Stephanie's birthday fell on the unfortunate date of a RAW that year, which meant all of the annoyances of the standard out of town work day as well as people reminding you constantly how old you are 24/7.
"You like being the center of attention," Paul pointed out though, just as quickly, he was biting his tongue because gosh, that was a dumb thing to say to his wife.
"I do? You do."
"Of course, Steph. Just mixed it up, you know, in my mind. Me and you. We're so alike, you know."
"Anyways," the woman began with a roll of her eyes.
"Anyways," he agreed with a nod of his head.
"I know we'll have to go out to dinner together, at some point for it-"
"Have to?" That time he repeated out of his own annoyance. "If you don't want to, that's cool with me, Steph. I'll have you know that there's a bunch of people who would die to share a meal with me. And a bunch that would die before sharing one with you. So-"
"Would you shut up and let me finish?" Then, as they were very busy then, packing him up a bag for a short trip, she threw a balled pair of socks at his head from across the room where she was pulling some out of the dresser for him.
Paul made a face as he bent down to pick the socks up from where they'd landed after softly bouncing off his head, but he didn't speak.
It was close to her birthday, after all. He could let her pretend to be in control of the moment for, literally, the moment.
"I just want whatever we do here, at home, to be low key, you know? I don't want a party. Not even with Dad or anyone. Okay?"
"How presumptuous." That time, when he got the socks tossed at him, he dodged them. "My, Steph. Need help with deflating that ego? Who wants to throw you a party?"
"Paul-"
"Not me. Not anyone I know. Imagine thinking that everyone gives a shit that, what? You're turning into a decrepit old woman? Ha. How rich do you gotta be, babe, before you become so conceited?"
"I'm not laughing. And I'm serious."
"I'm serious. You think I planned on having a birthday party? That I expected it of you? No. I was shocked. No, worse. Astounded. Astonished."
"I'm about to stop helping you."
"If you don't help me pack, Steph, and I miss my flight because of it, I'll never forgive you."
"You literally could have finished this all on your own, without me, much faster."
Yeah, but then he couldn't spend that glorious alone time they were getting in that moment. No dogs as they were out being walked. No kids, as they were with the nanny walking said dogs. That left lucky him to stand around with his wife and debate which tie he should bring to which meeting.
Riveting.
Oh, and tease the hell out of her.
He liked that part the best.
"You know, Stephie, most women would be grateful that they were helping their wives pack their bags. This might come as a shock to you," he warned, "but some wives, get this, pack a man's bag all alone. Because they respect and revere him."
"Or they're hoping he takes the hint and never comes back."
"Someone has to go out and get the carton of milk and smokes, babe. It gonna be you?"
"If it means I can get away from you? Maybe."
"That's rough. After all this work I've put into your birthday party-"
"No. I don't want one. At all."
He knew. Or at least figured. Steph hadn't been keen on one last year and, before that, had started to fall out of favor with them. Made it easier on him then, anyways. His time was split between a billion things as it was. Not having to spend some of his very precious free time around Steph's family (who he loved dearly and saw as his family, but could grow extremely weary of during the dogged end of Summer months) was the goal.
No party indeed.
Of course, when Stephanie said that, she didn't mean it wholly.
The girls baked her a cake, of course, which he was home to attend to, Saturday afternoon. It was a great time, as it always was, just between them, their kids, and their dogs (who Steph always claimed were also their kids, but Paul still hadn't crossed the line over into that territory...yet; his new puppy was pretty great). They had ice cream and cake, which Steph only ate a decent amount of when he agreed to have some as well, which meant she got as little as possible and then ate both off her plate and his while he mostly lamented the kids choice in flavor.
"Who like red velvet?" he griped a bit, when he found the girls and their nanny making the thing.
"Mommy," his youngest reminded.
"Yeah," he grumbled with a face of disgust that got all three of his girls to giggle. "But not Daddy."
It rarely mattered what Daddy liked though, in the house, as he mostly just liked for the girls inside of it to all be happy. Especially when it was one of their birthdays.
He tried hard to remind himself, when he was feeling down about all he missed out on with his family, that it just meant he took more joy in the moments they did all have together. They had as many as they could, of course, and he tried hard to be around as much as possible for each of the girls, he'd drop everything if they really needed him, but the business hardly bent to the ways of family. It felt much less stringent than in decades past, but it was still a tortuous testament of just how much you were willing to give up.
He was lucky, of course, in some ways. His time in the ring would be done, honestly, with or without Steph, but his career was on the tail end of things when he first started having his girls. Had he been with someone else, he'd have had to end his career prematurely. He knew he would. Because the idea of being so far away from them, for so long…
His family meant everything to him. Honest, it did. More than the company, more than his status, more than himself. Being with Stephanie allowed him many things, things that a lot of people accused him of being unworthy of (things he himself felt unworthy of, even), but one he was eternally grateful for was the ability to mix work and home life a lot more than most. His wife was there, with him, if not physically, then mentally. She understood and worked with him, during each pregnancy and throughout the kids life, even then, to help balance his family and work together.
It helped that she was managing the same struggle.
If anything, in more recent times, Steph fretted over it more than him. Of course, part of this was because Steph was more of a worrier than him. She'd deny it, if mentioned, but she was. They both got into their own heads about things, but Steph was much more likely to beat herself up over such things. A nasty habit indeed, she had a massive problem with scaling herself against impossibility. No one was perfect, but it was against such a concept that Stephanie weighed herself.
And yet it never felt like enough.
As the girls got older, he heard this more from her, about them, than anything else. She always wanted to do more and be around them as much as possible and she hated work. She loved work. Loved it more than anything. It was her, honestly. He didn't know what she'd be without the company. But in another sense, it kept her from the one thing that she really wanted; to be there for their girls.
He and Steph were different in many ways (all the right ways, honestly), but they were united in that idea.
He just cut himself a bit more slack than she was willing to for herself.
Which was why that dinner that they just had to go on was done with the girls, that evening. It was a nice dinner, they insisted, for Mommy's birthday, and if he was going to wear jeans (which he definitely was), then they had to be dark ones.
Any complaint (even though that's what he was doing anyways) was met with rebuke.
Women's word was law, after all, in his home. Especially when it was from the under eighteen crowd.
It served its purpose anyways, tricking the girls into being more tired than they usually would be and got them to go to bed a bit earlier. Which let Paul and Steph do the same. Unfortunately.
"Are you going to sleep?" he griped when, once they finally found themselves in bed together, Stephanie seemed to be doing just that.
"Are you not?"
"It's your birthday."
"In two days."
"I did not just take you out to dinner and eat that nasty cake for nothing, Steph."
"Right. You did it so that we could go to sleep right now. Didn't you?"
"You're funny," he remarked dryly, but still, he did settle out some, on the bed, as she only curled up on her pillow, eyes shut. His though stayed on her. "You don't even want to talk or anything? None of that stupid stuff you usually like? Nothing?"
"Talk about what?" she complained from beneath the covers that she pulled over her head, apparently wishing for him to do the same. Or, honestly, even if she did wish for that, he was doing it anyways.
"I dunno," he remarked as he moved closer to her, under the darkness of their sheets and blankets. "You always have stuff to tell me."
"I've spent all day with you. I'm tapped out."
"This has never happened before. I'm stumped. Shocked. I'm-"
"You know how for your birthday, you wanted that very specific thing and I gave you that very specific thing?"
"Be more descriptive. Especially if you're about to leave me high and dry."
"I want to sleep, babe. Can I not sleep?"
"Sure, babe." He even smiled at her, softly, as he leaned over to press a kiss to her head. "If that's what you want."
It was. And he was just about there himself, asleep, when Steph suddenly decided she wanted something different.
"I can't sleep," she complained after tossing and turning for a good twenty minutes there while he miserably tried not to complain about this. "Paul."
"I can," he muttered from what was the closest you could get to it, really, sleep, without actually being it.
"Not if I can't."
"How do you figure?"
"Because it's my birthday."
"Not for another two days, it's not."
"You know," she grumbled as she poked at his chest, "that joke's only funny when I say it."
"Is it a really a joke? When it's just the flat truth?"
"All good jokes have some truth to them."
He did peek an eye open then before replying, "See, you set me up to make slights towards you and it's not fair. So hard to bite my tongue."
"Stop being mean to me." She fully moved to rest on his chest then. "It' my birthday. In two days."
"Birthday weekend," he conceded as she snuggled against him.
"I'm so tired," she complained to him. "Like it hurts to keep my eyes open right now. But I seriously can't sleep."
"You've hardly tried."
"I couldn't get comfortable."
"What a coincidence. Neither am I." Then he made a face down at her. "Now."
Grinning sleepily, she only yawned some before remarking, "I had a lot of time to consider things, in the silence as I tried to sleep-"
"You were silent for, at most, ten minutes. That's hardly any silence at all."
"It was at least double that. If not more."
"Bet my life on it. You?"
"Anyways."
"Anyways."
"You should say some nice things about me," she remarked. "Or something. To commemorate and all that."
"And all that."
"So?"
"Off the top of my head?" He whistled. "Hmmm. What good things can I say about you? Well, you married me. That's probably the best thing about you."
"I'm not laughing."
"But there's some truth to it. I thought you said-"
"Paul-"
"You got nice eyes," he said simply. "Take care of yourself. I'm not too keen on, you know, your lack of submissiveness, but I'm sure after I die, you can find a guy that's into that."
"You're about to die a lot sooner than you plan."
"You'll never kill me," he frowned. "For one, you're always eating my food. Can't poison me. And you can train your little heart out, babe, but you're never going to be able to overpower me."
"Well, some of us can pass a drug test on our own, so-"
"Stephanie," he complained perhaps a bit too loud, but she had surprised him a bit.
"Some truth makes the entire joke, right?"
"Why are you being to mean now?" he asked. "Huh? I literally just gave you permission to marry after I die. As well as complimented you. You know, Steph, I think that people like you in our company really mar our league. Fucking bully, you are."
"You literally just said that you hate that I don't...submit to you."
"Well, for one, truthfully, you do-"
"I don't."
"-plus, ask anyone around. I care about women and their rights. More than you and your trash family."
"This really is an eyeopening conversation."
"You wanna know your problem, babe?"
"I've only asked for you to say nice things about me this entire time, but sure, go ahead, since you will anyways."
"You try too hard at looking nice, you know? And yet not hard enough." He shook his head some as he ran a hand down her side. "See, what you wanna perfect is the art of looking like you're not trying at all, but actually trying a high amount and thus succeeding. You wanna look like you don't care about looking nice, but still looking nice. It's not easy. But it's so worth it. Imagine having fans, Steph. I mean, I know you personally can't, but just imagine."
"I should have just spent a few more minutes trying to go to sleep."
He nodded. "You really should have."
"You know, you always call me conceited and stuff-"
"Never. Not once."
"-but somehow, you've turned my birthday talk into a conversation about how great you are and how reformed your image is-"
"And my pee. But that one was on you."
"But on your birthday," she went on, "I always focus on what? Making everything about you."
"Because you're a submissive wife."
"I am not. Stop saying that."
"You're also whiny, apparently."
"All I'm saying," Stephanie complained as she poked at his chest, "is that you could at least have a short conversation about my good qualities."
"Well, that's part of it, babe," he said after a short moment of consideration.
"Part of what?"
"I try so hard at sounding like I'm not interested in talking about myself that, subconsciously, I convince other people to do it. I'm the conceited one, Stephanie. I always have been." Then he paused. "Don't get me wrong, you're still super into yourself and selfish and all that shit, but I'm definitely the one that benefits in most situations in this relationship."
"Oh, are you?"
"When's the last time I bragged on you?"
"You did say I have nice eyes a few minutes ago."
"Yeah, I know. Throw the dog a bone occasionally." Then he frowned. "But I'd never use such mind tricks on my puppy. Attila. She's the one I really care about in all this, as you know."
"As," Stephanie grumbled a bit as she gave his chest one last pat, "I know."
"Did I tell you about how well her training's been going recently? Now there's a great dog. Not like your dog. Andre. My dog though-"
"Now you're just boring me."
"I always thought, you know, Bluto was for you, Andre was for the girls, and I just wasn't going to have a pet. But boy, was I wrong. I've never been this happy. With anything. In my entire life."
"Are you just being mean because I said your pee is dirty?"
"For one, it's not. Thanks for putting that out there though."
"Putting it out there to who? You?"
"For two," he went on, "This is because you first led me to believe we'd have sex tonight-"
"By what? Happening to be born on this day?"
"-and then, after letting me down-"
"You're tired too. Liar."
"-you woke me back up."
"You weren't asleep."
"Birthday's are the days when I'm super kind and courteous, anyways," he finished. "We already established this as a birthday weekend kind of thing. So there."
They both stare at one another then, eyes wide open, just lying there, watching one another. Eventually though, she spoke.
"I'd probably just hire someone to do it."
With a frown, he asked, "To do what?"
"Kill you. I have the money, you know," she replied. "An adequate amount, even."
"Do you have the connections though?"
"Guess you'll find out."
They had a long few moments of curious glances before, finally, Stephanie giggled and, though he didn't smile, he did lean down to press a kiss to her forehead.
For some reason, it was much easier to drift off then and, within ten minutes, they both had.
The morning of her actual birthday was very busy. They had to get ready to head out to Denver while also getting the girls prepped for school and it would just be an early morning. No fighting it. Still, for some reason, Paul saw it fit to wake her up before the alarm, even.
It was between soft kisses and mutters of her name that he did it and, resistent, she shoved him away at first with a half-heated gripe.
"Cut it out," she whined. "Sleeping."
"Stephie." He rested on his side then, beside her, with a bit of a grin. "Happy birthday."
"Thanks," she yawned. "No shut up and let me sleep."
"Not yet." He leaned down to nuzzle his head against hers and, through another yawn, she tossed an arm around his shoulders to hold him there. "Mmmm. I hope you have a great day today, baby."
"By starting it early," she grumbled against his chest as he still stayed over her, the woman pulling him closer still then, "you made sure I wouldn't."
"You sure about that?"
"Very."
"I was just thinkin', s'all."
"About what?"
He shifted, finally, so that he could rest on his side, but she was too accustomed to his warmth by th en and only followed suit, snuggling right up to him.
"We first started hooking up, like, what? Seventeen years ago? Eighteen?"
"I'm glad you woke me up for this. Can tell it's going somewhere great already."
It always did.
Still, he only leaned down to kiss right beneath her eyes, which got him swatted at once more.
"Like, if our relationship was a kid," he whispered, "it would be prepping for college and shit. Isn't that weird to think about? Trippy? Even if you think about our marriage, it would be in high school, at least. That's a long time."
She was silent for a moment before remarking, "I would love to hear you ponder on this more. On our anniversary. Now let me-"
"You were twenty something, right? Then? So, like, think about it, Steph."
"I don't want to."
"In a few years, you'll have been with me longer than you would have been without me. I mean, it's still, like, a half a decade away, but you'll have been with me longer than without. Isn't that crazy?"
"How come when I want to talk, you don't want to?"
"Because you talk about stupid shit. Now shut up and let me finish marveling over how long you've been with me."
"Not much longer, believe it or not."
"Or not."
"Paul-"
"I'm just saying that… It doesn't feel that long. To me. Does it to you?" He shrugged as best he could from the position they were laying. "Half your life, with the same person. Will you even be able to stomach it?"
She glanced into his eyes then before replying, "That's pretty presumptuous. Assuming I've only been with you this whole time. Need help deflating that ego?"
"Well, we know I won't have that issue in, oh, the decade it takes for you to officially have filled up half my life."
He beamed, but she only retorted.
"Yeah, because the hit will go through long before then."
His smile didn't fail, but he did retort, "There's truth in jokes, Steph. Might have to take one out on you first. Get you before you get me and all."
"You're the one that sounded so upset by it. Like you couldn't stomach it."
"It's all I want in the entire world, Stephanie."
"Oh, whatever."
His face changed, maybe, just a little, in the darkness, and he looked over her head then, up at the headboard. She nuzzled her head into his neck in response, his beard scratching at her forehead.
"I just," he whispered then and something was different, she could just tell, "when I said forever to someone...but… I dunno, Steph. You wanted me to dig deep, the other night, and say something nice to you and I just… You mean so much to me. If I'm, like, the last person you're ever with and our relationship is going to fill up over half your life, then I really hope, you know, that...I made this all worth it. You've annoyed me before, you've pissed me off so badly I couldn't breathe, but damn, baby, you really are my only world. My life doesn't matter without yours, Steph. I love you. Happy birthday."
She stayed silent, but only long enough to bask in the moment, before whispering, "Do you love me more than your dog though?"
Finally, he was able to blink it away some, the more serious side of him, and was able to look her in the eyes again.
"I don't even love myself more than I love my dog."
"You're so full of shit." She sat up some then, to glance over him and at the alarm clock. Then, frowning, she fell back into bed. "And you've fucked up my sleep."
"I wanted you at your least interrupting state. Which is near sleep."
"If you bragged on me more than once a year, maybe you'd learn how quiet I get when you do it. Half asleep or not."
"Imagine being so conceited that you think you deserve praise anyways. Wow, Stephanie. Wow."
She only wrapped an arm around him again and, falling onto her back, she pulled him down with her, holding her husband close.
"Let's just skip RAW. For the rest of ever. And never go back to work. Never leave this bed again." She refused to stop clinging to him as not to risk him pulling away, of separating from her. All she wanted was him, just like that, for the rest of forever. "Birthday wish?"
He did shift some, but just so he didn't completely squash her, before nuzzling his beard against her cheek. "Granted."
But only for the next twenty minutes. It wasn't enough, of course, for either of them, but eternity wouldn't be either. Eventually, they'd learned, you had to just make do.
"Would it be too presumptuous," she asked after he hit the alarm, continuing to hide under the covers, "that you could get the girls up without me? Just for a few minutes? Please?"
"For you, princess?" He yawned some, as he got up, but did lean back over the bed to kiss her head. "Anything." Then he hummed and added, "At least on your birthday."
Stephanie smiled tiredly, but gratefully. "At least on my birthday."
Wasn't sure what to do for a birthday one this year. Thought about not making one, but just decided to start it and see where we ended up. I know I've been a bit absentee as of late, but have faith. I'm still around.