"Are you alright now?"
"The hell kind of question is that, Hunter?" Stephanie made a face up at her husband as she laid there, stretched out on the hotel room bed with multiple homemade ice packs placed on specific parts of her body. There was one resting on her left knee, one she was holding to her right hip, one resting on each shoulder, and the new one he'd just handed her, for her head. "Dumb ass."
In any other situation, it would be kind of comical honestly, seeing his wife laid up in such a way. Literally any other. But their current one? Not so much.
"Don't snap at me, Stephanie," he grumbled as he glared down at her. "This your fault."
"My fault?"
"You heard me."
"You put me through a fucking table, Hunter."
"You put yourself through one. And then lost me the damn match. Just like you lost me my match last year! And then what? Huh?" Blowing air heavily through his nose, Hunter turned from her, walking across the hotel room over to where his phone sat. "I'm a fucking joke because of you."
His back was to her, but he heard the soft intake of breath, as if in offense, from his wife, before just as viciously as his tone, she replied, "You're a fucking joke because you're old and can't wrestle to save your life anymore. But you always have to stick your nose in things, don't you?"
"Go to hell, Steph."
"I had something good going with Seth. You know that? He was going to be the champion and-"
"Fucking hell, Stephanie. That was months ago. And you were tired of his moronic shit too, so don't even-"
"At least he could hold a title," she accused. "Unlike Owens. Where's he gotten us? Huh? A belt on fucking Goldberg. So great. And now Brock's back. Good job, Hunter. You're so good at-"
"If don't shut the fuck up-"
"You'll what? You already put me through a table, made me look like an idiot on my own show, and for what? So you could look cool on your little motorcycle? Why don't you just go out and have an affair next time you're feeling old? Instead of messing with my comp-"
"You're company?" He'd been over at the desk in the room, where his phone sat, but looked over his shoulder, finally, at her still resting in that bed, toying with her ice packs while they were arguing. "Last time I checked, babe, I'm the one-"
"That ruins everything for me? Constantly?"
"Do you live in another reality or something?"
"Do you?"
"I had that match, Stephanie! If I hadn't had brought you out there- Fuck, I'd probably still have the title from last Mania if it weren't for you. Instead of wasting my time with Rollins, I'dda had a real match. Something that mattered." Shaking his head at her, he said, "And what would you have without me?"
She stared right at him too with those cool eyes of hers that he usually found so attractive. "I'd have probably married a real man that could actually protect his damn wife, not blame her for his inadequacies."
"You know what you'd really have without me, Stephie?" His eyes were just as dead. "Nothing. Because your little daddy would have snatched this company up from you by now, if it weren't for me. You get that, right? The only reason you were allowed to be the commissioner is because Vince felt like I would keep you in line. He-"
"Without me," she cut him off, which was infuriating in its own right, "you wouldn't even be a part of the company anymore. Are you that stupid that you've forgotten who saves you, every single time you piss Daddy off? Maybe I won't this time. 'cause you're gonna get it, Hunter. You get that, right? You embarrassed me and, by proxy, Vince too. You think he'll like that? If you're a joke, Hunter, it's just because you've told it for too long and not realized we all stopped laughing years ago. You-"
"Shut," he grumbled finally, "up, Stephanie."
"Why?" She was never good at commands anyways. "Because the truth hurts?"
"Because I'm tired of your damn shrill voice. I can either shut you up or you can do it yourself."
For a moment, she was silent. Then, with a visible swallow, she said, "Come over here and do it then."
His eyes were locked with hers as he stalked over to the bed, only stopping beside her. But when he reached out, it wasn't for her throat. Rather, it was for the water bottle that sat on the nightstand beside the bed.
"Take," he grumbled as he unscrewed the cap before picking up in his free hand the two pills he'd sat on the nightstand as well, before he'd made her those ice packs, "these pills, Steph. And then go to sleep. You're gonna feel like shit in the morning."
She wanted to tell him she felt like shit then. That he was shit. That he'd fucked up everything, like he always did, and now she was the one hurt, they looked like idiots on the grandest stage of the year on a show they both controlled, and that stupid snake Seth Rollins looked stronger than him.
That was what hurt her the most.
Well, duh, the falling through the table thing hurt her a hell of a lot, physically, but it bothered her mentally. More than bickering with Hunter or the tongue thrashing her father would give her, when she finally got around to answering his calls (she felt like...in a week would be a good time). Her husband was the strongest, most skilled, and by far the most experienced wrestler that she new. For him to be shown up by...a tiny, unqualified, injured loser that she and Hunter had basically carried along to every other victory he'd ever had was…
It seemed unbelievable, but not everything she'd said in anger was untrue. Perhaps she would never phrase it that way to her husband, sans the argument, but…
Maybe it was time for Hunter to truly hang it up.
Lest he ruin his reputation further.
Not to mention her perception of him…
Instead of voice any of this, Stephanie stayed silent, accepting the pills and the water from the man, the actions done in an icy silence while he stood by, being sure that she swallowed the pain pills. Once she had, he took the water bottle back, set it down, and then turned once more, headed out of the bedroom of what was supposed to be their celebratory suite for the night, off to the bathroom. Anything to get away from her.
Away from all of it.
Following his match Hunter had dressed in some slacks and a hoodie, which he had on at the moment, and got to stare at in the mirror as he glared at it. Distantly, he could hear Steph shifting on the bed, which was highlighted by the sound of ice shifting around as well.
She was uncomfortable. So was he. She was sore. So was she. She was disappointed in him. So was he.
It was embarrassing. The entire thing. Hunter felt like a failure (he was) and like he'd let down his wife (he had). Most importantly though, he felt old as hell.
And wasn't he?
If was too weak to even beat an uncleared opponent, at his full strength, then what good was he?
None at all.
Back in bed, Stephanie thought that it would be impossible to follow his order. To go to sleep. How could she with all that stupid ice that he claimed would make her bruises feel better (it didn't)? She wanted to cry honestly. Everything had gone wrong, she felt icky and sore, and worst of all, now she and Hunter were fighting.
Not to mention her plans for their night were dashed. They were going to top off Mania weekend, celebrating his victory together, alone, in the hotel room. She'd shower him with praises while getting plastered and he'd volley his own back at her while remaining sober and they'd get their full use out of being there, in that hotel room, away from their kids and other life and they'd just be together, celebrating him. His victory. His prowess in every aspect of life, but overall wrestling.
And there was no greater faction of their relationship than when Stephanie got to fawn over him.
None.
Mainly because her worship of him was twisted in her own mind as one of herself. When Stephanie claimed Hunter to be the best at everything, that was a backhanded comment towards the fact that who was married to this supposed industry juggernaut? She was. When he had a belt wrapped around his waist and was the face of their company, it wasn't just a reflection on him; it was a reflection on them. Because who made sure he had this title shot? Had perfectly scheduled matches? Stood beside him on the stage, down the ramp, on the apron, in the ring?
That's right. She did. Stephanie did. And when people talked about how powerful and masterful Triple H was, her name was rarely left out of their mouths.
Now, this wasn't to say that their relationship was nothing more than a trophy in her collection of accomplishments. Because while it certainly was, it wasn't just this. It was more. Far more. For him and her both. She knew this. Without a doubt. They completed one another in ways that others couldn't imagine.
If they lost everything the very next day, if Vince and Shane ousted them from the company and they had to find their way in another place, in another trade even they'd do it. Together. They'd kick and scream and fight to overthrow first, of course, but if that all fell through and they were flat on their asses, she and Hunter would figure something out.
Even if it was just living off their already accumulated wealth, that would be fine.
And if in some sort of horrific twist of fate occurred and anywhere from a smidgen to the entire shebang of their fortune was ripped away from them, yeah, things would be different (extremely), but still, together they would figure it out.
Always.
Together.
Because that's where they belonged.
Even though they were fighting at the moment, Stephanie knew as she laid there miserably in bed, there was no one else that she'd rather see her in such a state, with baggies of ice littering her bruised body, in the absolutely ugliest (yet most comfortable) panties and undershirt she owned, and that all she had to do was call for him and he'd be back in there, to give her more pills, more water, or more ice.
And, yeah, to argue more, but whatever.
There was so much more to their relationship than just the stuff that hovered on the surface. The always would be.
Yet...the surface was still there. And Hunter, while so important to her in many ways, was also someone that she could bolster her own image. She knew that he too would do the same. She could be the love of his life, mother of his children, and soul mate while also being his path to prestige and flashy woman at his side.
They saw the world in the same way, Triple H and Stephanie did. They saw people in the same way. They were the same. Everything had the ability to be used to your advantage and, in the world they lived, it would be moronic not to put these things to good use.
That didn't mean that they didn't love one another. That their love was shallow. That they weren't committed beyond belief to one another.
Because they were.
They just also knew how to use this eternal love in ways that others would flounder.
It's what made her the Queen of WWE and him the King of Kings. The business was cutthroat and only the strongest survived.
And being married to the top man in such a company only catapulted her to an even higher standing (compounded, of course, with her paternity).
Now though...the way he was going…
To lose at Mania twice...and now to a man the medical staff wouldn't even clear to fight, he was so injured…
Was...Hunter losing it?
Or...was she getting in his way?
It was with thoughts of these that the pain pills eventually lulled Stephanie off to sleep, regardless of the mental turmoil or the very uncomfortable ice. The sleep was deep too, so much so that when she awoke, momentarily, she was confused as to where she was.
The second she tried to move though and her body reminded her just how sore she was, Steph remembered.
She remembered everything.
"Hey," she heard from beside her as the bed shifted, following her sharp intake of breath. "Are you okay? Baby, I'm sorry. That ice was melting and you were sleeping, so I just took all the baggies off ya. You want me to get you some more ice? Or some more pain pills?"
Hunter was in her face then, staring down at her in the darkness with concern. Stephanie only shoved at his head though with a groan.
"Baby..."
"What, Stephie?"
It was late, latter than it had been before, she was sore, sorer than she had been earlier, and…
"What are we going to do, Hunter?"
He reached for her then, pulling the woman into his arms, she wincing at the pain this caused, but cuddling against him regardless.
"Why do we always lose?"
"We don't always lose, Steph."
"We do where it matters. How is that fair? Rollins would be nothing without us. Without you. And we stopped enabling him to keep using us and we're the ones in the wrong? And he didn't beat you. If I wasn't out there… I'm sorry, Hunter."
Bowing his head, the man pressed a kiss to the top of hers before whispering, "You didn't do anything, Stephanie. I was just blowing off steam before. I-"
"No, I was," she insisted, tilting her head back so that she could stare up at him. "You're not old. Or too old, I guess, to be out there. You just don't need me out there as a distraction."
"You're not a distraction." That time when he lowered his head, it was to nuzzle against her neck. "You're motivation."
"It's my fault you lost."
"No, baby, it's not."
"Then is it yours?"
He paused, Hunter did, thinking for a moment. Then, pressing a kiss to her shoulder blade, he lifted his head so that they could stare at one another. "Of course not."
"Well, I mean, I know but if it's not mine, then-"
"It's the whole fucking system."
"What?"
"You're focused on the wrong thing, baby." And he was gently pushing her down then, to rest on her back once more. Curling up around her, his head was pressed against her side as he said, "It's all rotted."
"What is?"
Kissing the already forming purple markings that aligned his wife's ribs, he whispered, "Everything. The entire company. Do you think that shit would happen on my show? On NXT? No. Fucking no. There's fucking respect down there. People get it. The guys, the women; they understand what this all is. But up at RAW and Smackdown? Fuck, it's been screwed since I first showed up here. And it gets worse and worse with every passing generation. These little shits. When they're down with me? They understand how it works. Get poached up to the main roster and what happens? It all goes to hell."
"Baby, I don't understand."
"I'm tired of your father," he told her. "And I'm tired of your brother. They don't know what they're fucking doing. Shane never has and your father's senile as hell now. The ticking's getting closer together, baby. The bomb's gonna explode soon."
Stephanie winced when he nuzzled too hard against her side. With a grimace, she said, "What are you gonna do about it, Hunter? Daddy's not going anywhere. And Smackdown is… He likes what Shane's doing. It's just me that he..."
"Fuck Vince."
"Hunter-"
"What does he know anyways? What do any of 'em? No one knows this business like I know this business." His voice was hard and he was hurting her a bit now, as he was trying to be soothing, she was pretty sure, by running a hand across her side opposite of where his head was resting, but his touch wasn't anywhere close to being feather-like. Still, he knew better than to take credit for everything (even if he deserved it) and added, "Like we know it."
Reaching a hand down, Stephanie ran it across his fuzzy head. When he lifted it to stare at her, she said, "You're so right, baby."
"I know I am." Hunter dropped his head again, pushing up her undershirt to press some kisses to her stomach now. "One day, Steph, very soon, NXT's gonna be the third brand. And then the best brand. And then the only one. We'll redo everything. From the ground up. And anyone that doesn't agree can get canned. If you can't buy in, then go surf the indies long enough to realize how good you really have it. It's my fucking empire. Ain't it? Am I not the fucking king?"
Stephanie took breath then, a long one, just staring down at him. "How are you going to get rid of Shane and Daddy though?"
"Dunno that yet." He was shifting again, head moving further down her stomach. Between kisses, the man got out, "Soon though. Waiting out your pops ain't working well. And the way Shaen's going with Smackdown… Vince might just..."
"I'm doing the best I can. Foley-"
"I know you are. And I know you're better than Shane. You were screwed from the start." By a roster she handpicked, a manager she chose, and a brand she more than bragged about being able to handle. But whatever. "Have I ever let you down, Stephanie?" He didn't give her a chance to answer (considering what they'd spent the last night doing, it wouldn't have went well for him if she was honest). "No. We just need more time. This company is ours. It's just getting closer to us making that known."
Stephanie stroked his head again before saying, "That still doesn't help me though. Right now. We still looked stupid in front of Seth. Got shown up."
"It's not an immediate fix, fine, but it'll make sure nothing like this happens again."
"But for the immediate fix-"
"If you want me to go out right now," he whispered against the flesh right above her panties, "find that shit brains Rollins and bash his skull in, I'd do it. Or if you want me to have someone else to do it, I would. Just say the word and it's done."
Stephanie thought for a moment before whispering, "I'll figure it out. On my own. And I'll make him wish that he never even thought about- No, stop, Hunter."
He'd started to tug her underwear down, but only frowned at her command. Staring up at her, he mumbled, "What, baby?"
"Everything hurts. Literally the last thing I want is any of you anywhere close to me."
He should have realized this. It was, after all, her same rejection reasoning he was treated with the night after last Mania, when she took a spear for her troubles. Still, it never hurt to try. She did, after all, get him thoroughly hot with each entrance.
You would think it would only be fair for her to, at the very least, let him get off in some way.
But if you honestly thought that, then you didn't know his wife very well. If she wasn't happy then there was no way he was allowed to be.
Gently tugging her undershirt back down, he moved to rest on his side once more, pulling her into his arms once more.
"I'm inconsiderate, baby. I'm sorry." He pressed a kiss to her head as, with a groan, one of Stephanie's hands came up to stroke at his facial hair. "Talking about, you know, taking it all over with you… It still gets me hot."
"You've only been promising it to me since '99."
Nuzzling his head into her hand, he said, "So close, baby. We're so close now. Once it's ours, there'll be no worrying about anything. You see how I'm respected on my show? How I control things? No one can touch me. And when your king takes over the rest of these damn shows, you'll be the same. I promise."
More than enjoying the feeling of his beard tickling her hand, she replied, "I believe you. I've always believed you. Believed in you."
"I'm sorry, baby, for earlier. When we were… I didn't mean any of that."
And she didn't reply because it would only be a waste of time. They would argue again, maybe even in the morning, in equally as spiteful of ways. It didn't mean anything. It never did. All that meant anything at all was what they had in that moment and the ones like it. When they were alone, whether it be late at night or in one of their offices, making oaths to the other over what they would do for them. How they would protect them. That no one, but the two of them (and by proxy, their children), meant anything at all.
Everyone else was just a pawn and, fine, sometimes, when there were enough of them, they could back the King and Queen into a corner, but it didn't matter; they would always come out ahead. The game was rigged in their favor. Time just wasn't always on their side was all. It would come around eventually, but it could take away.
Instead, Stephanie only told him, "I don't think I'm going to make it to RAW tomorrow."
"Of course not, baby. Wouldn't expect you to."
"You can talk to Vince for me?"
That took a bit of a sigh because if Stephanie didn't wanna speak to the man, that went double for Hunter.
"Anything you want." It was more of a grimace than a grin, but still he said, "I did put you through a table, after all."
Steph returned the face in the darkness before her eyes drifted shut. "After all."
"Let Vince figure out what to do with stupid Rollins," Hunter grumbled as her hand fell from his face and moved to press it into her neck. "I've got bigger fish to fry now. Getting my baby her company away from her stupid brother."
"He's so stupid. I hate him."
"And your father-"
"I hate him too." Then she thought. "Or I'm starting to. Again."
Depending on the week, this was typically accurate.
So, through yawns, Hunter began to describe once more his ideas for rebellion and Stephanie drifted off to the sounds of it. Though the plot would change over the years, the conception was always the same. They ended up with all the glory and the rest of her family found themselves at her mercy.
It was her favorite story.
And one Hunter never got tired of envisioning.
While the night hadn't gone the way they planned (it so rarely did), it still found them both together, where they always desired to be above all other. Though not under the best of circumstances, neither had trouble finding sleep that night. In the morning, they'd have to deal with the mess they'd made. But that night, they could pretend it was so far past them that all they had to focus on was the distant future.
"I love you, baby," he sighed as he too found sleep, her soft breathing letting him know she'd long found hers. "And they'll pay for it. All of them. Don't worry about it. I'll make sure of it."