Disclaimer: I don't own anyone, other than Jayla and Jayden.
Rated: K+
Warning(s): None
"Aww, Adam, don't let that lemon Zebbie Coulter get you down." In the swarm of people surrounding him, it was difficult to identify exactly who the voice belonged to. His best guess was the skinny, blue-haired girl that was all dolled-up like a Katy Perry wannabe.
But Adam wasn't listening to her. Once his entourage set him down on his feet, he turned to the man that was decked-out in the fluffy lemon costume. He placed a hand on his shoulder and, in all seriousness, inquired, "Are you all right?"
He nodded, though it was after a tense moment of consideration. "Yeah, I'm fine, man. But don't worry about me." Suddenly, there was music playing. The wild, party-atmosphere had returned, and most started dancing. "It's time to celebrate your first win on Monday Night RAW, man! To the Exotic Express!"
They started on without him, scarcely realizing that their fearless leader still stood in the guerilla, looking like a hopelessly lost child. The stick of a new lolly hung listlessly out the corner of his mouth. "I'm not really in the mood." He mumbled, sounding every bit as lost as he looked.
"Not in the mood?!" The backlash came in unison, and was almost immediate. Adam flinched slightly, but nevertheless held his ground.
"Nope. The mood has gone." He pulled the cherry lolly out of his mouth with a wet pop, offering his entourage a cheeky smile. "But no worries, loves. The party always returns."
The blue-haired girl frowned. "You're being such a lemon, Adam."
Hesitant nods followed, which soon seemed to grow in conviction. Now that someone had cast the first stone, they were all willing to follow suit. "Don't be a lemon, be a rose-bud." Once again, the cry came out in unison.
"Actually, right now, I think I'd honestly much rather take a nap." And just like that, he pushed past them, entering his tour bus alone. He barely had enough time to mutter a quick "Goodnight" before slamming the door in their faces.
"Adam!" Their wails sounded like dying cats, only serving to add to his pounding headache and further upset him.
He was thankful to have put the distance between them, to have shut the door and not have to deal with them for the rest of the night. Don't get him wrong - he loved them. They were close to him, like a family would be close. But they didn't understand. They didn't understand that he was only a man, that he had limits. All of the partying came to drain on you after awhile, and it couldn't be healthy to head out and perform after days upon days where the drinks kept on flowing and the party never slept. The Exotic Express was a lot like New York in the 20s - and just like Nick Carraway of The Great Gatsby, one had to know when enough was enough.
The driver started to pull out of the parking lot. He could feel the subtle jolt beneath his feet, then nothing. Ignoring the way his adoring entourage chased after the tour bus, he yanked off his wrestling boots and tossed them carelessly aside. Kicking aside forgotten toys and the like, he finally managed to make it to the bathroom, where the tossed his tights aside and hopped into the shower. Showers, he'd always found, were an incredibly sobering experience. There was something about the way the water cascaded over your skin, the soap cleansing away every impurity, that made you feel like life began anew every time that you washed.
He was not much better upon exiting the shower. He could still feel the high of the match, the adrenaline pumping through his veins and making him jumpy as hell. The shadows of the trees against the blinders on the bus made him jump and squirm, all the time thinking, knowing that he was not alone. All the time, he was on high-alert, terrified that some unseen attacker would come from nowhere… and that would be it. Not for the first time that night, he was glad that he'd sent them away. The never-ending party certainly wouldn't help his nerves in his current condition, that much was for sure. But perhaps sleep would.
Making his way back to the bedroom, he slowly eased the door open. All the while, he was incredibly conscious of the awful squeak (kinda like the dying cat from earlier, but this time more like several mouse trapped in a mouse trap) it produced while it opened. "Jayla… Jayden… are you two awake?"
Silence. Blessed silence.
His fraternal twins lay on the bed, twisted and cocooned into his black satin duvet. They looked so peaceful, so pure, lying there in the darkness. The television was still on, showing the last minutes of Monday Night RAW. So, they had seen. They had seen the lemon be abducted by the real lemon, Zebbie Coulter. They'd seen their father get his butt handed to him by Jack Swagger. But most importantly, they'd seen their father lose his cool and beat the living daylights out of Jack and almost put his hands on an old, defenseless man. He could only imagine the images that that had placed into their young, impressionable minds.
He carefully lifted Jayla up and moved her over, careful to avoid the heavy pink fiberglass cast on her right foot. Dazed blue-gray eyes fluttered open and focused lazily on Adam. "D-Daddy..?"
"Shh… back to sleep with you, my little rosebud." He climbed in between the two children, pulling the blankets up over their bodies. "You need your rest to heal and become strong."
Jayden curled up against his father's side, nestling his head in the crook of Adam's arm. "No party tonight?"
"Nah, I sent them home." So much for that blessed silence. But that was okay. He'd take the sweet voices of his twins over the clamour of the Exotic Express any day. "I think we all need a little bit of a break from all that partying, so it'll just be the three of us for a little while. Okay?"
"Does that mean that you'll take us to the park tomorrow?" Jayden asked excitedly.
"If that's what you want, then that's what we'll do." A day out in the fresh air did sound nice. And they could air the obnoxious stink of party out of the bus while they were at it. "A whole day at the park, then ice-cream."
"Ice-cream?" Both of their ears perked up and their eyes widened, and suddenly both were wide awake and alert.
Adam felt that earlier tension begin to melt away, and realized that it hadn't been adrenaline, but anxiety. Anxiety that he was, yet again, failing his kids somehow. Anxiety that that one-night stand which had brought the twins into the world would become public, and the kids, who didn't know a lick about their mother (save that they had one) would think of themselves as mistakes. Because it was only a matter of time before the lemon, Zebbie Coulter, got his hands on the precious jewel that was their mother's name. And once he had that little bit of info, he'd ruin everything for Adam. He'd be buried before he even had a chance to start out.
"You know that I love you two very much, right?" Adam asked. He knew the answer, but he just had to hear it come from their little mouths.
"Of course, Daddy. We love you too." Jayla giggled, shifting slightly. Her fiberglass cast gave an ugly scratching sound against the thick blue duvet.
Adam grinned, but it was hidden behind his hair. Shuffling upward in the bed, he reached behind Jayden's head and grabbed the storybook off of the bedside table. Little eyes followed his every movement very carefully. When they realized what it was that he was doing, they eagerly scooched up so that their backs were parallel with the headboard and curled into his sides. He opened to the bookmark, looking to see where they had left off the last time that he'd read to them. It had been so long, he couldn't even remember what the story was about. That wasn't okay. He'd have to find a way to remedy that.
"I guess there's time for one story before bed." He said, smile still present on his face. "Now, where did we leave off?" Finding his place, he cleared his throat and offered, "Alice eagerly followed the curious rabbit…"