#scsa

After your match, you’re caught up in the hectic buzz of gorilla position. Flashes of people cross your vision, briefly stopping in front of you to congratulate you for a killer match; it was the same thing every week. The only difference is a special guest for tonight's episode of SmackDown. 

He had done a segment with one of the other wrestlers before yours, but you hadn’t realized he had stayed for the rest of the show. You had no idea that Steve Austin had sat directly in Gorilla watching you on those multiple tiny screens with those bright eyes he stared down at you with right now. 

“That was an amazing match, darlin’,” Steve gazes down at you, the chatter of the behind-the-scenes chaos growing too loud for Steve to properly praise your performance. 

You watch from the corner of your eye as he leans down, the smell of coffee and aftershave wafting towards you, filling your senses, and his breath hitting your ear. “You did a mighty, mighty fine job,” he emphasizes. His hand comes down to grip yours as the other pats the lower half of your back. 

Still in a post-match daze, the high of the performance slowly beginning to wear off, you can only wordlessly nod while Steve smiles at you. You stand there like an idiot with a look of disbelief, pupils blown out and stuttering, just as someone from your team grabs you from behind. They tell you that you need to leave Gorilla Position and on to your next venture, pulling at you. 

Steve gives a departing tap to your flank as he turns to return to the small televisions for the next match. His pat continues to reverberate through you as you wash off the sweat and grime picked up from the ring mat in the backstage showers. 

God, you probably looked like a blubbering dumbass, not even able to thank him for his kind words. At least it would make for an interesting story on a podcast: How you made a fool of yourself in front of Stone Cold Steve Austin after a match… good job.

Walking through the backstage parking lot and searching for the tour bus you shared with other girls on the SmackDown main roster, you spot a nice-looking RV van with Steve Austin printed on a piece of paper in the door window.

Chewing on your lip, you look around. It was virtually dead out here; few buses and cars were left, and no one was outside them. If Austin were still here, he would probably be inside, not even in the RV. But after making a fool of yourself in front of him, you had to give it a try. 

What if he thought you were disrespectful or full of yourself after not thanking him? What if he thought you didn’t have what it took in this business, unprofessional for being unable to collect yourself backstage and talk to a veteran? This was a WWE legend, you couldn’t let what happened earlier be your lasting impression.

Your knock raps quickly against the RV door, looking out at the parking lot while you wrap your windbreaker over you and readjust your bag, just happy you even brought the oversized jacket. You should’ve known better than wearing sweat shorts and a sports bra late at night in the fall. But you also thought you’d make a beeline for your bus, not spotting Steve Austin’s RV and trying to salvage your first impression. 

“Well, hello,” his voice pulls you out of your thoughts. You meet his blue eyes and finally find your words.

“I didn’t get to properly thank you for earlier,” you begin, an apologetic smile crossing your lips. You watch his eyebrows raise in slight amusement before he steps back from the door, inviting you up. 

“Come in,” he nods inside, “you don’t gotta stand out there in the cold like some sorta lost child.”

Taking a deep breath, you climb up inside the RV without a second thought, closing the door behind you. Before you realize that it was unnecessary to encroach upon his personal space just to thank him, let alone close the door, he’s offering you a water, which you graciously accept. Your eyes pass over the interior, shockingly more spacious than you would've assumed. 

A cold water bottle is pressed into your hands, condensation wetting your palm as you look up. Steve passes by you to sit on the couch, holding a hand out to you to sit while you open the water. 

Once again, you mindlessly follow his direction, sitting on the other side of the couch with a sigh and twisting your body to look at him. You rest your back on the armrest and close your eyes with a breath, just glad to be able to sit down. 

“I remember that feeling.” You open your eyes to his kind ones, the left side of his mouth twisted into a smirk. Huffing out a laugh, you nod and take a small sip of the water, shivering as its cold temperature contrasts with the heat of your body. 

“A special type of feeling,” you mutter in response. “I’m sorry for intruding on your space. I really just wanted to thank you for your words,” you finally begin to explain. Steve holds a hand out and shakes his head, stopping you. 

“No, no, sweetheart. You’re not intruding on no on. I wouldn’t have invited ya in if you were,” he reassures you. You let out a breath and nod, feeling his eyes on you as your gaze flickers down to your lap. 

“And I know what you meant earlier, I could see it all over your face. Those post-match jitters will leave you silent, huh?”

“Yeah, stunned.” 

His eyes flash wider, his smile growing. “Stunned,” Austin repeats, humored. 

“Oh my god, wait no, that’s not-” his laughter silences you. 

You wait for him to die down, cheeks burning as he quiets. “I just felt stupid standing there with flies coming in and out of my mouth as you told me how good I did,” you further explain, a bashful smile on your face. Austin nods in response. 

“You know how often people look up at me with that same look on a daily basis, darlin’? It’s fine,” he reassures you again. You take the reassurance, trying to settle your nerves as he stands and walks to his fridge. “I hope I can get to that point one day,” you answer back. 

He returns with a bottle of water of his own and another compliment. “Oh, you will,” he grunts as he sits back down, this time closer to you. 

“You keep wrestling like that,” he starts with a turn of his head towards you, his eyes darting across your face. “And you will,” he finishes after a few beats too long. The more time you get to stare into his eyes, the worse it is for you. He was such an intense man, his eyes so captivating that you couldn’t help but get caught up in them, wrapped up in him. 

“Yeah,” you cough into your fist, clearing your throat. “Well, thank you… a lot. It means a lot to hear that kind of stuff.” 

“What? You don’t hear it often or something?”

You purse your lips as you think, nodding your head from side to side. “Not really? It’s always directly onto ‘what can you do better for the next match,’ always the next match, the next storyline,” you explain, knowing the WWE veteran would know what you meant. You were sure it was the same for him when he worked. 

Bringing your knee up on the couch, it bumps Steve’s thigh, who pats it tenderly before you can bring it back down. 

“You deserve to hear it.” His heavy hand stays on the inside of your knee, gently resting on it. You still don’t bring it back down, the heat of his palm drawing your attention. 

Steve watches as your eyes flicker down to your knee, but he doesn’t move it. His smile is slowly fading as his voice takes a more serious tone. “More than once,” he further states, his rough palm squeezing your thigh and emphasizing his words. 

You swallow and take a deep breath, your mouth opening to respond just as your phone buzzes. 

‘wya???’ the text reads. You sigh, giving Austin another apologetic smile as you look up from your phone. 

“I reckon you gotta go,” he inquires, nodding towards your phone. You offer a silent nod as you reach down for the bag that had previously sat at your feet when sitting down. “I really do appreciate everything you said. It always means a lot, but it means more coming from you.”

Steve stands after you, walking with you to the RV door as you open it. “Oh, get outta here and stop blowin’ smoke up my ass,” he mutters, stopping on the last step down from the RV as you turn towards him on the concrete. You spot that signature smirk of his as he jokingly rolls his eyes.

“No, I’m serious,” you laugh with him, the rumble coming deep from his chest softening the moment. “It’s always huge to get praised by a legend, but you? Yours means the world,” you reiterate. He scoffs and shakes his head. 

“I think you just need to get praised more,” Steve points a finger at you, the bright parking lot lamps flashing in his eyes. The silence lingers between you two, and you both let it settle comfortably, exchanging small and cheeky smiles. 

“Have a good night,” he says, leaning down before flicking his eyes out into the parking lot. 

“You too,” you say quietly, turning towards where you remember your tour bus being parked. You don’t hear the slam of his RV door shutting until you’re turning out of his line of sight. 

You walk away with the water bottle clutched in your hands, the condensation cooling your hand and keeping your grounded in this moment even though your mind tries to stay in his RV; the heat of his hand on your knee, the weight of his palm tapping your side, the glint in his eye as he praised you. 

No matter what the rest of your night brought, those words would sit with you for a long time.

this was supposed to be NSFW but it just didn't go that way... so there will probably be an alternate, NSFW ending posted eventually. thx for reading bby <3