His already hectic sleep schedule being thoroughly screwed on the overseas tour led directly to how tired Paul was as he slunk into the house some time nearing one in the morning. He felt practically dead and wanted nothing more to just collapse somewhere, anywhere, and rest for awhile.
"Shit, buddy," he grumbled when, coming through the door leading out to the garage, Paul was greeted with a vicious bark in the darkness. "It's just me."
Oh, Andre knew. But the Mastiff had to be certain. And, when the man's scent and voice hit him, the animal only rushed over to get some of those head pats he liked so much.
Blindly reaching down to do so, Paul was rewarded with a wet lick to the hand that would have made him grimace had he not been already. He just wanted to get to bed already.
Andre followed him around the kitchen as the man sat his briefcase down on the kitchen counter, waiting patiently for a dog biscuit and only being a little bit annoyed when Paul forgot it. Then it was a mad dash up the stairs (for the canine anyways) and, while Andre disappeared into the cracked door of his middle daughter's room, Paul headed first to his youngest.
He was glad to find her in there, as it meant, obviously, she wasn't in bed with Steph. Not that it bothered him too much if one of them kids wound up in there, but that night, he really just wanted to get some serious sleep. Not six year old breathing in your face in between the times when she kicking you in the gut sleep.
Paul didn't go into the room though, for fear of waking her and it leading to her crawling into bed with them, but he did watch her sleep for a moment, in the doorway, just to be sure she was fine, before going after Andre.
The dog whined a bit, from his spot in the center of the room, but stayed resting on his belly as he saw Paul peak his head in there as well. She slept the worst, his middle child did, tossing and turning and kicking and anything else that might knock her blankets off. He was glad that they weren't that night, though, as it kept him from having to go tuck her in better and risk getting Andre all riled up. This annoyed the dog, as the door was shut behind Paul, trapping him in there for the night, but the man didn't hear him get up or scratch at the door. Just whine a bit before quieting down.
His oldest was sleeping as well, but when Paul opened her door, it creaked a bit and she opened a bleary eye to find him there.
"You're home?" she yawned, as if confused. Caught now, he only nodded before coming closer.
"Yeah, princess." Tugging her blanket a bit better around her, Paul leaned down to brush a kiss across his daughter's forehead. "I am."
Hardly awake to begin with, it was easy for her eyes to sleep shut once more and for him to slip back out of the room.
Stephanie, however, was another entanglement entirely.
Their bedroom was completely dark when he came in, but this didn't bother Paul at all as he only walked to the foot of the bed and, with little care, stripped down to nothing more than his boxers. It was while he was at least kicking his shoes somewhat under the bed, so Steph wouldn't trip over them in the morning and bitch him out about it, that he must have been making too much of a commotion as he heard her shift in bed.
"You're too loud."
"And you," he grumbled right back, "were supposed to wait up for me. You text me back that you would."
"I tried," came her feeble reply, still not truly sitting up to address him. "Paul."
"You said you'd make me dinner."
Which was a ludicrous promise, when it was made over text, to begin with. For a number of reasons. Mainly because Hunter had prepared meals and snacks that he rarely strayed from and, number two, even if he was, it certainly wouldn't be for something Stephanie was cooking.
Ever.
She'd never make a promise to anyways.
"I made you a sandwich."
Paul came over then, in the darkness, to her side of the bed, where he found a plate with, true to her word, something setting atop it.
That was about as far as the truth went.
"It's half a sandwich," he remarked. "And you bit the half that's left."
"Mmmm." Stephanie let out a long yawn before, "You caught me."
"Always."
"I made myself a sandwich and fell asleep eating it when I was trying to wait up for you." She opened both eyes, lying there on her side, staring up at him as he stared down at the pathetic excuse for a sandwich his wife had all, but devoured. "But I don't want it now."
Taking it more to be courteous, it hardly counted for more than two bites, both of which he took there, beside the bed, while she watched, blinking heavily in vain attempts to stay awake.
"Gross," he remarked to her. "Real adults don't use mayo, Steph. They use mustard."
"Real adults don't say mayo," was what he took from the garbled sentence he got in reply. But Paul only leaned down to nuzzle his head against hers in the darkness, his very real and very scratchy beard being rubbed against her cheek annoyingly. "Baby."
"You go back to sleep," he ordered as one of her hands weakly patted his cheek. "Sorry for waking you."
"Andre's fault," she replied quietly as he pressed a kiss to her head. "I heard him bark. But just once, so I knew it was you."
"Is that your excuse for not protecting your family?"
"If I heard screams of terror as Andre ripped someone who didn't belong here apart, I might have thought about getting up."
"You put too much faith in your puppy, Stephie. Now Bluto? My boy would have been smart enough to know it wasn't me and not even barked. And if it was someone, he'd have ripped their arm off before they even had a chance to step foot in the house. Your big baby Andre is scared of his own shadow."
"If Daddy's big gates and expensive security system both fail, it's not Andre's fault. It's Daddy's. Especially if he's not here to protect us."
Paul blinked a bit, in the darkness, before reaching out to poke Steph in the nose. "Yeah, well, that won't ever happen anyways."
"I know."
"I mean, that was pretty fucking morbid, Steph."
"Don't insult my dog then."
"I mean, shit. Holding that one in for awhile?"
"Andre is the best dog in the world and I don't stand for hate."
It wasn't exactly where he wanted to leave things though, at least not when they were both supposed to be drifting off to sleep. In only four hours, he doubt he'd have any memorable dreams, but the last thing he wanted was a nightmare.
Waiting for him on his nightstand was a bottle of water that Steph always remembered to place there, when he got home late, because he would always forget to bring one up himself. Even if he did, it never hurt to have two. You know, because that's all he needed in his short four hours of precious sleep; to have to get up and go take a leak.
Stephanie rolled over to face his side of the bed as he relaxed into it, moaning lowly while doing so. He watched out of the side of his eye as she gingerly moved closer to him, clearly favoring her right side.
"You okay, baby?"
"Andre knocked me over when I got home today," she complained softly as he patted his chest, wanting her to cuddle up to it, if only for a little bit. "Hard. I don't know why he got so excited, but it hurt. I think he was trying to jump in my arms but II can't carry him around anymore."
"Don't tell him. He'll be crushed."
"He about crushed me."
"Poor baby."
Head resting on his chest, she whispered, "We have to get up in, like, four hours."
"I have to. You're probably gonna sleep for another five."
"I don't do well with alarms."
"I know."
"And you have to shower and stuff first or else I'll take all day and you'll yell at me."
"I know."
"And who's gonna snuggle with Andre when he comes in here with Murphy right before six if I'm not still in bed?"
"Who?' he agreed, eyes slipping shut. "Stephie."
"I try so hard."
"Very hard."
"I love you."
"Mmmm," he hummed back. "Love you too."
But they couldn't sleep that way, with her head on his chest. Not anymore. Paul slept better on his side and Stephanie had a hard time finding it herself when her head wasn't pressed deeply into a pillow. It only took another minute for them to come to this same nightly acceptance and, as Steph was moving to fall face first into her pillow and Paul was shifting to face her, they were able to meet for a kiss, her leaning up and him down.
"The fuck, Steph?" he asked, feeling a bit delirious when, after that quickly peck, he thought she was going to place one on his cheek as well and call it a night. But nope. His woman was always full of surprises.
She only made a face after licking his beard a bit, admitting softly, "I thought that would be sexy, but that was just nasty. Gross."
"Well, babe, I haven't showered in a few," he grumbled as she fell into the bed, making a sick face. "I mean, if you wanna try again in the morning-"
"Did you find it sexy?"
"I found it shocking, which is just as good in some cases, but now that I'm gonna be on the lookout for such things? No."
"Good. I don't want to do it again."
"I haven't showered," he grumbled again, as if her comments on the taste of his beard (which wasn't really the turn off, but rather just the concept in general), were attacks on him personally. "Okay?"
"That's fine." This time, she didn't kiss him or anything of the like, but did reach a hand up to tug at his shoulder, trying to get him to lie down finally. "I like you a little bit stinky."
"Oh, yeah?"
"Mmmm." Both their needs were being met then as her head was burrowed in her pillow and he was on his side, but leaning over a bit, so that an arm could fall across her back and his head could nuzzle against the side of hers. "Reminds me of how hard you work."
"Nah. I just sat backstage and watched and directed matches. Not a real sweat bringer. I think I just need a stronger deodorant or something. Am I too old for body spray, you think? I feel like that's a young man's game. I'm too old to pick out a new scent, right? I have to kinda just accept the colognes I've worn for years at this point, don't I?"
"I just said," came her muffled gripe against her pillow, "that I like your smell. So who are you trying to smell so good for?"
"Nobody, but you, gorgeous." And he let out a low groan then, almost a growl, as he finally found the perfect spot in bed. So long as Steph didn't move, one of his knees was burrowed beneath her thigh, he figured he'd be dead sleep for at least two hours. Then pee break, some more spot searching out, and a good hour and a half, if he was lucky. "Stephie."
But Stephanie had already fallen back asleep, that easily, and it made him grin to himself in a way he only did when she couldn't see, arm tightening around the woman. With the show portion of his week out of the way, he had office shit to contend with and a meeting and one of the kids had some sort of...thing on the weekend. He hoped not school related, because he hated meeting teachers, and rather some sort of soccer game or softball or whatever else his kids did.
Or was he thinking of last weekend?
What did he do last weekend?
Did he skip one of their soccer...softball...baseball...football…tennis...racquetball...
What was he thinking about? Was he listing sports instead of sheep? 'cause he was about out.
Croquet...rugby...billiards...were billiards a sport? If golf was, he felt like it should be. He considered it one.
Oh! Wrestling!
"Hurts," he heard Steph grumble to him as she'd shifted (and lost his damn near nirvana of a spot) and his arm tightened in response, hurting her side, apparently. "Paul."
Letting her go completely because, who were they kidding, they were both too old and particular to snuggle like that, Paul rolled onto his other side and wow, that was perfection too.
Just how tired was he?
Dead. Dead tired. So tired that...that...that…
"Baby, your alarm."
That he didn't even remember sleeping.
"Mmmm?"
"That's the third time I've snoozed it for you." Stephanie was gently shaking his shoulder. "You okay?"
No. But yeah.
Blinking up at her, he saw that she'd flipped on the lamp on her bedside. "I'm up."
"You need another ten?"
"Nah." He had to shove up right that second if he wasn't going to fall back asleep and, once he had, he at least felt somewhat awake. "I'm good."
"You sure?"
But their bedroom door was opening then and Steph ground, falling back into the bed as Andre and one of their middle daughter came into the room. For someone so concerned about dealing out snuggles, Steph seemed far more annoyed by it then than anything else.
"Excuse me, squirt," Paul grumbled as he passed his daughter, ruffling her hair as she and the puppy made a beeline for the bed, both jumping right on up there. "Daddy's gotta go shower."
She didn't want him either though and Steph wasn't concerned with him then either and it was just time to start the day.
Already.
At best though, he could hope to be home by six that night and, after dinner with the girls and playing with the girls and making sure the girls got their baths and played some more and then went to bed, he could probably go to bed around...ten.
That was all he had to shoot for. Ten that night. If he could make it to then, he'd be fine.
"Andre, stop it," he heard as he shut the bathroom door behind him, leaving Steph to her fate of the dog she'd known would grow so big, yet continued to treat as if he never would be. "No, you can't lay on me. It's not funny, Murphy. He's too big."
Sighing as he went to turn on the shower, Paul knew he'd make it to ten.
He just hoped Steph would…
Trips posted one of his standard 'Look, I'm working hard' pics on twitter and it made me wanna write this. I haven't been in the mood recently to write In Sickness, but I'mma try to get that out soon. Until then, just one-shots are fine, right?