"Hey, look at it this way," Steph tried as he sunk into bed, "at least it's not he worst injury you've ever had."

"Not even close," the man agreed as his wife continued what she was doing, over at the little desk in the hotel room, texting away on her phone. "Not even the worse 'mania one. This? This is nothing."

"This is 2nd degree burns."

'Yeah, well."

"Yeah, well," she mocked some as, finally, she glanced up and over at him. "Did you want me to get you anything?'

"It's late," he grumbled before patting at the empty spot beside him. "All I want is you."

She made a face too, at that comment, before looking down at her phone. "It's already post Wrestlemania, babe. And you're injured. You'll get what you want. Just let me finish this."

He made a face of his own. "Maybe I'll be asleep by the time that rolls around."

"Then did you ever really want it in the first place?'

"Work's stupid," he declared before patting the bed again. "Now get over here."

But she didn't reply that time and he was losing her, he could tell, so he decided to concede a bit.

"At least come lay in bed with me, baby."

That one she could agree to.

He could have read over her shoulder, but work was beyond him at that point. 'mania was done and he didn't care what Steph and her father furiously texted back and forth about it. Well, except for one thing.

"Better not be bad mouthing me with the old man."

"Hush, Paul." Even in bed, he couldn't get her eyes. He did get her hand though, reaching over to rub gently down his closest arm. "I'm thinking."

Steph was always thinking. So was he, honest, but that night, all he wanted to do was rest. And, yeah, he wanted Steph too, but resting was high up there. Work? Rather down low.

There used to be a sense of completion, back in the day, after a 'mania. Assuming there was no massive fuck ups, he could go to bed with the same glee and, honestly, a bit of bravado. Even when he hooked up with Steph, this still rang true. After the show, they'd celebrate in some way. AT the very least, she'd be a bit more upbeat than she was acting currently.

Things were much more subdued, on the business side of things. While it felt like an all new, fresh start after 'mania when he was a wrestler, things were a bit different now. When he was younger, things were beginning to get set in motion, of course, backstage the second the big event happened for the upcoming year, but as a wrestler, you couldn't think about that. Plans were interchangeable and you had to focus on what was going on currently. And, currently, after Wrestlemania was over, you just had another week or two of tying loose ends and then, hopefully, some fresh feuds and story lines.

On the business side, things didn't work this way entirely. You, now, were the one that was focused on what the new direction was going to be and what the next year would pan out like. You had to figure out what the big main event for the upcoming year was going to be and, if you weren't in the talk about that, you had to listen to every fucking else talk about it. Not to mention your eyes were already set on the next PPV. He'd been in on that side for awhile then, but since '10, things had really taken a step up for him and it was just a lot.

The feeling of a new year wasn't there because there was no year. Time wasn't real. You ran on a never-ending wheel and just prayed you'd never have to get off it. There was no goal line, no victory. Because there's always another battle on the horizon.

"I think this whole King thing goes to your head a bit too much," Steph remarked a few weeks ago, when he mentioned this to her. "You know that you're not really in charge of a kingdom, right?"

"The world is my kingdom, Steph."

"Oh, brother."

But in all seriousness, as he laid there next to Steph, still texting away, he really did feel like doing nothing and thinking about nothing for as long as his life would let him. It wouldn't be long, of course. It never was. But for the time being, he wasn't in a house with three girls under the age of six and a dog that seemed to think claim his wife more than he was able to, or any of the other pressures of being home. He still loved them, knew they were all doing wonderfully, but really, the only person he wanted at that moment was his wife.

Who didn't want anything other than her damn phone.

"What is your damn father even going on about? Huh?"

He grumbled that after almost falling asleep int the silence of their hotel room, only to be jolted awake by the sounds of his wife's snickers.

"And what are you giggling about?" he kept up with a frown. "And doesn't your dad have something else to- I knew it!"

"Knew what? Stop trying to take my-"

"You're not talking to Vince."

"I never said I was."

"Does this even have to do with- You're talking to one of your friends!"

"Uh, yeah, I never said I wasn't."

He glared at her too as he allowed her to snatch the phone back. "I thought you were doing something important this whole time."

"I was," Stephanie defended as, her game over, she sent one last message before toss her phone down to the bed. "We were talking bad about you."

"But not to the old man right?"

"Wouldn't think of it." She gave him a bright smile. "You are a reflection of me, after all."

"Not a nice reflection you give yourself, really, in my opinion," he complained. "Letting me sit here, thinking you were working-"

"I didn't say anything about work."

"You didn't give me any indictation otherwise."

"Should I have to?'

"I'm just amazed that some woman-"

"She's not some woman. She's been my best friend since-"

"-is more important than your deathly ill husband."

"Deathly ill?"

"Feels like it." He was shirtless and only gestured to the arm where he had raised burn marks before at where they riddled his side. "I was nearly killed by ice, Stephanie. Ice. Imagine. Who thinks something like that will hurt them? It's made of water. Who dies because of water?"

"Literally every person that ever drowns. Ever."

"Water. Fucking water, Stephanie." He whistled. "If my wife was laid up- Say, you have been laid up before. And what did I do? Wait on you. Hand and foot. Hand and fucking foot."

"When was I ever laid up? Huh?"

"Three times I can remember."

"After having babies? Your babies? Yeah, okay, Paul. Thanks a lot for sacrificing by, what? Bringing one of them to me when they cried because I was too weak to get up and-"

"I changed diapers."

"And I'm having this conversation with you, instead of being on my phone, because you're so deathly ill." She gagged. "We all make sacrifices, babe."

They shared a look that time, both keeping their eyes on the other. But unlike her husband, Stephanie didn't just lay there. No, she was shifting, almost immediately, inching closer to him.

"But if you're hurting," she told him softly then,, "I'll do my best to make you feel better."

"Part of the sacrifice?"

"Depends on what's hurting."

"Actually," he said as, relaxing then (their verbal sparring was clearly coming to an end and, given where things were heading, he was willing to concede a victory to his wife so long as they stayed on the same path), "believe it or not, my quad's really hurting me."

"Hurting you?"

"Sore. It's sore," he corrected. Because that was just not something to joke about, honestly, between the two of them. "It feels all… I'd just really like it, I think if you- Yeah, that's good."

She dug the heel of her palm into his thigh, running it slowly down his shorts until she got to his kneecap. "Is it?"

"It's great."

"Really?"

"Mmmhmm."

"'cause I would think," she whispered as she stopped the motion, only momentarily, to reach up and tug at his shorts, "I think it's much better skin to skin."

"Well," he chuckled softly as he raised his lower half some, to assist her in her tugs, "you're the smart one in the relationship. Especially in rubs. Given for more of them than I have. Well, I guess it depends on what we're talking about. Because I've had my fair share of-"

"Paul."

"Mmmm?"

She made a bit of a face up at him as her hand came back then, to rub at his bare thigh. "Shut up already."

:Laughing softly, he nodded. "'kay, baby."

Night caught up with them eventually though as well as exhaustion. He wasn't so talkative as she truly got ready for bed. He hardly even moved when she chucked a washcloth at his head, saying something about cleaning up some, so they could go to sleep. He only laid there, on the cool hotel sheets, waiting for her to get back to him.

And fighting off sleep.

It was close then.

"Do you need more ointment?"

"Gross, Steph. That word right before sleep? Nightmares. Gross nightmares."

"Do you?" As she fell back into bed, she patted at his chest, avoiding the areas where his flesh was still red and inflamed. "I can grab it. It's in my bag."

"Will you rub it on for me?"

"Now that's gross. No."

"Steph-"

"Only if you ask nicely."

"Ha." He even snorted. "No way. I'd rather die of infection than do that."

Still, his wife tumbled right back out of bed to go get the aloe vera.

"It'll hurt worse in the morning," she warned as, gently, she ran the gel over the burns. "Just so you know."

"It was really cool at first," he told her with a bit of a grimace. "Like, damn, that shit's sticking to me. But you get all this stuff running through your mind you hardly pay attention. It wasn't until the match was over that it really stung. Too much adrenaline, I guess."

As she moved on to the ones that speckled his arm, she only replied, "Maybe if you weren't such an egomaniac and had a more relaxed entrance, it wouldn't have happened."

"Relaxed? Just wait until you hear what I have planned for next year."

"I'll wait until next year to hear it, thanks."

"Maybe less dry ice though," he sighed, staring down at her then. "Although, this is nice."

Feeling his eyes, she did look up then with a grin. And, leaning up to press a kiss against his fuzzy cheek, she only muttered, "We've had better."

Yeah.

They definitely had.

Still, he only bowed his head so he could nuzzle it against hers. "Nah, babe. You caring for me when I'm all laid up? That's my favorite thing. Always."

"I would say mine too, but apparently you only do that when-"

"Name a happier time than after you first give birth. Huh? You can't."

"I don't think you waiting on me-"

"Hand and foot."

"-is what made it a happy time."

"Didn't hurt."

"I doubt you even could, you know." She was whispering then, as she looked back down at his burns and, finished with the rubbing, she just rested a hand on his chest once more. "If the roles were reversed."

"Give birth? No, gross. Now that's a nightmare."

"Take care of me," she clarified. "If I was the wrestler and you were the..."

"Annoying wife? Clinger? Bitchy boss?"

"Successful business woman."

"Nepotism to the core, but go on."

"Do you know how many times I've nursed you, and your shitty attitudes, back to health?" She looked him in the eyes once more. "Could you do that?"

"With another woman, maybe," he remarked. "A more normal one. But with you? Definitely not."

"You're so funny."

"You blow a quad, babe, you blow your chance at this great marriage I'm allowing you to have with me. You get me?"

"You're about to get it, but sure."

They were shifting then, slightly away from one another, but she still laid facing him and his head lulled to the side so that they could stare at one another.

"I'd take care of you, Stephie," he assured her with a nod of his head. "Just...not as well as you'd take care of me. That's one of your things. I'm too much of a hard ass, probably, to nurse anything back to health."

"You sit up with the girls when they're sick."

"That's different," he asserted as he shifted to stare up at the ceiling. "They need me. They're of me. A narcissism thing, you know?"

"No." She even shook her head before leaning over to give him another short kiss. "It's not."

One of her hands came up then, to rub at his fuzzy head and she sighed, like she did sometimes, because it was hard to not miss the feeling of his hair really beneath her fingers.

"Are you gonna tell me about how great my match was? About how I stole the show? Now? AS I drift off?'

Her sigh was a bit happier then as he grinned, truly, at her. Hers though was the last thing he saw, as he shut his eyes, her voice much clearer now, in the complete darkness.

"Would it be the night after Wrestlemania without it?" she questioned.

No, he had to agree. It wouldn't be.

Just something short today. Are you guys tired of 'mania shit yet? This takes place follow his 'injury' during his entrance to Wrestlemania 29. Of course, he also had his other 'injury', assuming it wasn't just for the show, that had to do with his arm, but just didn't feel like adding that in (more like forgot/didn't know, maybe, kind of). Dunno what's next, but I'mma try and get more serious about getting some of the requests done. Scouts honor.