The conversation had taken its toll on Paul. Begrudgingly, he stared at his phones home screen and shook his head in exasperation. Why did Shawn have to be so difficult? The home screen slowly faded out until the screen shut off completely. Paul sucked at his teeth and slipped the device into his jeans pocket. Why did Shawn always have to be so difficult? Why did he have to be so cruel as well?

Paul placed his hands on either side of the sink and looked directly at himself in the mirror. How did it escalate so quickly? Now he would have to go back into the locker room and be greeted by the awkward glances and questions. He huffed, snapped on the tap and rubbed his hands under the cold water. He caught what he could and dabbed it over his face. They all knew whenever he made a mad dash to the toilets with the phone attached to his ear meant one thing – they were rowing. A disagreement could be easily settled with a firm word in the corridor or quietly in the corner. A row would need privacy. It needed an empty arena bathroom.

The tap turned itself off. The room was quiet except for the odd drip of toilet water within the systems behind him and his own breath. Was this married life? No, surely not. The honeymoon period would not have lasted four years and then just died a death on the fifth. It was illogical. Had Paul changed? Or was Shawn being his usual Pre-Madonna self? At this moment in time Paul was willing to bet on the latter.

The heavy wooden door to Paul's left creaked open and footsteps accompanied his breathing and the dripping systems. Paul cracked half a smile. Only a few people would have had the testicles to walk in on Triple H during a telephone row.

"I'm glad you're done," a heavily monotone voice grumbled. "I don't think I could have stood listening to you wallowing while I'm trying to take a dump."

Paul's eyes met those of the Undertaker's through the reflection of the mirror.

"I take it you didn't make up before the conversation ended?" Mark, the Undertaker's real name, continued. Paul shrugged his shoulders with a small smirk. The other man nodded his head slowly and turned away from the mirror and into one of the cubicles before he pulled it shut and bolted it.

"He didn't give me a chance," Paul finally said. "He hung up on me."

"You sound surprised?" The monotone voice replied behind the door.

"You don't know him the way I know him, Mark."

"I knew him before you walked on the scene," was the casual reply. "He's always overreacted. Just because he's off the pills doesn't mean he no longer overreacts."

Paul pushed himself up off the sink. Mark was right but that did not give him the right to be so honest. He turned himself around and lent against the sink so he faced the Undertaker's cubicle.

"He's always been sensitive," Paul said.

"Insecure" Mark replied shortly. Paul bit his bottom lip and felt his nose twitch. He could have gone into a tirade but he just could not bring himself to do it. It required effort, something Paul did not have right now, and finally it would require Paul having to deal with backstage tensions every night between Mark and himself. He said nothing.

"Suppose he's just lonely?" Mark said.

Paul's head perked up. Lonely? He crossed his arms over his chest and waited expectedly for Mark to continue. The blue paint on the toilet cubicle was peeling and the brown MDF underneath was making itself visible. Paul frowned.

"Lonely? I call him every day. I call him more than twice a day! Sometimes I call him three times depending on how busy things are here. It's not like I don't miss him!" Paul growled, he grew more defensive with each word he said. "I do miss him! I would love to have dinner with him, go to bed with him and do all the normal husband-esque things with him but it's hard when we're constantly on tour!

But he doesn't make it easy. He says he understands but ever since he retired he really doesn't understand. He doesn't understand that I do more than just wrestle here now."

Paul pushed himself up and away from the sink and laid sharp, hard kick into the cubicle next to Mark's. The cheap, wooden door snapped open and whacked the wooden frame of the cubicle which made the entire block of toilets shake.

The toilet flushed and Mark exited his cubicle whilst he rearranged his tights around his waist.

"Missing him doesn't make him less lonely in the same way him missing you doesn't make you any less lonely," The large man pushed past Paul, tapped the taps on and ran his hands under the hot water. "Buy him a puppy."

Paul's eyebrow raised, "He's my husband not my daughter. I don't think a furry creature in a ribboned box is going to work."

"Then why don't you get off your high horse and book some time off work like the rest of us working slobs do," Mark ran his wet hands over the front of his tights. "I'm sure the company will not crumble without you for a few weeks."

With that final word the other man left, slamming the toilet door behind him. Paul stood alone in the toilet with his thoughts and the lingering smell of the Deadman.


Shawn threw his phone as hard as he could at the sofa. The phone bounced off the leather cushion and landed with a thump against one of the cotton pillows situated in each corner of the sofa. Of course he was painted out to be the villain, never mind that Paul was swanning around somewhere in a whole different part of the country.

Shawn had hung up the conversation because Paul was being unreasonable. Shawn rang his fingers through his hair, his eyes staring at the phone he had thrown. Why was Paul not ringing him back? He usually rang back.

Shawn snatched the phone from the sofa and gave it a quick look over. It was not broken. He pressed one of the buttons and the phone lit into life. Yes it worked. A huge cloud dawned over the Texan and he wished he had not hung up the phone. Had this gone too far? Paul was angry, but so was Shawn, the only difference being that Paul was in Florida surrounded by temptation and Shawn was in his sweatpants in rural Texas.

Should he call back and apologise? His finger loomed over the little star button Paul had set for himself as speed-dial.

"If I call back now then what was the point of the argument?" Shawn snapped. He threw the phone back down on the sofa. "He's wrong."

Tears formed in his eyes but Shawn stubbornly held them back. Although Paul was not here he was not going to allow himself to cry because of that asshole. The phone still did not beep or ring. A lump formed in his throat. He swallowed. Shawn clenched both his fists and left the main living area and went into the kitchen.

The wooden worktops were spotless as usual and the kitchen floor did not have a smudge on them. Why would they? It was something Shawn did every day to pass the time. The house was spotless. Pristine to the point Shawn obsessed over every little thing. Now nobody could enter the kitchen with shoes. If you used cutlery it was to be placed in the sink and not on the side.

It was his life. He cleaned the house every day because what else was there to do? He hunted on the Saturday with his buddies and he went church on the Sunday but that was it. Most mornings Shawn would lie in bad and joke to himself about his clairvoyance – claiming he could see the future because he repeated the same routine daily.

Monday was grocery day. Thursday was the corner shop day in case the milk had gone bad or something. Every other day was a day of cleaning, eating and watching TV. Although lean still, Shawn had lost his passion for rigorous exercise. He'd jog every morning and do a few sit-ups in the afternoon but that was the extent. He knew it wouldn't be long until a spare tire appeared on his gut.

So this was retirement? Shawn thought pathetically as he looked about his large, pristine kitchen. The tears ran down his cheeks at the same time Shawn lowered his body down against the wooden counter until he sat on the floor. This was being married and retired? Shawn shut his eyes. He'd much rather have chanced another year in the ring with a bad back.


"Thank you sir and please have a pleasant morning," The air hostess had said through a huge smile. Paul forced one in return but promptly shuffled his way through the terminal amongst people who looked just as exhausted as he felt.

A pleasant morning? Paul looked at the digital clock next to the fare indicator inside of the taxi and realised the woman was not kidding. Where had the time gone? It was getting on for 2am and Paul's head not hit a pillow. He was too anxious to sleep during the flight. Too nervous about what he would say to Shawn once he had got home. The Wrestler let out an enormous yawn.

Persuading Vince for early time off had been an easier task then he had originally anticipated. He had wanted to tell an epic tale. A brilliant battle where good conquers evil and the knight vanquishes the dragon and the world is at ease. He wanted to but there really wasn't no need. It was literally,

"Vince, I want some time off work because I miss Shawn."

"Sure. You've got two weeks accumulated and it's about time you used it."

With that Paul had booked himself onto the next flight to San Antonio, Texas and was now minutes away from home. Texas... who'd have thought Paul Levesque would have packed up and moved to dusty old Texas. He smiled to himself. Ah yes, once again that would have been the other half who insisted New Hampshire was too cold for his Texan blood. If only Paul had been Canadian with a bit more bite in him. He'd have loved a good giggle at Shawn.

The taxi pulled up outside of their home and Paul paid the fare and a small tip on top. He lugged the two heavy suitcases out of the trunk of the car and slowly made his way up the steps to the front door. All the lights were off in the house so Shawn was probably in bed. He placed the two cases on the floor and fumbled for his keys.

"You should have called Paul," he muttered to himself. "You best hope he ain't got that Robin Hood bow near his bed."

He pushed the door open with his foot and shuffled himself and his belongings through. The house was silent and a distinct smell of bleach hung in the air. Paul flipped the light switch and staggered backwards against the door. Since when did Shawn clean the house? Shawn's idea of clean was pushing things out of the eyes view and yelling at someone for opening the over-flowing closet. He flicked the light off and went upstairs.

The bedroom door was open and inside Paul could see Shawn's frame under the covers. The soft sounds of Shawn's snoring and his chest moving calmly underneath the duvet told Paul his husband was fast asleep. He smiled softly, Shawn had never been a deep sleeper, and he was usually the first one up in the morning buzzing around the kitchen. If they made up before Shawn got up would Shawn make chocolate chip pancakes? He'd actually missed Shawn's cooking although he'd never admit it out loud.

"Shawn?" Paul said softly as he approached his lover's sleeping form.

The other man moaned softly but rolled over in his sleep. The smile did not leave Paul's face. The argument they had had hours before suddenly seemed unimportant. He sat down on the edge of the bed and ran his fingers through Shawn's hair.

"Shawn. It's me," He said.

"Mmm?" Shawn murmured.

"I said it's me," Paul said with a slight purr. He lent over Shawn and gently blew into the back of his neck. The murmur became a grunt and Shawn turned back around so he faced Paul. His eyes were squinted and barely open.

"Paul? Whauudoingom?" Shawn managed through a massive yawn. Paul rolled his eyes at the incomprehensible question but got the jis. At least he was not being thrown in the spare room, thank god for tiny miracles. Paul crawled onto the bed and managed to budge Shawn from the centre and onto his usual space on the left. He imagined the spot under the covers where Shawn had been lying would still be warm.

He nuzzled the side of Shawn's neck and took in the recognisable smell of his husband. People often said to him it was the little things you would miss when you were away from home. The smell of soap in the bathroom, the familiar squawk of the crow that had nestled in their tree just outside of their window and in some strange way; Paul missed finding long strands of hair on his clothes. At home he'd grumble and compare Shawn to a dog but on the road, any little thing to remind you of someone was special.

"I missed you."

Shawn blinked heavily behind his sleep laden eyes having not quite grasped what was actually happening.

"You're in Florida," Shawn replied.

"Well now I'm in Texas," Paul said with a chuckle.

"Paul... what are you doing in Texas?" Shawn said. He tried to sit up but Paul wrapped his arm around the covers over Shawn's chest and held him close. The world was coming back to the Heart Break Kid.

"I told you already. I missed you so I came home."

"You came all the way from Florida to apologise?"

Paul's eyes narrowed and his nuzzling suddenly stopped. Apologise? Did Shawn really expect an apology? Was not just showing up good enough to let bygones be bygones? Instinctively, Paul's arm loosened around his lover and he pulled away from the sweet smell of Shawn's hair. Paul sat up and face-palmed with exhaustion.

Shawn shifted underneath the covers before he pushed himself up against the headboard and looked at his husband's silhouette through the darkness. He said nothing. Neither of them did. The room was quiet except for their breathing and that damn crow Paul had mentioned earlier. He looked to the window where's the crow's nest was; that guy always had a way of putting his feelings into words.

He made a move to get off the bed but Shawn caught his wrist.

"Shawn..." Paul said after a sigh.

"I didn't mean that." He said quickly.

"I'm not going to apologise," Paul tried to pull his wrist free but Shawn had a good grip on it. "You don't think and you just go off on a tangent"

"You're right and believe me when I say: I regretted hanging up on you"

"Then why didn't you call me back?"

"I... I don't know, man! I- well you're the one who brought up the whole, 'you and your god shit' stuff!"

"Because you accused me of having an affair!" Paul yelled furiously as he snatched his wrist free.

"I did not accuse you of having an affair."

"You asked me." Paul shook his head and then pushed himself up from off the bed. The room was still dark except for the moon light coming through the thin linen blinds. This was not how it was supposed to happen! Why did he even listen to Mark? He spotted the first thing closest to him, a travel bag, which he kicked roughly against the opposite wall. He could feel the veins in his neck pulsate.

"Paul... I never said that,"

"You honestly believe I would cheat on you...?" Paul said softly through the darkness. Shawn sucked in his bottom lip without a word. "I wouldn't. Never. Do you know how much it hurts to think how much you don't trust me? We took a vow and you think I took it lightly? I can't apologise Shawn... I can't apologise for your insecurities."

Shawn snivelled softly under his breath as if he was trying to hide his very obvious crying. "You're right... I'm sorry. I got upset because you dismissed something I said and... I've-"

"Missed me?" Paul asked gently.

Shawn nodded his head and hoped Paul was able to see what he was doing. His words had become that dreaded lump he had encountered earlier on this evening. His eyes stung and he could feel them welling up with each passing millisecond. Paul didn't move so Shawn just said despite the obvious breakages in his voice:

"Yeah... I missed you. I-it's been five weeks and I understand that your job-"

"Shawn, my job isn't how you remember it. I don't just wrestle now."

"I know! I know I know I know!" Shawn said almost desperately, "It doesn't matter though because you're here now and-"

"No Shawn it does matter. It does," Paul approached the bed and sat down on the edge. "It matters because I will have to go back to work in two weeks and you'll be on your own here with these paranoid delusions that I'm sleeping around."

The words stung Shawn and for a second the other man was at loss of what to say. He looked down at their shared bed covers and could faintly make out the brown patterned decorations on top of the cream base colour. He looked up and met the dark eyes of his lover. Shawn opened his mouth to say something but shut it again. He winced, literal confrontations terrified him no matter who the individual was.

Finally, Shawn said something. "Can't... Can't we just go back a bit? Start again maybe...? I fucked up my line and caused an argument." Shawn sniffed up, "I was meant to say I missed you, it's great to see you and then just.. y'know... cuddles"

Paul smiled despite himself. It was not every day Shawn apologised and then asked for 'cuddles' in the same sentence. Paul kicked off his shoes and proceeded to get undressed except for his boxer shorts. The spot he had longed for had probably gone cold now or at best lukewarm. He lifted the covers up and scooted underneath.

He found Shawn and pulled the slightly leaner man closer against his chest. He nestled his chin within the curve of Shawn's neck and shoulder blade and exhaled softly. Every couple had their arguments; Paul used to say to himself whenever they had a spat. It was normal. But when did their little spats cross the line into lack of trust? When did Shawn begin to fear Paul would no longer be loyal? The long distances? Rumours? He felt Shawn shudder against his hold as he tried to contain the emotions that spilled from every pore.

"Despite the aggravation and the ability you have of making me age faster," Paul whispered before he placed a gentle kiss against Shawn's neck. "I do love you."

"It's just a shame I ruined it really... isn't I?"

Paul furrowed his brow, "What have you ruined?"

"This whole surprise shindig... Now it just feels awkward and forced," Shawn's entire body suddenly tensed within Paul's arms. "I didn't mean awkward and forced as in I'm only playing along in a charade way. I mean, it... it doesn't-"

Before Shawn could put his foot in his mouth any more than it was, Paul rolled his husband over to face him and then silenced him with a kiss. They broke the kiss and shared a smile between them. "That mouth's been getting you into trouble since the early 90s, Shawn. If you can't control it now then I doubt you ever will."

He wiped the wet patches from Shawn's face. "Go to sleep, Michael"

Shawn laughed, that loud sudden laugh he did when you caught him off guard. "Who do you think you're talking to?"

"You're doing it again Shawn. I'm gonna have to shut you up," he lent in for another kiss but Shawn pulled away. Their lips were centimetres apart.

"I need to explain what I meant this evening on the phone," Shawn tried but Paul shook his head not wanting to start this up when they had just literally finished it. He pressed his nose against Shawn's and closed his eyes.

"It can wait till morning. What are you cooking for breakfast?" Paul asked as he snuggled down into his pillow.

"I thought you hated my cooking," Shawn replied before he let out a small yawn.

"It's that or starve..." he whispered before they both went to sleep.