A/N: YES another new story. What can I say? I'm on a roll, I suppose. A special thank-you to the best editor, idea bouncer-offer, and all-around amazing friend Laurie for all of her help with this. :)
Note: I've used recent-ish injuries from the main roster (Neville's and Sami's, mainly) but they are still in NXT. Because reasons. Enjoy.
Chapter One
Staring up at the ceiling while the head doctor of the Performance Center and one of the trainers manipulated and examined his ankle, Adrian Neville tried his best to tamp down hope. Even though his recovery had been going well, all he could think of as his ankle was rotated and bent to and fro was the night he'd sustained the injury. He had been angry with himself in the ensuing months. And at the same time, he'd been amazed at the irony. Who would have ever guessed that he, a high-flyer, would have broken his ankle and his shin while doing a slide beneath his opponent?
He closed his eyes, the details still crystal clear after six months. Sami Zayn, approaching for the planned series of arm drag takedowns. The crowd at Full Sail University chanting 'olé'. Himself going down. At first he was sure he had just tweaked the joint, and the match had continued. Until he'd backed into a corner, unable to go for his finishing move. Sami's concern had matched the referee's, and within seconds the ending had changed. A roll-up pin. Then a blur, after which he'd found himself in the trainer's room, with Triple H and William Regal standing worriedly at his side. Finally, the dreaded words that had crushed his soul.
"It's definitely broken."
In an instant, the plans that had been set for him had been scrapped. He wouldn't hold the championship until the weekend of WrestleMania. He wouldn't make his main roster debut on Raw the following Monday.
There had been little hope in the months of his recovery and rehabilitation. He refused to let it into his mind, despite being told he was progressing remarkably. No matter how much he yearned to be back inside a ring, he couldn't wish for it so soon. Just to run the ropes would be a delight, but he would be happy if the doctor said he could do some work on the mats.
The gloved hands released his ankle, one lightly patting the table to signal the doctor was done. Sitting up, Neville glanced to the ankle. The paleness after weeks in a cast was barely visible now, but he could vividly recall the itching. The burning. The pain that jarred him from sleep.
"How much longer?" he finally asked when Dr. Sampson began peeling off his gloves.
"I'm thinking a couple more weeks before you get in the rings here. We want to be sure."
Neville released his breath slowly and nodded. It was sooner than he had expected. He listened intently to Dr. Sampson's suggestions and, when finished, shook the man's hand and slid off the table.
He allowed himself a little bit of hope. For the fans to be happy to see him. If they even remembered him… There were new faces now. And more new faces would be coming soon, he was sure. Faces that would no doubt excite the crowd more than his did.
He was halfway through the training room, on his way upstairs to the locker room for a quick shower, when he saw one of the up-and-coming faces. Slowing, he turned and approached the practice ring, where Finn Bálor had Sami Zayn locked in a surfboard stretch. Neville leaned against the apron, nodding in greeting when Finn glanced over.
"I give," Sami grunted, rolling away as Finn let go. He sat up, grinning as he spied Neville. "What's the word?"
"Two weeks," Neville answered. "How's the shoulder doing?"
"Good as new." Sami rolled both his shoulders and hopped to his feet.
"Two weeks until your return?" Finn asked, sweeping his hand over his face to brush away sweat.
"Not hardly. Two weeks until I get into one of these rings." Neville lightly drummed his fingers against the canvas.
"They know what they're doing," Sami pointed out gently.
"I know." He slapped the canvas, enjoying the give of the thin layer of foam. "I just miss it."
"Neville," a voice called.
He turned, unconsciously straightening at the sight of Triple H striding towards him.
"You're in for it now," Finn warned with a chuckle.
Neville ignored him, smiling when Hunter approached. The man's handshake was firm, and he was tugged forward for a quick hug. "Hunter," he greeted.
"How's the ankle feeling now?" Hunter asked. There was concern on his face when he lightly clapped Neville on the shoulder.
"It hurts a little. They had me on the treadmill."
"Just make sure you follow the trainers' schedule and don't push yourself too hard." Looking at Finn and Sami, who were both leaning against the ropes and obviously listening to every word, he cleared his throat and nodded for Neville to step away.
"I won't," Neville assured. He'd seen what could happen to those that pushed their recovery too soon. Wondering why Hunter wanted to speak with him somewhat privately, he followed the older man. He hadn't done something wrong already, had he?
"I was talking to Steph, and—" Hunter cut off and chuckled. "Well, really, she was the one talking to me. But don't tell her I said that. Anyway, she knows you're getting back after months away and she wants to go over a few ideas with you. What with the draft coming up and everything, she's trying her best to make sure no one gets overlooked. We'd like you to come over to our place for dinner."
Surprised, Neville took a sip from his bottled water. He'd heard about the draft, of course, but hadn't expected it would affect him anytime soon. The most surprising thing, though, was the invitation. "Dinner?"
"Yes. She's down for the rest of the week to go over a few things here. The girls are with us," Hunter added with a smile. "So it's nothing fancy. Just a family dinner."
He considered his options. Family dinner with Stephanie, Hunter, and their daughters, or a lonely takeout meal in his own apartment. He began to nod before he realized he had actually made up his mind. "Sounds great."
"Great." Hunter looked perhaps a bit too elated at the acceptance. "We usually eat about seven. Drop by my office before you leave and I'll give you the address."
"Sure thing."
He made his way back to the ring, where Finn and Sami were waiting.
"What did Hunter want?" Finn asked.
"He reminded me to not push myself." Neville lifted his left foot and flexed his ankle repeatedly.
"I heard that bit. Why'd he pull you away?" Finn squatted down.
"Oh, that. He asked me to dinner." Neville furrowed his brow when his friends shared a look. "What?"
"Stephanie's on her fresh meat kick again," Sami said knowingly.
"Fresh meat?" Neville repeated.
"You'll have fun," Finn promised. "She's not the best cook, but the company is good."
"Very good," Sami added.
"He should know, he works his charm to get invited at least once a month." Finn grinned.
"Does everybody go there for dinner?" Neville asked, confused by the shared grins his friends exchanged. They obviously knew something he didn't. And neither looked as though they would share their knowledge.
"Not everybody. Just the guys Stephanie thinks—"
"Will appreciate a good home-cooked meal," Finn interrupted. Then, looking to Neville as he hopped out of the ring, he smiled. "Don't forget your manners."
"And even though they say it's just a casual family dinner, dress nice." This from Sami.
"Yeah. But not too nice. No suit."
"And pick up some flowers for Stephanie on the way." Sami rolled out of the ring.
"You don't have to get flowers," Finn insisted, making a face. "That's cliché."
"It makes a good impression. Get flowers."
"Fine, get flowers. But nothing too fancy."
"But no crap from a gas station, either."
"Should I practice my bow?" Neville asked with a roll of his eyes. They made it sound like he was going on a date.
"Well… Stephanie is the queen," Sami pointed out, chuckling. "Really, man, you'll enjoy it."
"Why do I get the feeling there's something you're not telling me?"
"Would we do that?" Finn scoffed. "To our best friend?"
Neville looked from one too-innocent face to the other. Rolling his eyes, he snorted. "Yes, you would."
"Seriously, you'll have fun. Nothing beats a home-cooked meal." Finn smiled, this time with no hint of secrecy. "And Hunter's girls are little angels."
Sami was nodding in agreement. "Perfect little angels."
Neville imagined three holy terrors. He had only met Hunter and Stephanie's daughters in passing, and had never said more than two words to either of them. Now he pictured three miniature versions of Stephanie, complete with the screeching and slapping of her onscreen persona. His friends were a little too enthusiastic for them to be anything but the hellions he envisioned.
With their insistent words that he would have a great time still ringing in his ears, he said his goodbyes and made his way upstairs to shower.
Several hours later, when he parked in the driveway of the address Hunter had given him, he was sure he had the wrong place. The house was rather modest, considering the wealth he knew Hunter and Stephanie had to possess. The neighborhood was quiet and as he climbed out of his car he could hear the laughter of children from the home next door. Three cars were in the u-shaped driveway, and he allowed himself a moment to appreciate the bright blue convertible parked at the far end. He couldn't imagine Hunter or Stephanie driving it, but he realized he knew nothing about their lives away from the company.
He'd elected against getting flowers. Approaching the front door, he wondered if he should have stopped on the way to get some. He wasn't sure what dinner with them could possibly accomplish, but he did want to make a good impression. He paused to inhale deeply and exhale slowly, then reached to ring the doorbell.
The door opened before he could do so. Hunter grinned, adjusting the young girl on his hip. "Hey, you made it. Murphy saw you pull up. C'mon in."
Neville stepped into the house, trying to remember which daughter Murphy was. Before he could open his mouth to greet Hunter, another girl skipped through the open doorway to the left and offered a shy smile.
"This is Murphy," Hunter introduced, resting his hand on the girl's head. "And this is Vaughn. Girls, this is Neville."
"Hello," he greeted them. Murphy's smile widened, showing off the gaps of two missing teeth.
"Hi," she said.
"Aurora's in the kitchen helping Steph." Hunter set Vaughn down and gave her a gentle nudge into the living room before motioning for Neville to follow. "You want a drink or anything?"
"No, I'm fine." Neville glanced around, taking in the comfortable seating and framed pictures on the mantle. There was no TV, and the coffee table was littered with crayons and coloring books. Vaughn was already kneeling in front of it, eyeing him warily as he moved to sit on the couch. Murphy murmured something to her father then darted out of the room. "Nice place."
"We like it," Hunter agreed with a nod, settling on the other end of the l-shaped couch. "Once NXT started taking off and I began spending so much time down here, we decided I needed something more than a hotel room. Steph likes having room for her and the girls when they get down here, too."
"I can understand—"
"Vaughn, Mom said to help set the table!" a voice called. Neville wasn't sure if it was Murphy or the other one. Aurora was her name, wasn't it?
Vaughn looked up from her coloring and scowled. Throwing down her crayon, she scrambled to her feet and ran from the room, shouting, "Daddy said no yelling in the house!"
Neville bit back a laugh when Hunter groaned. "You and Stephanie have three girls?"
"Yeah, but some days it feels like three hundred. What about you?"
"Uh, no, no children." He cleared his throat. "I don't have—"
He was saved from having to explain by the sound of approaching footsteps. Grateful when Hunter looked towards the door, he rubbed his palms over his thighs. Turning slightly, he saw what he first thought was Hunter's eldest daughter entering the room. He smiled politely, then quickly rose to his feet when he realized that she wasn't Hunter's daughter.
She was short. Petite, really. Slender, with slight curves. The long, loose, sleeveless dress did little to conceal her toned physique. Neville allowed himself another, longer look, taking in the twinkle of silver at her neck and ears. Her dark auburn hair was styled in a short bob, and a pair of light green eyes were observing him warily. A hand lifted to tuck her hair behind her ear, and she looked to Hunter with an expression of disbelief.
Only when he saw her profile did he recognize her.
"Angela," Hunter said. "This is Adrian Neville. Neville, this is Angela Grant."
Angela Grant didn't bother to hide her consternation as she was introduced to the young man in Hunter and Stephanie's living room. Shooting Hunter a glare when she saw him smile, she turned to Neville and pulled her lips into a semblance of a smile. "Mr. Neville," she greeted, rounding the couch and extending her hand politely. Just as her mother had taught her, she kept her back straight and her shoulders back and shook his hand, though she perhaps pulled back sooner than her mother would have liked. "It's nice to meet you."
"Neville's joining us for dinner," Hunter pointed out.
Of course he was. "I'll just go see if Steph needs any help. Excuse me—"
"She's got the girls, you can stay and chat." Hunter's tone was exactly the one he used with his daughters when they had stepped out of line.
Angela almost scoffed, but caught herself in time. "If you're sure," she murmured, stooping to pick up a crayon that had rolled to the floor. She looked from Hunter to Neville then back again before settling in the armchair.
"Have you met each other before?" Hunter asked.
Angela shook her head, but Neville had already begun to speak.
"I don't believe so. I know of you," he said, looking to Angela, "but our paths never crossed."
Crossing her legs, she clasped her hands in her lap. It was the only thing she could think to do to keep from rubbing her left knee. She vaguely recalled seeing him a time or two at the Performance Center. Before her brief stint on NXT. Before the injury that had ended her career. "No, they didn't."
"Neville's coming back from an ankle injury. I'm sure I told you about it."
He probably had. But he'd told her of so many injuries over the years. She would have to have the memory capacity of the fastest computer in the world to be able to remember them all. "Broken ankle, right?" she guessed.
"And a fractured shin," Neville confirmed.
Her knee practically throbbed in sympathy. "Did you need surgery?"
"No, thankfully. It was two clean breaks."
She struggled to recall what she knew of his work. Very little, she realized. Though she could remember that he was a high flyer. "How did it happen?"
"A baseball slide. In a match with Sami Zayn," he added.
Strange, she thought, how it had been a relatively simple move that caused the injury, and not one of the risky maneuvers from the top rope. "But you'll be returning soon. Won't you?"
"Sampson said I'll be able to get back in the training ring in two weeks." He smiled. "I'm looking forward to it. I've been like a fish out of water."
So had she. But, unlike him, she wasn't anxious to get back into the water. "I'm—"
"FOOD'S READY!" a girl's voice shrieked.
"Murphy!" Hunter called.
"It was Vaughn," Angela pointed out.
"Vaughn!" he corrected. But it was too late. The two sisters were giggling from the dining room, and even Stephanie's laugh could be heard. Groaning, he got to his feet and motioned for Neville and Angela to go ahead of him.
"Neville, it's so good to see you," Stephanie enthused from the kitchen doorway as they stepped into the dining room. Setting the salad bowl on the table, she moved to greet him, smiling warmly as though he were an old friend.
Angela rolled her eyes. She had seen this play before. The first two acts were always the same. An unwitting man was invited to dinner. He had to meet several criteria before the invitation was issued. Politeness was key, as was the lack of major scandals, and he had to be single. Age didn't appear to be a factor, but maturity and a sense of responsibility were required. At dinner, he would be introduced to the single woman. Over the meal, questions would be asked by Hunter and Stephanie as a way for the man and the single woman to get to know each other. End of the first act came with the end of the evening. The second act featured Stephanie, the single woman, and Hunter, where the settled married couple told the single woman all the wonderful qualities the unwitting man possessed. It usually ended with promises that would never be kept. The third act was supposed to be the single woman and the unwitting man falling in love and living happily ever after, but Angela had yet to see that happen.
She would know. She was always the 'single woman' in the play.
She knew they meant well. As her guardian and practically her second father, Hunter had only her best interests in mind. He wanted to see her settle down. He wanted quasi-grandchildren to bounce on his knee. He wanted her to be as happy as he and Stephanie were. Stephanie wanted the same. And the two had chosen good candidates. Angela had made great friends over the past year and a half. She had even gone out on a date with a few of them, where she and the men always realized they were better off as friends. And where they both always found out they were too focused on their careers to work at a relationship.
She wasn't lonely, she reflected as she took her seat between Vaughn and Murphy. She lived what she liked to think was a full life, bum knee notwithstanding. For the past year she had worked overtime to achieve her degree, fitting rehabilitation and social activities where her schedule allowed. She was about to start another career within the company. She had friends, in and out of the company, and was as active as she could be. Her life was full. Just two months ago she and her roommate, who also happened to be one of her best friends, had redecorated the condo they shared. They were even thinking of adopting a dog from the local shelter.
Looking across the table to Neville, she didn't try to be inconspicuous as she took stock of him. He was shorter than a lot of the men she knew, but still many inches taller than her own five feet. His dark hair was slicked back into a ponytail. The light from the fixture above the table reflected on the lenses of his glasses as he turned to speak to Hunter. His beard was neat, but possibly in need of a little trim. His aquiline nose was distinct, and she was reminded of ancient Roman coins she had seen during one of her history courses.
The chest, shoulders and arms visible above the table were thickly muscled, and she knew from seeing him in the living room that the rest of his body was in proportion. A testament to rigorous training in the gym, she was sure. Poking at her salad, she thought of how her own figure had suffered during her recovery and rehabilitation. And, thinking of the dessert that waited in the refrigerator, the one always pulled out for special dinner guests, she sighed and forced herself to eat all of her salad.
"How is your family doing?" Stephanie asked while Aurora gathered the salad plates. Angela rose to help the girl, only to sink back into her seat when Stephanie shot her a look. The brief flare of irritation was gone as soon as she turned her attention back to Neville though.
"They're all well, thank you. I got to go home for a nice visit two months ago." Neville handed his plate to Aurora with a smile.
"Neville is from England," Stephanie told Angela.
"Really?" Angela chirped. "How fascinating."
Another warning look, this one from Hunter. He looked to Neville and smiled. "It's always good to spend time with family. Especially if you don't get to see them often."
"Sadly, I'll never know what that's like," Angela mused. Seeing Neville's confused expression, she smiled. "Hunter is my father's cousin."
"Mom?" Aurora called from the kitchen.
"I've got it," Angela promised, already out of her chair. Darting into the kitchen, she waited until she was well into the room before releasing a weary groan. Her favorite dessert wasn't worth this, was it? she wondered as conversation in the dining room resumed.
"He's nice," Aurora said softly.
"They're always nice," Angela reminded the girl. Looking around, she saw the pot roast waiting on a serving platter. Aurora was filling a bread basket with rolls warm from the oven. Hearing approaching footsteps, she glanced up to see Stephanie entering the kitchen. "I've got the veggies," she announced, grabbing the serving bowls. She didn't want to be dragged into a conversation, so she quickly exited the kitchen, plunking the bowls down in the center of the table before taking her seat. "Steph's bringing the meat."
"Hunter mentioned your father is in the military," Neville ventured once Stephanie had returned to the dining room and everyone's plates had been filled. "What branch is he in?"
"The Navy." Unconsciously, she reached to rub just beneath her left collarbone, picturing the tiny tattoo of a seal in a bubble. "He's a S.E.A.L."
"And your mother?"
Stabbing a piece of pot roast with her fork, Angela sensed Hunter and Stephanie looking at her. "She's dead."
That silenced him, she noted with relief. Continuing to eat, she was grateful when Stephanie picked up the conversation and turned it in the direction of the company. She was occasionally aware of both Stephanie and Hunter looking to her, obviously hoping she would input something, but she couldn't bring herself to do so. Not until a foot lightly connected with her shin. She glanced to Stephanie but the woman's face was a picture of pure innocence.
"I'm sorry to say that I'm not familiar with your work, Mr. Neville." There was an iciness to her tone as she spoke. From her left, Hunter coughed into his napkin. She ignored him and looked to the man sitting across from her. The man that, like so many others before him, probably had no inkling of the true reason he'd been invited to dinner. "What have you accomplished in the company?"
Neville wiped his mouth on his napkin. If he was insulted by her question he gave no indication. "I won the tag team championship twice. With different partners each time. I was also the longest reigning NXT champion."
"I see." Smiling, Angela pierced a limp green bean with her fork. "Did you work in other promotions before coming to the company?"
"I've been wrestling for over fourteen years. I was in PWG, Dragon Gate, and New Japan to name a few." He rested his hand on the table, fingers lightly tapping the wooden surface. "I've worked extremely hard for every accomplishment I've had, however small. I never had anything handed to me like some people."
This time it was Stephanie who coughed.
Her fork fell to her plate with a sharp clang. "I suppose it's really no secret that the only reason I was given a chance was because Hunter is practically my second father. But that doesn't mean I didn't work hard from the moment I signed on the dotted line."
"And what have you accomplished in the company, Miss Grant?"
Her brief career flashed in her mind. It had been so brief that she was able to let it replay twice before the silence grew strained. "Nothing," she answered. "I guess my lack of experience before a cushy contract was handed to me came back to bite me in the rear. Or maybe I didn't work hard enough."
Hunter cleared his throat. "Angela—"
"I have to go," she blurted. Pushing back her chair, she said a quick goodbye to the girls before leaving the room. She stopped only to grab her purse from its usual spot at the foot of the stairs. Not sure how the man had so expertly managed to poke at her rawest wound, she hurried outside and to her car.
She had gotten several miles away before her cell phone began to ring. Ignoring it, she followed the streets to her building and waited until she had parked before snatching the phone from her purse. It began to ring again as soon as she looked to the screen. She knew it would only continue to ring until she answered it. The caller was tenacious that way. Sighing, she accepted the call and closed her eyes. "Hi, Steph."
"You left before dessert," Stephanie accused without bothering to return the greeting.
"I lost my appetite." It wasn't a lie. Not exactly. "I'll swing by in the morning before you and the girls leave and get some."
"Angela…"
Recognizing the tone, she groaned and turned off the ignition. "Do you know what the guys call your dinners?"
"If it's not something nice, I don't want to hear it."
"Fresh meat. Everyone knows why you invite guys over for dinner, and it's not to show off your cooking skills." She drummed her fingers against the steering wheel.
"Is it wrong for me to want to see you happy?"
"No, it's not," Angela promised. "But I don't need you to play matchmaker for me. I'm perfectly capable of finding a man on my own."
Stephanie coughed. A nonverbal reminder that she hadn't found a man on her own yet.
"Ugh. I'll see you in the morning."
"But he—"
"Is a rude, condescending hobbit, and I'm not going out of my way to speak to him again. Just don't let him eat my dessert."
After ending the call she climbed out of the car and approached the building. It was quiet, as it always was this time of day, when the families and couples that lived in the community were eating their dinner. She let herself into the condo, instantly knowing her roommate was home when she spied the takeout bag on the counter in the kitchen. Stepping out of her sandals, she dropped her purse on the couch and made her way to the open door of her roommate's bedroom.
"How'd it go?"
Leaning against the doorframe, Angela groaned. "I'd rather not talk about it."
The figure lounging on the bed chuckled. "C'mon, tell me."
"No. I'll just get mad again." She pushed away from the door and crossed the room, flopping onto the bed next to her friend. Breathing in the mingled aromas of laundry detergent, fabric softener, and soap, she scooted closer. Within seconds a pair of strong arms were tucked around her, and she gratefully buried her face in his warm chest and sighed.