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Needful X: Day in the Life - Morning
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8:03 AM



    Waking up to his usual hangover and vague sense of disorientation,
Steve Austin blinked and turned to bury his head in his pillow at the
harsh, invading light that spilled through his window. He hated mornings.
Bad breath, grogginess, the idea of facing a whole day, morning sucked.
Not to mention waking up alone with a dick stiff enough to cut glass.
The knowledge that he had been dreaming about Shane McMahon, and
that he was now _thinking_ about Shane McMahon did not help matters. It
had been an odd dream too, not necessarily erotic, but...pleasant.

    Stumbling out of bed and into the hotel bathroom, the former WWF
champ turned on the taps and splashed the cold water on his face
liberally, unconsciously going through his early morning rituals with all
the enthusiasm of a man preparing for his own execution. He surveyed
the various soaps and aftershaves and noticed with distaste that they
were all of the fruity scented Nancy boy variety. He did not want to
go through the day smelling like oranges or lavender or whatever the hell
the crap was. He'd have to take one at the gym.

    As he brushed his teeth and he felt his morning hard on go down
somewhat, he couldn't help but glare at his reflection. For its part it
didn't seem to care but instead glared right back.

    "He's the boss' son," he told his reflection as he spit out a
mouthful of foam. "You're messed up if you even..." His voice trailed
off and he closed his eyes. "I'm talking to myself. Great. Wonderful,
now I'm talking to myself about talking to myself." Stopping himself
before it got too ridiculous, Austin let out a grunt of disgust and
grabbed a bottle of "Peach Orange Passion" body wash out of the soap
basket and headed for the shower.

    He had the feeling he would need a very, very cold one.




9:30 AM




    "There ya go, darling, have a nice day," Austin smiled and passed
the autograph over to the freckled, pig-tailed eight year old girl. "And
don't forget to cheer extra loud for ole Stone Cold tonight, or I won't
win, okay?"

    She nodded enthusiastically, gripping the Stone Cold CD tightly in
her small hands and beaming at the responsibility. "You bet, Stone
Cold! I hope you kick Triple H's ass!"  Then, looking guilty, she leaned
in towards him, "Don't tell my mom I said 'ass'."

    Chuckling, Steve patted her hair and winked, "Hey, you're secret's
safe with me." He watched as she ran off, idly wondering if his own
children would ever be anything like her. He almost laughed again at
the thought. Right, Stone Cold with kids. That was about as plausible
as...as dating the boss' son.

    Well, shit.

    Waving at a few more fans, Austin walked into the arena where that
night's Smackdown! taping would be taken. He wanted to get an early
work-out in and maybe take some time to read Mick Foley's new book.
According to the man himself he was mentioned in page 115 and he wanted
to know what the bastard had written about him.

    Throwing his duffel bag into a random purple locker, and starting
to change into his work-out clothes, Austin didn't look up when the
doors opened and an irked looking Triple H walked in.  Lacing up his
running shoes and peeling his t-shirt off his back,
Austin was completely unaware as the other man watched him from
across the locker-room, an odd hateful/respectful look on his face.

    "We're on the work-out roaster for a warm-up match."

    Looking up sharply at the sudden voice, Austin looked up mid-tie
to see Triple H staring at him from the other side of the bench.

    "In about an hour. After Bulldog and Gangrel's spot."

    Austin nodded slowly, continued to tie his shoes. "So, what's
your point Helmsley?"

    A casual shrug, "Just warning ya, you know, in case you didn't see
the schedule. Not too late to high tail it outta here and back out."

    "Fuck you. I can whup your ass any day of the week, Hun'er,"
Austin snapped. His eyes cast lasers as he stared hard at the blonde
wrestler, his fingers pulling harder then necessary on his laces as
he tied them. "Hell, if you wanna put that belt on the line tonight -
I'll show you just what I mean."

    "Oh, like you _beat_ me at No Mercy? No way, Steve, you want
another title shot, you're gonna have to wait 'till Survivor Series
like a good little boy." Smiling a shit-eating grin, Hunter opened up
a locker of his own and pulled out a pair of wrestling tights. "See
you out there, Stone Cold."

    The locker room doors closed behind him and Austin was left with
the sudden, and overwhelming urge to kick his ass.



9:58 AM



    "...and I worked really hard on it. So if you could, like, read
it and tell me what you think, it'd really mean a lot to me."

    Austin watched from a discreet distance as Mick Foley handed over
yet another copy of his autobiography from his seemingly endless supply.
The young man dressed smartly in black Armani and a dark blue, silk
shirt, took the book with a smile and glanced briefly at the title and
inside cover before handing it back. His expression was regretful and
his voice sincere, "I'm sorry, Mick, but I can't take this."

    Looking crestfallen, then a little perturbed, Mick took it back
and frowned, "Why?"

    "Well, you haven't autographed it! What, the Rock gets a whole
inscription and you can't even scrawl off your name for your good friend
Shane? Come on Mick, don't play me like that!" The look on Mick's face
was luminescent as he fumbled to look for a pen, which Shane handed over
smoothly from the pristine folds of his jacket. Austin shook his head at the
charming diplomacy that seemed to come so naturally to Shane.

    Writing for what seemed like a good two minutes, the black
lettering scrawling across the page, Mick handed it over with a flourish,
still smiling like a bastard. "Here you go!"

    "Thanks, Mick. I'll be sure to tell you what I think. Hey," a teasing
look,
"Am I in here?"

    "Um, yeah. Page 15. But I swear, I didn't mean it. Well, not
most of it. Can I keep the pen?"

    Shane quirked a smile, "Sure. But _one_ 'Boy Wonder' reference
in here and I'm taking it back."

    Sensing that the conversation was coming to an end, Austin made a
quiet exit back out into the arena where the warm-up matches would
be taking place in the ring. He didn't feel like talking to the man
at the moment, as nice it had been to just see him again. It was
annoying. He didn't like liking him, it caused too much trouble and
too many conflicting emotions. If he had any hair, he was sure it'd
either be falling out or going grey.

    The bar had been a test that he had been sure Shane would fail and
instead it had turned out to be a great night. Austin's frown deepened
as he pulled at his knee pads and braces. He needed to clear his head
for his match with Helmsley, all this shit was just gonna distract him.
Not a smart frame of mind to be in when wrestling a guy who liked to play
with sledgehammers.

    Walking down the aisle where ring crew were busily working on
constructing the ramp for that night, Austin approached the ring, that was,
at the moment, ropeless. The Bulldog had just made the pin on Gangrel.
Steve couldn't help but think that the ring looked naked and cold
without the ropes, even brutal. Whatever safety, whatever support it
possessed, had been stripped. It was little more then a platform now.
One false move and the other opponent would be sent flying, nothing would
be there to stop the body.

    A shoulder roughly checked his and Austin stumbled forward a few
steps, looked up just as Helmsley took the stairs up to the ring. "Come
on, pussy, let's see what kind of balls the Rattlesnake has."


10:10 AM



    Several wrestlers, ring crew, and event staff had stopped what they
were doing to watch the heated match between the former and current WWF
champ. Usually, the warm up matches were nothing more then that. Easy,
somewhat competitive, but nothing more then a run through match. A match
where each wrestler could work on various holds and moves without worrying
too much about a pin. But anyone watching could plainly see that this was
not the case with the two men in the ring. They were out for blood.

    Ducking at an attempted clothesline, Austin ran to the edge of the
ring and crouched to catch his breath briefly before running towards the
other man in a rushed, but effective tackle. Both men hit the mat hard,
and Triple H cried out in pain as his already sore back felt the impact of
both their weight. He had been thrown out of the ring several times
already, and his body was protesting. He had never realized how important
the ropes really were until now.

    "You called me a 'pussy', Hunter?" Austin rasped as he pinned the
struggling man down to the mat, deliberately taking a somewhat humiliating
position. Straddling the man's waist while his hands held down the
shoulders, Steve smiled cruelly, "Well take a look at who's on top,
_bitch_."

    A low growl, and Hunter managed to bring up a knee with sharp, and
painful precision, and Austin let out a howl of pain as he was pushed off,
holding his crotch from the low blow. The referee made disapproving sounds
but otherwise let it go without a word.

    Getting up, Hunter brought a boot down hard onto the small of Austin's
back before moving to ringside where he pushed a ring crew member off a
folding chair and brought it back up with him. Raising it above his head,
Hunter waited until he saw the blue of Austin's eyes before spitting out
his words and swinging the chair down towards its target, "Now who's who's
bitch, Steve?"

    Flinching, Austin started to roll away, but knew that he would never
be able to do it on time. He braced himself for the impact, but froze in
surprise when it never came. He looked up to see Shane holding
the chair in his own hands, while caught in a stare-down with his fellow
Greenwich native.

    "What the _fuck_ are you doing?!" Hunter demanded. "_Damn it!_"


    "What the fuck am _I_ doing? Jesus Christ, Hunter, this is a fucking
warm-up match! You aren't really suppose to beat the shit out of each
other! What the hell were you going to do if you got seriously injured,
huh?!" Shane glanced down, directing the question towards both of them.
"Are you _both_ soft in the head?! Fuck this. The two of you, go back to
your hotel rooms and get the fuck out of my face. I don't want to see you
again until tonight."

    Surprise and not a little humiliated, Austin stumbled to his feet,
"What?! The hell I'm leaving, he - "

   "I don't want to hear it," Shane snapped, then glared when Hunter
cast Austin a superior look. "You either, Helmsley. You two are acting
like children, so I'm gonna treat you like children. I see you again
before Smackdown! tonight, and not only do I deduct salary but I take you
out of all live shows for a _month_, you hear me? That means NO title
shot, NO number one contederships, and NO pay." He threw the chair down
angrily and shoved past the two, angered men to jump back down to ring-
side. "And if you don't think I'll do it, think again. You two aren't
nearly as important as you think you are. Good-BYE."

    He stood expectantly, arms crossed and face closed off in a tight
expression as he waited.

    Trying to appear nonchalant and oblivious to the hot flush on his
face, Hunter jumped down as well, deliberately knocking Austin's shoulder
again as he did so. He glared at Shane as he walked by.

    After a while, Austin followed his lead, a small frown on his face
as he did so.

    "This is not funny. I can tell you think this is funny, you don't
fool me for a minute, kid," Austin grumbled as he reached down to pick
up his sweatshirt.

    Shane's expression or body language didn't change, but an odd spark
came to his eyes, and he almost winked. "See you tonight, Mr. Austin."

    "Yeah, fuck. Whatever." He turned to leave but stopped when Shane
moved ever so slightly to block his path. Felt his heart thump just a
little harder when the other man leaned in to whisper in his ear.

    "By the way, you smell great."

    Oh. Hell. He managed to keep his face passive. "Thanks." He
walked back up the aisle, felt his face flush a little himself even as a
smile twitched across his lips.

    Shane McMahon. What a trip.