==================================== Needful Interlude: Identity Crisis ==================================== Steve Austin lumbered into the locker room area, his boots slung over one shoulder and an unhappy scowl on his face. He was wearing red and black tights with "HHH" drawn across the front - much to his distaste - but they had been the only ones in his gym bag when he had gone to change that morning. Maybe he'd gotten his gym bag mixed up with Triple H's, or this was someone's idea of a joke - he'd never wear the other man's tights voluntarily. Placing his boots carefully on the bench and squirming out of the wrestling tights, Austin started to undress for a shower. Maybe by the time he got out, his clothes would be returned to him. Dimly, he realized that a shower was already running and that he wouldn't be alone. The thought annoyed him somewhat, he preferred to shower by himself, without any stupid horseplay or talking going on around him. Padding naked towards the long line of shower stalls, Austin scratched absently at an armpit and yawned. A nice, steaming shower would be just the trick to erasing an otherwise shitty day. As he entered the showering area, Austin was immediately assaulted with the feel of hot, wet steam, and the thick scent of vanilla. He sniffed the air curiously, his brow furrowing in concentration. It was a clean, dizzying smell, and the wrestler swayed slightly on his feet. Through the steam he could just make out the silhouette of another man, showering under the loud spray, and humming lightly under his breath. The figure seemed distantly familiar but Austin kept his eyes adverted and stepped up to the nearest available shower head. "It's about time you got here." "Shane?" Austin blinked under the blast of water. The figure came towards him and Austin saw that it most definitely was Shane McMahon, naked and dripping wet. There was a glowing smile on his face, and he ran a hand through his wet hair, pushing it away from his face. "I've been getting all wrinkly waiting for you." Austin swallowed and watched as Shane walked closer, his arms hanging loosely at his sides and his hands drifting closer to something that _wasn't_ hanging so loosely. He tried to drag his eyes away from Shane's dripping member, but found that he was oddly transfixed. The feel of hands running down his chest and stomach jolted Austin out of his daze, and he looked up to see Shane staring at him with lust-filled, smoky eyes. The steam seemed to be getting thicker around them, and Austin barely saw him as Shane leaned in for a hot, burning kiss. A tongue probed entrance at his mouth and Austin moaned and returned the kiss as best he could, even as he felt the oxygen being sucked from his body. His own hands moved up on autopilot, seeking to touch and stroke the naked, wet flesh before him. The cock that twitched against his own made him go weak kneed and Austin felt his back hit the shower wall as he tried to stay on his feet. "No, Christ! Someone can walk in," Austin groaned in protest, even as he arched his hips into the hand that pulled and stroked him. "That's okay," Shane murmumured, sinking to his knees and kissing his way down Austin's stomach, hips, and legs, "This is only a dream anyhow." "Wha...?" Through the thickening fog of steam, Austin watched as Shane's head swooped down over his cock, and he arched his back with a gasp. It was all hot and wet and world-encompassing. Austin felt his vision go black and his ears go numb - all he felt was Shane's mouth sucking and slurping his cock, accompanied with the vague sensation of hands on his hips, gripping him tightly. It was as if all his other senses had been blocked out, and all he felt was this incredible, mind-numbing blow job. As water ran down his open mouth, Austin called out Shane's name and bucked his hips one last time before coming hard into his mouth, his hands slipping and sliding along the wet wall and Shane still sucking him through it all. Spent and exhausted, Austin slumped and felt dimly Shane kissing his thighs and legs, still not rising from the floor. He opened his eyes slowly, and licked his lips, his hands played with Shane's damp hair absently. It was then that he noticed him, realized, with some dread and fear that he had been there the whole time. But it wasn't the idea that they had been watched that scared Steve Austin, not at all, although the thought would of surely angered him, had he been thinking clearly. Standing in the doorway of the shower was a man that looked just like him, glaring at him angrily with his face twisted in pure hatred. Austin gasped in surprise and fear at the sight of this doppleganger, and his head jerked foreword and away from the other man. He found himself staring at a mirror that was positioned over a porcelain sink, staring as the steam slowly lifted and his reflection became clear. From the floor, Shane moaned and rubbed his mouth over once again his hardening cock, and writhed desperately against him, "Hunter... _please_..." But Austin barely heard, and he felt his heart beat hard against the wall of his chest as he stared into the mirror, blue eyes reflected back as hazel, his bald scalp replaced instead with cascading blonde hair. The man in the mirror was Triple H. Austin woke up.