Paul felt rather content, honestly, and didn't truly wish to move. And even though no one was forcing him to, he knew that he must. The time was only getting later and the kids needed to go to bed. Tomorrow, as most days in their house, would be very busy. It wasn't good for them to sleep on the couch the way they were.

All of them were seated on it, actually. They had been watching some children's movie before bed and, slowly but surely, all of the little ones (and his wife as well) drifted off. There was Steph, of course, on one end of the couch, with Murphy settled in her arms while Paul was cradling their youngest, Vaughn, at all of eleven months, to his stomach. She was able to sit up all on her own for the most part, but was slumped up against him then and he was careful to hold her close, not wanting her to topple over. Then, between them, was their oldest. Aurora. She was tipped over as well, head resting against his shoulder, and Paul wasn't sure how he could get up without disturbing her, but knew he had to.

As gently as he could, Paul moved to get to his feet, Vaughn cradled in one arm. Aurora did start to fall, but her father only reached out with his free hand to softly shove her to the side and rest her up against her mother's side.

Then, grinning down at his baby, he set off to put her in the nursery. Careful not to step on Bluto, his wife's dog, as the stupid pooch decided to sleep in the middle of the hallway, Paul headed into one of the bedrooms. It was the one closest to he and Steph's room and had been used for all the girls over the years. Which, one would think, considering they had their babies all in two years succession from the last, would mean that the nursery didn't need to be changed with the arrival of each baby. Especially considering they'd had three daughters. But nope; Steph didn't see it that way.

His wife was silly in that way.

"There you go, Vaughn." Paul let out a slight sigh when, upon placing the baby in her crib, she didn't wake. Just shifted some, opening and closing one of her tiny fists, but nothing more than that. He grinned too, reaching down to caress her soft tuff of hair. Even though they were closing in on a year, it still felt rather new. "Sleep for the night, huh?"

He knew she wouldn't though. She would need to be changed in about an hour or so, he was sure, and probably would be hungry around three in the morning (neither he nor Steph were sure how she got on that schedule, but it was practically clockwork). For the moment, however, she was fine and that was all that mattered.'

Man, Paul couldn't believe it had already been eleven months. The scarier thing to him was that meant that in less than two weeks, Rora would be five and Murphy would be three. For so long, all his life revolved around was the company. His weeks were defined by shows and his time was spent preparing for the next one.

Now though, he was working more behind the scenes and mostly focused any and all time that he could scrape together with his girls. Especially Vaughn. The other two knew him and knew him well, but his baby, well, he wanted to keep a connection with her. She was in that age where, fine, in a few years, it probably wouldn't matter who cared for her, but Paul was vying for that favorite parents spot early and hoped to hang onto it.

Rora's said Mama first and Murphy didn't even say Dada at all! She eventually would call Paul Dede, but not until far after she'd learned a plethora of other words. Hell, she called Bluto Bobo before she ever had a name for her own damn father.

Steph would tease him about it at times, but when it was clear that it bothered him, would only pat him on the shoulder and tell him that, clearly, she loved him so much that she didn't need a name for him.

"How do you figure?" he'd grumble to which she'd giggle before answering.

"You're always there," Steph told him simply. "She doesn't need to call on something that's always right there, does she?"

Yes. If she expected his pride not to be wounded she did.

So he had to get the work in early with Vaughn. Be available, of course, like with the other two, but hammer into her that he was her father and wished to be called something, anything, but preferably Daddy and before she said Mommy, but he'd settle on Dada if it was all that was in her wheelhouse.

He didn't ask for perfection. Just resiliency.

Leaning down then, as he stood there, over her crib, Paul pressed a kiss to her head, mumbling something about how much he loved her, being sure to refer to himself in the third person (he was serious about that Dada first thing). Then, after being sure to cover her over, he went to get the next child.

Murphy was practically falling out of her mother's lap as, for some reason, she was the most restless sleeper Paul knew. She moved and kicked and everything else in her sleep. That's why he always made sure she slept on Steph's side of things and he got Aurora, when they'd all sleep in bed together.

Stephanie stirred, just a bit, when he lifted the toddler out of her mother's lap, as she no doubt felt emptier, without her there.

"Wha' are-"

"Shhh," he shushed his wife as she blinked awake, only for a moment, before shutting her eyes again, content that it was only her husband. "I'm just putting the girls to bed."

Too tired to care, Stephanie shifted on the couch a bit, one of her free arms then moving to wrap instinctively around the last child she had on the couch with her, Aurora, before she seemed to drift off again.

This got a wry smile out of Paul before he turned his attention onto his middle daughter in his arms. She'd settled out in his arms then and appeared to still be sleeping as, once more, Paul had to step over Bluto before taking her to her bedroom.

Paul always thought that it was a pretty big part of his formative years, sharing a room with his sister. They had to learn to get along, even when they were fighting. Had to learn that sometimes, you had to clean up messes that you didn't make. Had some great experiences of building forts or staying up all night, secretly talking and whispering and giggling and playing with their toys, far passed bedtime.

It wasn't until he was about eleven or twelve that he got his own room. But his girls were skipping right over all of that. All of it.

The advantages, he supposed, of having money.

Paul about tripped, over a teddy bear that somehow managed to be left right in front of Murphy's doorway, but managed to catch himself. A few choice grumbles went along with that though, as well as some words that he was glad his daughter slept through.

Still, he managed to get her over to her bed without dropping on her. A definite plus.

Murph always slept heavy (like a damn rock) and didn't move in the slightest when Paul laid her down or covered her over. He watched for a moment as well, gently pushing her blonde hair out of her face before looking around her room for her favorite stuffed animal. Retrieving it from the pile of them she had (his daughters were freaking rotten, he could admit it), he went to snuggle it up under her arm, knowing it was a worthless gesture, as she'd only kick it off at some point during the night.

Still, it made him feel better and that was pretty much the most important thing. Even though she was practically three already, Murphy was still very much so stuck in her terrible twos and threw fits about everything.

Everything.

Aurora hadn't been that way at all. If anything, she'd been the worst choice for firstborn, given that she did not prepare him, at all, for what was awaiting him. Don't get him wrong, she had some tantrums that rivaled all others, but for the most part, Aurora was a pretty content toddler.

Murphy? Not so much.

She never wanted to eat her food...until it was time to do something else and then she wanted to eat right then. And potty training had been hell and still, at times, accidents sprang their ugly heads when she just flat out refused to use the potty.

"Mon'sers," she'd tell Paul about frequently, when she just wanted diapers and not have to worry about potty training at all. "In potty."

Which he might have bought, her fears of such things...except he constantly found her trying to flush things down the toilet and they had to end up putting child locks on all of them.

Sigh.

No one knew the struggle of having to piss right that second and not being able to open the damn lid. It was pure torture.

But Paul needed a bad baby, he figured. She made things more fun (for the most part; other times she just exhausted him). And perhaps that was why Aurora was the first born; she didn't prepare him for what was to come with Murphy because she was there to be the good girl and not leave him with two little brats (and that was a very endearing term, coming out of his mouth) running a muck.

As if to counteract her very devious ways, however, Murphy was far more...feely than her older sister. Aurora tried very hard, even at four and almost four quarters, to be a big girl. She liked to spend time with Stephanie more than him and play 'office', which mostly consisted of her drawing and practicing her ABCs on copy paper and pretending it was extra important.

Murphy hated when her sister tried to make her play this game. It was not at all fun.

The game she enjoyed the most was snuggle bear. Which basically just consisted of Paul wrapping his arms around her tightly and not letting go. Rora liked this game too, but not nearly as much as Murph. She loved it. It was the best. And she couldn't get away because he was so strong, but that was okay, because she really didn't wanna get away.

She loved snuggling with her daddy.

They'd played it, in fact, before the movie that night. Paul had let her escape that time, but only because Steph was calling for him from the other room, needing some help with Vaughn, but Murphy saw it as a victory over the man and would tout it for as long as she remembered it.

Which, admittedly, wouldn't be very long.

"Love you," he mumbled then as he leaned down to press a kiss to her head, some of his hair falling down into her face and tickling it, no doubt, but Murph made no movement at all. Hell, if the girl wasn't breathing half the time, he'd probably worry that she was dead or something.

She just subscribed to the play hard, sleep harder approach to life.

Solid work ethic.

Aurora was next. She wasn't as easy to keep asleep though, as the second he lifted her up, Stephanie, who their oldest had been cuddled up again, woke with a start that time.

"Paul?" she asked in a rather loud voice, which woke Aurora. Paul only grinned at his wife though as his daughter blinked up at him.

"I'm just putting the girls to bed." He looked down then at Aurora. "You want Daddy to carry you?"

She was dazed, he could tell, but who would ever refuse an offer like that?

Hopefully none of his girls ever, Paul decided, as he once more narrowly missed knocking Bluto in the head, heading off for his oldest's bedroom.

"Daddy?"

"Shhh." Laying her down on her bed, Paul gave her another smile. "Go back to sleep, Rora. It's late. I shouldn't have let you all fall asleep back there, on the couch."

Rora's favorite stuffed animal was waiting for her, in the center of the bed, and Paul only moved to nuzzle the face of the teddy bear against hers, getting some sort of a mixture between a yawn and giggle in response.

Aurora was just so different from his other daughters. Even though Vaughn was still not even a full year old yet, he could just tell. She was special. And maybe it was just all in his mind, as he couldn't really pinpoint why she was. Perhaps it was just that she was the firstborn and therefore held some sort of weight the others didn't.

She wasn't the first baby he'd held or looked after or even loved (he was an uncle a few times over), but she was definitely his first baby. And that meant something.

He wasn't in a great place, really, right after Aurora's birth. Five months in, right when he and Stephanie were adjusting to their schedules being complicated by a newborn, Paul tore a quad and threw everything off.

Miserable didn't even begin to describe how he was feeling.

Rora though, she made him feel loads better. Always. She would nap with him and kept him entertained (or at least gave him something to do in that he had to keep her entertained with rousing games of peek-a-boo and singing Mary Had a Little Lamb nonstop) and mostly just kept him company.

They bonded a lot more than they would have, probably, had their time together been divided between after-show rides on the tour bus and the very few times he was home during the week. He got to experience a lot of things he'd have missed otherwise, such as her first words and steps and…

It was kind of the same with his first quad tear, when he and Steph were in that awkward place where they'd been outed, but all the drama surrounding that was over and they were trying to map out just what their relationship really was. That was the time period in which he really found out just how serious Steph was about him and he was her and how deeply their feelings ran.

Both ways.

He wasn't so sure he'd have ever realized how much he needed and loved Steph without that. And though he'd have loved Aurora regardless, those months he got to spend with her really helped him adjust to being a father.

"Goodnight, princess," he whispered to Aurora that night, as he tucked her in. As he leaned his head down to nuzzle it against hers, she giggled and shoved at him.

"Night, king," she giggled back.

Calling him that in front of Vince would result in a very detailed explanation of just how Paul was not the king of anything other than his own delusions and if anything, Vince was the king of an entire corporation that practically owned her father! So there!

But they were alone then and it made Paul smile because of course he was the king, if she was the princess. It just made sense that way.

Plus, she'd only heard the man referred to as the king of king since, oh, conception.

"Love you," he added as he took a step back and just watched her for a moment. "Rora."

She was asleep, he was nearly certain, before he even got the door shut behind him.

That left his last girl. Nee, his woman. Stephanie. Who, for some reason, didn't want to just wait her damn turn for him on the couch.

Annoying.

Instead, she was in the kitchen, standing at the backdoor, watching Bluto through the glass as he went to the bathroom. Or at least searched the massive yard for some place to go to the bathroom.

He wasn't having much luck, it seemed.

"Here you are, baby." Paul grinned as he came over to her. Stephanie, while he was busy with Rora, had turned off the television and all the lights in the living room. She didn't turn on any in the kitchen other, leaving them in darkness other than the back porch light that Bluto got turned on for him for some reason (sometimes he thought that she loved the dog more than him; and on some days, he was right) streaming through the windows. "What happened to me whisking all my girls off to bed?"

"Was that what you were doing?"

"That's what I was doing."

"Mmmm." Steph smiled over her shoulder at him, her features highlighted by the porch light. "I didn't realize."

"Of course you didn't."

"Should I go then?" She nodded. "Back to the couch?"

"Nah. Just get your mutt in and I'll carry you from here."

"You sure you can handle that? Paul?"

"You askin' if I can handle you?" Snort. "Never."

"Figures."

"But if you're asking if I can lift you," he whispered as he got close enough to lay a hand on her shoulder, "then I'm a bit offended. Steph."

"Only a bit?"

Shaking his head, he said, "Well, it does give me a chance to show off. You know how I like that."

"I definitely do." She was facing the backdoor again and moved to open it, when Bluto came galloping up. He had a doggy door, but he hated it for some reason. To her husband, Stephanie said, "But I really don't need you to- Paul."

His teeth showed through as he lifted her into his arms with ease, Steph pushing at his face gently in pretend annoyance.

Paul just bounced his arms a bit, to pester her further, before laughing a bit. As Steph tossed an arm around his neck, the man asked, "You comfy, baby?"

"The most."

Bluto, never one for his parents antics, scurried from the room and hack to his nice comfy space in the living room. Stephanie and Paul stopped being interesting to him a very long time ago. He mostly used them for food, water, and grooming. Now those little girls, they were great. The best.

Watching two far too old and married to be doing so people flirt though was just not entertaining in the slightest.

"Good," Paul said as he hauled his woman out of the kitchen and towards their bedroom. "That's the most important thing to me, after all."

"What is?"

"Taking care of my girls."

She probably rolled her eyes, but it was too dark to tell. "Just don't run me into anything."

"I'll try not to, baby, but I make no promises."

Stephanie felt just as good in his arms as she always did. He used to carry her around all the time, when they were alone, in the house, just hanging out. More to be a nuisance than anything else, as she'd be on the phone with her father or someone and he'd just came up behind her, lift her up, and refuse to put her down. Or derail her plans of getting out of the house on time by fireman carrying her around until she admitted that he was, by far, the best sex she'd ever had. Or the supreme ruler of all. Anything, really, that might stroke his ego and serve to make her groan.

He and Steph, they could still be like that too. Perhaps not as jokey and immature as they once were (they were sort of in charge of far more, down at the company, those days as well as the parents of three children), but they still had fun together. Paul loved making her giggle, he always had, while Stephanie just loved being around him, regardless of what they were doing.

They still enjoyed one another. And it felt as if it was still the same amount too. Paul still liked for her to lay with her head in his lap and go on and on about nothing, really, while Steph loved when they were in the car together, listening to one of his old metal CDs and screaming lyrics at one another. Even just passing one another in the hall, up at work, could set Steph into giggles because Paul just made these...faces that…

Ugh.

And when they were around their kids, fine, their attention and love was divided between up to three other people, but both loved nothing more than to watch the other with the kids. Paul couldn't help but to grin, truly grin, when he'd see Stephanie muting her phone so that she could get down on the floor and play dolls or house or 'office' with the girls while she always awed at the sight of him snuggled up on their big bed with their daughters, reading them stories or making up his own (which mostly were watered down versions of his own storylines through the years in which the hero, him, defeated the evil boss man, Vince, and refused to follow his silly rules; Paul, apparently, loved to still think of those days, as they were frequently brought up). They both found the others attentiveness to their offspring unbelievably attractive.

Not that that was saying much, considering Steph thought Paul was at his peak of sexiness when he coming out of the ring, drenched in sweat and spit and another guy's sweat and spit and just, ugh. Perfection. Then there was her husband who never once during, what she called, her fat months after her pregnancies stopped finding her sexy. She always was to him. He just had a Steph fixation.

It couldn't be helped.

"As much as I would have loved to carry them all off to our big bed, for another snuggle fest-"

"That's honeslty what I thought you were going to do."

"-I am so glad I put them to their own beds," Paul mumbled as he gently laid his wife down on the bed before moving to get in it as well. Over her, he stared down into her bright blue eyes, as he said, "So glad."

"Why?" Stephanie was tired, so very, very tired, but figured she could spare a few minutes. She always had a few minutes for him. "You thinking you're getting something?"

"I'd like it, but honestly, babe, I'd be content with just giving right now."

"Would not."

"Wanna bet?"

"He says knowing that by proving that he's right and giving instead of receiving, I'll only want to do the same."

"But will you though?"

His head got a gentle flick. "You're the one that has it as part of your plan. Don't you?"

"Mmmm." He bowed his head, to rest it in the crook of her neck. "Just," he whispered against her skin, "go with it. Huh? I'm sure you'll end up, uh, thoroughly enjoying yourself."

"Always." His messy hair got her fingers to thread into it as he sucked then at her flesh. "Always, baby."