Kind of Perfect

by Fallen Ark Angel

Nothing's ever perfect. Except for the new house Steph and Paul moved into. Or at least she hopes to make it that way. - One-shot.

They had a lot of stuff. To move in. But just in general also.

They had even more stuff to buy though. At the moment, their gym was empty, all the guest bedrooms were going to need a 'theme' according to Steph, she wanted a new dining room table, and oh, wow, Paul could hardly believe he listened that far beyond gym.

At the moment, he was seated on their new sectional couch, which had arrived that day, listened to her filter in and out of the room, going around, fretting over stuff. Paul, after spending a day with movers and his in-laws, saw the setting sun and others leaving as his cue to tag out. He was the man, he took care of the moving things from A to B. Steph was the woman, she took care of what happened once they made it to B.

Duh.

"Paul, are you listening? Come here and help me unpack this kitchen stuff."

Except, you know, yeah, Paul was without a doubt the man, but he was also certainly and hopelessly in love with his wife (and his life, which would be ruined, should he have voiced such thoughts to the woman), which meant doing her bidding.

Even when it wasn't his bidding.

"Why the kitchen?" he griped as he shoved up to go find her. "Steph? Who even uses the kitchen?"

"Um, we do, for one, but-"

"So long as my blender is here and we got the fridge hooked up-"

"If you're so against doing the kitchen-"

"I hate it."

"-then go unpack another room." Stephanie flicked a packing peanut at him after pulling a stack of their plates out of one of the boxes resting on the counter. "Instead of just laying around on the couch."

"I was on a break."

"Break's over."

"No kidding."

"Paul-"

"If I have to unpack things-"

"Do you mean in general? Like you thought I was doing the whole house on my own or something?"

"-then I wanna do it with you."

"You want to put all the work off on me, you mean."

"No." He came over to the counter as well, to lift a stack of plates out also. "I just know if I go off and fix up one room, you'll only come back and critique and make me move stuff around again and that'll just piss me off. Why go through that?"

"When you can hang around in here and just piss me off instead?"

"Exact-"

"Be careful with those," she cut him off suddenly which, actually, was what startled him into almost dropping the next set of dishes he pulled out of a box. When he frowned over at her, Stephanie only added, "My grandmother gave us those!"

"She gave us plates?"

"They're expensive."

Making a face, he carefully sat them down on the counter. "Why do we need so many plates anyways? If it's just the two of us?"

"Shut up, Paul."

"See, you've done that all day when I question your insanity and I was being nice about it before, when your brother and father were around, but I'm about to snap."

"And do what?"

"Keep pushin', baby." He left the counter for the box of silverware resting on the kitchen table, patting the top of it. "Find out."

"What are you threatening? To spoon me to death?"

"There's knives in here, aren't there?"

"Not the good ones."

"Maybe I don't wanna waste a good one on you. Maybe I want to break the tip of it off in your body. Let you lay there and suffer. Keep you locked up in the basement and let the wound fester. Get infected. Get-"

"I'm so glad that this," she said as, with a roll of her eyes, she went back to unpacking boxes, "is what we're spending our first night in the new house talking about."

"First and last. Well, for you."

"Sometimes I think you have these deep, secret fantasies about actually harming me."

"Secret? I'm spelling it out for you." Grabbing the scissors from their spot on the table, he slit the tape over the silverware box open. "Can't be more clear."

"I hope you know I bugged the house as we were building this."

"You got all this on tape?"

"Every bit."

"Then maybe," she heard from behind her though she hardly tensed, having heard his approach, "I should just stop using words."

"That better be a spoon that's poking me in the back."

"As turned on by this conversation I am, it won't be for long."

"All on tape."

"Alright, Nixon, calm the fuck down. I haven't consented to being taped for shit."

"Right, because I consented to you trying to murder me."

"When I manipulate the tape to make that sound more organic, yeah, you would have."

"Who said I consent to being taped?"

"Who says I care?"

"Mmmm." Once her hands were free, Stephanie finally gave him a sharp elbow in the gut to get the man to fall back away from her some. "When I envisioned my husband and I spending the first night in the first home we built together, I never once thought that we'd spend even a second talking about him murdering me."

"Yeah, but was your imaginary first husband as funny as I am? Didn't think so."

"First?"

She felt another poke in the back from the spoon. "And last."

They spent an hour or so in the kitchen before Paul declared his hunger and Steph her distaste for the pizza they'd bought for the movers and the others that had come to help them move.

"How come I gotta go alone?"

"Because you're basically no help here anyways-"

"I put those spoons and forks away perfectly. And could reach up higher on the cabinet shelves than you could. So-"

"I want something light. Not heavy."

"Just tell me what you want."

"I just did."

"What do you want me to do with that information?"

"Paul, I'm so hungry."

"You suck," he grumbled, snagging his keys from where he'd sat them, up on the mantle in the living room, before heading out. "Hope nothing gets you in this big, empty house all alone."

"Why would you even say that?"

Because she wasn't going with him and, as he said before, that made her suck.

After Paul was gone though, Steph abandoned the kitchen, planning to go and unpack some of their clothes or something useful like that, upstairs in their bedroom. But at the last minute she had a different urge and, turning around, she instead headed down to the basement, where, in only a few weeks, Paul would have the gym he always dreamed of and Steph was sure, even when he was home, she'd still be without her husband.

It was dark though, down there then, and felt cold even after she flicked the lights on.

Right by the door she'd come in was a tiny control panel for the in-wall sound system in the gym that Steph thought was way too much hassle and money for what it was worth, but something Vince was very intrigued by and got Paul all pumped about as well. Steph wanted just a nice stereo down there, but she was outvoted.

Music made the area less creepy, but honestly, the lights were the main problem.

Across one wall was a row of mirrors, to give the room even more of a grand appearance, and having her reflection follower her around was not suiting Steph well.

So she turned out the light.

That's how Paul found her, when he got back home with their takeout. After calling her name and getting no response, he instead followed the music, all the way downstairs and to the darkened basement.

"Stephanie?"

"Don't turn on the light!"

"What are you doing?"

At the moment, she was actually stretched out on the tile floor, nearly falling asleep. "Waiting for you."

"In the dark?"

"Mmmhmm."

"I don't step on you."

"You won't."

And he was walking then, in the dark, towards where he could hear her voice coming from and somewhat see as he eyes adjusted to the lack of light the outline of his wife.

"You could warn a guy," he complained when, once he was close enough, Steph whipped out her Blackberry, the screen seeming far too bright for both their eyes in that moment. "Stephie."

"What'd you bring?"

As he held out the takeout bags to her, he countered, "What are you doing down here?"

"I dunno." Glancing around, she shrugged a bit as she said, "It'll just, you know, never look like this again. I wanted to spend some time down here with it like this. It's so...empty."

"That's what happens when there's nothing in somewhere, Steph."

"Shut up." She made a face at him in the dim lighting. "Go get us something to drink."

"You wanna eat down here?"

"Mmmhmm."

"On the floor?"

"Yep."

"We can't eat in the dark."

"You can if you try hard enough."

For a moment, he stared at her and she stared straight back him, only the sound of music to be heard.

Paul broke first.

But for a very good reason.

"Steph, did that thing just restart the same song?"

She nodded a bit. "Yeah, I couldn't figure out how to work it, so it's just been playing over and over again. I think it's stuck on repeat. Or I broke it."

He grinned too, just slightly, as he leaned over to press his lips against her forehead. Against it, he muttered, "You just need me, don't you, Stephie? Can't leave for ten minutes."

"You were gone for, like, nearly an hour, so-"

"Getting you food. You could have come with me."

"And missed out on learning every single word to this song?"

"What is this song?"

"I think it's the demo one, just loaded on there."

"How did you live alone for so long?" he grumbled as he got to his feet. "You're terrible at it."

"Okay, you can just get it to play something else and not pick on me so much. And get my drink." Steph was focused on the food then, setting her phone to the side. "Please."

"You sure are brave," he remarked as he headed towards the door. "Sitting down in the dark while sending me back upstairs to, you know, find the good knives. And look; you're already in the basement."

"Why is it the joke is always you killing me? Exactly?" She made faces at his back. "How about one about me killing you?"

"Ha ha ha," he said rather than emoting. "That would be a funny joke."

"I could."

"Could not."

"Definitely could."

"No way."

"I could kill you way easier than you could ever kill me."

"Man, who knew my wife was such a comedian?"

"Either that or I would pay someone to do it."

The music stopped then, as Paul was over at the panel then. Still, he paused for a moment. "That's not funny."

"But you threatening me is?"

"I could never actually hurt you though."

"But you think I could find someone to kill you?"

"I don't know." He glanced over his shoulder. "You're rich as fuck."

"I wouldn't even know where to go for that anyways," she mused. "I- Where are you going?"

"To get the fuck away from you."

"Paul-"

"I'm getting drinks."

"You didn't put on anymore music."

"I don't trust you. I need to hear you moving around down here."

"Just admit that you don't know how to work it either."

Never.

Dinner was different though. Steph talked about how excited it was to finally have the house all built and complete and that they were there, moving in. She wanted to know if he was feeling the same and if he knew when his parents could come out and see the place. His sister. The rest of his family.

Needless to say, she dominated most of the conversation with minimal input needed from him. Paul always liked that about Stephanie. She liked listening to him talk, but at the same time was very good at reading the moments and knowing when he just wasn't up for it.

And at that moment, all he wanted to do was relax and not worry about much.

"Are you gonna eat that?"

"I thought you were eating light?"

"I did. But now I want what you're eating."

Paul gave in easy with that, but it was more because he wanted his turn to stretch out on the floor and just soak it all in. It felt like forever since they first bought their plot of land and started construction on their house. And even though everything wasn't finished just yet, he already felt at home.

Letting her phone go dark once she finished eating, Stephanie moved to rest beside him on the ground.

"I bought my other house. My nice one." Paul let out a soft sigh. "In New Hampshire."

"Me too." Stephanie reached a hand out to pat at his chest, tracing the design of his shirt all the way down to his abs. "It was the first one I bought."

"Same."

"When I was younger, I always thought I'd, like, live somewhere really trendy, you know? And live in an apartment or condo and just never be there. Like in New York or something."

"I always wanted a huge house."

"Like this?"

Shaking his head, he said, "Bigger. Massive. Like, I mean, this is bigger than I ever really thought I could afford, but in my mind? Like, I imagined something with, probably, twenty bedrooms and massive living rooms and- Well, really, I wanted really cool game rooms with pool tables and pinball machines."

"Pinball?"

"Don't knock it. Great game."

"You spend all your lunch money on it?"

"Every quarter."

"You're so weird."

"I'm happy." He shifted then, so that he was on his side, staring down at her in the darkness. "I'm very happy. This is… I'm home." Snickering a bit, he added, "This the house that I'mma raise my kids in and live with you for the rest of ever and just… I dunno. I just love you, Stephie."

Giggling, she whispered, "I love you too."

And he grinned and she grinned and it was just gonna happen. It was time. Christening the house in and all that.

"Mmmm, stop. No."

Until it wasn't.

"What?" His forehead was against hers then, as he leaned over the woman. "We're gonna fuck down here eventually. We're gonna fuck everywhere. I've made a list."

"You have not."

"I will. If you want me to."

"Right now I wanna go upstairs."

"What? No," he whined, lowering his head again, though she only responded by turning her own. "Stephie-"

"We have to."

"But we're already down here and-"

"We're gonna go up to our bed, for the first time, in this house, and that's just how it's gonna be."

Paul's best pouty face did not work without any light for Steph to truly see it by, so he did get stuck, rushing up the stairs with Stephanie. He tried to get her to stop along the way, to pull her into the kitchen or the living room or really anywhere, but she was headed nowhere, but their new master bedroom.

"Who put back together the bedframe? And the mattress and stuff?"

"Same person who's about to break it." There weren't even any sheets on the bed yet, but Paul didn't care. He just shoved Steph down on it when they got close enough. "Me."

"That would be cute if I wasn't certain at least one other person probably helped you and it was probably my brother and that's kinda gross."

"I mean, only if you think of it that way."

"Only."

Paul went over to one of the boxes where he could see a blanket poking through and tossed it at Stephanie.

"'cause I ain't getting back up," he grumbled as she only tossed out the blanket so that she could burrow under it. "After. I'm passing out."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"You're going to get up and we're going to put sheets on the bed and then go downstairs to unload some more boxes and-"

"Nope." He flicked the light out before tugging his shirt over his head. "I'm gonna fuck your brains out-"

"That sounds gross."

"-and then I'mma sleep."

"You'll get sweat all over the mattress."

He wagged his eyebrows in what he thought was suggestive, but in the dark was rather futile either way.

"Yeah," he snickered while coming over to her. "I plan on it."

""Sleep sweat is different," she complained. "And it'll be bad enough you'll get your...spunk all over it."

"My what?' And Paul couldn't help it. That got a laugh out of him. "Steph?"

"What?"

"No, say it again."

"Spunk."

"You're my favorite person in the world."

"I'm being serious."

"Mmmmm." His shorts went next. "So am I."

And he was. He did pass out afterwards. But not before Steph made him help her tug a sheet over the bed.

Sacrifices for love.

But after that Paul did fall asleep rather easily. Stephanie, however, found it far more distant.

"Mmmm," her husband groaned about the fifth time she came back to bed after leaving it for hardly any time at all. "Stephie-"

"I can't sleep."

"I can tell."

"I just keep thinking about, you know, everything."

"Mmmm." Paul, actually, was starting to fall back sleep then. "Yeah. Everything."

"Like, you're leaving tomorrow for that house show and I'm gonna be here, trying to sort through all of this and it's just gonna take forever, you know? Even with help. Then I'm also super excited and you know I can hardly ever sleep when I'm excited, which is why I didn't sleep yesterday either and I think now I'm overly tired, because honestly, I seriously am super tired, but- Paul, did you fall back asleep?"

Completely by that point.

Letting out a deep sigh, Stephanie turned her back to him, though she only snuggled that right up against his side as well.

"I just want," she breathed softly, in the stillness of the night, "to make everything look nice and perfect. For you."

And it was true.

If Paul always just wanted a nice house, just in general, to have and as proof of his ability to provide (or whatever stupid reason he thought he would ever need twenty rooms; for pinball machines, was it?), then Stephanie had always wanted the same. But instead of the structure being her main concern as it was his, it was the inside that mattered to Steph. Having nice furniture and fixtures. The place smelling like the inside of a candle store. Just somewhere that her husband could come back to and be pleased with. Be pleased with her.

It was stupid, of course, and childish (perhaps not as much as the very scary fact that they were certainly going to have at least one pinball machine somewhere in their house…), but something deep rooted in Steph. For certain it went against every strong voice of feminism that periodically screamed in her internally, but never enough to actually combat the overwhelming atmosphere of anything but at her current place of work, of which her father certainly owned and her brother no doubt intended to continue running the same.

And yes, when Steph let it slip to Vince the other day that she was excited that they'd built their own house, together, and now were going to live in it, giving her the chance to start from scratch in her efforts to impress Paul with her homemaking skills (said in a much more concise way, of course), he did laugh at her.

Quite viciously, she felt.

Then Vince added, "Like he'll care about what the house looks like with that great sound system in the gym! If it works out for the two of you, I might even put it in my gym!"

"Do you even like music?" Shane complained, more than once, when their father made this desire known. "Vince? I think I can list one time I heard you listening to music. In my entire life. And do you even use your gym?"

"i just," was Steph's response to Vince (not Shane, at any point when he made this gripe, ever the one to stay out of what was becoming even more increased bickering between the two; not to mention should could give a shit what Vince wasted his money on), "want to make Paul happy."

And Vince made a bit of a face at that before saying, "I don't know why you came to me for this, but I will say-"

"With the house, Dad. Gosh, be more gross."

"You don't even know what I was going to say!"

Yes, she did.

Still, even after the ribbing that she got from her father over the entire thing, Stephanie was undeterred. She wanted the house to look nice and homey and just…

She wanted it to be theirs.

And for Paul to see it as her doing that it was.

Laying there in bed then though, with all the stuff finally moved out of their old house and into the new, bigger one, Stephanie was beginning to realize what a daunting task this was going to be. It didn't make her fearful, however, and rather just antsy. And nervous. Anxious. She wanted to do everything, right then, except of course sleep because that would negate the ability to do any of the other things.

She wanted to get the kitchen neither used (except for Paul's blender, according to him) to look look like it was out of a magazine, with all the utilizes hanging in their place and those nice plates on display in the cabinet that still wasn't in just the right position. She wanted the living room to looked nice and cozy and for Paul's TV that he never used, save times when he was injured, and even then only to watch old cowboy movies (which would annoyingly lead to him calling her his 'little lady' for hours, even though she'd yet to actually hear said dialogue in any film at all) all hooked up and looking nice in its cabinet. She wanted to have nice towels hanging in each bathroom, some pictures up on the walls, and, and, and, just…

Steph just wanted everything to be as perfect as it was beginning to feel.

But it felt anything but during the next two days while she was stuck up at the office and Paul got to go off, to do some house shows, leaving her to try and get as much done as possible, after work. Except...after work wasn't a real concept to her family and she was always dead tired when the opportunity arose and just…

For all the excitement that she'd had that first night, it would die the second she finally arrived home from the office, to an empty house, where it was very easy to just fall on the couch and pass out for a few hours, only getting up to eat and then do the same in her bed.

When Paul arrived back home on Sunday, it was unfortunately not as put together as she'd planned.

"Mmmm," her husband moaned deeply as Stephanie met him at the door, both embracing with a grin. "Missed you."

Nuzzling her head into his chest, she said, "Missed you more."

"Did you?"

"Definitely."

Paul had his head bowed before, to press a kiss into her hair, but raised it then to look around. Kicking the door shut behind him, he took shuffling steps forward then, forcing Steph to go backwards.

Peeking into the closest room, which happened to be the living room, he grinned brightly.

"Get a lot done, Steph?"

That got her head to come up. Tilting it back to stare up at him, she made a face.

"I tried, okay? I-"

"It looks great!"

That one made Steph glance in as well.

"The only thing I did was get the TV guy to come and get your television all set up. There's boxes everywhere and-"

"Looks fine to me." Then he frowned as, in the distance, it sounded like he was hearing someone else, off in the distance. "Who's here?"

"My mother's somewhere. And invited one of my friends over to help us out." Paul's hands had shifted to Steph's hips, but her arms were still wrapped around his middle and, tightening her hold, she took a deep breath. "Did you want me to get rid of them or-"

Her insinuation made him snicker, but the man only said, "I'm tired, baby."

Finally releasing the man, she only patted at his chest before taking a step back. "Then you can go upstairs and nap. We'll just be down here. I was trying to get my office together."

"What does that involve?"

"W-Well, that new desk that I got for in there isn't as easy to put together as it might sound and we're trying to-"

"I'll go and-"

"No!" His chest got hit again and that time made him frown. "I'm doing it. Or, well, I'm getting help doing it, but not from you."

"If I just went in there and did it-"

"I want to though."

"Why?"

Steph shrugged a bit under his gaze, looking off. "I dunno. I just… I really want to. To do it all."

"All?"

"Get the house nice and things. For us."

For a moment they only stood there. Then, with a grin, Paul declared, "Great," before leaning down to kiss her cheek. "So what you're saying is that you want to do everything and I have to do nothing?"

"i mean, even if I was, I don't see how that would be different from how things typically go-"

"You're so perfect." She got one more kiss before he leaned down to pick up his duffle bag once more. "Welp, I'mma go pop in, say hi to your mom, and then sleep. Because that's what you want from me, right?"

"Uh-huh."

"Too perfect."

This didn't hold true, of course, as eventually Steph did conceded to needing Paul's help with the desk (as well as a few other things; he was right, he could just reach higher places than her, there was no fighting it) once it was only the two of them in the house once more. And though he was yawning, he sat down in her office and fussed with her a bit over it, in that grouchy way they could get sometimes when both hadn't had enough (for their standard) sleep. That all washed away though the second he had the desk sitting up right and all put together.

"Wanna test it out?"

"Yeah, I have my desktop that you can help hook up- Paul."

He wasn't lifting his wife up for long for just as quickly as he'd picked her up, he was sitting her back down. Atop the desk, of course.

"There ya go," he said with a bit of a smirk. "Seems to be holding up just fine."

"Um, and if it wasn't and I'd fallen?"

"You should go through a table once in your life, Stephie." Standing before her, he reached over to knock on the wood by her thigh. "It's only right."

"I've been through my far share without it, thanks."

Making fists, Paul placed his knuckles on either side of his wife, pressing down hard. As she instinctively winced, he only grinned.

"Great," he congratulated himself. "Holds up perfectly."

"I'm glad you were so concerned."

"Well, I don't want that fancy desktop getting damaged when I sling it up there, now do I?"

Steph made a face as she asked, "Are you gonna kiss me already? Or am I gonna have to sit up here for the rest of ever?"

"You're so demanding."

"it's literally my main characteristic."

"Nah."

"No?"

Shaking his head a bit, Paul then leaned it forwards so that his forehead rested heavily against hers. With a soft breath, the man said, "No."

Blue eyes alight as they stared up into his eyes, she asked, 'Then what is?"

"Probably," he muttered softly as his lips came down to hover over hers, "how much you care."

"Jokes on you."

"Hmmm?"

"I care about nothing."

"You care about me." One of his hands came up to brush her cheek. "Don't you, Stephie? You care about making the house all nice for me?"

Skewing her eyes that time, she said, "I hate when you two talk about me behind my back."

"What are you talking about?"

"You and Vince. You both always-"

"Steph, you're the one that told me you wanted that."

"When?"

"In bed the other night. When I was trying to sleep."

She blinked. Then bowed her head. "O-Oh."

"Uh-huh."

"I thought-"

"I was sleeping. Yeah, said that. And I want you to hear how much that means to me. How much you mean to me. And how I want everything to be just as perfect, just for you. For you and me." His hand moved from her cheek to her chin then, tapping it gently to get her to lift her head once more. Once she did, he moved to press a peck to her lips. Then, "You talk to your daddy about me?"

"Shut up."

"If you're not careful," he warned, hand fall at the same time hers were raising so that they could interlace their fingers, both feeling the others wedding band when they did so, "he'll start to think we're a bit serious about one another."

"Just a bit?"

He smiled truly that time and Steph, never far from one, matched his.

"Just," he agreed, eyes liked with hers, "a bit."

---

This was a request for their first night in a new house, so here it is. I got a couple more requests, which have been added to the list, but someone mentioned Steph going to Brazil or something and a kid getting sick- Are you quoting an interview? Or just an idea? If it's an interview, can you point me in the direction of it, 'cause I can't find it.