============================== Needful I: Of All the Bars... ============================== Steve Austin walked into the bar, looking for a fight or for a sweet little mat rat to take back to his hotel. He needed to blow off some steam and energy, his match with the Undertaker had ended in a disqualification with no real winner and he hated that; it left him feeling like he had unfinished business. What he found was Shane McMahon, sitting at the end of a bar and staring down into what most definitely wasn't his first drink. He felt a smirk stretch his lips as he walked up behind the heir apparent. No sex, but at this point a fight was just as good. And Shane McMahon fit that bill wonderfully. "Lost, little boy?" Giving a slight jump at the voice whispered so close against his ear, Shane turned to look over his shoulder and surprised Austin when the only reaction he gave was one of vague annoyance. "What the hell do you want?" Ignoring the question, Austin took the seat next to Shane and nodded the bartender over, "I want a drink, and I think I wanna kick your ass." He looked at the bartender, "Give me a beer." "Go away, leave me alone." Shane's words came out slightly slurred and he threw back his head to finish off his drink. "Can't you let me get drunk in peace?" "Hell no," Austin gave the younger man a quick once over. "You look like shit, what's the matter with ya?" "None of your damn business." Thrilled at even the slight provocation to attack Austin reached out and let his hand come down hard on the back of Shane's neck, then brought his face within inches from his own, "You watch your tone with me, boy, I ain't in the mood for your mouth." "My mouth?" Shane snorted, not showing the least bit of discomfort, "You're not in the mood for my *mouth*? And just what part of me *are* you in the mood for, Steve?" The Rattlesnake released his grip and sat back on his stool when his drink arrived. "What the hell is that suppose to mean?" He tried his best to look angry while swallowing down the little thrill of excitement that peaked up at Shane's tone. The Boy Wonder was probably just trying to mess with him, anyway. Smiling a little, Shane leaned foreword so that his nose almost bumped Steve's, let his breath warm the other's lips. Then again... "You said something about my ass?" Shane chuckled, or maybe it was more of giggle. "If you're nice, I might let you have both." Feeling his brain drop somewhere in the vicinity of his pants, Austin made a face and took a sip of his beer, "You're drunk." Definitely drunk. "And you're wound so tight you're ready to pop," Shane countered. He tilted his head and leaned in a little more so that their shoulders brushed one another's, "It's the perfect opportunity to do something we can both regret in the morning, if I even remember. Come on, Steve, I need to be with someone tonight." Shane's hand reached out and he let it brush lightly over Austin's hip, then moved it slowly foreword so that it touched his thigh. "What do you say?" Feeling his muscles clench and his flesh tingle at the sudden, intimate touch, Austin raised his eyes to meet Shane's just inches away. His lips were wet with alcohol, and long eye lashes shadowed dark brown eyes that were deep and dull with arousal. *Jesus Christ* Austin thought, *The kid is a walking erection. How the fuck haven't I noticed it before?* The fingers of Shane's hand continued to move a little on Austin's leg, sneaking up and inside the thigh, creeping towards his jean clad crotch. Austin just thanked God that the bar was nearly empty and that no one was paying them much attention. Not a wrestling crowd, he guessed. Shane swayed slightly, blinking slowly in his less then sober state. Austin summoned what little will power he had and took Shane's wrist, letting himself enjoy the feel of the heated skin in his hand before releasing it - letting it go on the bar top away from him. He stood, leaving his beer unfinished. "Sorry, Shane," he said. "You just come with too much baggage for me." Austin walked out of the bar. ============================ Needful II: Rain Must Fall ============================ I guess you could say I fucked up. I personally think that's an understatement, "fucked things up something severe" is more appropriate if you ask me. Jesus, I'm an idiot. I really am. Of all the people to get drunk and hit on: Stone Cold Steve Austin. How the hell am I ever gonna live this down? How can I face him again? I have one, small, tiny glimmer of hope and that is that he got really drunk after walking out on me and won't remember a thing. That's another thing that pisses me off about that night: Where the hell does he get off running out on me? "Too much baggage" my ass, I could tell he wanted me, I *felt* how much he wanted me, but instead he just walks away. Too much baggage... just what the hell is that suppose to mean anyway? The thing is, I never really thought of Steve that way before last night. (‘Steve', great - I'm referring to the guy by his first name now, just perfect.) But he is good-looking I guess, in a lumberjack /Texas Redneck sorta way. He has the great build, the nice eyes, nice hands, a tight ass...shit. Maybe I'm still drunk, I hope I am - at least then I have an excuse for my stupidity. I can't help but wonder if it was anybody else that had wandered into that bar last night if I would of done the same thing. Part of me realizes that one of the reasons I hit on Steve was because I was hoping he'd beat the crap out of me for it, I was in a self-destructive sorta mood at the time. The pain wouldn't of been enjoyed exactly, but welcome. I needed that distraction last night, which was probably why I drank myself into a stupor before and long after Austin had left. ‘Austin', that's better. Not ‘Steve', ‘Austin'. A part of me was very surprised that he responded, while a bigger part of me expected it. What can I say? I have the utmost confidence in my boyish charms. Call it arrogance, call it knowing your role - but I'm a good looking man and I'm not modest when it comes to it. I'd hardly consider myself arrogant, I don't spend long amounts of time pinning away in front of a full length mirror, but I am smart enough to realize people like what they see when they look at me. Okay, so maybe I am a bit arrogant - but I'm also charming so I can pull it off. Now I gotta get ready for RAW, and I know Austin is going to be there because he's always there, regardless of whether he's gonna wrestle or not. I wonder if he'll mention last night to me, I wonder if I'll mention it to him. So far, I'm thinking I'll just avoid him, but I try that every week and it never seems to work so I don't put much weight on it working now. Maybe I *will* confront him. Maybe I will decide I want to talk about what happened, because if anything - I know what I want and how to get it. And ever since last night...I've discovered something new that I want. I should remember though: Steve Austin comes with his own share of baggage. His problems may even be too big for me to handle. ============================ Needful III: Forbidden Fruit ============================ "So what 'er you gonna do about it?" "Beats me, man, just forget it I guess," Shane smiled at his friend. "It's not exactly as if I can jump him in the locker room. And he's right - there's too much shit involved for us to get...involved." Pete rolled his eyes and made a face, "It's not as if you're gonna marry the guy Shane, or march in a parade with him - it's just sex." He raised an eyebrow, "It *would* just be sex right? You don't.... *like*, the guy or anything do you?" Snickering, Shane put his feet up on the other chair and reached for his drink, "It's Steve Austin. 'Like' is not a word I would associate with the guy." "Well then, what's the prob?" "We have established the fact that this is Stone Cold, right?" Grabbing the drink out of his friend's hand and taking a sip of his own Pete gestured with the can as he spoke, "It's not as if he's not willing. You said he hit on you back, right?" The conversation lulled into silence as a couple of wrestlers walked by and Shane shifted in his seat, idly wondering if talking about something like this now was such a bright idea. But he *did* need someone to talk to, and Pete was always the most understanding in the Posse about such things. Shane had tried to talk to Joey before and it had definitely put the "bye" in "bisexual" when it came to that guy. "That's not the point," Shane finally said. "What if dad found out? Or any of the other wrestlers on the roaster? It's not as if I don't want to fuck him senseless - if he even let me - but I don't think this sorta thing would go over well with everyone. Besides, Austin is sorta...unreachable." Pete snorted, then broke out into a large grin, "The Forbidden _Fruit_ of the World Wrestling Federation." Throwing his head back, Shane laughed loudly, and threw a mock punch at the still smirking Posse member. "Loser." "Fag." He shook his head, tried to swallow the chuckles that threatened to bubble up, "I gotta think on this," he said, standing and straightening his suit. "Come on - we gotta be out there in a few minutes anyway to watch Joey's back in his match against Jarrett. Try not to get hit with any wild guitars, huh? I don't want to have to drag your fatass to a paramedic." Punching the heir apparent's shoulder, Pete stood as well and the two headed for the curtain to meet the others. Joey lost to Jarrett after a well-timed interruption by the Puppies, and he stormed off after the match with Rodney and Pete chasing after him, attempting to calm the growling Greenwich native. Shane was left alone to prepare for the main event where he would referee the match against Triple H and Stone Cold Steve Austin, he couldn't say he was exactly looking foreword to it. But truthfully he knew that Triple H needed a little extra help in defeating the Texas Rattlesnake. He had seen Austin stalking the halls on the television monitors and knew the wrestler was not in a good mood. Pulling the striped referee's shirt on, and then bending down to lace up his sneakers, Shane didn't look up when the door to his dressing room opened, not until two black boots appeared in front of him. He looked up slowly, feeling some of the blood leave his face when he found himself nose to nose with Steve Austin. Loudly clearing his throat, Shane sat back a little in his seat, "Ever hear of knocking? What if I had been indecent?" "I came to talk to you," Austin said, almost smiling but not really. "You stay out of the way and just do the one-two- three when you have to. If you try to screw me over out there then I won't hesitate to drill you into the mat." Shane smirked and stood, taking a step closer to the other man, "Does everything you say have a double meaning?" Silence settled in between the two men and Austin tilted his head slightly to the side, leaned in closer so that Shane felt the breath of his words as he talked, "Just stay out of my way." Their eyes met and Shane didn't reply, knowing that Austin wouldn't take "no" for an answer and that it was also the only answer Shane could give that wouldn't be a lie. The room seemed incredibly quiet, and only the faintest sound of the arena crowd could be heard drifting down the hallway. Austin backed away first, taking few steps towards the door. He gave a short, feral smile, before turning to leave, an obvious invitation. The door closed behind him and Shane smirked to himself as he bent back down to tie his shoelaces. It had been a long time since he had been in such a fun game of cat and mouse - especially one where the roles kept changing. Whistling a little under his breath, Shane started for the curtain. This was gonna be fun.