Author's note: Dear readers, this is the last chapter of "Everyone Is Wise Until He Speaks". I hope you had as much fun reading this as I had writing it. My special thanks go to UntilNeverDawns, my beta and ThatGirl54, Bharm,Punk81, xthefirestillburns, VoiceoftheVoiceless and all of you other guys who kept on reading over the past months.
Roughly 20 minutes later the doctor made a house call, that is if coming to a hotel room could be considered a house call, since it wasn't strictly speaking a house. His verdict came relatively quickly, because apparently there wasn't much doubt about it. "She's got a severe case of the flu. I suggest she stays in bed the next couple of days. Make sure she drinks plenty of fluids and rests. Also Ibuprofen and Paracetamol would be a great idea."
"I'm not sick," Nina protested from the bed and promptly lapsed into a coughing fit. Both men threw her sympathetic glances that somehow managed to drive home the realization that she had little choice when it came down to being sick or not. "Fucking fantastic! Super! Awesome," she muttered to herself and her voice turned even more croaky when she said the last word.
Sampson bid the two of them farewell with the words "Have fun!" and an ironic smirk. Stephen closed the door with a sigh and ventured closer to the irritable, sniveling woman lying on the bed.
He ran his hand through his hair as he regarded her, probably trying to figure out the best course of action. "Right," he said eventually, "here's how we're going to do this. I'm going to head out and get together a little flu-survival-kit for you. You stay here…," he went over to the minibar and produced a bottle of water from it, "...drink this and watch some telly."
"You don't have to. I can...," she was about to swing her legs over the edge of the bed and was hit by a wave of dizziness. Also a very disgruntled looking, red-haired Irishman suddenly appeared at her bedside who unceremoniously stuffed her legs back under the blanket. "The hell you will! Listen to me and listen to me good, Nina Stewart! Just this once, you're going to forget about your fecking need to prove to me that you're independent and can do everything and anything on your own and let me take care of you." Those words were said with a certain amount of vehemence and he was leaning down to fix her with an intense stare, which managed to convey rather nicely how serious he was.
"Alright," she said in a small voice.
"See? Not that difficult," he said with a smug grin and put on his cap and a hoodie. "I'll be back in twenty. Anything you would like me to get for you?" His question was answered with a dumbfounded look. Apparently the fever was high enough to slow down her usually rather quick mental capacities. He briefly touched her cheek in an affectionate gesture. "Well, if anything comes to mind, maybe you want to text me. Where's your mobile anyway?" She indicated her purse, lying in the corner of the room. "Mind if I...?" he asked as he already bent down to retrieve it.
"No, no, go ahead," she croaked. He started rummaging in her purse with a strong feeling of uneasiness. They were in a relationship, but rifling through her belongings was something he still didn't feel comfortable with. He came across some lip-gloss, tissues, a chocolate bar, keys and finally, when he was about to almost give up hope, his fingers closed around her cell phone. "Here you are," he placed it on the nightstand, next to her, with a smile.
"Thanks," she answered, looking pretty groggy.
He nodded and bent down to kiss her forehead, not caring for once that he could get himself sick like that as well. His need to show his affection for her momentarily won out over his rational mind. "Don't you hesitate to use that phone if anything comes up, okay?"
"Okay, Nurse Farrelly," she looked at him and smiled.
Later, when he was just marching out of a supermarket with two plastic bags containing a package of chamomile tea, some lozenges, Ibuprofen, Paracetamol, a couple of fashion magazines and a box of tissues, he heard the message tone of his mobile.
"Could you get me some mini-pretzels and Coke, please?" the message read. He had to smile at the polite tone of the message. Usually she was straight-forward, direct and confident, now not even her texts sounded like herself. He turned around and headed back inside.
About ten minutes later he was back at the hotel. After a brief struggle with the key card the door swung open and revealed a room that was dark, except for the flickering of the TV coming from the bedroom. He stepped inside and found his girlfriend passed out on top of the covers, the empty bottle of water standing next to her on the nightstand. She was snoring softly, thanks to her blocked nose.
With a frown on his face he took in her pale complexion, in fact her skin was so white it almost had an ethereal bluish glow thanks to the light shed on it by the TV set. The picture was marred however by her red nose. Thanks to having used up all the tissues available in the hotel suite in the last couple of hours, it was almost glowing. Had the circumstances been different, he would have been tempted to call her Rudolph, but since she was sick and obviously felt rather insecure thanks to that, teasing was off the menu. And how could he tease her in a moment like that? He was aware this was a critical point in their relationship. Being sick, she was forced to open up to him more than she would have under normal circumstances. He was aware that this woman presently snoring softly on top of the covers was more than met the eye. He had learned so from watching her, from talking to her, from reading in between the lines. On the outside she was all bravado and tough as nails, what was on the inside though, was a whole different matter. Sometimes when he least expected it, she would be shy, self-conscious, almost tooth-achingly sweet, which made him suspect that underneath that tough shell there was a rather fragile heart she wanted protect with all her might.
That was why she needed everyone to believe she was this tough broad, this somewhat loud-mouthed, outspoken chick. But even she couldn't maintain that charade when she was sick. He sat down on the mattress and regarded her pensively while she was sleeping. She was probably not aware of it, but he had long since seen past that fake persona she projected to the outside world. He didn't love her for being tough as nails; he loved her because he knew she wasn't. The only problem about was that she didn't think that what was under that outer fake shell merited a second look, while he sometimes wished she wouldn't always try so hard and just cut herself some slack. Well, they both would have to face up to the music now. This day proved to be challenging on so many different levels.
Slowly Steve came out of his reverie and his mind turned to more practical things. Doc Sampson had said something about Ibuprofen and Paracetamol. Again he touched her forehead. It was still rather clammy and seemed to feel even warmer now. It pained him to do it, but he would have to wake her up, so she could take her medicine. He placed his hand on her right shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Nina..."
Her eyes shot open. "I'm awake. I'm awake," she mumbled. Her gaze was unfocused for a few seconds, before her eyes settled on him. He was upside down. Why was he upside down? Probably because she was sprawled out diagonally over the bed, which would also explain the slightly amused grin on his face. She tried to sit up and groaned as she was assaulted by several unpleasant sensations at once: dizziness, muscle aches and a nice little headache on top of everything.
"I'm fine," she rasped out, holding up her hands to keep him from reaching out to steady her.
"You're not," he corrected her patiently and gently pushed her back onto the pillows.
To make his point, he touched her forehead again. "You're burning up, luv," he told her with a preoccupied look on his face. Shortly after his outstretched palm that held two little white pills, Paracetamol and Ibuprofen, invaded her line of vision. "Take these," he instructed, while he poured her a glass of water. She propped herself up on her left elbow and swallowed down the pills with a huge mouthful of water. Her throat was starting to feel funny, too. It hurt to swallow.
"Do I look just as disgusting as I feel?" she asked sniveling. Her voice sounded like Fran Drescher minus the Queens' accent. He smiled and while she was internally debating whether he had smiled about her remark or her funny sounding voice, he took the empty glass out of her hands to place it on the nightstand.
"You look like you're not feeling well, but certainly not disgusting," he clarified.
"Liar," she huffed and let herself fall back on the bed, turning her back to him.
"So you're going to be just as difficult about this as I imagined, huh?" he said and grabbed her shoulder to roll her on her back again. Since she didn't have a lot of strength to fight him, doing that was quite easy.
"Don't you trust me?" he asked.
She regarded his face for a moment. He looked exhausted, but still seemed to be determined to help her. Being sick had made her selfish enough to overlook the fact that he had had a very long day. Rehearsal, the show, the meet and greet with his fans... And yet he still was there taking care of her. "I do," she said finally.
"So what's all that fecking shite about you pretending like you're Wonder Woman then? Either you trust me or you don't. I'm willing to take care of you, but you've got to bleedin' let me," his voice was as close to imploring as she had ever heard it. "So how are we going to do this? Do you want us to fight over this? 'Cause fight we will. Trust me there's no chance in hell I'm going to turn me back on you now, even if you're being an obnoxious, daft, stubborn cow." He crossed his arms over his chest and gave her a waiting look.
"I can live with being called stubborn. But I'm definitely not obnoxious or daft," she said, her voice cracking at every second word and gradually losing its strength because of her sore throat.
He sighed. "Jaysus, Nina! Are you going to be quiet if I agree?! Because I think if you continue talking, you're going to completely lose your voice," he told her with a look on his face that was equal parts preoccupied and stern. She hesitated. He threw her another pointed look, followed up by a low and very disapproving growl. She finally nodded with a grim expression on her face.
"By the way, I'm glad you are aware of that stubbornness issue. It would have been a bugger pointing that out to you in a tactful way," he winked at her, half-heartedly trying for humorous when he really didn't feel like it. She didn't seem to care much for his comment either, because she merely rolled her eyes and waved him off.
"All right, I agree. It's time we stopped messin' about. Let's get down to business," he said and tossed the box with the lozenges in her direction. "Have one of those while I'll fix you a cup of tea." He produced the package of chamomile tea from the plastic bag next to her bed and started the water cooker. After that he left the room. She heard the running tap; apparently he was in the bathroom. She allowed her eyes to drift shut for a couple of seconds. They shot open again when something wet and cold was gently pressed against her forehead. It was one of the small towels from the bathroom. She let out a groan of relief, because the cool and moist terrycloth felt marvelous against her hot skin.
A couple of minutes later he placed a cup of steaming hot tea on her nightstand and sat down next to her, on the edge of the mattress. In the meantime she had scooted up against the headboard and was regarding the TV with the towel on her forehead. He watched her profile. The way her chin was set so determinedly had something funny about it. She was even stubborn about being ill, like she wanted to scream bloody murder at those flu germs. A tiny and very discreet smirk formed on his face. He took care not to let her see it.
"Here," he touched her shoulder and indicated the cup of tea with a nod of his head, "drink it while it's still hot. It'll make your throat feel better." She held out the towel to him with a pleading look on her face and he knew she wanted him to hold it under cold water again, after all the terrycloth felt like it had almost body temperature now. He nodded and stood up.
When he returned, she was about to place the cup back on the nightstand. She threw him a little tight smile and mouthed the words "thank you" before he sat down on the edge of bed and tenderly pressed the towel first to her forehead, then to her cheeks and her throat. She closed her eyes and let out a soft hum of contentment, which made him feel hopeful. It looked like she had finally surrendered herself to the situation, perhaps even accepted that for once it was okay to let him take care of her.
He felt content about that, like they were making some kind of major progress here, even though nursing someone back to health wasn't something men liked to brag about when they met down at the pub. Admittedly he was also letting a side of him shine through that was only reserved to those closest to him. Maybe she knew that too. Judging by the way she was looking at him with those big round brown eyes of hers, she had an inkling.
Because the quiet inside the room was something unfamiliar to him, usually she filled up the silence with her voice, he started talking. Even though he was still unsure about what to say, he launched himself into a sentence head first. He went with the first thing that popped in his head and it came out rather random. "Have you ever thought about what getting to know someone really means?" The expression that appeared on her face upon his question was rather quizzical. In one of those comic books she loved to read the speech bubble that would have gone with it would have been something like "Huh?" He chuckled softly to himself before he continued.
"I reckon, this getting-to-know-one-another-business sometimes has to get a bit messy, 'cause if it doesn't, that means you're not doing it right. You're only scratching the surface... This might sound strange...," he briefly looked down as if to contemplate his next words or perhaps rephrase them in his head. "But believe it or not, in my book messy is a good thing. Last thing I'm interested in is something superficial..." She actually smirked at that, despite her runny nose, the headache and the sore throat. He saw that as quite an achievement. She pointed her finger at her chest and then held up two fingers. Huh? Okay. He grinned. Me too. Got it.
"Remember when we first met?" She rolled her eyes. His grin grew even bigger. "How you were all flustered and talking a mile a minute? I think you had me round about the time you started launching yourself into that little, self-deprecating monologue about how you were klutzy and honest and had a far too big mouth." He faltered for a second there, his mood changing from teasing to completely serious in a matter of seconds. The laughter lines disappeared from around his eyes and his face assumed a completely sincere, almost solemn expression. "Do you want to know why?"
She was intrigued by the change of mood she had just witnessed. The thoughtful expression in his eyes suckered her in as well, so she nodded.
"It was because you were the most honest, straightforward person I had met in years."
She opened her mouth about to say something, probably to belittle herself or to make some kind of self-effacing joke, so he just shook his head. "Nah, you don't get to say anything right now." She let out a disbelieving snort at that and immediately had to blow her nose afterwards.
"It might seem hard to believe, but this little monologue here does actually have a point," he rubbed the back of his neck sort of embarrassedly. "And I can't believe that for once I get to make it without being interrupted," he smirked. She snipped her index finger against his leg. That was all she was capable of in her weakened state.
"You're right, luv. I should stop messin'," he acknowledged. "This is serious after all," he paused for a second, probably for effect or whatever the hell his reasons were for stalling, before he came out and said what he had been meaning to say for the better part of this evening. "The point is," he told her, leaning closer to her, when he thought it safe she wouldn't sneeze him in his face, "that I'm in this because I don't want any halfway inbetweens. I want to know you properly, not just the nice and pretty stuff you show to everyone else, I want the snivels and coughs and whatever else too. The secrets, the important stuff, like for instance that you're not that much of a tough broad. And don't deny that, because I really like that about you." The look on her face was odd, because he couldn't interpret it correctly. Sort of pensive, but there was something else.
"Aaah, I don't know if that came out right!" he finally said, feeling a bit self-conscious because of the way she was looking at him. It was almost like she was trying to hypnotize him. "It might have sounded a bit funny, because I didn't find the right words. Keep in mind I'm not a writer or some bookish fella, I'm just a coppertop who's good at fightin'..." He looked at her disbelieving face with a grin, having regained some of his trademark confidence by now. "So right about now you must be askin' yourself what do I get out of this deal, huh?"
She watched him with big round eyes. As a matter of fact he was very far off the mark, thinking that she disapproved of his words in any way. Actually they moved her and spoke to a part of her she kept locked away from the world because if she didn't, she would feel exposed and vulnerable. Why did he have to go and say stuff like that when she felt like death warmed over? When she couldn't even kiss him? It seemed unfair – a colossal injustice. All she could do at that point was nod.
"Well," he said almost gravely and took her hand in his, "it's not like your winning a grand feckin' price. You get me. Everything. You get the slightly awkward lad from Cabra who's for some reason made it big in the States and would walk through hell and back for you."
A slow smile spread on her face and her eyes shone in the twilight. "And now of all times you want me to shut up?" her voice sounded slightly better now, which was probably also due to the fact that she kept it sort of low and hushed. She was careful not to strain it too much, so instead of saying something, she gave his hand a squeeze to emphasize her point. "You have no idea how much I want to kiss you right now, but I can't because of this stupid flu...," she coughed. "See! I hate being sick, I so hate it," she whispered with a pout on her face, acting very much like a spoiled child.
He just shrugged his shoulders. "What can I say, I have impeccable timing..."
"That you do." Her eyes fell on their joined hands that were resting on top of the covers. She let her thumb trace over his rough knuckles with a pensive expression on her face.
"I think...," she started softly and paused for a second before she continued, her voice soft and low, "what you've just said, well, that was worth more than any declaration of love or anything else you could have said. And I agree," she raised her head to look at him. "In order to know someone properly, things have to get really personal. There's no room for politeness or shame. And yet again I can't really...," he saw her lower her head there, her gaze filled with something akin to shyness. She cleared her throat, probably not only due to her cold, before she continued. "It's just that I..." He waited patiently for her to get the rest of the sentence out. "Well, I can't really understand what you see in me sometimes. I'm not a big mystery. I'm nothing special." There was a frown on his face which was growing deeper and deeper, so she stopped. "What? What's wrong with that?"
"Everything," he said, still frowning. "And it's my fault, too, because I always make jokes and take things too lightly. Well, not this time," he shook his head, appearing as if he was disappointed in himself. After a brief moment of hesitation he leaned slightly forward and grabbed both of her shoulders, looking her deeply in the eyes. "What do you think is the reason I love you?"
She looked at him helplessly and finally resigned herself to shrugging her shoulders. "No idea."
He smiled. "Only you would say something daft like that, luv." She was about to protest, but he merely shook his head. "Let me finish. I could tell you now that you're perfect to me," she took a deep breath, but never got to say anything because he quickly continued, "BUT you can't stand that word, so I won't. Let me say this instead…," and now he looked her squarely in the eyes, when he said the following words: "Love is not about perfection. It means seeing someone else's flaws and not caring, no, even appreciating them as some minor lovable quirk. I have plenty of those, you have a little less of them," he threw her an endearing smile, so tender and genuine; it almost had her tear up. "And whatever you think that is wrong about you, whatever you think you have to hide away from me, don't. Don't take the chance away from me to get to know you properly, because it's unfair. I'm not holding back on you, so don't you hold back on me either."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...," she started in a weak voice, wiping away the tears in her eyes with the back of her hand.
"You don't have to apologize," he said quietly.
She looked at him in wonder for a second. Without saying a word, she blinked a couple of times before finally a frown settled on her features. "You're really an odd guy you know that?"
He was puzzled by her sudden turn of mood. "Odd? What do you mean?"
"I mean...," she was interrupted by her own coughing and quickly took a sip of tea before she continued in a slightly more raucous voice, "I mean you're asking me to practically vomit my personality all over you..."
"You make that sound so breathtakingly romantic, darlin'," he quipped back, a slight grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You really have a penchant for killing the mood."
"I'm sorry," she apologized again.
"Again with the sorry," he rolled his eyes and threw her a good-natured smile.
"Fine. Okay. Not sorry."
"Be quiet," he said simply and in astonishment she actually closed her mouth. There she was, sitting in front of him with her runny nose and that surprised expression on her face and he couldn't help but smile a little. "You're right about the odd part. Maybe you haven't noticed, but not doing things in a half-arsed way is right up me alley, luv and I seem to remember you expressing the exact same sentiment over and over again since we've met. So why should we go about our relationship any differently? Why should I hesitate to tell you that I love every single thing about you? That you can't scare me away with whatever insane family members you might have hidden away or those little quirks of yours? I love you, flaws included. If anything, I love you better probably because of those flaws."
"Really?" she asked softly.
"Really," he confirmed and took her hand in his. "So is that okay with you?"
She gave him a long look that almost made him feel self-conscious, then finally she started talking. "Okay?" she echoed finally with a heavy dose of incredulousness in her voice. "Okay," she repeated a second time. A single tear spilled from her eye and was about to trail down her cheek, but didn't get the chance to, because she quickly, almost angrily brushed it away. A second came and threatened to follow it. She wanted to wipe it away as well, but he caught her wrist and stopped her. For a moment she looked at him, crying silently. Her bottom lip trembled. She bit down on it; then thought better of it. "You're turning me into a sniveling mess. Ugh! I hate crying. I hate being sick."
"But you don't hate me," he supplied hopefully.
"Hate you?" she looked at him in wonder. "Steve, never. I don't even... I can't. You're... Oh, fuck! How very eloquent of me, right?" He smiled at her, patiently waiting for her to continue talking. "I'm sorry if that comes out possessive or insane or anything right now, but you're the single most important person in my life. I could never hate you. Not even for a second."
"That's good to know," he said, once again taking her hands in his. "Encouraging, not insane. Reassuring even."
"Really?" she smiled.
"Really," he confirmed.
"Flaws included," she echoed his earlier statement almost reverently.
"Yes," he nodded. "Coming on too strong?"
"Are you kidding me? No. Oh, God! Why is it that all of a sudden you get to be so clever with words and I'm reduced to being sickly, sniveling and incoherent?"
"Sometimes, once in a hundred years, the planets align correctly and they give me the gift of eloquence?" he supplied.
She chuckled and coughed. "That's got to be it."
"Yeah."
"Unfortunately right back at you, sweetie, just doesn't cut it in situation like this, though."
He laughed, a deep belly-laugh, which made her feel more at ease with the situation. "Well, in terms of eloquence your planets align much more frequently than mine, darlin'. You'll get your chance soon enough."
"Still..."
"No."
"Then let me at least tell you that I love you," she said.
"Okay," he replied, taking both of her hands in his.
"Okay," she smiled, but her smile was quickly whisked away by a small coughing fit. She pulled her fingers from his grasp to quickly cover her mouth with her hands. When she was done coughing, she threw him a sheepish look. "You'd better go and wash your hands now."
"Single most absurd sentence to be said straight after a declaration of love like that," he chuckled and got up. Just as he was about to disappear in the bathroom she called out to him and he stopped. He stood there framed by the door way and the back light of the fluorescent light of the bathroom made his hair gleam like fire. "Hey, Farrelly," she said, "you might not want to hear it, but you make a spectacular nurse."
"I'm surprised, cause you make a horrible patient, luv," he smiled and winked at her before he disappeared in the bathroom.
He had made a huge mistake. He was a big guy, mostly had a healthy confidence... Yes, he'd even go as far as assuming he was the love of her life, what with all those 'I-love-you's they had already thrown around, but now he wasn't so sure anymore...
In the last couple of days Nina had been on the slow road towards recovery, which meant that during the shows she couldn't be zipping from one end of the backstage area of the arena to the other like she normally did. She actually would have to sit down in one place, give herself some time to recover, maybe even take a couple of sips from a cup of tea, instead of coffee. So he stuffed her into one of his warm sweaters, because she hadn't thought of bringing one herself. It looked far too big on her as she strode after him like a petulant child. He managed to hunt down AJ Lee, better known backstage as April, in the labyrinth of corridors that was the backstage area and introduced the two women to each other. Nina needed someone to talk to and have an eye on her while she waited for him backstage and with Jericho being on tour with Fozzy and Stuart on a promo tour in Abu Dhabi, it had to be her.
April was a sweet girl, nerdy, funny and rather quirky. She and Nina hit it off right away. Only a couple of minutes after he had introduced them to each other he felt superfluous because the two women were chatting away like there was no tomorrow.
While Steve felt comfortable talking about Star Wars and the odd video game, when conversation turned to comic books and why Start Trek TNG was superior to any new Trek show that followed after, he had to throw in the towel on the conversation. Soon it was like those two were talking a language of their own, one that Stephen wasn't able to speak, so eventually he resigned himself to being the fifth wheel and left Nina and April to their own devices with a little smile and an irrational feeling of jealousy awakening in him. He excused himself and Nina pressed the mandatory peck to his cheek before the two women continued to chat about everything and nothing all at once.
By the time the weekend came, Nina had completely recovered and was practically bouncing off the walls of their hotel suite thanks to all that extra energy she had stored up. It was Friday evening, he had just come back from the arena, feeling disgusting and tired because in all the hustle backstage he hadn't even been able to shower and she was trying to convince him to go to some club April had talked about. All he wanted to do was lie down on the bed and sleep. But as always he couldn't resist her when she was that energetic, smiley and endearing. About ten minutes later she had convinced him to meet her later at the club, after he had showered and taken a little nap.
He entered the club and walked up to the bar straight away to get himself an energy drink, because without it he wouldn't last very long out here. As he waited around for the bartender to come back with his order, he checked his reflection in the mirror behind the bar. He had done up his hair properly, put on a nice dress shirt and looked over all rather presentable. He gave his reflection a satisfied nod and soon the bartender handed him his energy drink.
Stephen made his way towards the dance floor. People were blocking his way, standing around in groups talking to each other. He spotted some of his colleagues among them and greeted them with polite smiles and the occasional slap on the shoulder. Still Nina was nowhere in sight. He was already starting to grow frustrated and about to reach for his cell phone to send her a text, but then he spotted her on the dance floor. Though they had known each other for months now, he had never seen her dance before. Well, at least not on the dance floor of a club, and for some reason it mesmerized him.
He put down his drink on the surface of one of the bistro tables placed around the dance floor. For now he decided, he would just stand there and watch her as she had fun dancing with her new friend April. And fun those two girls certainly had.
The music changed from something modern and electronic to something more hip-hoppy. The girls squealed madly. They seemed to know the song. It did sound kind of familiar, something from back in the 90s, heavy on the bass. But he wasn't a big fan of that kind of music. What he was even less of a fan of was the girls' subsequent battle cry "Slut moves time!" which he could for some odd reason clearly discern over the instrumental intro of the song. His fingers closed more tightly around the can on the table in front of him, seconds away from bending it out of shape. The energy-drink-fountain that at this point seemed inevitable was averted by the fact that Nina made eye contact with him precisely at that very moment.
She smiled at him, even despite his enraged face. The frown soon disappeared from it as they continued to hold eye contact. She was putting on a show for him, gyrating her hips in a way that was very, very suggestive, as she ran her hands through her short hair, down her neck and over her chest. Yep, maybe that kind of music wasn't so bad after all. A smirk started spreading on his face and he winked at her.
"So you think if you wink at her, she's going to come over here?" a male voice spoke up next to him. It belonged to Nick Nemeth, better known as Dolph Ziggler, one of his long-time friends who had just come back to the WWE after having missed out on a couple of weeks of action thanks to a concussion.
"That was the plan," Stephen finally managed to tear his eyes away from his dancing girlfriend to look at Nick. The view had become significantly less attractive now, but looking away while he was talking to him just wasn't polite.
"Well, if she does, maybe it's not going to be because of you. I'm here too, you see," Nick winked at him confidently before he took a sip from his bottle of beer.
To say that the wrestlers behind their in-ring-personas had nothing in coming with the characters the company had scripted for them would have been a lie. Those characters were simply an exaggeration of their real character traits. Nick was a bit of a show-off, but he was so in a less intolerable way than Dolph Ziggler. His charm mostly took off the edge of his cockiness. Nevertheless Stephen decided then and there to teach his friend a lesson he would never forget, capitalizing on the fact that Nick didn't know about him and Nina because he had missed several weeks of action thanks to that concussion.
Both men refocused their attention on the dance floor. They watched the girls dancing and in the meantime Stephen started to half-seriously toy with the idea of having a pole installed for Nina in his bedroom back at his Tampa home. He exaggeratedly tugged at the collar of his shirt as she did a body roll and threw him a cheeky smirk. His antics made her laugh and as the song ended she excused herself from the dance floor by whispering a few words in April's ear. She sauntered over to them and came to stand in front of their table. Judging by the broad smile on her face, Nina was in a rather jovial and flirtatious mood tonight, which seemed to play straight into Stephen's little scheme concerning Nick.
"Hello, stranger!" she said as she leaned on the table with her forearms and batted her eyes at Stephen. She threw Nick a smile as well. "And you're the one April likes to call Ziggy-pop. I'm guessing that's not your real name, right?"
"Actually it's Nick, but you can call me anything you want, gorgeous," the other man flirted and immediately made Stephen's temper flare a little. He was about to put in his two cents, but Nina was too quick and beat him to it.
"How about cocky?" she grinned sweetly.
"Ouch! I'm wounded. I was hoping for something more flattering like handsome, sweet-cheeks or dimples," Nick's self-esteem wasn't so easily crushed. It was part of his charm, which was somewhat obnoxious at times and on occasion blinded him to the more subtle things that were going on around him, so he completely missed the meaningful looks Stephen and Nina exchanged.
"Now that we've established this, what's your name, lass?" Stephen asked Nina. For a second a surprised expression flashed over her face, but she quickly covered it up by biting her lips like she was nervous.
"I'm Nina. What's yours?" she shot back, not missing one beat. It looked like Stephen would be able to set his plan into motion. He had just enough sense to stop himself from rubbing his hands together in glee.
"Stephen," he smiled and extended his hand to her. As they shook hands, his index finger brushed over her pulse point and at that she briefly squeezed his hand a bit tighter. She was smiling up at him, her face relaxed and serene and again, as it did many times when he looked at her, it struck him how beautiful she was and what a lucky bastard he was for having the privilege to call her his girlfriend.
"You're not from these parts, are you Stephen? You're accents sounds Scottish..."
"Irish...," he corrected with a chuckle. She was good.
"So you like accents...," Nick tried to insert himself in the conversation again. "I can do a bunch of accents..."
"Like for example?" she turned her head in his direction and looked at him with a smile.
"German, Spanish, Italian, Scottish, British, Southern... You name it," Nick grinned.
"How about German?" she supplied.
"Sehr gute Wahl, junge Dame," Nick said in heavily accented German. "Jaaaaah, vat I zed voz sed your choise voz exsellend, young lady."
Despite their better judgment Stephen and Nina both had to laugh at Nick's impression of a German accent.
"You're funny," Nina praised Nick and made Stephen's brow furrow.
"So you're into funny guys then?" Nick asked seamlessly.
Nina actually chuckled at that. "You have me there. I'm into accents and funny guys and...," she downcast her eyes momentarily, displaying some shyness that was vastly fake, but also in part genuine, "...red-heads."
"Oh, really?" Stephen flashed her one of his patented smiles. One of those that were 50 percent charm and 50 percent teasing. "Seems like only one of us at this table meets that description, Nick," Stephen threw the other man a triumphant smirk.
"And here I was hoping you'd be a bit deeper than that, Nina," Nick challenged.
"And you were able to tell that just by watching me dance?" she raised a delicate eyebrow. "Say, what are you doing flirting with me anyways? Aren't you and April together?"
At that both wrestlers had to actually laugh. "Scripted," Nick informed her and briefly grabbed her hand when he jokingly made his next remark. "But sweetheart, you and me are real."
Nina smiled, but nevertheless slowly pulled her hand from his grasp. "We'll see." She turned her head in Stephen's direction. "You've been awfully quiet..."
"Well, that fella right here's entirely too wordy for his own good... I was trying to come off all quiet and mysterious, instead. Not working, I guess?" She downcast her eyes and shook her head with a smile. "What's there left to say? He's already told you that you're beautiful, so that would be uninventive... Maybe I should point out that being a redser and all...," he grinned and also leaned on the table with his forearms, so his head was level with hers, "... I appreciate a bit of spunk in a woman." The little added wink at the end and the sparkle in his eyes almost had her done for.
She smiled, inching a little closer to him. "Oh, I've got tons of spunk, but are you sure you can handle me?"
It was very hard resisting the temptation of kissing him right now. The air between them was practically sizzling with tension, something even Nick had managed to pick up on, judging by the crestfallen face he made, which went completely unnoticed by Stephen and Nina who were in their own little world by now.
"Tons of spunk, ey? That sounds a little high-maintenance," he wrinkled his nose.
Her eyes widened. That up close and thanks to the lighting he could actually see those green flecks in her brown irises again. "Seriously?! I'll show you..." That was as far as she got because he hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of her jeans and pulled her body flush against his. For a moment they shared a heated look, then he leaned down and kissed her. The kiss deepened as she slung her arms around his neck. Nick made a sound of disgust. They eventually broke apart and grinned at a bemused looking Nick who was staring at them with an invisible question mark hovering over his head.
"Either you're the easiest woman in history or you two already know each other," Nick said with a pout.
Before either Nina or Stephen could say anything to clear up the situation April popped up beside them at the table. "Don't be stupid, Ziggy-pop. She's his girlfriend," she announced brightly and punched the other wrestler lightly in the side.
Nick ran his hand over his face, grimacing. Stephen grinned and slapped him on the shoulder. "Come on, Ah'll buy ya a drink, mate. But if ya ever hit on me girlfriend again, Ah'm going to rip yer stupid ol' head of yer shoulders, understood?"
Nick nodded numbly and Stephen escorted him to the bar to make good on his promise to buy his friend a drink. The two girls watched them go with grins on their faces.
"You're really cute together," April said eventually.
Nina picked up Stephen's energy drink from the table. She shook the can cautiously to find out whether there was still something in it and to her delight discovered that there was. After all that dancing she felt quite thirsty. She finished off the rest of the drink, internally grinning to herself, because she knew that would get her into another little verbal squabble with him.
"Really? You think so? Please don't tell him that. Cute is definitely not something Steve's aiming at," Nina smiled at her friend.
"Oh, God! Men! Don't you hate it sometimes how they are hypersensitive to words like 'cute' and 'adorable'? They are all major drama queens if you ask me!" April huffed.
"Good thing we're always so level-headed and rational, right?" she joked and laid her arm around her friend's shoulders.
Soon Stephen and Nick came back from the bar. Nick seemed more appeased now that he had his drink and Nina punched his upper arm in a gesture of camaraderie. "No hard feelings, right?" she smiled at him. "I'm sorry we played that little trick on you. If it helps any, I actually think you're quite a nice guy."
"Gee, thanks!" Nick smiled back at her. "Now you're telling me. It's too late. My ego is crushed." He hung his head, clearly exaggerating the pose, which oddly reminiscent of a chastised little puppy dog.
"Somehow I don't believe that." She grinned and patted his shoulder. "Come on, Nick, cheer up! You have no idea what you would have gotten yourself into. Steve here...," the man in question discreetly handed her a bottle of water. A bottle of water she hadn't asked him to buy, but he had been thoughtful enough to get her, which she acquitted with a little smile, "... signed himself up for a prolonged exposure to my character flaws. Spunkiness, temper, moodiness... Be glad you've got off so easily."
As if on cue Stephen picked up his energy drink, only to find the can was empty. "Nina...," he threw her a dark glance. "Really? How many times have I told you I hate it when you do that?"
"See...," she told Nick, who was by that time chuckling quietly.
"Fine. I'm going to get meself a beer then," Stephen said in a slightly disgruntled voice.
"Make that two, Stevie," she supplied.
He rolled his eyes. "Woman, I swear sometimes you're driving me right up the fecking wall..." Having said that, he turned around and stalked off in the direction of the bar for a third time in roughly thirty minutes
"You sure that was a good idea, what with his temper and all that?" Nick asked. He had quite a bit of insight in his friend's character, after all he had known Stephen for years and years and knew what he was like.
Even April seemed a bit taken aback by the turn of events.
"No, not really," Nina said, shaking her head regretfully. "Will you excuse me for a second? I think I went a bit over the top there. He's had a rough day. I better start groveling now." In parting she shot the two others an apologetic grin and hurried after Steve.
She practically jogged towards the bar and arrived there precisely at the same moment he did. Nina leaned against the counter next to him. The bartender walked up to them and turned towards Nina first, who being the lady, automatically received a preferential treatment over Stephen. "Sorry," he grinned at the tall red-head before he took Nina's order: two Guinness.
When the bartender had left to get her order, Nina turned in Stephen's direction, actually she discretely moved closer to him until they were standing so close his left leg and her right one were touching ever so slightly. She met the stern gaze he threw at her with a disarming smile and soon his face relaxed. He sighed and shook his head. That woman!
"I'm sorry about that energy drink. Do you want me to get you another one?" she said softly, placing her hand on top of his left arm. Her thumb rubbed small and rather soothing half-circles on the smooth fabric of his shirt.
"It's alright, lass," he answered her, still sounding the slightest bit gruff.
"If it's really alright, you should stop being grumpy now," she looked at him her eyes slightly narrowed.
"You know it doesn't work like that. It's not your fault. Once I'm in that type of mood I can't just shake it off," he said somewhat regretfully.
The beer arrived and was placed in front of them on the counter. Nina paid for it and just like that they were alone again.
She turned to him and for once she was frustrated by the height difference between them. She wanted to look him directly in the eyes when she said the next couple of words. So, on a whim, she climbed up on the foot rail of the bar, for a moment fighting to regain her balance before he steadied her with his strong arms.
"What are you doing?" he wanted to know, his eyes looking directly into hers, now that they were at the same height. She grinned in satisfaction.
"Looking you straight in the eyes," she explained; her tone careful and rather calm.
"Crazy lass," he said with the hint of a smile.
"Steve?"
"Yes?"
"I hope you haven't had enough of me already..."
His gaze softened at her words. "Never. It was just a rough day. That's all." He placed his palm against her cheek and she knew that she was completely forgiven now. She mirrored his gesture, her thumb stroking once over his beard. Everything seemed to fade in the background now: the loud music, the many people around them. There was just him and her and this moment.
"A rough day, mmmh? And yet again you're here...," she said with a pensive expression on her face.
"You wanted to go," he answered softly and her insides melted a little at the way he said those words and looked at her. Her eyes roamed over his features, wanting to catalogue every single thing about that amazing man that loved her.
"What do YOU want to do?" she asked, tapping her index finger against his chest to make her point.
He shrugged his shoulders. "Be with you."
"Whatever am I going to do with you, my love?" She sighed and momentarily buried her head in his chest. His shirt smelled of fabric softener mixed with a hint of eau-de-cologne and big surprise there, of him. Almost automatically his arms wrapped around her. He lifted her up, off the foot rail, before he finally placed her on the ground again ever so carefully.
She finally looked at him again. There was a surprised expression on her face. "You know I think I finally get it now...what less cynical people say about love and stuff. I think I can't do cynicism anymore. I mean, it's hard to stay cynical when you're overwhelmed by a feeling. Is it normal that I love you even more especially when you're moody? That I want to be there for every rough day you will ever face? More to point actually, I think I've never been quite that much in love with someone. Not even with the first boy I ever loved; the one who lived across the street from me and broke my heart when I was seventeen. I'd have been crying for weeks back then. Now I wonder why..." Her voice trailed off and she smiled up at him. Not smiled, no, beamed.
He bent down and captured her lips with his. His kisses still took her breath away and made her knees go weak. Her hands fisted into the fabric of his shirt and she only became aware of that after they had broken apart and he grinned down at her teasingly. She let go of his shirt and ran her hands over it a couple of times to smooth it out again.
"So," she cleared her throat, scratching the back of her head sort of sheepishly. Now she already felt somewhat self-conscious about her earlier words. Self-conscious, but not ashamed. "What about that bad mood of yours?" she asked finally.
"Gone," he smiled at her.
"Hmmm, okay. Good... Steve?"
"Yes, luv?"
"Do you want to leave?"
"I thought, you'd never ask."
They quickly said their good-byes to Nick and April and after having grabbed their jackets they were on their way to their hotel. As it was a rather nice night, not too warm and not too cold, they decided to walk back the few blocks that separated them from a warm bed and an inviting hotel suite. They walked quietly side by side, which was unusual for them because normally one of them did the talking. Instead now they were just quietly holding hands.
Stephen looked over at Nina. She seemed to be deep in though gazing up at the night sky. He had to smile a little at the vacant expression on her face and pulled his hand out of her grasp to ultimately lay his arm around her shoulder. He didn't want her walking into the next lamppost. With her kultziness it seemed to be a likely prospect and after all he kind of saw it as his job as her boyfriend to keep that from happening to her.
She looked surprised, but pleased when he pulled her against his side with a knowing smirk on his face. What he hadn't been prepared for however where the following absolutely and completely random words falling from her mouth next. "I think I want to marry you some day."
He stopped walking and took a step back to look at her. He must have made a pretty funny picture. Before his mind's eye, actually it felt like he was having one of those weird out of body experiences where you look down on yourself from the outside thanks to the shock, he could see himself standing there gaping at her like his favourite football team had just won the World Cup. In case it needed further clarification because of that football analogy, he was not unpleasantly surprised by her sudden proclamation and change of heart, it was just... Well, unexpected, for a lack of better words.
"I'm sorry. I must have taken one too many hits during the house show tonight, did you just say you want to get married to me some day?!" he asked her grabbing her by the shoulder as if wanting to make sure she was really standing there in front of him with her version of that manical smile that was usually his trademark.
She nodded avidly, because the grin on his face didn't leave her much doubt about the fact whether he was pleased with that turn of events or not.
"Okay," he grabbed her hands. To her surprise for once his own ones were rather cold. But she was willing to let that slide this time and say it was thanks to the shock she had just given him. "Alright...," he briefly ran his hand over his face before he squeezed her fingers again, "Wow! Erm... Right. Excellent."
"You're getting all huffy, Steve," she pointed out, for once being the calm one between the two of them, which was highly out of character. Obviously she took some delight having managed to get him flustered.
"What?!" he asked sharply. "No! Me? Huffy? Phew! I don't get huffy," he said in typical male fashion, which made her mocking smile grow even larger.
"So I didn't make you nervous there?" she drilled on.
"Oh," he said, grinning at her with a devilish grin, "just about as nervous as that next question is going to make you...," he paused for effect. "When's some day?"
She shrugged her shoulder. "When we decided."
"What if I proposed to you in the next couple of months?" he wanted to know, looking her squarely in the eyes. His joking tone had by now made room to complete seriousness, which made her feel somewhat self-conscious under his gaze. "Would you freak out on me?" He added after a few seconds had passed. Probably that additional question had been necessary, because she could feel herself getting nervous. It always showed on her face. She touched the back of her hand to her cheek. Yep, it felt warm, so she assumed that her cheeks were probably flushed. Great!
"I guess not...," she said lamely.
He nodded and grinned. "What if I proposed to you right now?"
She wisely managed to keep a sound from escaping her lips that would have sounded suspiciously like the high-pitched cry of a seagull. "You're not really going to are you?"
"Why shouldn't I?" he asked back, again challenging her even in that very moment.
"I swear if you get down on one knee now I'm going to scream," she said, but nevertheless smiled at him, which couldn't be really seen as a major discouragement, so he got down on one knee.
"What the hell are you doing? You don't even have a ring, you fool!"
He just sighed. "Yup, that's how we're going to tell this story to our six kids. And then da' kneeled down in front of ma' and she told him he was a complete gobshite for not even thinking of a ring... Breath-takingly romantic, mo chuisle," he added with a heavy dose of irony in his voice and a gratuitious eye-roll. "Alright, I'm getting up then...," Steve said and slowly tried to raise himself to a standing position.
"No!" she exclaimed and actually bodily pushed him back down.
"What's it going to be now, luv? Should I go on or not?" he looked up at her with those blue eyes of his as he patiently waited for her to make a decision.
She shook her head, sort of disappointed with herself and the way she was handling this particular situation. She pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers and looked down at the man presently kneeling down in front of her. His eyes were flashing with mirth. He seemed to find her antics funny. Christ knew why! She actually thought herself to be quite the pain in the behind by this point. As a matter of fact, she felt almost ashamed of her own behavior.
"All right," she said finally and took his hand in hers. She paused, her heart beating so fast and loud she felt like it was going to burst of her rip cage any moment. What a gorey imagery! With a certain vehemence she mentally chastised herself and pushed those ridiculous thoughts away. She actually stuttered when she said the next words. "All right... Erm, Steve, I... wanted to ask you whether...erm...," she hesitated and then, after a few seconds had passed which he spent staring at her incredulously, blurted out the following words: "Do you want to marry me?"
"You're aware that I'm the one kneeling, right?" he looked at her with his eyebrows raised skeptically and she just gave him a completely dumbfounded look. Right now the only two words of the English language that would manage to get through to her were something very basic, like 'yes' and 'no'. He seemed to be under that impression too, so he got up and took a step closer to her. Her eyes were darting over his face. He could see all those wheels in her head spinning, her smart little noggin probably going on overload right now. He gently framed her face with his hands forcing her to look up at him. "Do you really want me to answer?"
She just nodded.
He smiled. It made the slight lines around eyes more pronounced. His gaze had an intensity to it that was electrifying. "Yes, I do want to marry you, Nina Stewart."
At his answer her heart felt like it was about to stop, her stomach did that funny dropping thing it usually only did when she was riding a rollercoaster, but at the same time she had to smile. It was a smile so big it almost felt too big for her face.
"But," he said, "only under one condition..."
She scoffed, after everything that she had just been through his conditions weren't scaring her anymore. "What? Do you want to keep your maiden name?"
He chuckled. "Aaah, yer a funny one, aren't ya? Nah, I want the chance to get to do this properly with a ring and all the romantic shenanigans that come with making a proposal..."
She actually frowned at that. "Really? I mean do you really, really want that? Or are you just saying so because you think that's what I want?"
"What DO you want?" he asked.
She just stared back at him pointedly like she wanted to say 'Excuse me, I think we haven't been introduced.' "This here. This is doing it properly in my book."
"All right," he nodded and grinned. "Without a ring?"
"Without a kiss?" she asked back. "I thought once you agreed to marrying someone there would at least be some kissing..."
"Right. Shut up, Steve, stop being so fecking girly, don't talk about disgusting feely stuff and get on with it," he told himself, actually laughing at her directness before he pulled her close to plant a good one on her. His mouth was warm, soft and inviting against hers. The pressure of his lips firm, but not unrelenting. After all these months he still managed to make her breathless and weak in the knees with just one kiss. He pulled back after a while, but only to lean his forehead against hers. "You're an impossible lass, you know that, right? Unromantic as shite, won't even let me make a decent proposal, simply impossible..."
"I would probably be less impossible if I didn't know that you love every second of it," she quipped back, keeping her voice low and soft, though her words were sort of at odds with the intimate moment they were sharing.
"Ever heard off this little proverb from Ireland? Everyone's wise until he speaks? Be quiet, lass. Just this once," he leaned in again and silenced her with a kiss.