One More Bad Decision

The post-party ride back to the hotel was rowdy as expected, with the car packed full of laughter, lighthearted jabs, and a slightly drunk Steve Austin sitting in the middle, his face red from the mix of alcohol and the unforgiving Texas heat. Triple H, Kane, and The Undertaker were his travel companions, their camaraderie in full swing after the extravagant WrestleMania celebration.

"I'm tellin' ya." Steve slurred, leaning back in his seat, "nobody popped louder than when I hit that Stunner on Rock. Ain't that right, Hunter?"

Triple H grinned, shooting a glance at Taker and Kane in the front seats. "Sure, Steve. Loudest pop of the night. Right after the part where you, uh, fell on your ass trying to grab the ropes."

The car erupted in laughter as Steve waved him off dismissively, muttering something about "a damn slippery mat." But the fun came to a screeching halt when Steve's expression suddenly changed, his face tightening with discomfort.

"Pull over." He grunted, sitting upright.

"What?" Glenn asked, glancing back.

"Pull. Over. Now!" Steve barked, his Southern drawl laced with urgency.

Without hesitation, Glenn veered into the parking lot of a nearby gas station. Before the car even came to a complete stop, Steve had bolted out, clutching his stomach.

"Damn, what'd he drink?" Glenn muttered, watching Steve disappear inside the gas station's restroom.

"Something with Tabasco." Paul said, shaking his head. "Who the hell mixes Tabasco in a cocktail?"

"Austin does." The Deadman deadpanned.

The three exchanged glances, their collective gears turning. A mischievous smirk slowly spread across Paul's face. "You guys thinking what I'm thinking?"

…

The ride back to the hotel had been chaotic. Steve Austin, slightly drunk and full of Tabasco-laden cocktails he'd downed earlier, clutched his stomach the entire way. By the time they pulled into the hotel, his face was a mix of frustration and regret.

Steve stumbled back into the hotel lobby. If he ever turned around he could already see stifled laughter coming from the others but he was so caught up with the twist on his stomach that he left them only muttering "ain't feeling so good.".

When he reached his room, his stomach dropped again, for another reason.

"Where the hell is my damn key card?" he growled, patting down his jacket, jeans, and boots with growing desperation. He even crouched to check his socks.

Frustrated, he called Paul, Mark and Glenn all but no answers. "What the fuck!"

Just then, the soft ding of the other elevator caught his attention. Out stepped Lou Smith, fresh-faced and composed despite the lateness of the hour. She froze when she saw Austin crouched on the carpet, muttering angrily.

"Uh, Steve. What's going on?" Lou asked, stepping closer. "What are you doing?"

Steve straightened up and pointed toward his door. "Can't find my key card. And I need to get in there. Now." His voice carried the urgency of a man with no patience to spare.

Lou tilted her head, crossing her arms. "Did you leave it at the club?"

"I didn't leave it anywhere. It's gone, vanished, kaput! Someone probably swiped it when I wasn't lookin',"

"Why didn't you check on the front desk?"

"I ain't got time." He snapped, then groaned and rubbed his face. "I can't deal with this right now. My stomach's still doing goddamn backflips—what are you laughing at?"

"Another one of Stone Cold's enemies: key cards."

Steve shot her a glare but didn't respond, too tired to argue.

Lou chuckled softly, shaking her head. "You can use my room if you want. It's just right there." She snickered, walking down the aisle. "Don't wanna have the superstar shitting himself in the middle of the night. Come on."

He didn't bother to address the mockery and He didn't even hesitate to follow Lou into her room, mumbling. "You're a lifesaver, Smith." as he bolted straight to her bathroom.

"Make yourself at home—oh you already do." Lou called after him, amused.

Minutes later, Steve emerged, looking a little less pale and a lot more himself. Leaning against the doorframe, he scanned the room. Her room was unusually tidy, compared to his own at least. No clothes out of line and scattered on the carpet or bed. And her stuff was organized by the table and vanity, including a lineup of shoes, her unique cowboy boots already settled. His eyes landed on her desk piled with neatly stacked books and papers.

"Well, ain't this somethin'." He said, picking up a copy of The Art of War. "Didn't peg you for the bookworm type."

Lou turned around, arched an eyebrow. "What? You think all wrestlers live out of suitcases and dive into piles of laundry?"

Steve smirked. "Pretty much."

She leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Some of us have hobbies, you know. Well mine is reading. Keeps the brain healthy. You should try it."

Steve flipped through her notebook, raising an eyebrow at the scribbled notes. "What's all this? Poetry?"

"Promo ideas." Lou said casually. "I like to plan my lines. Keep things sharp."

"Damn." Steve muttered, a flicker of respect in his tone. "That's more effort than most of the roster puts in. Hell, Vince just wings half his speeches."

"I dunno. It's something I just have to do." Lou smirked. "Maybe you could borrow one and jot down some new quotes—'Stone Cold said so' is a bit outdated."

Steve barked a laugh. "Keep it up, Smith, and I'll hit you with a Stunner right here."

"You'd have to catch me first." Lou shot back, her grin widening. "Well you need to catch your key card too, don't you?"

"Still no idea how I lost it. I swear I slipped it in my pocket."

"You said someone might swipe it," Lou hesitated, then smirked. "I did see Hunter and the others hanging around the lobby. Laughing."

The playful moment was cut short when Steve suddenly stiffened, his eyes narrowing. "Wait a second...you think one of the boys took my damn key card?" Austin slapped a hand to his forehead. "Those sons of b—"

"Ribbed. You just got ribbed, dude." Lou interrupted, laughing.

"Fuckin' hell."

"Well they got their laughs. I know I did." She paused for a moment, then added, "And I'm sure you could use a smoke."

He raised an eyebrow. "I don't know if I should be lighting up after all the booze I've had tonight…"

"I'm sure it'll help take the edge off." Lou teased, reaching for her pack of cigarettes. She took one out, offering it to him. "One last bad decision for the night?"

He smirked and took the cigarette from her. "If you say so."

The cool night air wrapped around them as they stood on the balcony, the city's hazy lights flickering below. Lou and Austin leaned against the railing, cigarettes in hand, the soft hum of distant traffic blending with the comfortable silence. The moment felt intoxicating—the dim glow, the quiet, and the subtle buzz from the alcohol still lingering in their systems.

Steve took a slow drag, exhaling a thin stream of smoke before glancing at Lou, standing beside him. She had abandoned her party dress, now comfortably wearing some sweater and pajama pants. His smirk was relaxed, but his sharp gaze hinted at curiosity. "So…" he started, his tone casual but probing. "Where'd you run off to after the party? Didn't see you hanging with the crew."

Lou exhaled her own cloud of smoke, pausing before answering. "Lita and the Hardys were staying out late, but I wasn't feeling it."

He raised an eyebrow. "You? Alone? That's not exactly your usual agenda. Thought you'd be outlasting the whole gang."

She shrugged lightly, a small, amused smile playing on her lips. "Even I need a break sometimes."

Austin took another slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling a thin stream of smoke before glancing at Lou again. He noticed the way her expression shifted, her eyes seeming far away; the same look she wore back in the club when talking with Vince. He couldn't help but wonder what was going on in her mind. She had always been an enigma—strong, independent, but tonight there was something else.

They fell silent, the soft murmur of the city below filling the gap. Lou flicked ash from her cigarette, her voice softening as she spoke again. "Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"You nervous about the heel turn?"

Steve leaned on the railing, rolling her question over in his mind. "It's already done, so there's no goin' back. But yeah, I'm nervous. It's a big shift." He glanced her way, his smirk turning self-aware. "Hell, guess I'd be lyin' if I said I wasn't second-guessing it sometimes."

Lou nodded, her gaze drifting to the horizon. "This Power Trip thing...it's big shoes to fill."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Not sure if it's gonna fit anyway." Lou chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Everyone keeps saying I can't play the bad guy. Too much of a face, won't work."

Steve leaned a little closer, the edge of a grin tugging at his lips. "Hell, they said the same about me. Look how that turned out. You don't gotta fake it, kid. Just lean into what's already there. Turn it up to eleven."

She gave him a skeptical look, her cigarette lingering between her fingers. "I don't know. It's hard to picture myself as mean or dark enough for that. I've spent years as the good guy. I don't think I have it in me."

He shifted even closer, his shoulder brushing hers as they leaned on the railing. "You've already got it in you, Lou. I've seen it. That edge, that fire—you just need to point it in the right direction. You don't need to be anyone but yourself. Believe in it, and the rest follows."

For a moment, their eyes locked, the charged energy between them unmistakable. Lou's lips twitched into a small, uncertain smile. "You really think I can pull it off?"

Steve grinned, taking a final drag before flicking his cigarette into the ashtray. "Damn right, I do. You've got it, Lou. You just don't know it yet."

Her chest tightened at the confidence in his voice—she could feel the heat radiating off him. Her voice dropped lower. "Maybe I need a little reassurance from someone who's been through it."

Austin's smirk turned playful as he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "We're goin' through it together anyway. Might as well help you out."

Lou laughed softly, shaking her head. "You make it sound so simple."

"Because it is. Take the first step, missy. Don't overthink it. If it doesn't work, you've got the chops to fix it. Trust me, you're better at this than you think."

Lou held his gaze, her breath catching as the tension between them thickened. The hum of the city below felt faint, almost drowned out by the electricity crackling in the space between them. She flicked her cigarette away, her lips curling into a teasing smile. "You know, you're kind of a distraction."

Steve chuckled, his grin widening as his fingers brushed hers, sending a spark up his arm. "Funny. I was just thinkin' the same about you."

Her teasing smile softened, the weight of the moment settling in as she lowered her voice. "Maybe distractions aren't so bad."

The smile faded from Steve's lips, replaced by something warmer, more intimate. His hand lingered against hers, the touch a silent promise. As his fingers traced hers—gentle, deliberate—the air between them grew thick with unspoken understanding. He tilted his head slightly, his voice lowering to a near whisper. "Not always."

It was only then, as they stood so close—shoulder to shoulder, fingers brushing, eyes locked—that he felt the shift, the undeniable presence of something in the air that he couldn't ignore. Without another word, he stepped closer, his hand moving to gently brush against her cheek. The soft touch sent a shiver down Lou's spine, her breath hitching in surprise.

"What are you doing?" Before she could even process the moment, Steve leaned in, his lips meeting hers with a quiet intensity that stole the breath from her lungs.

The kiss wasn't slow or gentle—it was bold, a rush of energy, the alcohol between them amplifying the electric connection. Lou hesitated only for a heartbeat before she responded, her hands reaching up to thread through his hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss.

It felt like a dam breaking. Steve hadn't meant for this to happen—not consciously, anyway—but the pull had been there. He'd seen it now, how cool city lights caught her energy, her features, the faint glow painting her in a way that left him blinded. And it wasn't just her looks—it was the fire she carried, the balance of strength and vulnerability that made her unforgettable. He'd felt it in the way her eyes sparkled when she argued with him, in the quiet determination she wore like armor, and in the way her laughter softened the edges of the chaos around them.

The realization hit him harder than it should have.

God, she was beautiful.

And now, with her so close, her lips brushing against his, the urge was undeniable. His hands moved instinctively, one curling around her waist, pulling her closer, the other tangling in her hair. The warmth of her body against his ignited something deep inside him. The kiss deepened, and for a moment, the world outside the balcony—the distant city lights, the hum of traffic—disappeared completely. There was only Lou. Only the heat of her, the urgency between them.

Lou broke the kiss briefly, her voice a husky whisper. "We should...stop."

When they finally pulled away, their breath ragged, Steve couldn't help but let out a quiet, almost breathless laugh. His forehead rested against hers, both of them still reeling from the kiss. His thumb brushed over her cheek, his voice low. "You… you sure you wanna stop?"

Lou's words were hesitant, her body still pressed against his, her hands tangled in his shirt. "I'm not sure this is the smartest decision." She murmured, but there was a softness in her tone that told him she wasn't as sure about stopping as she sounded.

Steve pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his breath coming in shallow, quick bursts. He searched her face, looking for the same hesitation, the same uncertainty that had been clouding his own mind since they first crossed paths. But all he saw in her eyes was... something else. Something raw, something real. She wanted this too.

Steve's mind flickered with a thought he didn't want to entertain: this wasn't supposed to happen. They weren't supposed to cross this line. It was dangerous, messy, uncharted territory. But as her hands tightened around his body and she leaned into him, every reason to stop dissolved.

"Sometimes, the best decisions don't feel so smart." He said quietly, leaning in again, his lips brushing against hers with a tenderness that belied the tension between them. "But damn, it feels right."

Steve kissed her again, this time slower, more deliberate, as if savoring every second. His hands cupped her face, his fingers gently tracing the line of her jaw. His lips were gentle, coaxing, as if asking for permission.

Steve's heart was pounding—this was reckless, messy, and complicated, but at that moment, it felt like the only thing that mattered.

No. No. No!

This is not right.

We should stop.

Lou tried so hard to pull away. Every word in her head screamed that this was wrong. Her mind raced, a chaotic storm of protests and rationalizations, each one louder than the last.

We should sto—she tried to form the words, to push back against the pull consuming her senses.

We should—her thoughts fragmented, breaking apart entirely as her breath hitched, and instead of pushing him away, her hands moved instinctively, pulling him closer. Her lips parted, deepening the kiss that felt as sinful as it was intoxicating.

Lou's mind screamed for restraint, but her body betrayed her, leaning into every touch, every motion. Her hands slid up his chest, her fingers playing against the hard planes of muscle she found there. The warmth of his skin burned against her palms, and she found herself gripping the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer as if she couldn't stand even an inch of distance between them.

It wasn't easy to stop, not when he kissed her like this—firm, deliberate, as if she were the only thing in his world. His hands moved with purpose, sliding down to her waist and gripping her firmly, his thumbs pressing lightly into her hips as if to ground her in place. The pressure sent a shiver coursing through her body, a visceral response she couldn't suppress. His touch wasn't rushed, but it wasn't tentative either. It was confident, deliberate, his fingers exploring the curve of her waist before sliding up her back. His palm pressed against the small of her spine, pulling her closer until their bodies were flush against each other. Lou gasped softly, the heat of him searing through her clothes, her senses alive in ways they hadn't been before.

Everywhere he touched her, her skin felt alive, buzzing with a mixture of heat and anticipation. His hands explored further, sliding along her sides and back, fingertips grazing just enough to leave her trembling. Lou's grip on his shirt tightened as she pulled him back to her lips, this time with more urgency, more need. Her body pressed into his, every barrier between them feeling like too much. The kiss deepened, and Lou didn't hesitate this time. Her hands slid back to his waist, pulling him closer with a boldness that surprised even her.

Her common sense was a dim light in the background now, easily shadowed by the heat radiating from his touch, the fire igniting between them.

Am I making out with The SoB Stone Cold Steve Austin?

Yes.

The absurdity of it flickered through her mind, brief and fleeting, before dissolving in the overwhelming reality of him. A short laugh escaped her lips—or maybe it was a soft moan. She couldn't hear the difference anymore, couldn't tell where her thoughts ended and her body's response began.

The tension that had held her back finally melted away, replaced by something far more primal. Her hands moved of their own accord, tangling in his shirt, then sliding up to the back of his neck. She could feel the roughness of his stubble against her skin, the warmth of his breath against her cheek, and the way his body pressed against hers, solid and unyielding.

Her hesitation crumbled as she let herself sink deeper into the moment. Her lips moved against his with urgency, her body responding instinctively to the truth of what they both already knew: damn, it feels so fucking right.

There was no denying it anymore—the pull between them was magnetic, undeniable. Every fiber of her being was attuned to him, to the way he kissed her, touched her, made her feel like she was standing on the edge of something she couldn't fully understand. Every touch, every movement, was pushing them further past the point of no return. The heat between them was undeniable, and as her fingers trailed down his sides, gripping at his hips, she knew there was no stopping now.

Not now.

Not when it felt like this.