It was just one of those days. One of those shitty days that popped up randomly throughout the year where nothing was going right. She worked a hectic schedule, after all, Stephanie did. Schedule, even, was too strict a word for it. It was chaotic and nonsensical and she did the best she could with it, honestly, and even took on too much, a lot of the times, and for what? Huh? Why did she do it? Because no one ever appreciated it. Not her kids, not her father, not the unforgiving business that she hated, she hated it, oh, she hated it. All of it.
She didn't even have to work. She never had. But she certainly didn't have to currently after working all these years. She could leave the company and do absolutely nothing with the rest of her life and still set her daughters up for the future. She really could. Fuck it all, never step foot in Titan Towers again, maybe even leave Connecticut. Have her early months of the year free of a looming 'mania, have the late ones free from worrying about soon worrying about the early ones. She could just...chill.
She hadn't just chilled for an extended period since she left college. To just wake up one morning and, fine, take the girls to school maybe, but then just come back home and...sit. Play with her dogs. Read a book. Watch TV. Watch a lot of TV. Learn something new. She always wanted to try her hand at actually learning to cook. Or oh, piano. That would be cool.
Or even just nothing.
She could do nothing all day. Every day. For the rest of her life. And never hear about about damages from drunken brawls or superstars that didn't realize just how quickly the market could change (especially when you piss off the people that control said market). No more worrying about shithead fans that thought they ran shit while eating up the literal shit you served them night after night. She didn't have to smile for the dumbasses that asked the same repeated questions interview after interview and fuck anyone that thought she was a bitch before.
Because oh, oh, she'd be a bitch. That's what they wanted? Huh? She'd be a bitch now. She'd be a massive bitch. She'd tell everybody's shit. Just the same as everyone tried to to do to her and her family when they ditched out on the company. No one would be safe.
Even said family.
Shane, her father, her mother, her husband…
Husband…
Bleh.
She was over him too for the time being, in that moment, as she had her meltdown. He'd been an ass as of late. Well, he'd always been an ass, really, honestly. Constantly. But she was starting to grow tired of it. His attitude. Especially towards her. He was tired too, she knew, and overworked, maybe more than her, but fuck him, honestly, and the way he'd been acting. She hated him.
Just as much as she hated her stupid father and her dumb brother and- She didn't hate her mother. She couldn't hat her mother. But she was doing the family no major favors, honestly, currently. The family. Why did it always feel like she was the only one sacrificing what they wanted for the family? Shane got to pretend to start a company in China and smoke weed all day or whatever the fuck he was doing (she knew, of course, what he had been doing, but it felt better in that moment to pretend to herself as if she didn't), Paul got to play superhero to the company and still vital wrestler and wow, wasn't he just smart and so amazing and had he ever done anything wrong? No. Not anymore. Other than be saddled with a wretched wife. And Vince, great and mighty Vince, he didn't give a shit what anyone said or did because he was doing exactly what he'd always wanted to do in life; make excessive and gross amounts of money. Everything else could be damned. And her mother was getting something like what she'd always wanted for herself, being stuck in that equally as gross cabinet of hers.
But what did Steph get? Huh? To watch her dear husband that apparently was an extension of herself, maybe, one day, if Vince ever fucking died (which felt apocalyptic in itself) get to overthrow her brother in succession? Oh great. Yes. In the world of everyone screaming about women being so powerful and strong and why didn't they see that, her perfect world in everyone's mind was her being in control in name only so that her husband could really take the reigns.
Yes.
Such equality.
Then again, maybe she just didn't understand equality. According to literally everyone else, she just didn't get it, didn't want to, and was the only woman that had ever worked for the company, apparently, that should be held accountable for any and every slight towards any and every woman to ever step foot through its doors. Not the men that were in equal control of things. Oh no. Or even more in control. No. Just her. She should be burnt at the stake for every single sin that the company had ever committed because she, as a woman, was the only person in the entire McMahon family that wasn't able to grow or change or honestly do anything beneficial ever.
And anything she ever did do didn't count because fuck you, that's why.
It wasn't even the nameless fans or the stupid still mostly irrelevant dumbasses that leeched off their company for views on their shitty websites. Not even the workers that were annoyed by her perceived attitude (which was never an attitude if it came from her husband or father; then it was just the right work attitude) really bothered her that much.
It was her father. And husband. And even fucking Shane even though he didn't really have any business talking about anything, at all, with anyone about the company other than...his acting? If you could call it that? What he was going to jump off next year to prove he was as tough as her husband (which he failed at, every damn time). They were the ones that bothered her with their incessient judgement. Even if they were actively voicing it to her, she could see it. She could tell. She always could. When Paul was annoyed by her inability to get things done both at home and on the road and oh, wow, Steph, you really don't think that you'll make it home in time to take the girls to their thing? Well, I guess the nanny could do it. I, after all, am far too busy being a super great athlete and businessman and the girls don't even care, really, if I'm there or not, but you, man, you're gonna have to make it up to them, you know? Being the mom and all? Sucks, doesn't it?
It did.
It did suck.
And then her brother snickering, she could tell, even when he wasn't doing it verbally, behind her back. Like he'd been some great accomplished person. You'd think he was, if you listened to anyone, but if anything, she'd been the one to ride this all out. He'd folded. He'd gone off to do his own thing. It was because of his shit with their father that she and her husband had been given the opportunity.
Sometimes...sometimes she wondered if...if Shane really loved her. Like she did him. Some days were better than others, but overall…
She was nearly certain that he didn't even like her.
Then there was Vince. Her father. And all the baggage that probably went along in general, not only being his child, but just from being around the man for extended periods of times. There was definitely a psychological thing going on between the two of them, she knew. She made fun of Shane for it, but she felt it as well. With her brother, it had always been a draw to prove himself able to take control of the company, honestly, to replace him, but with Stephanie, she'd always just wanted to impress him. In any way possible. To work long hours, travel as often as possible, to never take breaks.
Ever.
She wanted to live the business because he lived the business.
Shane wanted to surpass Vince, but Stephanie wanted to become him. After all, Vince hated those he perceived as better than him, but he loved himself.
But at what cost was she doing all of this? Putting up with all of them? Stressing herself over a company that could live without her, honestly. Maybe it would even be better. Without her. And she would be better. Without it. Away from it.
It would be better, anyways, definitely for her children.
She was losing so much time with them and for no reason, apparently, since she wasn't even spending it correctly. She wasn't needed where she was wasting it, so why continue to do it? Why continue to do anything?
She'd been pacing, Stephanie had, the entire time, around her bedroom. Kicking at the air and yelling, sometimes, but mostly just losing it a bit and it was all just becoming too much. Her dogs were a bit freaked when she showed up in the middle of the day and were excited, at first. Then they realized she was upset and her puppy Attila had run off (she wasn't too great at comforting; she was still in her oblivious puppy phase), but her big baby Andre Boy followed her into her bedroom and was whining, trying at times to comfort her, but she was ignoring him, which he wasn't used to and wasn't sure much what to do.
Other than lay down.
It was his favorite thing in the world to do and he thought if she'd just come over and do it with him, maybe, she'd feel better.
He knew he did.
She didn't lay down though, when she finally stopped. Only sat there, on the edge of the bed and let out a very long, tired sigh.
It was then though that they both heard the sound of the gate outside slide open and then a car make the short trek up the drive, to the house. Her mind was all jumbled then and she figured that, not really knowing the date, it was probably just a housekeeper or lawn guy or anyone, really, other than who it was. Because he was supposed to be at work or out of town or, oh, wow, her mind was completely beyond her then. She only saw red.
She didn't know where Paul was supposed to be, but not there, pushing open the bedroom door as his dog (that's really what the puppy was, honestly) growled at his shoes. She hated them, Attila did. Shoes. They meant someone was leaving. She hated when people did that.
Andre beat his tail happily at the sight of his father, though he still didn't get up (it was napping hours, parents be damned), and Paul thought of Bluto, at the sight of his replacement, and how he and Steph's first dog together would have be up and alert and protective, even if he had realized it was his father.
Bluto needed command and direction to stand down. Andre needed desire to stand up. And at the moment, he had none of that.
"Oh, baby, didn't know you were around. Well, I did, because I saw your car, but, you know, didn't think about where you were-"
"Leave."
That's all she said. To him. It was also all it took for Paul to finally stop looking at his dresser, where he'd made a beeline to, and instead actually glance at his wife.
"Baby, what's wrong?" Frowning, he took a few steps towards her. "Are you alright? Did something happen? Why didn't you call-"
"I said to-"
"Steph, what's wrong?"
Her eyes were red and she'd been crying, obviously, and she looked so upset that he thought… He didn't know what he thought. Had someone died? Was she sick? Somewhere in between? He didn't know, but in those few seconds, he was braced for the worse.
"I don't want to see you right now."
"What? Stephanie-"
"Just fuck off, Paul."
"No." He was taken aback by her whole attitude, but her words just weren't making sense to him. "Steph, what's going on? Are you-"
"I just don't," she told him in a tense voice, "want to be around you right now. Or anyone. Just get what you need and leave."
"I needed some stuff for my bag-"
"Then get it and leave."
"Stephanie-"
"No, Paul. Don't- Do not touch me right now, I swear to fucking-"
"What is wrong with you?"
She took a deep breath before moving then, away from him, and back onto the bed. She'd taken some stuff off, in her anger before, and was left in an undershirt and her nice pants that were going to get all wrinkled now, but she just didn't care. At all. About anything. Other than escaping him.
Paul watched as she burrowed then, under the covers, and yelled another leave at him which was enough to get Attila to run away. Andre though just whined some more and did little else.
He sighed some himself then, Paul did, because he didn't want to get his shit all wrinkled or have to get dressed again or be late for the shit he had to do, but apparently, he no longer had an option.
She laid there, underneath the blanket, waiting to hear his heavy footsteps out of the room because they weren't like this anymore. This stupid childish shit. She wasn't like this anymore. She knew. That yelling and fighting shit that they did back in the early 2000s when they were both still struggling with real relationships. She knew how she was acting and what she was doing, but it was what she needed in the moment, regardless of how inappropriate it was.
She didn't hear him though, leave. He did that a lot when they fought over something he thought she was being completely unreasonable. It was better than fighting endlessly, he always claimed and it was honestly for the best. They weren't...volatile or anything like that, towards one another, but they both did have rather strong streaks of self-righteousness. There was no talking to one another when they were completely on other plains from one another. To just get a breath and regroup when they weren't yelling and screaming at one another was probably the suggested course of action anyways.
It always worked for them, at least, and they were trending towards two decades together.
Except in that moment.
In that moment Steph could never see his face again and she was conceived that she'd be better for it.
He didn't leave though. Her husband didn't. Instead, she heard him walk around the room a bit as well as the unzipping of his pants and, eventually, he was dragging Andre off the bed and out of the room (the dog was fine with this; he wanted to go find somewhere to actually sleep in peace) before coming to fall into bed as well.
"I told you to leave me-"
"I'm not going to do that, Steph." He kicked down his part of the covers only to pull them over his head as well. "And you know that."
"I just want to be alone."
"Then be alone." He let out a short breath. "I'll be here until then."
She couldn't just let it happen though. Whatever it was they were doing. Laying in silence until...until she came around was probably what he thought, but she just wasn't going to let that happen. She didn't want to. He was being an ass, she felt, still, by not just letting her have what she wanted. To continue to fall into her grief over mere thoughts.
"Don't you have somewhere to be?"
"Nowhere more important than with my wife."
"Paul-"
"What it up, Stephanie? Huh? I'm here. What did I do? I didn't...whatever it is, on purpose. And if it's serious, just tell me. Let's be adults about this. Alright? I'm sorry. Whatever it is, I swear, Stephie, I am sorry."
It felt so stupid then. The whole thing. Getting all worked up. Getting him all worked up. Causing all of those issues. And over what? Huh? Over the dumbest shit. He was acting like they were about to have some sort of major crisis or something and it wasn't like that.
She just needed what she'd said.
To be alone.
Because...because…
"I'm so fucking weak, Paul."
He didn't speak at first, at her words, but eventually did ask, "What does that mean? Steph?"
It broke her, for some reason, the way he was talking all soft to her and the way, even though she'd asked him to not touch her, he reached a hand out to rest on her shoulder and oh gosh, it was all just too much. It always was, but now more than ever it was bearing down on her and she'd felt empowered before, envisioning her life away from, well, her life, but now, with another person in the room, she felt so defeated. From a battle she hadn't even truly begun to fight.
"It's stupid."
"It's not stupid if you feel it." He was moving then, closer to her, to wrap his arms tightly around the woman and pull her close. She didn't fight him, btu she didn't give in either. Just cried, softly. "Baby, what happened?"
"Nothing happened."
"Steph-"
"Nothing happened," she insisted. "It's just… This past few weeks… And this morning, the girls were annoyed with me because I have to go… And I'm such a shit mom 'cause I'm never around and I suck, anyways, at my job- What the fuck even is my job, really? It's not important. Someone else could do it. I hate myself. I fucking hate everything."
Of course, Paul didn't get too clear a version of all this (it was jumbled by her sobs and whimpers), but he got the gist. It was enough to make him shove up some, tossing the covers away from them so that they could see one another as he glared down at her.
"The girls got you all upset?" he asked, slightly angry. They weren't mean often, his kids weren't, but they were far more likely to try and take advantage of Steph than they were him. "I'll talk to them, Steph, because-"
"No, don't."
"I am. What did they say? If it's about them not getting to go to-"
"It's not any of that. Paul, you're not listening."
Nay. Rather, she wasn't telling. At least not very well.
"Then talk, Steph. But if they're giving you a hard time about something, don't lose it over it. You know that. You're a great mother. And they love you. They're just kids. Kids are mean. You know that."
She knew that.
Well, the last part.
"I am not," she insisted with a shake of her head, turning slightly to rest on her back and stare up at the man. "A good mother. I'm shit. I'm so shit."
"Stephie, stop it."
"No."
"If it's not the girls, then did I do something? What? Just be straight. Stop talking in circles. What-"
"It's not you."
"Then-"
"It's everything. I just… I hate that company. And I hate Vince and I hate Shane and I hate everyone we work with and I hate you-"
"That's harsh." She was losing him then as, now that he knew not only was no one dead, but also he wasn't really in that much trouble from his wife, he fell back into the bed. "What the fuck did I do? You said nothing, right?"
"Just leave." He was annoying her once more. Sniffling as her tear flow slowed, she gave him her back again. "I didn't think you'd come home right now. I was just trying to..."
"To think about how terrible your great, wonderful husband is? Wow. Wow, Steph. I-"
"It's not funny." And she could hear it in his tone. He thought that if he made light of the situation, it would fade away faster. It worked some times. Not then though. No. Not that time. "I do not want to be around you right now. I'm serious. If you can't be serious too-"
"I'm trying to take you seriously, Steph, but you're just acting like-"
"Like what, Paul?"
But he knew better. Years of training had taught him not to say the first thing that pops into your head when dealing with your wife. Especially if it's going to be an insult.
"I just," he grumbled at her back, "don't understand. I want to understand. I'm trying to understand. But I don't. What are you upset about? Why do you think this? Huh? That you're not a good mother? Or that you're...terrible at your job? What aspect of it? Did someone say something to you? Do I need to do something about it? Why are you upset with me? What can I do, other than leave, to help you right now? Stephanie?"
She didn't want ;logic. That's one thing she knew for certain. She didn't want him to try and 'mansplain' the whole thing to her and she definitely didn't want him to know all of the thoughts swirling around in her head. They shared most everything with one another, nearly every single last thing, but some stuff…
Some stuff you had to keep to yourself.
"I don't," she finally breathed slowly, "want you to fix anything. I don't want to talk about anything. I just needed a day to completely lose control of everything and you're not going to stop me from doing it. So leave, if you want. Or stay. Just...shut up, Paul. Shut the fuck up."
He didn't want to. It wasn't that he didn't like it. Being quiet. He was actually really good at it, when he was alone. When he was younger and alone more often, it felt peaceful. Now that he was never alone though, the peace felt more distance he grew to dislike it slightly. Still, if that's hwat she wanted…
He couldn't stay forever, of course, as he did have things to do, but he laid there with her for far longer than time really allotted him before eventually pressing a kiss to her cheek and promising her that he'd call that night and, if she needed anything, anything at all, to call him. No matter what.
"I'm fine," she insisted with a frown, but he still only shrugged. "We all have bad days."
He knew. Steph had had some shit days in the past (a lot, actually). He and her both were fed off emotion, but Steph's felt a lot more high strung than his. His emotions bread anger and aggression if they reached their tipping point. For her, anything over a certain point just brought tears and self-loathing.
It would be a few days before they were able to see one another again. He called, of course, and she called him, at times, but face to face was the only way to really be sure that everything was alright. Fixed. Better.
They hugged, of course, out there in their garage. He had just gotten in and was going to rest for the morning while Steph was heading out, the girls yelling from the car stuff at him as he'd just pulled in, right before they were off to school, but he only stared at his wife then, as they separated.
"You okay?" he asked as he searched her eyes and was pleased to find, though tired, they weren't nearly as dark as the last time he'd seen them. "Baby?"
"I told you," she said, giving him one last hug, "I just needed a day."
And she had.
It didn't mean, necessarily, that everything was resolved. No. She still felt pretty low about some things, normal things. She'd always feel like she wasn't home enough. She'd always feel like her father and brother and Paul were, in their very own unique ways, annoyed with her. She'd probably never, really, not draw the ire, it felt like, of people she only partly knew.
It was just part it of. It all was.
Sometimes it just build up. Like a bubble. And everything bursts. Stephanie was good at managing those bursts though like she was good at managing everything else. She wasn't good at sitting at home or doing nothing all day. Managing. Marketing. Being around other people, no matter how much she might hate them some day s(which was fine; the feeling was usually mutual), was what she was called to do. Always had been.
They were both home that night for dinner, her and Paul, and he and the kids made it together while she sat on the couch with the dogs. They sounded like they were having fun, but she just wasn't up for it that day, honestly. And the girls deserved alone time with their father. She wasn't the only one that needed him, after all.
Eventually though, food was in the oven and they dispersed a bit. The older two went off up the stairs and the dogs followed, but her youngest took to playing on the living room floor with some toys, remarking a few times to her mother about random things.
Paul joined her actually on the couch though, eventually, and sat practically on top of her, he was so close. She made a face, but he only beamed and draped an arm around her shoulders. He'd be like this, for the next few days, because he was worried about her. But the storm had already passed and it would be awhile before another brewed. Any precautionary measures were wasted, but appreciated, truly.
"Was today," he muttered, unsure of how to ask, really, what he wanted to know, as they sat there watching one of those dumb shows of hers that he didn't even pretend to hate. He legitimately hated it.
"It was today," Stephanie said with a bit of a shrug and he accepted this.
He really had no choice.
"Well," he tried again, "aren't you gonna ask about my day?"
"Your day?"
"That's what I said, yeah."
"Didn't you just sleep all day?"
"Sleep- You're so rude. Hardly. You probably slept more than me today, I bet."
"You'd bet wrong."
"I don't doubt it, Steph." And he pressed a kiss to her head then before tightly his hold on her, hugging the woman to him. "Don't doubt it at all."
I can't be the only one that finds Steph to be the most psychologically interesting McMahon, right? I mean, I know everyone's into Vince and that stigma of 'oh, man, he's fucking crazy', but shit, Steph just always seems slightly...off to me? I dunno. I don't like to speculate on shit like that, but her interviews and shit when she kind of loses her business persona really kinda, I dunno, feel really intrigued by her. This was kind of in the vain of that.