Wonderland [WWE] [Shawn Michaels] {Book 1}

Chapter 15: I'm Sure

-----
Kat's POV
-----

I was getting dressed when Shawn finally woke up. Paul and I were both wise enough to not poke a sleeping bear, so we always just let him go. Except when we needed to be somewhere, and in that case we brought coffee. And earplugs.

He knocked on the bathroom door. "Kat, are you done?" His whiny tone implied that he probably hadn't slept very well. I gathered my curler and my makeup and left the bathroom so he could shower.

Paul was already eating breakfast. He'd made instant oatmeal. I'm not even sure where we got it, because I didn't remember shopping at all, but it was whatever. I made myself a bowl as well and sat down to eat with him.

"Today is when you have to have your new gear idea in to the wardrobe people," Paul reminded me.

"That's today?" I asked. "I haven't never thought about it!" I facepalmed.

"I think Shawn wanted to show you his idea."

I raised an eyebrow. "Should I be worried about this idea?"

He shrugged. Typical Paul, he wasn't going to give me a straight answer. He had the best poker face. "Maybe."

When Shawn was finally dressed, which took him about five years, he showed me his sketch. For one thing, it was a good thing he wasn't an artist. For another, the outfit was the tiniest top I'd ever seen paired with a short skirt.

"I'm not wearing that," I told him.

"Why not?"

"I'm not wearing that!"

"You'd look hot in it."

"I'm flattered, but I'm still not wearing it." I wasn't budging. There was no way I was showing that much skin on TV. Or in general, really. "Paul, tell him I'm not wearing that."

Paul looked at the sketch and pretended to think about it. "Well, you would look hot in it." He cut me off before I got started with him for that comment. "But maybe you'll like this better." He showed me the sketch he apparently drew for me.

It was similar to the outfit I already wore. It was slimmer, more form fitting and less flowing. And it was red instead of white. It wasn't the best drawing, but the idea was beautiful. So much better.

"Now this is something I can work with," I told them. "Thank you, Paul."

"What's wrong with mine?" Shawn asked.

"What's wrong with yours is that I'm not going out as one of the Godfather's hos," I explained. Paul couldn't hold in his laughter.

"I just want to see a bit more of you," Shawn winked.

"But my father does not," I argued back. "Neither does Paul, I assume."

"Well..."

"Paul!" I hit him on the back of the head with the notebook he'd done his sketch in.

"Hey! I'm just saying," Paul defended. "You're not bad to look at."

"Again, I'm flattered, but no thank you." I stuck my tongue out at them.

Paul, still laughing, stood up from the table. "Well if Grandma over here," he nodded at Shawn, "is finally ready, then we can head out."

***

I gave Paul's sketch to the wardrobe ladies, who were very kind and loved the idea. I joked with them about Shawn's drawing, and they giggled, promising the dress would look nothing like that. They also reccomended flats instead of heels, which i admitted was probably a great idea. We all knew my track record with heels. It was less than a week until Summerslam, but they promised my new attire would be done in time. I thanked them.