It's all about the GAME and how you play it!

I know it's probably not the best time for Triple H stories, with the current storyline and all, but I can't help it, I love him, no matter what he wears or how he acts.

I guess I'm supposed to say that I do NOT own Triple H's character, so I don't own any wrestling character.

Special thanks to DrunkOnJerichohol.

Rated M, for language and future sexual content.

- SLASH -

Chapter 12

The night after Summerslam, I hung out with my friends, like every Monday night. After a few rounds of poker, we all gathered in front of the TV. We watched, in anticipation, and waited for the green lights to hit the arena, but Triple H wasn't on that night. Instead, Shawn was on, talking about whether Triple H would retire or not. I didn't understand what they were all talking about. Why would he retire?

My mind trailed back to last night, to the way he hugged me in the dressing room. Maybe he was trying to tell me that this was the end for him, maybe my guy was done in the ring and all he was going to be now was corporate Triple H. I didn't want to believe it. I wanted to call him, I wanted to ask him what the hell was going on, but I was afraid. I was afraid that he was really done.

Half of my life I had watched him: every week, every match, every segment. I loved him and cheered for him always. When I was heartbroken with no hope, crying for the loss of everything I ever loved, he saved me. When the guilt of killing my wife and my unborn child ate me up inside, he was there for me. He brought me back to life and gave me the strength to stand up on my feet again.

So I waited, for a phone call, an email, a text message, something that would explain his absence from Raw. I waited, but it never came. I didn't know what happened and I just couldn't bring myself to call him. Maybe he was home recovering, maybe he was really hurt. I didn't know what to think, but the next week on Raw, he answered all my questions.

The Game's song played and he walked out to the ring with a cast on his left hand. My heart stopped. He went on and on about a crossroad he was at, and about how he wanted to say that he would come back and kick Lesnar's ass, but he didn't know whether he could. Then he said something that brought tears to my eyes; he said thank you to the WWE universe, for letting him play the game.

I guess that was it. Maybe he was retiring, maybe he was done.

Another week passed by, and still no word from him. I didn't want to admit it, but it hurt. I missed him, but it faded away with every day that I didn't hear from him. Anger took over, and I wasn't sure how I was supposed to act when I saw him again. Was I wrong to wait for a call or a text?

Uncertainty was beginning to build as the days went by. Maybe it was all in my head, maybe he changed his mind about the deal. When it came close to the second meeting, I checked with Robert and he said that nothing had changed: Thursday noon, as planned. But still, no word from Paul.

The night before the meeting, I was so nervous and depressed that I left work early. I went home, and after the walk with my dog, I took a shower and went outside to my porch. Jack and the pack were just waiting for me on the table. That's what I called the cigarettes and the bottle of whisky, the two things that helped me ease my pain a little.

The half bottle of whisky was my only escape. I never drank more than I should, I never got drunk when I was alone, but it always helped me fall asleep when my heart was drowning with memories. Tonight, he was the only one on my mind. I wanted to call him, I wanted to hear his husky voice, his laughter. I wanted to feel important again, but I couldn't. I wasn't sure if he would be glad to hear from me.

As I drifted off on the porch, my phone rang, but I didn't even bother to look at the caller ID. Hunter rushed to my side again, like every night, urging me to get up and go to bed. After a few moments, the phone rang again and I opened my eyes to look at the screen. 'Paul Levesque'. I blinked a few times, thinking my tired eyes and the whisky were playing a trick on me. The letters didn't change; it was him.

"Hello." I answered.

"Hey, kid, did I wake you?"

"Hey." I sat up.

"Is everything okay?" He sensed something was wrong.

"Yeah, great, how are you?" I tried to sound more enthusiastic.

"Not so great, actually. Are you busy?"

"What happened?"

"There was a mix-up with my hotel room, and I'm too tired to start looking for a hotel this time of night. Can I crash at your place tonight?"

"Sure. I'll text you the address."

"Are you sure it's alright?"

"Of course it is."

"Thanks, kid, I appreciate this."

"Don't worry about it. I'll see you when you get here."

I hung up and went to wash my face. He had some nerve calling me up like that, after disappearing for three weeks. I was even angrier now, but I couldn't show it to him. I had to find a way to keep a straight face when he walked in.

Twenty minutes later, came the knock on my door. My dog was jumping all over the apartment, begging me to open the door, and I did, to find the famous rebel standing in front of me. With a little suitcase in one hand and a brace on the other hand, he smiled.

"Hey, kid."

I smiled at the sight of him. I couldn't help it. He was wearing the Triple H costume —the blue jeans, black shirt and leather jacket, just like I always liked him in. The rebel in the leather jacket, I thought to myself.

"Hey. Come in."

"Thanks, you're a life saver." He put the suitcase down and kneeled. "Who is this little monster?" he asked, as he patted Hunter.

"Um…my dog."

"I can see it's your dog. What's his name?"

"Hunter," I answered, waiting for a sarcastic remark.

"Your dog's name is Hunter?" He grinned.

"Yeah, so?"

"I'm flattered."

"Whatever."

"Nice place you got here, I'm impressed."

"I thought you were impressed a month ago." I stood in the middle of the room.

"I'm even more impressed now…" He smiled, as he looked around.

"Can I get you anything?" I tried to be polite.

"No, I'm cool, but have a seat here with me for a minute. How have you been?" he said, as he moved aside to make room for me on the couch.

"That's okay," I said, with my hands across my chest.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Let me just put your things in the bedroom." I grabbed his suitcase and walked away.

"Joe, what's wrong?" He followed me.

"Nothing. Look, I need to take Hunter for a walk, so let me just put your stuff in the bedroom." I put the suitcase down in the corner.

"What's up with you, tough guy? Why are you acting this way?"

"I don't know. Maybe because you disappeared for three weeks," I mumbled while opening the closet. "You probably want to take a shower. Let me get you some towels."

He grabbed my arm and stopped me from walking away. "Hey, look at me!" He tried to make me turn to look at him. "I'm here now, so don't be like that. I thought you'd be glad that we could spend some time together."

"You thought?" I asked. "Let me tell you something, Paul, people don't just say things and disappear. Now, I know you have a life, and I know you're busy, but one phone call, Paul? With all the bullshit you fed me about how you care and stuff."

He looked at me and shrugged. "You could've called too. Why haven't you called?"

"I didn't feel comfortable calling. I don't know your schedule, but you know I work nine to five. I don't travel like you, and I don't have kids and stuff like that."

"Okay, stop. You're right, I was wrong not to call, but come on. Don't be so hard on me."

"It doesn't matter now, so let's just forget about it. Here are some towels, I'm going to walk my dog."

"Just wait a second, Joe. I said I was sorry. Don't be like this, please…"

"Do you want me to get you something to eat?"

"I don't want to eat, okay? I just want you to be Joe again."

"I'm sorry, Paul, but this is the Joe you get."

"Well, if this is the Joe I get, I think I'll just go look for a hotel room." He picked up his suitcase. "Move!" he ordered, when I blocked his way to the door. "Don't make me go through you."

"Stay." I put my hand on his chest.

"Give me one good reason why I should."

Silence filled the room. I could feel his heartbeat under my hand, and it was racing. My head was facing down, and I wasn't sure I could look at him. Suddenly, the suitcase hit the floor, and I watched as his hand made contact with mine on his chest. I closed my eyes.

He took my hand off his chest, and I felt our bodies touch. "There's a reason I didn't call you all this time," he said, in a low voice. "I thought that if I let time pass, then this would pass as well, but I see now that I was wrong."

"What are you talking about?"

"I knew I was in trouble the minute I walked into your hotel room in LA. I tried to ignore it, and I tried to fight it, but I just couldn't. So when you left, it was good for me to go back to work, focus on other things, keep you out of sight and out of…" He stopped, took a deep breath and stepped away from me.

I opened my eyes to find a worried expression on his face.

I smiled. "I still don't understand why it was so hard for you to make one phone call."

"You know, for a smart guy, you're not too bright. I'm trying to tell you something."

"Why don't you go take a shower first, relax, and change out of these clothes? Do you need help with that fake brace?"

"I'm going to ignore that…"

"Fine, the bathroom is that way. Make yourself at home."

"You're going master-and-commander on me?"

"My home, my rules. See you in a little while," I called, as I left the room.

While I was out with Hunter, I thought about what Paul had said. I didn't understand what he meant. He was talking in riddles and acting a little weird. I couldn't shake off the worried look he had on his face, like he felt guilty for something. The way he stood so close to me, his tender tone when he spoke, it was all so uncharacteristic of him.

Hunter was not in a hurry to get back home, but then again, he never liked going back home anyway. He had earned another walk that night, because I needed to get out of there and think about the whole thing, but if it was up to him, he'd stay outside all night. Not tonight, I thought, as I made my way back to my building. Tonight, Paul was there, and I didn't want to waste the time I had with him.

The apartment was quiet when I walked inside, no running water or noises from the bedroom. I went to the bedroom, only to find Paul lying on the bed, with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.

"How was the walk, kid?" he mumbled, half-asleep.

"Nice."

"Why are you so far away? It's a very comfortable bed, very good purchase."

"I actually don't sleep in the master bedroom. I sleep in the room down the hall, so I don't really know how comfortable that bed is."

"Stop talking and come here."

"Why don't you go to sleep? I'll see you in the morning."

"Don't boss me around, kid." He lifted his upper body and leaned against the wall.

"I'm not. You look tired."

"What time are you leaving for work in the morning?"

"8 AM."

"Can you take the day off?" He yawned.

"You don't want me to take part in the meeting tomorrow?" I asked, in surprise.

"Of course I do. Can't you take the morning off and we'll go to the meeting together?"

"I'll talk to my boss in the morning. Go to sleep."

"Don't tell me what to do. Now, let's talk business. Remember our deal? Come on, one thing, two questions." He gestured to the left side of the bed.

"Come on, Paul, it's late and I don't feel like talking. Can we do this tomorrow, after the meeting?" I pleaded.

"Okay, but don't think you can cheat your way out of it."

"I won't, I promise. Goodnight."

"Wait, what? You are such a lousy host."

"What? You were half-asleep a minute ago…"

"I'm awake now."

"Okay. What do you want to do?"

"You have anything to eat in this bachelor apartment of yours?"

"Not really. What do you feel like eating?"

"I don't know. Is there a good place to order some healthy food around here?"

"The healthiest food I can think of is Chinese."

He thought about it for a minute, then smiled. "That'll work."

"Get dressed and come look at the menu. I'll be in the kitchen."

"Okay, tough guy." He smiled. "Not sure I dig that master-and-commander attitude you're giving me, but I'll deal with you later."

I sat on a stool in the kitchen, looking at the menu, when he came back wearing shorts and a sleeveless shirt.

"I like your place. How much is the rent in this luxurious building?" He sat down next to me.

"I'm not renting. I bought this place when I started working for Nike."

"I thought you didn't care for luxuries."

"When I'm out of town, I don't." I shrugged.

"How the hell could you afford such a place?"

"Easy with the questions there, Mr. I-need-to-know-everything." I smiled.

"Sorry, didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

"That's okay. I just need some time to get used to these questions you keep asking."

"Seriously, though, how could you afford this place, at your age?" he tried again.

I smiled again. There was no dodging his thirst for knowledge. "You do know I used to play professional tennis, right?" I tried to explain.

"How much could you possibly make from playing tennis?"

"Enough to buy this apartment." I smiled wickedly.

"Alright, smart ass, I hear you. Let me look at the menu."

I got up and walked to the fridge. He read the menu cover to cover twice, and I chuckled. Apparently, food was a very important issue for him. I put a bottle of water in front of him, on the counter, and he smiled.

"I'll just sit here quietly. Let me know when you're ready."

"I'm ready, smart ass." He threw the menu at me. "4, 12 and 27…"

"That's all?" I laughed a little. "Are you sure you don't want anything else?"

"Yeah." He drank some water and stood up. "I'll be outside on the porch."

After I ordered the food, I took another two bottles of water and went outside. Paul was sitting with his legs up on the chair in front of him, talking on the phone. I leaned against the edge of the porch and looked at him. I had been so angry with him when he arrived, but now, I couldn't help but feel good that he was with me.

Standing there, looking at him, I smiled to myself. I would probably never get used to being so close to him. Every time I was near him, I had butterflies. Triple H was in my apartment, and he was going to spend the night there. Just the thought of it made me feel special.

"What are you smiling about?" he said, after hanging up.

"Nothing. The food will be here in 20 minutes."

"Good. So, are you prepared for the meeting tomorrow?"

"I'm a pro, of course I'm prepared. I'm going to dazzle you."

"Easy there, hotshot, you don't have to try to impress me. You did that last month."

"So, are we going to talk about why you pulled a Houdini on me, or should we talk about that 'thank you for letting me play the game' crap you pulled on Raw?"

"I can't comment on the storyline, and you know that, so just stop trying." He smiled.

"You can't expect me to ignore the fact that you came here with a brace on your left arm and you're not wearing it now."

"This is me trusting you, so don't let me down."

"Oh, I'm sorry, your arm is not really broken?" I asked sarcastically.

"Jesus…" He rolled his eyes.

I smiled and poured some whiskey into the glass. A disapproving look on his face made me put the glass back down without drinking.

"So, are you really done?" I asked, after I found some courage to bring it up.

"Done with what?" he asked, as he read something on his phone.

"With wrestling. Are you really retiring?"

He smiled. "What if I am? Who's next on your list? Cena?"

"You and Taker were the only active wrestlers on my list. Taker barely shows up, so I guess I'm going to stop watching."

"You are serious, ha…"

"Why are you surprised? You know you are my favorite wrestler. If you retire, there's no reason for me to watch anymore."

"Will it make you sad if I'm retiring?"

"It doesn't matter," I tried to change the subject. "I'm going to call the restaurant, check on the food." I started walking, but he grabbed my arm and stood up.

"I'm sorry." He locked eyes with me.

"It's okay. I have you on DVD and Blu-ray."

"No, I'm sorry for not calling you for all this time."

My heart missed a beat, then it started racing, and the feel of his hand was burning on my skin. There was something about the look in his eyes that was so confusing. Why did he look so sad, I wondered. I didn't want to keep making a big deal out of it, so I said, "I'm sure you had better things to do."

"I need to tell you something," he said, releasing his grip.

Reviews and criticism would be much appreciated.

Thank you for reading.

:)