====================================
Needful VII: Drop Kick Me Jesus
(...thru the goal posts of life)
====================================




     "You're trying to dissuade me, that's what this
is.  I feel insulted."  Shane McMahon's voice was
accusatory as he took in the loud, tacky country-
western bar, feeling decidedly out of place in his
black t-shirt, black jeans, and black jacket.  He
was ridiculously grateful that he had _not_ worn the
leather pants.

     Steve Austin, his eyes glowing with something
that seemed suspiciously close to 'child-like
innocence' took in the bar with a large, toothy smile
and good natured attitude.  Shane poutly wondered
where _his_ Steve Austin had gone and who this
impostor was.  Surely, no respectable man with balls
the size of grapefruits would be caught dead in a
place like this.

     Broken out of his disappointed musings by a
casual arm that was draped over his shoulder, Shane
looked to his right to see Steve rewarding him with
a grin that was too contagious to resist.  "Aw,
lighten up, kid - you'll  like it here.  Great beer,
great food.  Decent people who know how to leave a
guy alone.  Don't go judge a place until you've been
past the front doorway."

     Deciding that Austin was right, and that the
last thing he wanted to be was a wet blanket, Shane
nodded and squeezed back slighty.  Besides, Austin's
arm felt real nice around his shoulders and he
didn't seem to be moving to break the hold anytime
soon.  It was very....date-like.

     A waitress, her bleached blonde hair almost as
big as her breasts, came up to them with a tawdry
smile and flirtatious wink.  She talked to Austin.
"Well, hey there Rattlesnake.  Long time no see -
how ya doing, hon?"

     "Just fine, Angel.  Think you can get me and
my friend here a table and a couple of the house
steaks?" Steve asked, winking back and patting
Shane's shoulder as he mentioned him.  "We're both
starvin'!  Ain't that right, Shane?"

     A strained smile and Shane nodded, "That's
right."

     Angel, or whatever her name was, nodded and
turned a little to look over her bare shoulder as
she talked, still only to Steve.  "Anything for
the Rattlesnake, darling.  Right this way, you're
usual table is ready."

     Her hips rocking to an awful country western
beat that was coming out of a beat-up jukebox in
the corner of the bar, Shane and Austin followed
the bouncy blonde past other tables and patrons.
Many of which took time to look up from their
drinks and wave a hello at Austin.

     When they reached their table, a brown,
circular, rocky looking thing that sat near a
mechanical bull and a small sound stage that was
set up for kareoke, Shane was wondering if
letting Austin have 'creative control' over the
night had been such a good idea.  A movie would of
been better.  A canning in the public square would
of been better.

     "Two beers, fellas?" Angel asked, her eyes
roaming over Shane in her first obvious appraisal
since their meeting.

     Steve nodded while he looked around the bar,
maybe for even more people he knew.  "Damn
straight, and keep those suckers coming too."

     "You got it," she said.  She winked at Shane,
"Sorry, hon, but a sweet little thing like you -
I'm gonna have to see some I.D."

     Shane blushed as he fumbled for his wallet,
deeply aware of Austin's amused eyes on him as he
did so.  He handed her his driver's license which
she glanced at with quick, but efficient eyes
before handing back.  "Okay - two beers it is."

     In a move that surprised both Angel and
Shane, Steve reached out and seemed to pinch her
butt.  "What?  You think I'm robbing the cradle,
here?"

     She smirked and leaned in as she spoke,
"Well, gee, Stone Cold - I just don't know you
that well, now do I?"

     "Not many people do, darling," Steve said.
"You hurry up with those beers."

     Throwing off a salute and curtsey, she
bounced away, and both men watched her go with
interest.

     "Well, um, she seemed very nice," Shane
said, fumbling for small talk.  "You two know
each other long?"

     Austin had gone back to surveying the bar
again, he seemed to be disinterested with his
date.  "Hmm, yeah.  I come in here as much as I
can."

     "You bring a lot of dates here?"

     "Mmm hmm."

     Shane raised an eyebrow, already getting
tired of seeing the back of Steve Austin's head.
"Sing kareoke?"

     "Yup."

     Letting his voice drop to a husky purr,
Shane leaned in a little.  "Hey, Steve, how'd you
like me to get under the table and give you a
mind-numbing blow job?"

     "Yeah, sure."

     Shane brought a fist down hard on the table,
causing Steve, and several other patrons to look
his way at the sudden noise.  Austin had a look
of too genuine surprise on his face.  "You plan
on ignoring me the whole night, Steve?"

     A small, accommodating smile, and Steve
scratched the back of his head.  "Shane, how do
you want me to act?"

     "Like I'm at the same fucking table as you
for starters.  Hell, like I'm in the same fucking
_room_ would be nice," Shane stopped, realized
how bitchy he sounded and bit down on his tongue
from saying more.  This was all so much easier
when it was just about sex.  He sat back in his
seat, frowned.  "Do you want to be here with me?"

     Before he could answer, Angel returned with
two beers on her tray, and she laid them out in
front of them, walked away without a word when
she noticed the tension.  Good waitress, Shane
thought to himself.

     Taking a pull from his bottle before
answering, Steve looked at Shane carefully, eyes
open and honest, "You're...Up to a few weeks ago
you were just the annoying kid who tried to ruin
my career.  Who screwed me over at Survivor
Series and tricked me into thinking he was my
friend.  Then, well - I'm confused.  Part of me
is wonderin' if this ain't just some other master
plan."

     Feeling a little hurt, but not exactly
offended, Shane McMahon nodded.  "Fair enough.
I'm sorry you have trouble trusting me, Steve,
and the only thing I can really say is that this
is just me here tonight.  No lies or swerves."
He swallowed hard, tried not to look as vulnerable
as he felt, "And - and if it makes you feel any
better...it'd really hurt me right now if you just
walked out, or told me that you were just humoring
me."

     Steve looked into wide, brown eyes, saw
nothing but sincerity in them and couldn't help but
feel a sudden and intense wave of affection.  He
reached out and put his hand briefly over the other
man's before drawing it back.  He smirked, "Hey,
Shane, I'm the good guy, remember?  The only asshole
at this table is you."

     Tension effectively broken, Shane sat back in
his seat and took hold of his own beer, drank long
before replying.  "I'm off the clock for tonight."




     The steaks were the best that Shane had ever
tasted.  Hot, sizzling and cooked just right, Shane
had eaten the whole thing with all the trimmings.
The baked potato was creamy with just the right
balance of sour and salty, the salad crisp and
fresh, the dressing light and tangy.  The food
helped Shane's nervousness ebb away into nothing
more then a distant quip in his gut.

     Austin's colorful commentary of the jukebox
selections left Shane in stitches and utterly
charmed.  You've gotten to me so fast, he thought.
I hope it doesn't end up biting me in the ass.

     When the plates were cleared away and another
round of beers had arrived, Shane was feeling
decidedly mellow and happy.  It had been a long
time since he'd enjoyed himself so much on a date.
And Austin was looking so sexy in his cut off
jeans and tight fitting shirt, the view was a good
one.

     "I can see why you like it here," Shane said,
even as another god-awful song was cued up.  "I
use to have a place like this in Greenwich to go
to, before they tore it down."  Somewhere near the
back of the bar, a biker broke a pool cue over the
head of his companion, and both men were quickly
shown out.  Shane grimaced, "Well, maybe not
_exactly_ like this, but with the same basic
principles."

     Steve chuckled slightly, "Ah, there are
hardly any bad seeds in here.  That's why I like
it.  If I want a bar fight, I'll go to a place
like I found you that night."

     At the mention of that, Shane seemed to draw
inward slightly, his expression darkening just a
little as he stared down at the table.  "Yeah, I
guess it was a bit...seedy."  His voice was light,
but the underlining tone made Austin move on
carefully.

     "You seemed a bit upset that night, kid," he
said casually.  Leaving the unasked question
hanging in the air.  It was more of an invitation
then anything else.  If Shane didn't want to tell
him, he wouldn't push it.

     Shane, noticeably uncomfortable, shrugged
slightly.  "Bad night.  It was a long day at the
office, WWF.com crashed twice, old...relationships
resurfaced."

     Steve's expression said, 'oh?'.

     "A man...a wrestler," Shane pulled a face,
played with his beer bottle.  "It was an intense
...thing.  We fought a lot, fucked even more, and
of course that sort of thing never lasts.  But -
he keeps hounding me, even after I say I don't
want anything to do with him.  That night..."
Shane shook his head, straightened and offered a
strained smile.  "Never mind, not important."

     Letting the issue go without a fight, but
finding out a lot more then he expected, Austin
nodded, took a drink of his beer.  But as he
watched the troubled look twitch across Shane's
face whenever he thought that he wasn't being
watched, Austin made a silent vow to find out
what was wrong.

     But in the meantime.  "Want to dance?"

     It was incredibly fun to watch the pristine
Shane McMahon, well, pristine out of the ring
anyway, sputter at the innocent request.  His
eyes widened and his lips formed a small 'O' of
surprise that Austin felt suited his face very
prettily.  "What?"

     "Dance.  You know.  Together."  Austin
flicked his eyes towards the direction of the
dance floor where several other couples were
wrapped around each other and swaying to a
Shania Twain song.

     "I - uh...who'll lead?" Shane stumbled.

     Austin rolled his eyes, "Not that kind of
dance, Boy Wonder."

     Confusion was evident on Shane's face as
he tried to understand what Austin was getting
at, but when the Shania Twain song ended and a
man in a cowboy hat took the stage, realization
hit and Shane shook his head.

     "Uh uh, no _way_.  I am NOT line dancing!"
Shane said, embarrassed and but not a little
intrigued by the idea.  "I can't believe _you_
of all people are asking me to square dance.
Aren't you too manly for that sorta thing?"

     "You obviously did not watch me Fox Trot
my way through that episode of Nash Bridges,"
Austin said with a smirk.  Reaching out, he
grabbed Shane's hand and pulled him swiftly out
of his chair.  "Come on, Shane, don't knock it
'till you try it."

     On the dance floor and surrounded by
cowyboys and cowgirls with no chance to escape
Shane felt somewhat ridiculous as he moved along
with the line, watching the feet in front of him
to keep up.  But soon, almost inevitably, the
steps became reflex and Shane found that the
whole thing wasn't nearly as horrific as he
thought it would be.

     Sure he felt out of place, but with Steve
by his side, it wasn't nearly as bad.  The music
wasn't even that annoying anymore.

     No, that was pushing it, the music was still
very annoying.

     A whisper in his ear and Shane shuddered in
pleasure, "You're not bad at this."

     "Linda made me take tap when I was five.
Vince made me quit when I was eight."  Shane
smiled.  "Give me a pair of the right shoes and
I'll show Gene Kelly a thing or two."

     A low chuckle that Shane was starting to
get very fond of hearing and the song ended.
The two stuck to the dance floor for another few
songs before deciding it was time to call it a
night.




     "I had a good time," Shane said as they
stood outside the door to his hotel room.  He
smiled, thought inwardly that he really _had_
had a good time.  "Thanks."

     "That was an actual _date_," Austin said,
amused and bewildered.  "Wow, I don't think
I've ever gone on a date with another guy
before."

     Shane nodded, "Yeah, me either.  Shit,
we're at the kiss goodnight and everything."

     A conniving smirk and Austin leaned in a
bit, "What makes you think you're going to get
a kiss goodnight?"

     "Because we've been playing with each
other way too long not to at least _kiss_."

     "You came into my hotel room wearing
leather pants."

     A shrug, "You turned me down, we didn't
kiss.  It was hardly a grope."  Shane leaned
forward, rested his hands on Austin's chest
briefly before moving them up to wrap around
his shoulders and neck.  Their bodies molded
together perfectly and Shane hummed in content.
"Kiss me, Steve.   I'm asking you straight out,
so to speak.  I want to feel your lips on
mine."

     Feeling arms come up to hold him around
the waist and squeeze him in tighter, Shane
closed his eyes and tilted his head up just as
he felt Austin's mouth come down on his.

     Sweet, soft, and gentle, it was everything
he thought it wouldn't be but so...nice.  So
perfect.  There was no attempt to control, just
touching, and silky wetness, Shane moaned and
deepened the kiss.

     Austin was the first to pull away, but as
he did he couldn't help a quick dart back in to
re-capture lush lips briefly once more before
letting go with reluctance.  "I - I guess I
should go.  Raw tomorrow."

     "Yeah," Shane ran a nervous hand through
his hair, smiled.  "Thanks, you know...thanks."

     Taking a step back Austin nodded before
turning and heading for his own room one floor
down.  Shane watched him go briefly before
unlocking the door to his own room and stepping
inside.

     It was only when the door closed behind
him that he shook his head in disbelief, even
as the pleased smile refused to leave his face.
"I can't believe I didn't get laid!"




====================================
Needful VIII: History Repeats Itself
====================================



 "So, details..."

 Shane smiled and shrugged as he changed out of his suit.  "What can
I say, guys, it was...a date."

 The fully assembled posse exchanged looks, "A date with Stone Cold
Steve Austin.  What'd he do?  Take you to a monster truck rally or
something?" Rodney asked.  "Hunting?"

 Joey snickered, "Yeah, right.  Shane-O hunting.  Remember when we
put those firecrackers in his locker freshmen year?  He nearly had a heart
attack!"

 "You burned off my eyebrows!" Shane sputtered.  "You - I thought
that someone had stuck a A-Bomb in my locker.  You're not suppose to use
T-60's for that sort of thing, people."  Shane shook his head, finished
lacing up his runners.  "And, no - we did not go hunting.  We went to a bar,
did some drinking and eating."  Shane decided that it would be best to leave
out the part about square dancing.  Or line dancing.  Or whatever the hell
it was called.  His posse would never let him live it down.

 Chewing on a half-melted chocolate bar, Pete talked around a
mouthful of the gooey candy, "So what else did you do?"

 "None of your damn business," Shane said, unable to help the small
smile that crept over his face.

  A chorus of ooohs and hoots went around the room and Shane rolled
his eyes, reached for his elbow pads.  "Oh, grow up people.  Nothing like
that."

 Pete shook his head, "This was just suppose to be about _sex_,
Shane.  Remember?  And now you two are dating - it's surreal, man."

 Conceding the point, Shane remained silent.  It _was_ a little
weird.  Never in a million years would Shane have imagined that he'd
actually grow fond of the other man's company.  Up until last night, the
only way the two had known each other was exchanging blows in the
ring, or sharing spiteful looks backstage.  How'd they go from that to
eating steaks in a country-western bar?

 "Did ya kiss him?" Rodney asked, swiping a drink out of Pete's
coke while the other man tried to get chocolate off his fingers.  "You
know, post-date grope?"

 "Aren't you heterosexual men suppose to be uncomfortable with this
sort of thing?" Shane finally asked, swallowing a chuckle.  He stood to
tuck in his shirt.  "Geez, what kind of straight white males are you?"

 Grabbing his coke back and shooting a dirty look, Pete shrugged at
his friend, "We've only had ten years to get use to the idea, man.  Hey -
we're all open minded here."  Pete gave Joey a look, "Some of us more then
others."

 "Hey!  I'm open-minded, I'm standing here, aren't I?  I gave our
good buddy Shane some premo advise on the Austin situation,
right?  Quit bustin' my balls," Joey said defensively.

 Patting him on the shoulder, Shane nodded, "Damn straight, man.
And I owe you for that one.  But, now your good buddy Shane has to
go out to ringside for the next match."

 "You want us to come with ya?" Rodney asked.  He frowned a little
when Shane shook his head.  "You know Hunter's been gunning for
you, I  don't like the idea of you going out there on your own for this.
And I still don't trust that punk, Test."

 Dismissing his friends' concern, Shane bounced a little on the
balls of his feet.  "Nah, I'll be fine.  This isn't my fight, just a
thing between Test and Triple H.  And if I can help out - hey...all the
better.  I owe Test for all the crap I put him through."

 Another exchange of looks between the posse, and Rodney still
sounded doubtful.  "That why you going out in your gear, man?"

 "Better safe then sorry, right?" Shane raised an eyebrow, said a
little sharply, "I'll be fine.  But if I _do_ run into trouble, feel free
to come out to my rescue."

 "You better believe it," Joey grumbled.  "That bastard is just
asking for it."

 Feeling a little down, his good mood dampened, Shane rubbed his
arm, "Hunter will get over it.  He's just pissed.  Okay, I'm outta here.
Later guys."  He tossed a wave before heading out the door and
closing it behind him.  Soon, Test's music could be heard throughout
the arena, and the posse turned to the monitor to watch the former
Motley Crue bodyguard and Shane walking down the ramp to the ring.

 "Think Test has a chance?" Rodney asked no one in particular.

 "Against Triple H?  No way, dude, he's toast.  But maybe if Shane
helps out..." Pete let his voice drift off.

 Joey stood, "That's it - let's go out there and back Shane up."

 "That's plan."

 "Right on, dude."

 Reaching the door first, Joey reached out and turned the handle -
pushed...

 "What the..."  He pushed again, harder.  Then threw all his weight
against it.  Tried it again and again.  "Fuck!  We're barricaded in!"

 The three posse members hit the door simultaneously but it refused
to give, and eventually, they had to stop or their aching shoulders never
would of forgiven them.  It was J.R.'s voice that brought them back around
to stare at the monitor.

 "What is that Jezebel, doing?!"

 The monitor showed the outside of the Posse's dressing room, just
as Chyna killed the engine to a forklift that she had parked outside of
their front door.  She sat serenely in the driver's seat and glared at
anyone who tried to get close enough to move it.

 The Posse exchanged worried looks, and Triple H's music filled the
stadium.




 Shane pounded the mat at ringside as he cheered Test on, screaming
to be heard over the crowd and the thump of the mat as bodies were thrown
down onto it.

 "Come on, Test, come on, baby - lay him out, lay him out!"  He
grimaced in sympathy as Test took a boot to the face and when Triple H
turned to give him a dirty look.  Cheering for the man to demolish a man
he had been involved with in the most intense relationship of his life
was...odd to say the least but Shane was use to 'odd' after a lifetime in
the WWF.

 He couldn't help but feel a pang of remorse and loss as he watched
Hunter though, it hurt to think of how far they had grown apart.  Not even
the posse was fully aware of how deep their relationship had gone, but that
didn't matter anymore.  It was over, and over in a very final way.  Hunter
Hearst Helmsley was exactly the reason why he didn't like to get 'involved'
with other men.  Men were _jerks_.

 A sudden, unexpected uppercut, and Test had the upper hand once
again.  "Yeah!  Come ON, Test...that's it!"

 Shane rounded the ring to follow the action, catching the end of
another 'cheerleader' comment from J.R.  The smartest thing Triple H had
ever done was knock the man one in the face, he needed it once in a while
to remember his pedestal had a shaky foundation.  Throwing the Texan a
dirty look, Shane returned to the action.

 The two wrestlers were entering the tenth minute now, and were
both showing signs of wear and tear, even the ref looked tired from all
the circling he was doing.  The audience hadn't let up for a second though,
the 4,000 some odd crowd was surprisingly into the match, which had been
fairly even so far.  The thought both pleased and disturbed Shane, where
the hell was Chyna during all this?  He could understand Stephanie's
absence from ringside, with her short term memory loss, she kept losing
track of where she put her shoes, but Chyna and Triple H were usually
inseperatable in such matches.  One almost always accompanied the other.
Chyna had been the main reason Shane had come down with Test.

 A slingshot to the ropes, and Test ran right into Triple H's arm
for a whiplashing clothesline.  Shane grimaced and pounded the mat a few
more times, as Test squirmed on the mat, his eyes dull from the blow.  He
looked up and caught Shane's eyes, nodded an 'I'm okay' that was less then
reassuring considering Triple H was standing on his neck.

 "You're next Shane!" he screamed as he pointed to the man at
ringside.  Shane held the gaze until the referee broke it by stepping
into the line of sight and started count for Hunter to let the other man
up.

 Triple H finally got up and Test squirmed out of the way, Shane
applauded his approval.  "That's right - that's good, Andrew, come on...
ANDREW WATCH OUT!"  Too late, Triple H executed a picture perfect swinging
neck breaker and Test was out for the count.  Only...Hunter wasn't going
for the cover.  Instead, he stepped out the ring and right up to the
startled heir apparent.

 "Get the _fuck_ backstage, Shane, you think I want to see you at
ringside?!" Triple H barked, getting well into the younger man's personal
space.  "I'm warning you, kid, you stick around here and you'll get hurt."

 Not backing down an inch, Shane got right back into Hunter's space,
"I don't have to listen to you, Hunter.  If I want to stay at ringside,
I'll damn well stay at ringside!"

 Rage glowed hot behind hazel eyes, and Hunter reached out to grab
the other man by the arm, getting a stir from the crowd.  "What?!  You
fucking _Test_ now, is that it, Shane?  You move on already?!"

 Voice low, eyes cold, Shane made no move to struggle or to show
the pain he felt from the tight squeeze Hunter had on him, "I don't have
to explain myself to you.  So what if I am doing Test?  Anyone's gotta be
better then you."

 It was enough to make Hunter stiffen, and for a moment, the other
man seemed genuinely bewildered and hurt.  But it soon gave way to anger,
and Shane found himself flung towards the steel steps by the ring post
before he could even register the other man had moved.

 Pain like white hot streaks of lightening shot up his spine and
he moaned before rolling onto his stomach, his legs curling slightly
inwards.  King squeaked and Shane almost laughed, but the sight
of Hunter lumbering towards him once again made him stop.

 Oh shit, on your feet Shane-O, he thought.  He had just gotten to
his knees when he saw Test come up behind Triple H, a folding chair
in hand and a pissed off expression on his red face.  The _clang_ of
steel was incredibly loud and Shane watched Hunter slump to the floor
in front of him with too many different emotions raging inside to decipher.

 Test grabbed Hunter by the hair and flung him back into the ring,
stopping only long enough to ask if Shane was all right before pulling
himself in after the other man.

 "Fine," Shane mumbled.  "Just kick his ass."

 A nod, and the match continued on, the referee barking at them
to stay inside.  Shane wondered distantly where the posse were, realized
that he was glad they had decided to stay out of it after all.  The last
thing he needed was Hunter asking any louder if he was 'fucking' anybody
else.

 Shane squinted into the ring, noticed that Chioda was looking
decidedly pissed off and that the match would be tossed with a DQ at the
slightest provocation if someone didn't score a pinfall soon.  Mike was a
good man, but sometimes Shane suspected that he was a little too
emotionally involved in the matches.

 Test was going to the top rope and Shane applauded and cheered.
If Test landed his elbow, the match was as good as over and Hunter didn't
look to be moving at all in the center of the ring.

 "Yeah, baby, yeah!  Wrap it up, Test, wrap it up!"

 He flew...

 "NO!"  Hunter, the possum playing bastard.

 Shane grabbed his hair and watched as Hunter threw him a pointed
glare before setting Test up for the pedigree.

 "Shit," Shane mumbled.  It was executed perfectly and the three
count hit.  The match was over and Shane was left with a sick feeling in
his gut as he watched Hunter shake off the referee's hand and continue to
stare down at him.

 Instead of going after him again, like Shane thought he would,
Hunter merely walked around to the other side of the ring and up the ramp.
Not bothering to even look back as he disappeared behind the curtain.
Shane let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding and pulled
himself up onto the apron to go to Test's side just as he started to come
around.

 "Shane?"

 "Yeah?" Shane asked with a sigh as he helped the other man to his
feet.

 "What the hell just happened?"

 He couldn't help but smile, "You fought one helluva a match but
lost anyway.  I can relate.  Don't worry, you'll get 'em next time."

 Test shook his head, "No, man - I mean between you and Hunter.
You're _doing_ me?  Did I miss something?"

 Shane just continued to smile, but now a little sadly as he helped
the other man out of the ring, "Long story, dude.  Maybe I'll tell it to
you sometime.  But for now, let's get your butt backstage."

 As hands reached out to slap the two slumped over forms on their
way back up the ramp, Test finally returned Shane's smile and waggled his
eyebrows dramatically.  "Maybe I went after the wrong McMahon..." he
said suggestively.

 "What, you interested in Vince now?" A horrified look and Shane
laughed.  "What, Linda?  Come on, she has standards you know..."

 Test let out an impatient breath and shrugged away from the other
man, "Remind me never to kid around with you, Shane," he said as they went
backstage.  "You're one sick puppy."

 "Don't I know it."