that leaked steadily over his lashes and down his cheeks. Shawn wanted so much to just reach over and wipe those tears away, kiss them away, but he didn't want to push too much. Already Bret had given more than Shawn had expected. He had over the years came to terms with what had happened between them, but he had his doubts as to whether Bret himself had ever confronted those demons.

Bret sniffled, and Shawn couldn't help it. Before he could stop his hand from moving, it had rose up and brushed Brets' hair away from his face. Both of them froze, Brets' indrawn gasp seeming as loud as a scream in the hushed room. His eyes closed, opened, closed again, and Shawn could see his chest rising and falling in quick spurts. Bret drew his hands away from Shawns' one that still rested on top of his, and reached for the switch on the lamp, his shuddering fingers barely functional enough to turn it, dousing the room in shadows. There was only one place he truly wanted to be, not stuck in this rut of a life, but rather cradled in the arms of love with that man who managed to screw with his emotions again and again and again.

I've spent my life waiting
For that famous final scene
I believe you know the one--
When he falls in love with me

As for you, you've been faking your smile
Filling your time on small talk and cheap wine
Knowing in your heart there was someplace
That you'd rather be

So wrong or right,
I've come here tonight
To tell you how I feel

Don't put up no fight
You just turn out the light
And come over here to me

And lay your body down on me
Down on me tonight,
Oh, let your tears fall down on me
Down on me tonight.

Bret laid Shawn back on the pillows, against the arm rest, and traced his fingers over the jaw line of that face he missed so much. His fingers ghosted over to Shawns' lips, hovering there, outlining their softness and shuddering at the hot breath that puffed out against them. Closing his eyes, he lowered his lips to Shawns', and the contact was like touching a live wire.

"Oh, Shawn…" Bret moaned, daring for only a moment to part their lips, his eyes rolling with pleasure. Shawn wrapped his hands around Brets' neck gently coaxing him back, tangling his fingers in that long, dark, hair laced with shimmers of silver. Their lips met again, caressing, parting slowly to give and take more. Teeth clicked in the quiet, still, darkness, and tongues met and mingled reacquainting themselves with sensations neither man had ever really forgotten. Brets' hands found the buttons to Shawns' shirt and pulled at them, clawing a couple away as they refused to comply with his demands quickly enough. The shirt was peeled away and tossed over the back of the couch, and soon followed by Brets' robe which was serving only as an annoyance.

Soon the two of them were heated with a passion neither had felt in years, it was only a fire that could spark and combust between the two of them. Their hands and mouths continued to roam over each others bodies, touching in places and ways they knew would drive the other insane. Time was still, and nothing existed but the slick movements of their bodies and the panted, delicious, moans and sighs that exploded like enormous thunderheads that had held their wet, electrical, contents to the final breaking point.

Bret gasped, sitting back on Shawns' waist. Both were still clad in their undershorts, though twin erections couldn't be covered any longer. Brets' chest was pumping heavily and he watched Shawn from hooded eyes. He ran his hands through his soaking hair, the sweaty strands twining around his fingers.

"Shawn I—I…wha-what are we doing?"

"Listening to our hearts, finally." Shawn spoke, his voice gravely and beautiful. "At least, I am. I can't speak for you, but I can see a light in your eyes, and it tells me…" Shawn reached upwards, his palm pressing firmly against Brets' sternum. "It tells me we're heart to heart. Just the way we used to be."

Bret placed his hand over Shawns' rubbing it softly. The silence between them spoke for itself. In it Bret knew that Shawns' words were true. After all this time it seemed irrational for everything to just melt away, but love knows not the constraints of time or the wounds of self-righteousness. It just keeps on existing, whether the bearer of it wills it to thrive or whither. He knew it, and still that small voice reminded him: irrational Bret, irrational after years and years, and after all the back-stabbing, lies, deceit, pain, heartbreak—SHUT UP.

Irrational? What was more irrational, was throwing away love for what in the end amounted up to nothing. The only thing Bret had truly wanted after he thought he had obtained all there was to be had was the man beneath him, smiling up at him with tearful, soul-haunting, and heart-jolting eyes, oceanic and endless in their gorgeous depths.

"Shawn, do you still…" Bret swallowed hard. "Do you still love me?"

"Bret, I've tried so many times to answer no to that question, in as many ways as I could think of. But I never could deny it. I lied to myself, but I knew. I fought it—but it was stronger than me." Shawn smiled. "Stronger than the both of us ever could be." He moved just a bit, and pressed a soft kiss to Brets' lips.

As for me I've lied to,
Denied to fight with,
And tried to apologize for all my ways
And to all the others who were fool enough
To fall in love with me

We played our roles like a movie
Got our lines for who is,
Who was, who would be
Somehow we lost track
While real love slipped away, yeah

So for tonight, just turn off the lights
And let those old feelings show
There's no wrong or right
But until we try again
We're never gonna know

And lay your body down on me
Down on me tonight
Let your tears fall down on me
Down on me tonight.

Bret moved off the couch and Shawn propped himself on his elbows, watching. He took Shawns' hand in his and led him across the room to the staircase, where they stopped at the bottom and embraced again with long overdue kisses that neither man could seem to get their fill of. Gasping, Bret linked his fingers with Shawns' and led him up the stairs, both of them tripping and stumbling in their haste, stopping for a quick moment to rid themselves of the last of their clothing and leaving it behind strewn on the steps.

They tumbled into the bedroom and never letting go of one another fell onto the bed, Shawn pressed into the mattress as Bret hovered over him, his long hair falling down into Shawns' face and tickling his cheeks, just the same as it always was.

"I wanna make love to you." Bret whispered, kissing Shawns' jaw line and ending up at his ear, nibbling and licking, his hands ghosting down Shawns' torso and stopping just before touching anything else further southwards.

"Make love to me Bret, oh please!" Shawn sobbed, everything he had ever desired paled in comparison to this one moment, which he thought until tonight to be no more than the fantasy of a fool. "Make love to me!"

No longer were feelings played off as lies, no longer were they denied, battled with, it was all pushed away and as their bodies met in that one special union, as their beings became one once again—they were nothing less than what they had ever been—two hearts helplessly, undeniably, eternally in love.

"I love you." Bret sighed as he curled next to Shawn, playing with his golden hair, watching his pretty lashes just flutter over his eyes, thinking about how lonely he was without Shawn, and wondering why they had to take the hard way around.

All these years I was so lonely
Ain't it a shame your heart must feel pain
Before you can get back on your feet again

So let's draw the blinds
Forget wasted time
And let them old demons die
Take ahold of my hand
I now understand
Why loves worth one more try

And lay your body down on me
Down on me tonight
Let your love shine down on me
Down on me tonight.

"I love you." Shawn answered tearfully. "I love you Bret Hart."

Eyes closed, twin smiles, contented and curled with happiness as the two of them drifted to sleep. Outside, the pale moon peeked in through the blind slats, illuminating two lovers once lost but in each others arms now—found again at last.

A/N: I changed a few things in the song to make it fit a bit better, but nothing hugely significant I promise. The song by the way is:

"Lay Your Body Down"—Poison (Bret Michaels)

This fic was for Nef. :)