"Did you watch it?"

"I live it, Steph. See you doing that sorta stuff all the time. Listen to you say those sorta things all the time. Why would I need to watch it?"

"You watched it."

"Mmmm, five times. But that's all."

"Now, I don't believe that," she giggled somewhat bashfully, blushing down at her last cup of coffee before bed. "Three times sounds acceptable."

"How many will get you to rub my shoulder's tonight?" Paul questioned. He was seated across from her at the kitchen table, eating his own quick meal before bed. The girls had been asleep already, when he came in, but his wife was still up, waiting for him. "Babe?"

"On a Thursday? Mmmm, eight more times. At least. And tweet about it."

"I don't tweet about things that don't directly reflect my one, true love."

"Yourself?"

"Close," he remarked as he cut into his chicken. "Actually, indirectly, sure."

"So you're telling me that if I had my match at Takeover instead of 'mania-"

"I'dda fucking hyped you so much," he assured her. "I might have even graced you with a godawful picture."

"Might have?"

"Depended on what you were having a match for."

"Could I get a tweet all to myself or-"

"No, definitely paired with someone else," he told her with a shake of his head. "I can't show favoritism, Steph."

"So much for sleeping with your boss."

"Now for a shoulder rub-"

"Can I get a title?"

"We all had to watch you have one bullshit reign," he grumbled as she only made a face. "No need to subject another generation to it."

"Hey, I'll have you know that some people liked me as the Women's Champion," she retorted. "Thank you."

"We all have fans, Steph," he told her with a shake of his head. "It don't mean jack shit."

"And if your shoulders hurt that badly, baby, you should talk to a trainer," she went on as if the man didn't fucking know that. He almost rolled his eyes at her but, somehow, managed to hold off. "Is it a bruise or-"

"Just normal tightness," he assured her. "It's not that big of a deal. I mean, if you'd just rub them-"

"I'm drinking coffee."

"Should have included that in the interview," he said then. "Coffee over husband. Got it."

"You're such a baby."

"I'm the baby," he complained though, he was already sitting up as she got to her feet, knowing he was being given into. Just like he should be. "Definitely not."

He rolled into her touch too, the second Steph's hands were resting on his shoulders. Beaming, he let out a shameless (and definitely showy) groan that made her giggle, bowing her head to kiss the top of his fuzzy one.

"You gave a good interview, baby," he remarked truthfully then. "And watching you with the girls was nice. I liked it."

"Thanks, baby."

"I like you though, in general, so I'm not sure what bearing that has on the whole thing."

"Mmmm, probably a lot."

"Yeah," Paul agreed. "Maybe don't go off my opinion alone. Feel the crowd. You can feel me too, whenever you want, but definitely the crowd on this one."

"Are you blinded by love though?" she asked. "Or pure adulteration over the fact I'm, like, so talented or whatever?"

"Pretty sure you mean adulation there, Steph. Unless we're having a more serious conversation than I thought."

"It's okay," she insisted as she dug into his shoulder blades. "You don't have to admit that you're my biggest fan just because I'm so awesome at everything."

"I already said that it's the shoulder rubs, I thought. How clear do I have to be?"

"You can lie, Paul, but with both know the truth. And that's what's important."

:"But what happens when we both apparently think that the truth is two different things?"

"I'm the wife so my truth wins."

"Touche," he gave him with a nod. Then, humming slightly, he whispered, "Anyone ever tell you that you have soft hands? Stephie? They should."

Giggling some more, she only said, "Are you feeling anymore relaxed though?"

"Yes," he moaned as his head lulled to the side. "That's not the only part of me that's tight though."

"It's not?"

"I've seen action, Stephie. I'm all beat up."

"Awh."

"My back-"

"We both know where this is going, so just finish your dinner, huh?" And the top of his head got a kiss then before she moved to take her seat once more. "While I finish my coffee."

Grinning across the table at her, he paused his eating just to say, "I wasn't joking though, Steph."

"About your back?"

"About how much I enjoyed that interview," he corrected with a shake of his head. "It, you know, was nice. People should see you in that element. All that you do. You're so strong, Steph."

"You're already getting what you want, Paul," was what she replied as, blushing deeply, she stared down into her mug. "You don't have to keep laying it on so thick."

"I can't brag about my woman?" he complained right back. "That's all I'm doing. I'm real proud of you, Steph, and I don't say it enough."

"You say it all the time."

"And it's still not enough."

"Are you gonna miss me or something?" she asked with a slight frown. "When you're in Saudi?"

"I miss you when I'm in Florida," he told her just to get a grin. It didn't. "So yeah, I think I will."

"I think you're overstating things."

"I think you hate it when I tell you how much I love you," he challenged right back. "You think that you like it, but whenever I do it, you get all bashful and shit."

"And shit?"

"And shit."

"I do like it," she told him before taking a long sip of coffee. It was only once she'd sat the mug back down that she said, "Sometimes it just feels fake though, if you do it too much."

"But I'm not," Paul insisted though he also shrugged. "I see though. My love is just too much for you. That's why I bottle it up so often. You just can't handle it."

"I can't?"

"Nope." He patted at his chest then. "Hurts deep, right here, every time I'm reminded of that."

Stephanie made a face, but only for a moment because then he was returning it and it made her break, finally, back down to the giggles that characterized her so well in her husband's eyes. Shaking his head, he went back to his chicken.

Around it, however, he asked, "You gonna be able to sleep tonight, babe?"

"Hmmm?"

"All that coffee you're guzzling."

"I got, like, the sharpest headache right before you got in. I was hoping the caffeine would make it go away, but-"

"A headache, huh?" Paul repeated with a bit of a frown.

"A real one," Stephanie assured with a shake of her head. "And nothing that would cause me too much discomfort."

His frown dissipated as he said, "Think I got just the cure for that."

"Do you?"

"Maybe."

"Does it involve rubbing your back?"

"That's definitely the precursor, yes. And don't look so annoyed. Nothing sexier than you getting to see my nice, hot, body, right?"

"I feel like you're referencing something-"

"Literally word for word something you've said to me before, I swear."

"In your dreams, maybe."

"Actually-"

"Hurry and eat, Paul." Finished with her coffee, Stephanie got up then to set the mug in the sink. "I'm gonna go find the dog and get him ready for bed."

"Get him ready for bed?"

"I'm going to let him pee, Paul. Gosh, I didn't want to say it."

"But why? Don't kill my mood. Talk about him shitting. Don't care." Wagging his eyebrows, he said, "I've been waiting for this."

"Yeah, well, don't ruin it for me or you'll be waiting longer."

Good point.

But still, he couldn't help himself as he said, "Find a mint too, would ya? Or brush your teeth?"

That got Stephanie, who was leaving to go find their mastiff Andre, to stop and glare back at him. "Excuse me?"

"Coffee breath and all."

"You-"

"I love you, Steph," he reminded. "Watch your interview, like, ten times, so-"

"Shut up."

He did.

They already had so much working against them, after all. No need to do so as well.

A locked door and some lotion later, Paul felt nothing other than the cool side of his pillow and the dip in the bed as his wife came back to it, shifting some as she finally tried to settle in for the night.

"Love you," she muttered like they did most nights as, after setting her phone on the nightstand, she hunkered down in the sheets for some sleep. But Paul only reached out then, to the protests of his wife. After pulling her close, her head got a kiss.

"Just wanna snuggle," he explained as she gave in. "That's all."

"That's all?"

"Mmmhmm." Shifting some to get a better hold on her, he buried his nose in her hair as he whispered, "I loved your video, Stephie. So much."

"We already-"

"Let me brag on you. You do it to me. Constantly."

"You make it sound annoying."

"It's not annoying," he assured her. "I'm a great guy. Great husband. Father. Wrestler. Pet owner."

"What?"

"I deserve praise."

"Over...pet owning?"

"Over everything."

"Okay, Mr. Humble."

"I'm not mister anything," he told her. "Other than Helmsley. Or Levesque. Mr. Great At Everything He's Ever Done even, I feel."

"But you do?"

"And I'm great at realizing when my wife deserves to get some special attention." He was on his side then, snuggling her perhaps a bit too tight, but she didn't resist. And tried hard not to blush too heavily. "You do so much, Steph. For so many people. But especially me. I know people like to say shit, you know, about it. Me not being anywhere without us… But it is true. Just not for why they think. I'dda never been able to have this life without you. I fucked a lotta shit up, before we got together, but damn and I glad that I figured it out when it came to you. To us. And I'd do all that shitty stuff again, just to be here right now, with you."

"Go to bed." Finally, she shoved at him a bit. "You need it."

He did. And he would. Just not then.

"You're such a good mom too," he kept up because now not only did he want to say it, but he was also clearly making her uncomfortable and he loved that. When she started to protest, he only said, "Seriously, Steph. Way better than I am as a father."

"Don't say that."

"It's true."

"It is not."

"Feels like it."

"You do what you have to do," she told him simply, "and I do what I have to do."

"You do a lot more than what you just have to do," he told her with a bit of a sleepy grin. "You don't have to get up and make breakfast or try and get home to be there for dinner. You don't have to spend the one time a month you're free at a softball practice. You don't have to go out on a walks with them and the dog or help with homework or go to stupid school shit. You're so busy." He leaned down then, to press a kiss to her nose before whispering, "But you do though. You stay up and talk to the girls even when you/re just getting back from a long trip. You listen to them so well. Way better than me. You understand them. I mean, that interview didn't capture how much you truly…care, I guess. You care so much about so many things and I just hate that it feels sometimes like I'm the only one who gets th- Are you going to sleep?"

"No," his wife muttered though her eyes were slipping shut and she was getting rather still. "Just...mmmm."

Paul had to smile a bit as he let her go then, so she could curl up on her side of the bed and he could relax into his.

He'd more than said his peace, after all.

That next day though, he wasn't so sure he had. Which is why he felt the need to make it even more clear to his wife.

"I thought," Stephanie began as they found themselves driving home together from the office that night, "I wasn't worthy of a tweet. Much less my own. And pinned at that."

"I dunno what you're talking about," he told her simply as he turned the radio up a bit, not taking his eyes off the road. "But I know you're talking over this sick breakdown. So-"

"I love our life too, you know," she said simply, getting back to their conversation the night before. "Paul."

"Yeah," the man sighed at the feeling of her eyes. "I know."

Just something short that doesn't really fit into anything to become a bigger story. I thought about adding something more to it, to at least add some sort of conflict or something, but this felt better suited for just a moment rather than anything too serious.