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Coffee Break 1/1
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    Forty minutes.  Shane had a glorious forty minutes before he had to
go out again for the main even at RAW and he intended on making the 
most of it; it was just about time for his 11:00 coffee fix.  Just the
thought of sugary caffeine and chewable Styrofoam cups was enough to 
make him feel better about the whole Mankind thing.  If that crazy 
bastard somehow managed to get the belt away from Hunter, he'd never 
hear the end of it.  God, "It's my time, I am the game, it's about ME."
What a baby.  Shane clucked his tongue and turned the corner into the 
green room.

    Appointing himself special guest referee for the match-up seemed to
of appeased Hunter somewhat though, for now at least, so Shane was glad
he didn't have to listen to his fellow Greenwich resident's complaints 
for the rest of the night.  That is, unless he lost.

    Putting that into the category of Don't Want To Think About It, 
Shane sighed in pleasure and relief at the sight of the silver coffee 
dispenser gleaming so prettily on the table next to a box of donuts.  
It was like spotting an oasis in the dessert, a beautiful, perfect, 
wonderful thing almost to good to be true.  Shane could smell the rich 
coffee scent thick in the air and almost as if being drawn by magnets, 
the heir apparent soon found himself in front of the source of that 
wonderful smell, Styrofoam cup in hand.

    "Come to daddy..." he murmured and pushed back on the little black
handle, watching for the steamy line of brown liquid to come out.  He
waited.

    He pushed it again, a little harder.

    "No, no no no..." he moaned.  "Oh come on, don't do this to me..." 
He hit the silver container, and one small drop managed to squeeze its 
way into his cup, but otherwise nothing.  "Aw fuck."  He let his head 
fall against the warm steel with a dull thunk and closed his eyes.  
Well, it was over now.  Everything.  Hunter was gonna lose the belt, 
Mankind was gonna stick Mr. Socko down his throat, and Eric Bischoff 
was gonna take over the World Wrestling Federation all because Shane 
never got his coffee.

    "Tough luck, kid.  Shoulda got here sooner."

    At the sound of the sudden and unexpected voice, Shane jolted up 
from his slouch and spun around to see The Rock sitting casually in a 
folding chair, his sunglasses in one hand and the last cup of coffee in
the other.  The.  Last.  Cup.  Of.  Coffee.  Of all the ...

    "That's my coffee your drinking," Shane snarled, trying not to let 
too much frustration show through.  But damn it, HIS coffee.  HIS.

    "It *was* your coffee," Rocky made a show of taking a long drink.
"And it sucked!  You call this coffee?!  The Rock calls it monkey crap
gone bad."  With that, he threw the half-full coffee cup into the 
garbage and stood to go, taking much pleasure in the other man's 
mortafied expression as he did so.

    Oh no, no way, Shane thought.  You don't insult a man's coffee, and
then expect to get off scott free.

    Reaching out to grab one of the arms incased in the sleeve of 
another godawful shirt, Shane spun him around.  "You're not going 
anywhere!"

    "Get your hands *off* the Great One!" The Rock tore his hand away
and jabbed a finger in Shane's chest.  "Now you listen to me, Boy-
Wonder-If-I'm-Adopted, you do not *touch* the Rock, you do not *look* 
at the Rock, and most importantly you do not TOUCH, THE ROCK."  He made
a show of straightening his clothes and brushing them off, but Shane 
hadn't really heard a word the Rock had said.  He was enraptured.  With
that smell...
 
   That wonderful java, coffee, caffeine enhanced smell that was now 
fixed on the Rock's every word and every breath.  It seemed to come out
 in waves out of the Rock's mouth and up into Shane's nose and senses, 
clouding everything as it called out to him.  Coffee would be on the 
Rock's tongue, on his lips, inside of him.  Shane studied the Rock as 
he seemed to be going on another diatribe and noticed that the Rock 
himself looked like the delicious liquid.  His skin, his eyes...Shane 
sighed.

    "...and The Rock sees you eyeballing the Rock, The Great One, The 
*most* electrifying man in sports entertainment to - "  The Rock never 
got to finish, and his eyebrow shot up as Shane McMahon wrapped his 
arms around his shoulders and pulled him close for a deep, long kiss.

    Shane tasted the sweetness, as his lips moved and sucked, he could 
feel warmth on the Rock's tongue and inside his mouth as he kissed and 
probed with his tongue.  He pulled him closer and let his hands move up
to hold the other man's closer as he deepened the kiss even more, 
determined to get every last drop of coffee from the Rock's mouth.

    When the kiss finally broke, the Rock stumbled back and dropped his
sunglasses, then stumbled again and accidentally stepped on them.  
Shane merely sighed, his eyes closed and luxuriously licked his lips.  
He had finally gotten his caffeine fix, so all was right with the 
world.

    He opened his eyes and noticed that the other man was staring at 
him with a bewildered expression, more daunted then Shane had ever seen
him.  Aw, it was so cute.  Stepping forward, Shane patted his cheek 
condescendingly, noticed against the wonderful skin tone that was so 
much like his favorite late night pick-me-up.  It was flushed hot and 
Shane smiled.

    "Thanks, *kid*, next time, coffee's on me."  Feeling it was always 
best to keep them guessing, Shane walked by and out the door before the
other man could say anything in response.



*****
End
*****