Happy Fall everyone! This horrid 2020 year should be wrapping up in no time lol. I think it's pretty pathetic to say that writing this story has been the highlight of my year, but hey, at least I've been productive... kinda. Thank you to PlayTheGame, HHHungry, scoffie05, Guest, kattmoreno85, julizaf12, rxckless (love that user!), TripSteph03, hhh2018, theeazymark, and everyone else who followed/favorited Lovely or Right Here. Seriously, reading your comments is about as fun as writing this story.
To the people who submitted a fic request within the last ohhh let's say three months: I'm trying! Sorry if I haven't responded yet. I promise I'm doing my best.
Okay, I'm almost done. Lovely was supposed to be sixteen chapters... not gonna happen. This thing is a monster that keeps growing no matter what I do. I keep adding chapters and flashbacks like the masochist I am. Enjoy!
Tribute to the Troops 2002
"Apologies"
Hunter had not yet healed by the time Tribute to the Troops rolled around. His rib was still mending, his stitches had not yet dissolved, and his pride… his pride was still wounded.
His trip to the hospital after Armageddon had eased back into his mind in waves. He remembered, painfully, struggling to breath, gasping for air, and crying out for his ex-wife. He remembered the weight of Stephanie's hand on his chest. He remembered the feel of her body beside his in the limousine. And he remembered the look on her face as he ripped her apart.
Ric hadn't looked at him the same since. They partied as much as ever. Hunter had indulged in women, liquor, and revelries, but it was a rouse. In his secret soul, he was in turmoil.
Her face.
Her beautiful face contorted in horror as he spilled her darkest secret, haunted him.
His insides twisted as he again remembered her expression. He sat in the second row of the overcrowded cargo plane that was transporting the majority of the Raw and SmackDown rosters to Afghanistan to perform for America's troops. It was confined, uncomfortable, and smelt a bit of body odor. But it was a good deed, and he felt moved to offer charity at the moment.
Her face.
Oh God.
Hunter shifted in his seat. Ric was napping beside him, oblivious, or maybe not entirely oblivious, to his protégé's inner turmoil. He'd been spacing out off-and-on for the past two weeks. He couldn't stop thinking about that night. And that made him think about her.
He didn't want to think about her. He didn't want to think about the hole in his heart. He didn't want to remember his marriage, and the calm it provided. He didn't need to recall the peacefulness of touching the same woman every night. There was no need to reminisce on the softness of her skin.
But he couldn't help it.
The days following Stephanie's pregnancy announcement were some of the best of Hunter's life. All of a sudden, everything had fallen into place. He was back, better than ever, and his princess was carrying his child. All of their problems melted away with the pure euphoria of starting a family. It was almost hard for him to focus on the business, he had been so happy.
Hunter would find himself looking at her every few minutes. This happened everywhere; in the car, at home, walking through the arena, in bed. He couldn't believe how perfect life was. His nine-month recovery had been filled with pain and resentment. He had even wondered if he and Steph would even make it.
But once she was pregnant, he knew that they would.
They had to. Their baby needed that. The little boy or girl, with Stephanie's eyes, would need their mom and dad to protect them, to love their son or daughter as they loved each other. Every morning, it had been his first waking thought. And every night, it was the last thing he thought about before going to sleep. The baby. A perfect, beautiful, innocent baby; with Stephanie's eyes. If he focused on the imagined image long enough, he could feel the weight of the infant in his arms. Her eyes. It would have her eyes. He knew it in his soul. God would not give him a child without her eyes. They were too blue, too immaculate to not be passed on.
Now, in the overcrowded cargo plane, Hunter found himself looking over at her every few minutes again. But the feeling had changed.
She sat a row ahead and to the right. She was with Vince and Eric. How fucking awkward was that. He sneered in a vindictive pleasure. Yes, he still looked over every few minutes, but the feeling of loving disbelief had vanished along with the thought of their fathomed unborn child. Now, the back of her head instilled nothing but anger. Hatred would bubble up inside him if he looked at her for too long.
He had loved that baby. The fake baby that had tethered him to her forever was gone, along with their relationship. And he hated her for it. He hated her for giving him everything he had ever wanted and then taking it away. She had used him, so meanly, so selfishly. She knew he would do anything for her once she was pregnant. He hated broken homes. He had told her once they had children, they could never separate. They would have to stop fighting the way they did. People like Kurt and Trish could never come between them again. That would be bad for the babies.
Babies. He had wanted more than one. He had wanted as many as she was willing to give him. He wanted them all to look like her. He wanted them to be smart and bossy. He wanted them to be strong and protective of each other. He wanted them to love Christmas and fireworks. He wanted to tuck them in and keep them safe. He wanted their eyes to be blue.
Hunter shifted again in his seat. This time, his elbow bumped Ric's side. The older man grunted awake. Hunter watched him squint his eyes and mouth something.
Motörhead blared from Hunter's headphones as he pulled them from his ears.
"What's that?"
"What's the matter," Ric repeated.
"Nothin."
But Ric was sitting up straight and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"You've been flopping around in your seat."
"Go back to your nap. I'm fine."
A groan of disapproval was Ric's only answer as he adjusted his seatbelt. He watched Hunter out of the corner of his eye. The younger man had stuffed his headphones back into the gym bag by his feet and was once again shifting his legs and rolling his shoulders. Ric chose to remain silent and observe his friend's behavior for a bit. After watching Hunter look towards the front of the plane nearly five times in about three minutes, he looked upwards with a huff.
Brown curls caught his sight immediately and Ric knew what had disturbed Hunter.
"Talk to her," he said.
"What?"
"Talk to her."
Hunter's face turned as ill humored as ever. He looked out the window with his upper lip curled.
Ric sighed before tipping his head back and closing his eyes once more.
After a minute, Hunter grumbled, "What should I say?"
Ric took a slow, deep breath, conscious of how difficult this was for his friend.
"Why don't you try and get some closure? Ask her why she lied, talk about where things went wrong -"
"I'm not doing any of that."
Ric was a bit off-put by the interruption but allowed Hunter his quiet outburst. They spoke in whispers.
"You've been distracted, Champ. You're unfocused and irritable. That's how mistakes are made. You can't afford to have all this clogging your mind. If you can't talk to her, then at least apologize. More so for your sake."
There was a tension in the moment that followed. Both of them remembered Hunter's viscous verbal abuse. Hunter's voice dropped an octave when he spoke again.
"She lied to me. We were a team and she lied. Things were tough but we would've made it. I know we would. She lied and she..."
But Hunter could not voice it. It was no matter. Ric heard it anyways.
She broke my heart.
Ric watched his friend gulp down emotion and pick at his cuticles.
"I know," he said softly after a moment. "I know that's all true. But Hunter, what you said to her..."
He let his words die off. He didn't think Hunter needed the reminder. But after another pregnant pause, Hunter awkwardly mumbled, "It was really bad."
Ric's eyes widened at Hunter's stubbornness. The younger man promptly averted his stare.
"Son," Ric started in a serious tone and waited for Hunter to meet his eyes, "it was horrible. I think it was the worst thing I've ever heard."
He watched Hunter's eyes water.
"I know," he mumbled and his shoulders seemed to deflate.
"Just let her know I won't say anything. Apologize for being an asshole. You'll feel better."
Hunter looked again towards Stephanie.
"Get it over with, Hunter. It's no good letting this eat at you."
After he'd allowed himself a few minutes of staring at the back of Stephanie's head, Hunter looked back to Ric and nodded firmly. They then made a mutual, silent agreement to suspend conversation. The Nature Boy took out his own headphones to escape the tension. Hunter stared out the window and lost himself in thought.
He had had it with her. Day in and day out, she whined and nagged and made his life miserable. Returning was supposed to have improved things. It had done the opposite. She was all over him, demanding to be ringside, critiquing his matches, and insisting that she manage him. It was too much.
She was too much.
Where there had been a stalemate for months at home, there was now a battle. He wanted to move forward, independent and alone. He wanted to solidify his place in wrestling history as a single warrior. She wanted to go backwards, to the start of it all where they undermined everyone and clawed their way to the top.
He wondered if they would make it. He wondered if she thought the same. He wondered if she was as aware as him as to how bad their relationship had gotten. Did she no longer feel as possessive over him as he did her? Did she not feel the urge to touch him, to kiss him? Did she feel as awkward and embarrassed as him when they walked into the arenas together?
He figured she did.
But then she was pregnant and time seemed to stop. He had been so mad and frustrated. He had had it with her. A vow renewal on national TV?! It was just too fucking much. They'd already been through too much on camera.
But again, she was pregnant. And his heart stopped. And then it exploded with happiness. Nothing mattered after that. All previous thoughts of annoyance disappeared. His secret fear that they would part irrevocably was gone. She was pregnant. He grabbed her and kissed her for all the world to see. He was so proud. He spun her and hugged her. All was well. All was forgotten.
That night was a blur. They were in the ring and then they were in the back, and before he knew it, they were in their suite making love. The blur came into focus then. He had learned that she did not wonder the same things as him. She did still feel possessive, she still craved his touch, and she was as proud as ever to be his wife.
He could feel it.
He had framed her face with his hands the moment the hotel door had closed behind them. She melted into him. Her lips and body shivered under his. She followed his every move, mirrored his every touch. She was desperate to please him. As he moved above her, tenderly, her hands had clutched onto him. Her eyes never left his face, searching for approval. He couldn't stop kissing her. Hardly believing that he had ever not wanted to. When they finished, it was with subtle moans into each other's mouths. Her legs trembled and he stayed between them for an eternity, kissing her neck and feeling her nails gently scratch up and down his back.
She had begun a recent pattern of tossing and turning beside him each night. But after their coupling that evening, he had pulled her into his arms and she rested peacefully. Her head lay against his shoulder and he waited to feel her body twitch as she entered into REM to speak aloud to their baby.
Stroking Stephanie's stomach, he told his son or daughter that he loved them. He promised to be a good father and always protect them. He droned on about all his intentions to raise the world's next best wrestler, or president, or doctor, or whatever it was that their baby decided to be.
When his wife shifted his arms, her face tipped upwards and he could see her relaxed expression. Her mouth was slightly parted. Her shallow breaths warmed his neck. Hunter felt a mountain of guilt crash down upon his shoulders. He was suddenly in awe of her for having stuck by him. He was ashamed to have ever doubted her feelings. He could barely breathe for how badly he felt.
Kissing her forehead, he whispered against her temple.
"Everything's gonna be alright. I'm sorry you've been alone. I love you with my whole heart."
Hunter hardly slept that night. He lay contently in the dark and listened to his wife's breathing. He rubbed her stomach and kissed her head periodically. All the while, he thought of ways to make up the past year to her. A honeymoon, finally, and diamonds all flickered through his mind. When the sun began to creep through the curtains, he finally settled against the pillow, burying his nose in her hair, and fell asleep.
When they landed in Afghanistan, Hunter thought he'd get to Stephanie right away. He'd pull her aside and they'd talk for about five minutes. It would be tough, but he'd get through it. Things would be set straight and they could go their separate ways once again.
Fate had other plans. Or maybe everyone else in the company did.
Because it seemed as though the SmackDown General Manager was constantly surrounded by people. Even here, in the middle of the Eastern Hemisphere, with half of their usual amount of people, she was hounded. Talent, tech operators, agents... Who the fuck brought their agent to this! It was ridiculous.
The Raw group didn't flock to Bischoff like that. Absolutely not. Everyone stayed clear of him, letting him slink amongst the groups and operate his sleazy plans on his own accord. This suited Hunter. He was able to hide in the shadows and watch her from just about anywhere he wanted. It was creepy. He knew it. But desperate times called for desperate action. Fighting the nausea that watching all of her admirers evoked, he kept mostly to himself the majority of the first day of their trip.
In the late afternoon, he took the first opportunity in which she was alone. He'd been outside, standing around like an idiot while casually sneaking glances in her direction. She had been chatting with a few referees by the entrance to the large facility housing the visiting WWE superstars. Eventually, her employees dispersed and he watched her hurry outside, clearly seeking a moment to herself.
Hunter almost felt bad as he approached her. She looked exhausted. They all were. The trip from the States had been a long, uncomfortable, and hectic one.
When she spotted him, she eyed him cautiously, like she was waiting for him to lash out. Like an animal. Like last time. He cleared his throat awkwardly at the thought.
"Walk with me," he grumbled.
Stephanie offered no resistance. She fell into step beside him and they walked away from the concrete structure housing the WWE personnel. There was no privacy. They strolled within a gated military base with armed guards patrolling the perimeter. Hunter wondered if any of them kept up with wrestling, if they knew the history between the couple walking aimlessly away from all their coworkers.
When they were as far away from the building as possible, but still within the gates, Hunter stopped. Stephanie did the same, but she didn't turn to him right away. She looked forward, to the horizon just beyond the soldiers by the entrance. Hunter watched her think and wished he could read her mind.
"Ric told me I asked for you," he started and she gave him her full attention, "the night of Armageddon."
Stephanie nodded, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone. He called and I panicked. When we got back to the hotel, he didn't really know what to do so I helped out some more. And then I got carried away. I just thought I knew best. What you needed, I mean. And then you fell asleep so I -"
"It's alright," he said softly.
She looked to her feet. He watched her arms fold protectively over her chest.
"I'm not mad, Steph. Not about that at least."
They couldn't be more uncomfortable. The silence stretched awkwardly until she met his eyes.
"I'm sorry."
His look hardened.
"I'm not talking about any of that."
"Then what are we talking about?"
"Armageddon."
She sighed, "What else do you want me to say?"
"I don't want you to say anything."
"So why did you bring me out here?"
"I needed to talk to you."
"So talk to me."
"I am! I just -"
"No, you're -"
"God!" He covered his eyes in frustration. "I fucking hate -"
He cut himself off.
He lowered his hands in disbelief. How did they escalate so quickly? Was he really about to say that to her?
Her face had fallen. She looked to the ground again. Her arms seemed to have tightened. He knew he had hurt her.
"I know," she said quietly.
Hunter scratched the back of his head, looking around to ensure that his outburst hadn't created an audience. Then he planted his hands on his hips and tried again to talk to her.
"I just wanted to explain what happened that night. And," he stuttered, "and I wanted to thank you for helping out. It won't happen again. Ric knows better now."
She didn't look up. Instead, speaking to her feet.
"Okay."
"And thank you for not saying anything."
"Of course," she answered again in a soft tone. He could barely hear her.
Hunter felt his anger deflate.
Get it over with.
"Steph, I -"
Footsteps behind him cut his sentence short. He and Stephanie watched two young soldiers approach. She nodded politely. The men smiled, happy to be acknowledged by an attractive woman. Hunter felt a twinge in his chest as they eyed her appreciatively.
When the strangers were out of earshot, Hunter tried again. Stephanie beat him to it.
"You're welcome, Hunter. I'm glad that you're okay and still champion. I'm sure Ric will be fine from here on out. I'm sorry, again, for getting involved. And I know you don't wanna hear it, but I'm sorry for everything else too."
Everything else. His face hardened at the mere thought of everything else.
Stephanie acknowledged her mistake by returning her gaze to the ground.
"Sorry," she mumbled before moving away from him. He watched her walk back towards the building with her arms still wrapped around her body, and he couldn't find the will to stop her.
How had things become so bad? He had once found it easier to talk to her, about anything, than anyone else. Even when he was mad, even when she was being unreasonable. But now, everything was awkward and tense. Now she was doing everything she could to be non-confrontational and he just couldn't stop pummeling her.
Hunter was unable to keep her in sight for the rest of the day. Once the sun had started to descend, she had fled to the safety of the women's dorms. There were so few women with them, he assumed their sleeping accommodations were far better than the men's. Hunter lay on a top bunk within a near gymnasium-sized room along with the rest of the WWE rosters. Everything about it was unpleasant. Between the discomfort and her haunting his every thought, he assumed sleep would never come. But it did. The second his head hit the uneven mattress, he was out.
The following day brought a whole new list of issues. It was the day of the event and he had to train. He wasn't scheduled for anything too important, but injury loomed on even the brightest of days. He could only track Stephanie for so long before having to prepare for the show. It went without a hitch. He competed, ate a stale dinner with Ric, and hung around awkwardly in the common areas in hopes of spotting her again. He hated every minute. All it provided was time to brood.
They arrived in Jonesboro a few days early for their vow renewal. Hunter had wanted to spoil her a bit before the big day. She basked in the extra attention, loving the way he looked at her. She touched him constantly. She held his hand, his waist. She leaned against him as they walked. She gripped his thigh whenever they sat. She kissed him everywhere, on his cheeks, his lips, and between his shoulder blades when he leaned against her in the in-door hotel pool.
They had had sex every night since her announcement. It was a mutual want. They seemed to reach for each other simultaneously. The day they'd arrived in Arkansas, she had initiated a bout of afternoon delight by gently pushing him onto the bed. He'd smiled almost the entire time as she carefully discarded his clothes and made love to him. Her soft kisses and slow movements were not usually his style, but he quickly fell in love with how it made him feel. Goosebumps prickled his skin as she danced above him. His hands lightly gripped her hips but allowed her to control the pace. Her breasts, full and soft pushed against his chest. His head tipped back against the mattress and she lathered his neck with kisses that mimicked how he usually treated her whenever their positions were reversed. His release was not earth-shattering. It did not erupt. He didn't shout out in ecstasy.
It soothed him. From his ears to his toes, he shook with pleasure. It vibrated his spine and his heart thumped in his chest. She gasped above him, resting her forehead against his sternum and mumbling into his skin that she loved him more than she loved life itself. He had swallowed the lump in his throat and promptly rolled them so that he could convince her to nap before dinner. When he successfully cuddled her to sleep, he slipped from the room.
Hunter made several purchases while Stephanie slept. He arranged for them all to be delivered to their suite during dinner. When the couple returned to their room later that night, Stephanie struggled to thank him. Emotion choked her. Red and white roses adorned the entire bedroom. Her favorite desserts were arranged on a room service cart. A small designer gift bag sat at the foot of the bed. Hunter guided her there by the hand and sat facing her. He took both her hands.
"I know we've been struggling lately. And I know I haven't thanked you for all you did to get me back here, but Steph, I love you so much. I'm so happy this is happening and I wanna start showing you how much I love you more often. I'm sorry it's taken me this long. I appreciate everything you've done for me. For us."
He was a bit sad to see how much his words shook her. She seemed shocked to hear them. If they had a baby girl, he would expect her future husband to shower her with affection at all times. He would be furious if she were surprised to hear her husband's declaration of love.
As he passed her the gift, he vowed to change. He needed to be a better husband. Stephanie deserved it. And their children would need to see how a man should treat his wife.
Stephanie opened the bag to remove an even fancier gift box inside. He'd spent an absurd amount of money on the small onesie that lay inside. He held his breath as she opened the box and pushed aside the tissue paper to see it.
Her gasp was strained. He watched nervously as she lifted the grey and white baby outfit. It was made of the softest thread money could buy. He'd spent almost an hour picking it out, unsure if grey was gender neutral and if she'd like it.
She held the onesie carefully, tenderly. Her eyes watered as she stared at it in awe. Hunter cleared his throat as the seconds ticked away and she still hadn't spoken. Her lower lip began to tremble.
"I didn't know which color to get. But this was the most expensive one in the store. If you don't like it, the lady said I could -"
"I love it."
He fell silent at her interruption. She finally lifted her gaze from the material and he was unnerved to see a bit of fear in her eyes.
"Hunter, I -" Her voice trailed off as she looked around the room. He could tell that she was conflicted. He thought he knew why.
"Steph," he started with a hand in her lap, "we're gonna be alright. All the bad shit's behind us. I promise I'll be a better husband. I have to be. I refuse to be a deadbeat dad."
She met his eyes for just a second. Then she pulled the onesie to her chest as though it were an actual baby. She cradled it, staring at his hand gripping her thigh.
"I love you, Hunter."
He smiled brightly, tipped her chin upwards with his finger, and ignored the look of defeat on her face.
"And I love both of you."
She cringed, fighting a sob. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head, amused by her pregnancy hormones.
"We got this, babe," he whispered into hair.
He soothed her for a bit before gently urging her to try the mini cheesecake at the center of her dessert platter. She seemed unwilling to part with the onesie though so he fed her the sweet while she continued to hold the garment like it was their unborn child.
Eventually, the tension eased. Hunter joked about how lost he was in the store and described what he thought their baby would look like.
"It's gonna be helluva good lookin' kid, I can tell ya that."
"You're crazy, " she laughed.
"Damn right. And so are you. We're gonna be a couple of crazy parents soon."
She had been admiring the onesie again, but suddenly she looked determined.
"I'm gonna be a good mom."
"I know, babe."
"I'm serious," she said, eyes staring intensely into his. "I'm gonna be a good mom to your babies, Hunter. They'll be good. I'm gonna keep them away from my family. They'll make their own beds and do good in school. I'll make sure they're not too spoiled. They won't be anything like me."
"Hey," he interrupted with a frown. "Don't talk like that."
Fresh tears pooled in her eyes.
"The only way for this kid to be good-looking and successful is if they're like you so don't be sayin that."
She looked away from him.
"I'll give you a bunch of babies."
He smiled and tipped her face back towards him again with his finger.
"You're already giving me one, Steph. Just focus on that."
He brushed a fallen tear from her face and waited for her to speak. When she did, her voice was strained.
"You think I can be good?"
He frowned but cupped her cheek with his hand.
"You're not bad, Stephanie."
She closed her eyes with force and he wiped away some more tears. When their gazes realigned, he was taken aback by how upset she looked.
"I'm not good," she whispered. He traced her bottom lip with his thumb.
"Neither am I," he said just as softly.
They shifted closer. The onesie still pressed to her chest, she tucked her head against his shoulder.
"Our kids will be good though," he said into her brown curls.
Faintly, she replied, "yeah."
The memories were worst of all. The good and the bad. He didn't know which was worse. And she was taking forever to reappear. Her new authoritative role seemed to have trained her in the art of evasion. She only re-entered his sight in the late evening, quietly slipping out the exit door into the night. There was no other way to re-enter the building so Hunter waited a calculated twenty minutes before heading outside as well.
Jesus fucking Christ! Since when was she a social butterfly? He actually growled at the sight of her drinking with a few soldiers, and wondered if he'd be better off just forgetting the whole thing.
Her laugh was carried by the wind and hit his ears. It was a giggle really. A tall soldier must've made a joke. Hunter felt bile rise in his stomach and turned around. He stomped to back into the building and to his bunk, not caring that hardly anyone had gone to bed yet. Fuck her, he thought as he climbed into the small bed.
But then he began to toss and turn. His guilty conscience returned with a vengeance, refusing to be ignored. Her face. He couldn't stop thinking about it. For an hour he fidgeted. He punched his pillow, attempting to break down the firmness of it. It was to no avail. He looked to the ceiling. All he saw was her face. Her beautiful face.
"I'll tell Ric here and everyone else..."
He tried to shake away the memory.
"Whore."
Her face, contorted. Her biggest secret. How could he?
"God! I fucking hate – you."
He'd hurt her. Again. She'd bowed her head.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have gone... I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry, again."
"I'm sorry for everything else too."
He'd been so terrible. And she had apologized. She apologized to him.
Then his own voice resonated inside his head. She's afraid of you.
The thought twisted his stomach. She had always stood up to him, challenged him. She'd yell and swear and drive him insane. But now... Now, she apologized. She mumbled and looked away and wrapped her arms around herself.
She looked exactly like she had when she told him. When she confided in her husband and told him everything. She had described it like a transaction, like she was somehow in control and able to consent. She'd been ashamed, embarrassed to tell him. Afraid to tell him.
He could still feel the rage her confession had unleashed within him. He still felt the pain and pity. He still remembered her face. And the feel of her in his arms. The muscles in his chest twitched at the memory of her shaking against him. She had cried, with her face buried against his shoulder.
Hunter couldn't take it anymore. He jumped out of his bunk and stepped into his untied boots. She was still outside, doing God knows what. But he needed to see her. He needed to apologize. He needed to make sure that she was okay.
He found her at a picnic table. She was sitting with two female soldiers and the moonlight highlighted her cheekbones. It shined against the ripples of her hair. Hunter couldn't stop the small smile that tugged at his lips. She's so beautiful.
Her companions noticed him approaching first. They smiled enthusiastically so she was forced by curiosity to look his way. Her smile dropped instantly.
"Hello ladies."
"Hey Triple H!"
He took a few minutes to engage in small talk, hearing how long the soldiers' had been WWE fans, laughing at their childhood wrestling heroes, and thanking them, sincerely, for their service. He stood beside Stephanie, feeling her anxiety as the women bid their farewells. Then he gently sat beside her.
It was an odd tension. They looked forward, unable to meet eyes, but the space between them, a mere five inches, felt like a mile. But he was aware, as he was sure she was too, that either of them could reach out and touch the other.
There was a strange comfort in that despite the fear inside him.
"I can't be near you, Steph."
"I know."
"I don't think I'll ever be able to."
"I know."
"Do you feel like that?"
She looked out of the corner of her eye at him. He did the same.
"Not really," she said quietly. "But it's different for me. I'm the one who messed up."
He didn't know how to respond to that so he settled for a nod.
"I think we should an effort to stay away from each at pay-per-views and things like this."
"Okay."
"I'll have Ric get us a different flight home."
"Okay."
Hunter found her one-word answers mildly annoying, but knew she was trying to avoid an argument.
She's scared of you.
He took a deep breath.
"I also wanted to apologize."
She shifted beside him, looking forward again.
"What I said was awful and uncalled for."
He watched her nibble her bottom lip.
"It also wasn't true," he finished.
Stephanie said nothing. She bounced her left knee unconsciously and continued to avoid his gaze. Hunter felt a pull on his heartstrings. He suddenly wanted to touch her.
"You know that, right?"
It happened so fast. He had been trying to soothe her with his words. He hadn't thought they'd do the opposite.
Her face crumpled. She squinted against pain and tears, and then her hands covered her face, hiding herself from him. She sucked in a breath and held it to stop any sounds that wanted to escape. But her sobs turned inwards and wracked her body. He saw her torso convulse, barely able to bare the agony she was forcing it to conceal.
Hold her, hide her. You were a piece of shit. You deserved to be lied to. Touch her.
The baby.
The baby with blue eyes that he loved so much. It was like she'd killed it.
He couldn't.
She sucked in another breath through her teeth, beneath her hands. Her throat wheezed, still trying to stay silent. The sound kicked him in the stomach. He couldn't take it. He stood at once, pulling his legs so quickly from beneath the table that his knees scraped the underside of the wood.
Stephanie must have thought he was leaving because she folded her arms on the table and buried her head between them. He clenched his jaw at the sight, watching her shoulders shake from the sobs wracking her body. Standing over her made him feel the weight of what he'd done, of how much he had hurt her.
He had known she was insecure of what had happened. He knew she felt responsible, like she had allowed it to happen. Like she had been old enough to know better, to consent. He had tried to convince her, back then, that chains and violence didn't define sexual assault. That power and blackmail were just as wrong, just as evil. He hadn't been sure if she believed him. Instead, hoping his love for her would heal the trauma.
But now he had convinced her that that had all been a lie. That he'd been offering lip service when it was convenient, but secretly thinking her compliant. An accessory to one of Vince McMahon's many conquests. His daughter, in high school, used as a bonus to smooth over disgruntled financial backers. And her willing and able. Her consenting and driving the getaway car to success.
Hunter wanted to scream, and cry, and murder Vince out here in the dessert so no one would ever find him. He wanted to hunt down the men who had abused her and offer her their heads on a platter. He looked down from the moon and watched her shoulders continuously shake. He wanted to pull her into his arms.
He reached out his hand and squeezed where her right shoulder met her neck. She was sweating from the effort to keep quiet. At his touch, she squealed into her arms. But he kept his hand were it was, occasionally flexing his fingers to massage her clenched muscles as he listened to her cry. He wasn't sure how long he stood there, but he didn't speak until she seemed to finally settle, even if it was just a fraction.
"I shouldn't have said it. I didn't mean it. You helped me and you didn't need to. I'm so sorry."
Her shoulders shook harder and a whine escaped her mouth. It was muffled by her arms but he could hear it and it pushed him over the edge. Dropping onto a knee, he pulled her into his arms, wondering if this was appropriate but hardly caring. Her cries intensified as she buried her face into the crook of his neck, her arms around his neck. He held her. His hands moved up and down her back and stroked her hair.
"Shh," he hushed. "Don't cry. Please don't cry. It wasn't your fault. Ric won't say anything. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it. I just wanted to hurt you. It was wrong. I was wrong. I'm sorry. I didn't want you to tell anyone that I called for you. I was a fucking asshole. I'm sorry."
On and on he whispered into her ear, almost crying himself multiple times. He didn't think he had ever felt so bad. Even the night he found out she lied, he could bury his hurt feelings under the rage. But this, this horrid concoction of guilt and sadness was heartbreaking. It was more than heartbreaking. It was like having his guts ripped out.
When he ran out of words, he simply held her. Cradling the back of her head, he let her soak the collar of his shirt as she tried to control her hitching breaths. She turned her head a bit, to get fresh air, but he kept his fingers threading through her hair.
Time passed. Neither of them knew how much. Hunter lost sensation in his knee. Stephanie sniffled until her eyes and nose dried.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
Hunter gently shook his head and opened his eyes. He had slipped into an almost dreamlike state with her body pressed up against his.
"It's alright."
"For everything, Hunter."
His eyes shut again. His head tipped downwards, his nose bumped her ear.
"I know."
She took another deep breath, arms flexing tighter around his neck for a second. Then, she leaned backwards, leaving his arms. It should have been awkward. It should have been uncomfortable. He couldn't feel his knee and his back ached after being hunched for so long.
A strange peacefulness descended upon them. In that moment, he thought it was closure. He tried to harden his expression, to keep the anger above his chest. But it was dark and she was staring bashfully into her lap. He let his soft gaze move over her features, finding comfort in just being able to look at her.
"I'm sorry for blubbering all over you," she mumbled.
"You don't have to apologize for that."
"I'm sorry for -"
"You don't have to apologize for anything else either," he gently interrupted.
He watched her try and read his face. The moon was behind him, illuminating her but keeping him in the dark. He tried to shed light on his thoughts, while keeping his heart locked and tucked away.
"We weren't supposed to even be together. This was a power move. We let sex and feelings get the better of us, and then built a marriage on that. We were doomed from the beginning."
Did this hurt her? Was it as awful to hear as it was for him to say? It must have been. Because her face tilted upwards at his words and her lips part slightly.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I wasn't trying to be mean. I –"
"It's okay," but her interruption was quick and defensive. They went silent. She broke it a moment later, looking into her lap again and speaking to her thighs. "I'm sorry. I know it was a mess. I just," she paused, "I got attached to you."
His hands had fallen to either side of her hips when she broke their embrace. He cupped them and stroked her sides with his thumbs.
"I got attached too," his voice was deep. "Two years is a long time. It's weird being apart."
She nodded, but didn't look up.
"Thank you for taking care of me. I'm sorry for what I said. It won't happen again."
"No it won't," she agreed quietly. "I'll stay away from you."
His thumbs stilled.
"And I'll give you your space too."
Her eyes lifted to meet his. She hadn't asked for space. She didn't want space. They both knew it. But it was for the best. It had to be.
"Steph," he whispered.
She looked up to him again but then over his head.
"Someone's coming."
Her words evoked panic in both of them. They stood at once, side by side and rubbing their faces to wipe the emotions clean. Hunter felt the hate swirl once again in his stomach at the sight of Vince McMahon's figure approaching them.
"Goddamn, it's getting late!"
They said nothing.
"What are you two doing together?"
The chairman's voice was jovial, loving the tension in the air. Hunter seethed with rage. His lip curled.
"None of," he started with a sneer but Stephanie interrupted.
"We just needed to discuss the house."
"I see," said Vince, eyeing Hunter with a cautious glare. He hadn't missed the younger man's aggressive tone. "I thought that was all squared away."
"We did too," continued Stephanie. "The lawyers missed a form so we have to sign it when we get back. You know how they are."
It was the perfect lie. And she delivered it with ease. She was so smooth, never overselling, always giving just the right amount of information. Hunter felt his heart break all over again.
Vince turned his attention to his daughter, making some smartass comment about attorneys. Hunter tuned him out until it was unavoidable.
"Well, we should all rest a bit. Big day tomorrow."
They're all big days you fucking monster.
"Of course," replied Stephanie, smiling politely at her father and then moving to follow him back towards the barracks.
Hunter couldn't take it. He reached out his hand and encircled her wrist. He couldn't bare to see her walk away with Vince. But Stephanie quickly reminded him that she was no longer his concern when her father was out of earshot.
"You hate me," she said quietly. "You can't forgive me and I can't apologize enough. And you're right... we were bad. For everyone, but for each other most of all. Let's do what you said. I'll try my best to stay clear of you."
He gulped.
She looked down to where he held her. So did he. They watched his fingers loosen their gentle grip until her forearm could fall free to her side. Then she was walking away and he was slowly following her, his head spinning. They parted at the entrance of the barracks. She headed off to the right, where the women were bunked together. He went to the left.
Hunter climbed into his bunk. His mind was still racing. Her face, their marriage, the baby, her lie, his quad, everything flashed before his eyes. Her hateful sneer as Jericho attacked his leg. The sting of her hand across his face. The front row jeering that the baby wasn't his. Kurt boasting that it was about time Hunter knew better. His lawyers frustrated with her lack of communication. His mother angry with him for marrying such a woman. His father disappointed that he hadn't known better.
He refused to toss and turn again. So he flopped onto his stomach, forgetting his injured rib and groaned. Taking several deep breaths, he tried to focus on his breathing. But the night of Armageddon soon swirled into focus.
"Whore."
Hot tears came from nowhere. They leaked from his eyes and onto the pillow. And then Armageddon 1999.
They'd consummated the marriage. Thoroughly. The night of the drive-thru once, for fun. And because they wouldn't be able to for several weeks. But the night of her betrayal, of his victory, was different.
They celebrated. Over and over again. In the limo, at the club DX met them at, in their room. They were drunk off of the power. Their success was an aphrodisiac for people half as crazy as them. It was down right euphoric for The Game and his new bride. Afterwards, when the sun had begun to rise, they lay on their bellies, side by side on the bed of their luxury suite. Their eyes twinkled with satisfaction and mischief, but they'd finally grown tired.
"Well this worked out better than expected."
She immediately laughed and he loved the sound.
"Not too bad for a sham wedding, huh?"
"Definitely," he agreed. "I was worried you'd suck in the sack."
She lightly smacked his arm as her jaw dropped.
"Same to you, asshole."
He reached for her body, and despite her squirming, successfully wrestled her into his arms, her back to his chest. He was a cuddler. He considered it a vice but one he enjoyed too much to give up. And besides, she was his wife now. She'd have to get used to it. At least for a while. They hadn't worked out how this would end yet.
Stephanie found no fault in this unexpected proclivity of his. She settled beside him with a sleepy sigh.
"I take it I didn't disappoint," he asked smugly against her neck.
"No," she hummed. "And you seem quite sated yourself."
Her cocky grin was just an inch away from his when she turned her head to look at him. His deep chuckle vibrated them both. They quieted for a moment, their breathing slowing as sleep descended upon them. Hunter kissed her shoulder gently.
"This is nice," he mumbled against her skin, suspecting he was more intoxicated than he previously thought.
"Mhm."
"Thank you," he said.
"Mhm," but then her confusion roused her. "Wait, what?"
"Thank you," he repeated, nuzzling the nape of her neck. "I'll be champion again soon."
"Oh."
"Mm."
"Thank you too," she whispered. "I'm free."
He smiled and tightened his grip around her.
"Not quite."
Her laugh was soft, and he was momentarily annoyed when she shifted. That had been the spot. But then he knew what it was to be truly comfortable when her leg and arm wrapped around him like a vine. Her head rested against his shoulder in a way that allowed his own to tilt at just the right angle against his pillow.
It was perfection. The plan, the night, their sexual chemistry, this.
He sighed, feeling her fall asleep against him. For the moment, he was basking in victory, unconcerned with how this arrangement would end. Just as long as he could lay like this every night for the duration of their reign.
His tears flowed heavily. The lumpy, musty bedding beneath him tasted disgusting as he suffocated himself with the pillow and blanket. He fought with everything he had not to sob. All around him slept his enemies, forced into a short truce for charity. He bit down on the rough material until his body showed mercy and carried him into a restless sleep.