Right Hand Man - A wwe one shot

Right Hand Man

This is just a random one-shot I wrote the other day for fun. The idea stemmed from a conversation I was having with RaucousLover, where we were saying how weird it would be to ship two guys as butch as Mick and Steve. Loving a challenge, I wrote this. Let's make Stick Fostin a thing.

~

"I kind of want to go through with it anyway, no matter what McMahon has to say about it, you know?" Steve Austin whispered to his friend, Mick Foley, in the near-empty locker room. While he waited for Steve to finish getting ready, Mick idled on a bench with his well-known sock puppet. 

"Yeah, but Mr. Socko doesn't like that idea," Mick spoke in his 'TV voice' as he looked at his hand. Steve sighed, hand gliding across his face to hide his sneer. Mick always won arguments like that. Even if he didn't actually win them, they always ended that way.

"Can you like, cool it with the sock thing, man?" Steve said, frowning as he stood up, shoelaces now tied. Mick turned his eyes away from his hand, blinking curiously at his friend.

"Why?"

"It's just... it's a little annoying, okay?" Steve said a little more venomously than he had intended to. He saw the look on Mick's face, but there was nothing he could do to take it back now, it was showtime. He sighed one more time and left the room. Mick stared after him, frowning.

"Oh... okay." Mick swallowed the lump in his throat, quickly pocketing his beloved sock.

***

Steve approached Mick after RAW had finished, having completely forgotten about the awkwardness they had experienced earlier. Until, that is, he had seen the expression that still adorned Mick's features. Steve tried to ignore it, hoping if he acted as though he didn't notice, Mick would forget. "Hey, man. Wanna go get some drinks?"

Mick continued walking, eyes on the ground. Steve had to speed walk to keep up with him. "Nah... I don't feel like it."

Steve stopped in his tracks. "What? But you always feel like drinking after a show."

Mick stopped walking too, a few feet in front of Steve as he glanced over his shoulder at the other man, casting him a look that damn near broke his heart. "No... actually I don't, I just use that as an excuse to hang out with you." When he walked off, he left Steve standing there, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. Steve had always known that, and Mick knew he did.

When Steve finally got control over himself again, he ran to catch up with Mick. He had caught him just as he exited the building, and as he gripped his wrist tightly all that surrounded them was the dark, dimly lit parking lot. Mick looked back at him expectantly.

"Look, I... I'm sorry about the comments I made about Mr. Socko, okay?" Steve frowned, having to force himself to apologize even if it was sincere. Mick sighed and pulled away from Steve's strong grip. He turned to look Steve in the eye.

"You hurt my, and Mr. Socko's feelings," Mick crossed his arms.

Steve fought to not roll his eyes. "That wasn't my intention, it's just... I.... I mean it's so frustrating, sometimes, you know?"

Mick titled his head. "No, I don't know."

Steve grumbled under his breath and took a step forward. He felt the heat of Mick's body and threatened to crumble to his feet then and there, but held it together. "It's so frustrating, how you pay so much attention to that fucking puppet. It's so frustrating that you always bring it into a conversation." Steve reached down and grabbed both of Mick's hands in his own tightly, holding them up to his chest as he got even closer to whisper to Mick's ears only. "It's so fucking frustrating when I feel like I have to compete with a goddamn sock for your attention."

Mick was speechless. He stared up at Steve, stared down at his hand, trapped in Steve's. He tried to swallow his beating heart that had now travelled up his windpipe, but even then his voice still cracked. "Steve... I didn't know..." 

Steve pulled away, embarrassed and breathing heavy from having exerted all that emotion. He had a hand on one of hips and the other covering his mouth as he turned away, staring at the ground. He was struggling not to shake as Mick wrapped himself around his arm. "I'll get rid of Mr. Socko," Mick whispered, nuzzling his face into Steve's back. He felt Steve's muscles tense through his shirt.

"No, no that's not what I want. Don't get rid of the thing. It's... it's funny. Cute, or whatever."

"Then what do you want?" Mick whispered into Steve's shirt. He felt and heard Steve exhale shakily.

"I just want you to leave that thing in a fucking drawer every once in a while and like you used to just... just...."

"Just what?" Mick asked curiously, and remained oblivious as Steve turned around to face him. Steve bit his lip and Mick began to get an idea of what Steve was thinking about.

"And just shove yer hand up something else." 

A red tint covered Mick's entire face, mostly hidden under his facial hair. He was frozen in shock as a laughing Steve Austin bent to peck his nose affectionately. Steve walked around Mick, patting his shoulder.

"Something else, like what?"

Steve paused, looking back at Mick. He knew Mick probably didn't mean to sound the way he did, and he probably wanted to know for sure what he was talking about. Either way, it had an effect on him. Steve grinned and grabbed Mick by the hand and headed to his truck. "Let's go find out."

"Are we going to a bar?" Mick whispered, heart beating intensely.

Steve chuckled, head thrown back, a genuine smile on his face as his eyes twinkled at Mick. "No. We're going to my place."

~