Paul imagined getting a lot of use out of the lake house when it was first purchased. Just the two of them. He and his wife. That it would be the place where they snuck away from everyone else and, yeah, it was for family and friends and everything else, but it was mostly just to have a single place in the universe where he could easily drag his wife away for a few days without having to plan out this entire ordeal.
While it did serve this purpose in theory, it hardly did in spirit.
Life wasn't exactly how he envisioned it. Though everyone had warned him before hand, he really did underestimate just how much of your free time (of which they had hardly to begin with) was eaten up by having children. Not even necessarily due to any fault of their own; atop their usual neediness, there's also a natural desire to just be around them as much as possible.
Given such little time to begin with, it was hard to decided what was more needed in a given moment; a family vacation or one just for yourselves?
Stephanie usually figured all of that out.
Always, just about.
Or at least had someone else do it.
She gave him dates and times and locations and that was enough for the man.
Now though, finding himself completely restricted from work, it was his job. He had all the free time in the world to do anything he liked. Stephanie had emphasized that to him multiple times the past few weeks. For the first time in his adult life, there was no training, there was no rehabbing for the ring, there was no anything.
"Get a new hobby," she suggested to him more than once, but specifically around the time she'd begun to travel again, now mostly content in the man's health once more. "Like take up cooking or guitar or-"
"Babe," he'd interceded in most cases, "I'm not doing that and you know it."
"Well," she sighed once, around their anniversary, "you do have to do something, you know. Eventually."
That specific day he was stretched out in their bed, unconcerned and free as he relaxed in only his boxers while his wife stood in their adjoining bathroom, door open as she did her hair before work. He used to be rushing right with her, not enough space in their far too large house for all of the morning activities. Between his wife, teenager daughters, dogs, and himself all rushing around, it could get kind of hectic.
If anything, this portion of the morning was now fun for Paul. He was used to waking up early (it would be hard to sleep through the commotion anyways) and would usually still get up, but instead roam around the house, cracking jokes that the people with actual places to be didn't appreciate.
He never knew what he was missing, lounging around in sweats with a cup of coffee each morning just absolutely killing it, joke-wise, he felt, regardless of the chorus of groans his quips were frequently met with.
Steph liked it though, he was pretty sure. Mostly. She did find him as obnoxious as their children did, but in an endearing way. She mostly just seemed happy to see him actually happy.
"What do you mean?"
Except, apparently, that day.
"I do plenty," he continued to carp while the woman only groaned. "Lots. So much. What do you even know?"
"That's not what I meant, baby," she complained with a look his way. She was so far from him, standing before the sink all the way in the bathroom, but damn, he could feel her gaze even still. "I know you do a lot."
"Thank you." He'd intended his tone before to be a faux annoyance, but had even convinced himself a bit of his apparent vexation. "I do, don't I?"
Stephanie rolled her eyes. He knew she did. He couldn't see them, as she was facing the mirror once more, but he was certain of it.
Letting out her own breath, she said, "I meant to stop yourself from getting bored. You know?"
"It's not forever, Steph," he griped now legitimately a bit. "I'm going back to work."
"I know that. I still don't want you miserable in the mean time."
"Who's miserable?" the man kept up. "This is the life."
"Sure, babe," she snorted, but left it at that. "Whatever you say."
Done in the mirror, she exited the bathroom only to go lose herself in her closet for a bit, picking out shoes.
Paul waited in disinterest of her choice for her to emerge.
"You know, actually," she was remarking as she came over to the bed then, but only the end of it, where her unzipped bag lay, already packed and prepped, but waiting for another once over. Stephanie was there to give it just that. "There is something you can do for me."
She was leaving for a few days and they were up earlier than their usual early. When she left, he'd still have another hour to kill before dealing with his kids. His consciousness in that moment existed only for the woman.
And...maybe because he'd miss her while she was gone.
Maybe.
He made a face anyways as he shoved up a bit in bed so they could stare at one another. She still stood at the foot of it, rifling through her bag, but did raise her eyes at the exactly right moment, as she always seemed to, for them to connect.
"Anything," he insisted and he laid a hand over his chest, as he insisted this, but the action almost immediately drug her eyes away from him and instead to where the still healing wound lay, beside his fingers. Noting this, he added her name softly, whispering it mostly. When this returned her gaze, he only smiled, big and goofy as he reiterated, "Anything."
Returning his smile, she shrugged a bit as she said, "It's not that serious."
"What is it, huh?" He wagged his eye brows. "Want me to pack a bag and join you on this trip, huh?"
"Uh, no. That's the exact opposite of what I want you to do."
"C'mon." He was grinning so wide that it almost hurt. There was nothing better than annoying his wife when she was trying to be serious. "I won't be workin' or anything. Just following you around."
"Sounds like a nightmare."
"Is that right?"
She shrugged a bit as she said, "I've just yet to hear a single convincing argument for why I'd ever want you around, so-"
"The sex, Stephie." He scoffed at her. "How could you forget?"
"Silly me."
"I'd be your little groupie," he snickered. "Sitting around the hotel and-"
"Waiting for me."
"Mmmhmm."
"Like a…" And she paused then, bringing a finger up to tap at her bottom lip, as if in deep thought. When she dropped it, she had a shocked expression as she finished, "Bitch."
He dropped his jaw and she laughed, too loudly really for it to be so early, and had to turn away some as she pressed a hand to her mouth, stifling the sound. When she turned back, she found him there, closer now as he'd fully shoved up, so he could fall across the bed. Pressed up on one arm, his face was right there, waiting for her, across her bag. She was still laughing too, when she moved to lean down and kiss him, arms easily falling over the man's shoulders.
Knowing he wouldn't have her for much longer, when Steph pulled back, it was to find her husband grinning and with an answer.
"Let's go to the lake house," he breathed and Steph's grin fell a bit.
"What?"
"For our anniversary," he kept up, regardless of her confusion. "I want to go there."
"We just went." She almost sounded disappointed. "I'll just pick, okay? I should've already, but-"
"Lake house," he insisted again. "Swear, it'll be everything you ever wanted."
"Why?" She seemed unconvinced and even raised an eyebrow as she said, "Let me guess; the sex?"
Paul smiled, but not fully as he only insisted to the woman, "Think about it, baby. Just you and me. In our own place. No awkward first few hours in a villa or whatever the fuck. No plane ride. Just us, driving down to our own place, where we can hole up for awhile. Like before, yeah, but different. With only me and you." Then he frowned and added, as a concession, "Well, the kids can come up at the end of the week, if they want, but for at least for a day or two or however long, I just… I wanna be alone with you."
This hung between them for a moment and he could tell he was persuading her rather effectively, but the man always had to go a step further.
Always.
The hand that wasn't pushing himself up just barely ghosted over her chin when he searched for her, just out of reach.
"I wanna be alone with you," he repeated softly and they were whispering even though they were the only ones up in the house, in the whole world, maybe, it felt like, sometimes. In moments like these. It didn't matter if it wasn't true because it felt enough so, to the two of them. Even if it was only for a second, nothing else mattered. "I wanna spend time with you. Just you. Fuck, Steph, I wanna have fun with you too. Everything's been so tense and so...so…"
"Scary?"
He let out a bit of a breath, but nodded the same though he didn't speak the word. "I want it to feel like it did before all this fucking shit, you know? Let's just go to our house, be in our bed, with our shit, and be alone for awhile. Fully alone."
Stephanie bit her lip a bit before whispering, "I just wanna be with you. Wherever you want. If it's the lake house, fine."
"Fine." He gave up then, or perhaps his arm did, as he fell to the bed. Rolling with it, he ended up flat on his back, in the middle of their bed, staring up at his wife as she only made a face down. Letting out a bit of a huff, he grumbled back up to her, "Laying out my best to you and all you can give me is a fine?"
Stephanie seemed content with the contents of her back then and, zipping it up, she leaned over the back a bit, so she could lean down further and press a kiss to her husband's lips, upside down and deep.
It left him wanting more, an especially evil trick considering when she pulled away, it was to leave him all alone.
"If that," Stephanie remarked over her shoulder as, finally, she seemed to be departing, "was your best, you better step it up, babe, before we get to the lake house."
The breath he released then was closer to a pant and he turned his head to the side, just to catch sight of her. He didn't smile now, as she couldn't see him regardless, and only called to her back, "Text me when you land."
"Maybe."
"Stephie-"
"You're so needy," she tsked and he knew it was offhanded, of course, as the woman would never purposely dig at him before leaving, but once she was gone and it was only him again, he raked on hand down his face with a ragged sigh because she was right.
He felt needy. So needy. But he couldn't help it. She was right, before, about how...scary things had gotten and it just felt better, when she was there, even if it was just in presence.
They lived most of their part apart. Recency bias made this difficult to accept though, as Steph stayed by his side through his surgeries and at least close during his recovery, if not, again, right by his side. It was the most time they'd gotten to spend together, ironically, in what certain didn't feel like a decade, but had to be, he was certain, when he thought back on it.
There was something scary even in just realizing that, honestly. He felt so close and connected to his wife, no matter what. It felt like a shock to the system to realize all he'd missed out on. That he had to have been missing out on.
Stephanie wasn't off for the full week of their anniversary, but promised him anything she needed to do could be done virtually (with maybe a few video meetings in-between), but other than that, she was all his.
"All?" he asked with a snicker as they left early that morning.
Stephanie was huddled up in a hoodie due to the cold October air, hood pulled over her face. He liked her like that sometimes, he found, more than he did anything else. It felt so causal. An association, maybe, with how she dressed when they were home. She always said the dogs could tell whether or not she'd be leaving them that day, not necessarily by if she had a bag with her or not, but by what shoes she slipped on.
He felt much the same, but by her outfit.
Paul felt best when she was either getting dressed up to go out with him or dressed down to lounge around with him.
"All," she insisted with a giggle as they kissed, as they stood together at the back of the car.
He pulled back some, to close trunk on their bags, while Stephanie only moved to fix her hood. He'd knocked it off, when they kissed, and Steph was moving to pull it back up and maybe they were getting back to normal, because he couldn't help himself.
"Paul," Stephanie complained as, once she did, he only moved to shove it back down. As she tried to pull it back around her face, he again, moved to do the same thing. "What are you-"
"We're getting into the car, silly." He made a bit of a face at her. "You're not that cold."
"You have no idea what I am," Steph huffed a bit as, when he moved to stop her this time, she only moved to grab his hand and they were wrestling, a bit, in the cold, wet wee hours of the morning, the woman easily being overpowered by the man who wrapped her in a choker. Her hand came up to grip at his arm and he let her loosen the hold a bit.
He didn't think this would cause him to be lose his breath, even a bit, but when Steph stilled in his hold, the breath he let out in her ear was rough.
"Baby?"
"Mmmm?"
"What are we doing?"
"Patiently waiting for you to submit."
She wouldn't tap his arm though, instead angling her head as best she could to stare back at him as she said, "Try me again at the lake house."
"Oh yeah?" He released her then. "Then what, huh? You submit?"
Bemused, she only rubbed at her neck a bit as she said, "No."
"No?"
"You do."
He laughed, openly, before glancing back up at the house. Stephanie had spent at least thirty minutes promising her dogs they'd be reunited soon, but they stood still, together, in one of the windows. He could make them out as they watched their mother and father, hopeful they'd change their minds and come back in, but not very confident in this.
And they shouldn't be, Paul knew, as when he looked back at his wife, it was to find her looking to him. Smiling, he reached for her hood this time not to throw it away, but to pull it over the woman's head himself.
"There." He seemed proud of himself as he held it down then, over her face, and Steph didn't even fight him on it now, only giggling. "Perfect."
"You're stupid." When he let go, she pulled it back some, just enough to see. But the man wasn't there, instead now turning to get into the car. "Oh, now can we leave? Babe?"
"If you're done playing."
"If I'm done playing?"
"Yeah, if you are."
She was quick to follow, still giggling as she did so.
There wasn't anything quite like the lake house. Especially alone.
When they wanted to get away, a lot of the time Steph wanted to go somewhere tropical and different, than their everyday, and that was fine with him, he liked her there too, but it also had its draw backs. Yes, some far off cabin or villa would provide them all of the privacy they wanted, the physical separation from work, the disconnection from everything except one another, but it came with its own downside too.
You could get too much of one another, in an unfamiliar place, when you really are the only person to talk to. Paul could live with just Steph, forever, but by day five, he did need a bit of a break. And he knew she did as well, from him.
It's why he liked the lake house so much more.
They could still make a no phone rule. No work rules. They could even follow them. But if something big came up, there was still the chance to catch it. For either of them.
What he said before was true as well. It was their house. Their. And even though he didn't escape away to it with the woman as much as he would have liked, it still felt like their bed, when they fell into it. Their couch, when they were flaked out together, flipping through channels. Their fridge, their food, their deck, their place.
Theirs.
Sometimes he just wanted to get away to somewhere that belonged to them.
"Maybe you should just live here," Stephanie giggled as she found the man after returning from the store, settled comfortably into the couch as he scrolled absently through his phone. The second they'd gotten in, she'd wanted to rush right off to the store, to get supplies for the week. When he seemed to wanna rest instead, she was quick to assure him she'd be back soon and not worry about it; it'd be faster if she went alone. "You seem so comfortable."
"Comfortable?" He was shoving up then, to get grab whatever bags she'd left behind in the car. "I was lonely."
"Oh god."
"I was." They were walking in different directions, as she headed to drop the bags in her arms in the kitchen and he was heading outside to get the rest. "Stephie."
"Doubt it," came her drifting voice from the house.
He'd save his reply for when he returned.
"Did I hear you correctly?" Paul joined his wife in the kitchen, arms full of paper bags. "That you doubt my loneliness?"
"Me?" Steph was carefully stocking the fridge then and blushed some as she glanced over her shoulder at the man. "No way. Must've been hearing things."
"Damn right." He dropped his bags on a nearby island counter top. "I'm always lonely when my baby's gone."
"Are you lonely enough to help put things away?"
"Fuck no."
"Paul-"
"You already see me doing it, Steph," he grumbled as, from one of the bags, he pulled some canned goods to take over to the cupboard. "So why even say anything?"
"I dunno." She went back to her own sorting. "Guess I just like my voice that much."
He grumbled some as he dropped one of the cans before remarking to the woman, "You do have a damn fine voice."
"Shut up."
"Sexy voice." He fought against his urge to glance back at her. "It's what makes me lonely, you know? I can always tell when you're not around because it so quiet."
"You're such a jerk."
"So tranquil and peaceful."
"Paul-"
"Bleh." He stuck out his tongue and shook his head from the thought. "I like to never know a moments peace."
"I'm not laughing."
"Can't even hear yourself think," he went on, "because your wife with her damn fine, sexy, never shut the absolute fuck up voice."
"You know," Stephanie sighed some, not even sparing a glance the man's way. "I was planning on making you breakfast, babe."
"Is that right?"
"That's right."
"Big breakfast?"
"Bought all your favorites."
He doubted it. Though he'd always been a stickler about his diet anyways, now he had a whole laundry list of things he should avoid or infrequently consume and Steph was more on top of it than he was.
The man could have his fill eggs though and he imagined Steph would serve him a big plate of that with some fruit and, maybe a pancake? If he asked her nicely?
Finished with the cans in his arms, he planned on being as sweet as possible towards the woman as he made his request, but something else came over him. Stephanie was still putting things away on her end, awaiting what snappy rebuttal her husband had to her more recent taunt. Bent at the waist, she was putting away veggies in the stupid drawer she always got mad at him for not placing the in, and didn't really note his presence until he was directly behind her.
"Paul," she complained some when she turned to find him right there. "There's tons of stuff to put away. Go-"
"That's all the cold shit, right?" He was reaching around her then, for a bag near her feet. "Watch out."
"What are you doing?" Stephanie asked as, instead of pulling anything from the bag, he merely gently moved her out of the way before dropping the entire back of stuff on a random fridge shelf. "Uh, Paul-"
"You left me alone forever, Steph," he complained as, with that done, he shut the fridge door. "When you swore you wouldn't."
"It was, like, twenty minutes."
"Stephie."
"Half an hour."
"A full one," he challenged. "Two of them. Three."
"Paul."
"A whole hour," he finally caved some, folding his arms over his chest as he eyed her. "And then you think you can just come back in here, fry some bacon-"
"You're not having bacon."
"-and all will be fixed." He clicked his tongue with a shake of his head. "Unbelievable."
Stephanie still wasn't fully certain of his game and only said, "If you want me to go ahead and start cooking-"
"Fuck cooking." There was no room for him to take another step, but he did anyways, forcing her to take one back, and he had her trapped them, against a counter. Steph's eyes were locked in on his and her hands were resting gently against his chest as he insisted to the woman, "I wanna fuck you."
Steph wasn't hard to get. Not for the man. He used to be able to do it with looks, honestly, but as that failed at times, his words never had. He could get her so hot just from talking, even if it was nonsense. It didn't matter. Smoldering gaze, gravely voice, a few choice words.
Getting Steph had never been his problem.
It wasn't then either as she laughed that specific one, reserved with red cheeks and a quick glance away from him. When he tried to close the space between their faces though, he was met with a gentle, yet insistent, force from the hands pressed into his chest.
"Not yet, baby."
"Steph-"
"No," she laughed and he let her slip away then, away from where he'd cornered her as she only turned to walk backwards, so she could see him as she spoke. "We will. But let me shower first."
"Why?" He found it hard to keep the irritation out of his tone. "Trust me, babe, I don't give a shit."
"Well, I do." Steph shrugged her shoulders at him as she made it across the kitchen then, to the doorway that would lead her to the stairs. "You can finish putting up the stuff for me though."
"That's not-"
"And the stuff in the fridge needs to come out of the bag, Paul."
Paul decided not to be too annoyed. In years past, especially when they were alone in their own home, his words would have been enough to get the woman slipped out of her clothes, right then and there.
Still, things had been kinda awkward on that front, since everything had happened. Maybe a bit before, even. He felt revived though, that week especially, as he transitioned into the newest phase of his life. There was no more sulking. Or ending nights with just a kiss and whispers of more, maybe, when they both weren't so exhausted.
It had a new meaning now. Exhausted. It had always meant tiring hours in the ring or training or just dealing the standard business bullshit that filled their days. Now it meant that the exercises they wanted him to do were stupid and he wanted to do more, but couldn't, and she wanted to be with him now, all of the time, because what if he needed her and she wasn't there, but Shane and Vince were fighting and they both still had their kids to worry about, and sometimes it felt better than fucking, just resting beside one another, depleted but not finished.
Together.
It was enough, the past few weeks, but there had been intent (and discussion) over their plans for the week and, well, he figured she should be glad that he at least let her go to the store first.
He wanted his wife. In a way that felt like the past, before all this shit, and found it difficult not to follow after her up the stairs, all the shit she'd bought be damned.
But he didn't.
Because Stephanie had asked him not to.
And not in that way she did sometimes where she really wanted him to do the thing she denied him, but in a more serious one.
If Steph wanted to shower before he fucked her, fine.
Anticipation was also an important factor that he often neglected.
He'd finished with putting things away and, not wanting to get distracted with anything else, was kind of just awkwardly roaming the house when she called down for him.
Stephanie had already tugged fresh sheets on the bed and was huddled beneath them, awating him. As the man pushed into the room, she did pop her head out a bit to watch him.
"Mmmm," she moaned long and low, purposefully, he knew, as she shifted in the sheets a bit. "You have no idea how good it feels under here."
"Oh yeah?" he asked as instead of immediately moving to join her, he merely took a slow walk around the room. "Nice and cool?"
"Come find out."
But instead of doing so, he only whistled, continuing his slow walk over to their window, pulling back the curtains to the complaint of his wife. Merely standing there, he crossed his arms over his chest and observed the lake before them.
"Breathtaking."
"Paul."
"Hmmm?"
Stephanie frowned over at him as she complained, "Are you going to get in bed or not?"
Still facing away from her, he licked his lips a bit as he thought before replying, "No."
"What?"
"I'm going to go shower."
"You're so full of it."
"I am." When he turned back to her, it was to tug the shirt over his head. "Gotta go wash up. Be all presentable."
Instead arguing, she decided to call his bluff and only cuddled back down under the sheet. From beneath them, she said, "Uh-huh."
"It's true." Paul watched the bed instead of continue on to the bathroom though. Absently, he wondered what his wife hid beneath the sheets. Frills and lace or sheer and silky. Or maybe...nothing? He let a breath go heavily through his nostrils as he added, "I wanna be so clean for you, honey."
"I don't believe you."
"Why not? When have I ever lied to you?" He didn't let her answer. "Never. I'd never lie to my baby."
"I don't even believe that."
"Hey-"
"I don't."
He had his jeans then, to wrangle his way out of, but did so as retorting to the woman, "You're just a horny little vixen, aren't you?"
Stephanie giggled, but it was in bewilderment as she repeated, "Vixen?"
"Little minx." He stepped out of his jeans. "Or something."
"You know what I think?"
"I never," he admitted to the woman, "know what you're thinking, no."
"I think," Stephanie kept up from beneath her sheets, "that you're scared."
He faltered a bit, her words taking him aback.
Unable to properly see him from where she lay, she didn't know how her words cut him and continued on.
"Scared?" Paul whispered. "Of what?"
"Uh, of my rematch."
"What?"
"This morning, Paul." They felt disconnected now and she sat some, allowing the sheets to fall away. While Steph searched his face for understanding, he faced a new distraction. "Remember?"
"Yeah, I just…" She'd gotten him all worked up, on multiple fronts. "When'd you buy that?"
And she giggled some then, glancing down at her negligee before quickly shifting to hide beneath the sheets once more. "You can't see until you get under here."
"That's not fair," he said before pointing out, "I can't see it under there."
"You could if you got under here."
"No."
"Well," she practically sang then, "you could at least feel it." Then, when this didn't immediately get her joined by the man, Steph began to muse, "Of course, if you'd rather shower- Ow!"
"I did not land on you." He had, however, taken a rather regrettable sudden leap into their bed as he'd landed awkwardly on his arm and had to sit up then as he rubbed at it. Once he was certain he was okay, he turned to frown down at the hidden mass underneath the sheets that made up his wife. "You big baby."
"You're the one scared to fight," she retorted from beneath the sheets.
"You talk a good game," he offered, "for someone that tapped out-"
"'Never."
"Reallly?"
"Uh-huh."
"What if I come under there and-"
"Anniversary."
"What?"
Stephanie pulled back the sheets some so she could frown at the man. "It's our anniversary. You have to be nice to me."
"Is that so?"
"Uh-huh." She was shoving up some then, giving him a better glimpse of what she'd donned. But Steph's eyes were on his as she insisted, "And we're not fucking."
"Sure about that."
"Very." She was moving then, a hand coming up to lay against his chest while the woman cuddled into the man. "You don't fuck on your anniversary, babe."
"News," he remarked as he did run a hand down her side then, caress the thin fabric that hid the woman from him though, admittedly, not well, "to me."
Snuggled against him now, she giggled when the man fell back against the headboard, his grin growing as she tilted her head back to gaze up at him.
Smiling back at the man, she explained to him simply, "You make love."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Is that what you want?"
"Mmmhmm."
"On your nice little anniversary?"
"Yeah."
"Well," He told her with a shake of his head. "Unfortunately for you, baby, it's not my anniversary."
She pulled back some then, making a face. "What do you mean?"
"I got married on the 25th and would you look at that?" He clicked his tongue. "Not till tomorrow. So who the fuck are you celebrating with today, huh?"
She fell back into him then, muttering, "Shut up, Paul," but she didn't even have a chance to settle as the man was moving then.
"What was that?" he asked as he kicked down the sheets, but only so he could pull them back up, over them both now. "Stephie?"
"I said," she whispered as they fell back together now, into the bed, "shut up, Paul."
"Shut up?"
"Shut up."
It hurt a bit, when he suddenly shoved his head against hers, but that was by design, maybe, as when Steph fell back from him some in complaint, he only used her shifting to his advantage as he leveraged himself over her once more, properly now.
"Say it again, Steph." He buried his head in her neck. "Dare ya."
She was going to do it. He knew. Her lips brushed his ear and she was just ready to hotly whisper the words, but before her breathless decrees could come up, he turned his head and pressed his lips against hers.
Paul loved his wife.
It was rather obvious and not exactly something that set him apart. He imagined most guys did. Even when they hated them, a lot of times, at least somewhere, you knew they were still the person you married, or at least had been, and had to respect that.
The difference with them though, Paul always felt, was that he liked his wife.
Like a lot.
Maybe too much, sometimes.
Stephanie's attraction to him was usually on full display, and that was fine, but it led to a misunderstanding of their relationship. Yes the woman was absolutely devoted to them, but he'd learned early on that this came with one small conditional.
The woman didn't require that he feel all the same things as her. That he expressed them when he did. In public. But when they were alone, she required attention. Less, as the years drug on, but still a significant deal.
She wasn't someone who was easily ignored.
Big gestures and gifts weren't frequent, but they were required and though the woman had always been understanding off his standoffish nature (it was part of the attraction after all), there was a time and place.
For everything.
He didn't know what it would be like now, if he started blowing Steph off a bit. Or a lot. Things were different now, given all the time between them, but he knew what happened before. When they'd only begun dating and maybe became a bit complacent. Or maybe, even, if he could be honest with himself, he was testing the waters a bit. Seeing how much the woman would put up with from him. Just seeing his boundaries on a new girlfriend.
But Steph set him straight, whether she meant to or not, because ignoring Stephanie, for him, meant the same being returned to him. He wasn't so alluring when he didn't wanna go out, didn't wanna talk on the phone, didn't wanna spend time together between shows. He was just like all the other dicks at work.
There were a lot of them. Especially at the start of the new millennium.
She was in high demand.
He felt he was as well at times, but never to her extent.
All of the shit everyone accused him of when he got with the woman was only shit they wished they couldda pulled. She was loaded, with a potential inheritance that felt just out of reached back then. She was absolutely strikingly beautiful, to the point he found it hard to concentrate, back then, when she'd purse her lips just right and cock head while asking him something up at work. Her smile was difficult not to return. Charismatic and intelligent, Steph was just every fucking thing. A good sport. A nice person. A good listener.
His girlfriend.
Back then.
And he was letting her slip through his fingers.
"I'm sorry, baby," one night after taping when he'd noticed just how funny she thought one of the local loser jobbers that had been squashed in the ring that night. The same way she usually was with him. How she would be, even, if he hadn't been being such an ass.
"'bout what?" Stephanie asked, smiling up at him as he drug her off, deeper into the maze of hallways in the arena that night.
"I, uh," he stuttered as, really, he'd thought that Steph had been aware of all that was going on.
He thought that it was part of a game for her too. That she too was playing one of her own, flirting with that other guy. But now Paul played it back and maybe Steph was just being her charismatic, intelligent, good sport, better listener self.
It made him sick to think of her being all of those things with anyone other than him.
"I've been busy."
"Busy?"
"Yeah." He let go of her arm as they were by themselves now, in a tiny alcove, and he had to speak with someone, had been headed that way, before he saw her giggling at some other guy's joke and he just… "But I'm not anymore."
"What are you talking about?" Stephanie didn't giggle for him. This wasn't fun for her. Their conversation.
Their vibe was off.
"I just…" Letting out a bit of a breath, he reached out to tap her chin, gently, the motion drawing her eyes back to him. "I miss you."
It was a difficult fight against his grin as the words easily brought a blush back to the younger woman's face.
"Really?" she asked, eyes wide and smiling.
"Yeah, baby." Bowing his head a bit, he blew some hair out of his face, but with a duel purpose as the stream of air tickled her face. While she giggled, he only hid his grin as he insisted, "I need you."
He had her.
Then.
Again.
Hooked.
And he wouldn't lose her again.
Steph was important to him, in a lot of ways, but he never realized how much he craved her attention and love until then. She was in his corner, no matter what, and was willing to go to bat for him as many times as possible.
It would be insane to let that go.
Not that that was all that went into still finding his woman so attractive. Jealousy. It wasn't.
He and Steph had the benefit others didn't, maybe, of needing to stay in good, presentable shape. His wife was always fucking attractive, to anyone, he figured. When combined with his drive to please her, it was hard not to get lustful.
Especially when it had been a bit.
And it had fucking been a bit.
Before all the shit hit the fan, it already felt that way, in the family and the company, as he watched his creation be distorted for the masses. He wanted to be mad now, but found it difficult.
"Maybe everything happens for a reason," Steph had whispered to him, a few nights into his recovery as they'd lounged in bed together, idly talking about things that didn't matter anymore. Because it didn't to him, in those first few days he was discharged. All he wanted was his kids and his wife and to just be left alone.
Still, with all that turmoil, as well as him unknowingly becoming unwell, and there wasn't a lot of time for them. To be together. They texted and called when they could and if he had a chance to see the woman, he without a doubt did, but they old and tired and…
It just felt so good to be back with his wife again, in their bed, with no other thoughts or worries.
"When," Steph sighed a bit later when she came to fall into bed after cleaning up a bit, "is the last time we were able to do that during the middle of the day?"
"Fuck?"
"Paul-"
"It's been a bit."
"Yeah." She smiled over him. "It has."
He couldn't have Stephanie the entire day. The next one she'd cleared fully for the man, but he lost her in the afternoon of the current one and that was fine. There were things that needed to be done, around the lake house, maintenance wise, as winter was right at their door. He paid a guy to come take care of most of it, usually, but it felt good to do something.
To be useful.
He'd never felt so inutile before.
Steph found him stretched out on the couch that evening, falling asleep while watching SportsCenter. Instead of speaking, she only came to crawl into his grasp, the man allowing this with a simple yawn.
.
The next day was much the same as the last.
They woke lazily, they made breakfast lazily, and both felt much the same as they sat on their back deck to consume the meal. Steph flicked through her phone and he found himself distracted by boat out on the lake and the two men fishing in it.
It was over the summer that the pair had agreed they wouldn't do anything big for their anniversary that year. A nice dinner somewhere.
His surgery changed things though.
Steph wanted to go somewhere, he knew, she'd stated, but he'd told her a few days before that he thought it would be better to just chill.
"Not even a fancy dinner," he insisted. "No presents, no extra shit. Just this once. I'll give you whatever you want, next year, but-"
"Baby, of course." She gave him to him so easily now. "I meant it; all I need is you."
And she had him, chill and unbothered as he sat in his sweats and a wife beater, absently bringing a fresh piece of cantaloupe to his lips as he still eyed the water. It was as he bit down though and the juice rolled over his chin that he felt his wife's eyes.
"What?" he grumbled a bit as he reached for a napkin, and Steph only shook her head.
"I just like looking at you.."
He grunted at this before assuring her, "It's why we get along so well, you know?"
"Because you like looking at me too?" she asked, but she knew, he knew that she knew, whether she'd admit it or not, exactly what his rebuttal was going to be.
He snorted still, not able to let it pass, known or not, as he said, "I like looking at me too."
She rolled her eyes, but it was with a grin.
They walked around the lake for awhile, Steph chatting a bit while he mostly listened, hands either in his pockets or one linked in hers, and everything felt so empty, that Monday morning, still and detached, that it was weird for Paul, to feel so happy.
"I think everything's beautiful," Steph remarked when he mentioned this, but the man merely shrugged a bit.
"Didn't say it wasn't beautiful, Stephie." He gave her hand a squeeze. "I said that it's...dead. Or dying. Preparing to be frozen over."
Humming softly, she only said, "I guess it depends how you look at it."
"What do you mean?" Making a face down at her, he said, "The leaves are all dying off and animals are absolutely building up for the winter, as we speak. There is no way to look at it."
But she had a face to make back up at him then as she retorted, "You couldda just said it was pretty, Paul."
He considered this before replying, "Nope, I couldn't."
The man did bend to a lot of the woman's other desires that day though. They cuddled up on the couch while initially watching some stupid movie, but when even Steph grew bored of that, they shifted to sifting through old pictures on their phone. When even that wasn't enough for the woman, he even sat with her as she leafed through where she knew some Polaroids were stashed, in a drawer, from that party, remember, that they'd had here? That one time?
A "Yes" would get Steph to insist, then, he would enjoy relieving it. A "No" probably had him doing the same thing, only now as a refresher.
There was no winning.
In actuality, though he wouldn't let on to the woman, it wasn't an awful time. If anything, given his days now were filled with sitting around alone, the woman's presence (and never ending list of things she seemed to wanna do with him) was more than welcomed.
When he looked a bit bleary eyed from all the pictures, Steph relented a bit.
"We could try another movie-"
"Only if I pick," was his one condition, which is how Paul ended up rewatching one of his favorites and Steph mostly snoozed with her feet in his lap.
The day was slipping away from them, but it was as intended.
"If you wanna go do something else, babe," he muttered to her at one point, but the woman only moaned in the negative and even peeked an eye open to glance at the screen.
"I'm watching," she insisted. "I love this movie."
"Oh yeah?"
"Uh-huh."
"What's it called?"
"Shut up, Paul."
"That's a good title," he offered with a grin, reaching down to pat at her thigh.
The day almost felt...normal.
Not their normal, of course, but someone's.
He wondered what it would feel like, to work a normal nine to five and come home and just...relax.
Like this.
With his wife.
He imagined they'd both bore of it far too soon, their constant need to be doing something, anything, not allowing such peace.
They liked it for the moment though and Paul let her nap, even dozing a bit himself towards the end of the movie. The new meds they had him on, combined with his now completely free schedule as he recovered, led the man towards such a thing quite often now. Naps before were something he caught for an hour or two in a hotel room before an event. Now it was what he needed, after taking the dogs out for their walk, while he was waiting for the kids to get off school.
It had become a bit of a habit, maybe, napping was, and he did a bit more than nod off. The smell of dinner cooking was what awoke him that way and his wife wasn't draped across his lap anymore, replaced instead by a blanket. For a minute or so, as he processed this, the man only sat there, blinking in his surroundings.
"Steph?" he called out to which she volleyed back from across the house that she was in the kitchen.
She was busy scraping something she'd chopped into a pot when he entered. The woman smiled at him over her shoulder, but didn't offer much else.
Which was fine, Paul decided, as he wanted to lead the discussion for once.
"What if I wanted to make you dinner?" He came to stand behind her, breathing down the back of his neck as he insisted, "Huh, Stephie?"
"What if," she repeated, whispering, really, as she set the cutting board back to the side, but didn't move, not really able to, honestly, as the man had blocked her in. "Somehow I think it would have come up at some point, during the day."
"Maybe it was a surprise."
"Maybe."
"Steph…"
"What?" She titled her head fully back, to grin up at the man.
His blank stare was unwavering as he said, "After dinner, there's something that I want to do."
"I can imagine," Stephanie giggled, "what you want to do."
But he doubted it.
Well, she was right, probably, at some point in the night, but his after dinner plans had little to do with anything like that.
Steph talked through this meal, the whole time, smiling and giddy just from having him sitting across from her. It was their anniversary, so he let himself go a bit, playing into anything she said, answering every question, every thought, keeping the conversations going.
It was his fault that they were there, instead of just getting home from a grueling day up at work. It was his fault that they just weren't going out to that nice dinner, when the weekend rolled around and they could be free.
He was the reason they were free, in the moment.
But it wasn't a good thing.
Paul told Steph not to worry about the dishes, right after dinner, because it was their special night, but she only shrugged some, telling him it would be better to just get them done. When he tried to help, she turned him away, promising that she had it and, well, it wasn't as if the man wanted to scrub a pot.
"Meet me outside when you get them finished," he called to her after standing from the table. She'd already left the dining room, back in the kitchen, making quick work of the mess she'd made. "Steph."
"Outside?" he heard her confused reply, but he ignored it, heading off to grab something before slipping out the back door.
The night was cool and, though he didn't want to, he'd tugged on a hoodie before he left, knowing Steph would forget and inevitably ask for it. He paused on the deck for a minute, to call and check in with his kids, but just as quickly was bounding down the steps, across the dark yard, and down to the lake's brink.
It was still, moonless night, stars he couldn't quite make out, back home, visible and bright, shimmering as they lit the way towards the large rock that set on the edge of the water, imposing, yet comforting, in a strange way, for the man. He sat out there a lot, watching the kids play in the water.
"Uh, honey? Are you okay?"
Steph came to find him eventually, a bit surprised to see him on the rock. Though not an unusual place for the man, the time of night certainly was. Especially true given what she'd more than once implied what her post-meal intentions were, she was a bit nervous to approach him, figure something must be troubling the man for him to not immediately jump on the idea.
"Yeah." He didn't glance over at her, but did pat the spot beside him. Her spot. Always. "C'mere."
"It's cold," she complained and he tried not to roll his eyes while already moving to tug his hoodie off.
"Nah, it's not that bad," he lied as she took the garment with a giggle, quickly tugging it on. "You're just always cold."
"I know," she sighed as, once she was in it, she moved quick to climb up the rock to join him. Taking the man's hand when it was offered, she said, "I should have remembered to pull one on."
"You're fine, baby." And he meant it in multiple ways, maybe, as he promised her, "I got you."
Stephanie had to admit that it was beautiful out that night. Snuggling down into her hoodie, she was content, as the man seemed to be, sitting there silently for a few minutes.
But she couldn't stand the anticipation for much longer.
"So," she prompted slowly and he sighed, knowing that he couldn't run out the clock any longer.
He hadn't been nervous around Steph in years. The woman had seen him in every state of depression, depletion, and degradation. She'd been there for every low, every one that mattered, anyways.
She'd never reject him. Rebuke him. If he came from a place of love. And this absolutely was.
But...still.
Maybe it went back to what he'd thought before, about how much he liked her. Wanted her approval. Steph thought he was a bad ass. She always had. But no he was weak and it was hard to reconcile her feelings towards that.
Her eyes looked so pretty in the moonlight, staring at him curiously, and, when she reached out to touch his arm as if to coax him further, it was hard not to melt.
"I bought you something."
"What?" She frowned. "I thought we weren't doing that? Remember? You said-"
"I know what I said."
"But-"
"I didn't want you to get me anything."
She was annoyed though as she explained, "But I did. Get you something. Before you'd told me that. And if I knew that you were getting me something, I would have brought it."
Honestly, he was a little surprised she didn't.
"I mean, I did," she went on and he rolled his eyes. "But I would have brought it out here. Now I have to go get it out of my bag-"
"I don't want it."
"Uh, yeah, you will, once you see it."
Shaking his head some, he insisted to the woman, "This isn't that kinda gift, baby."
"You're making me nervous."
"Yeah," he agreed. "Me too."
"Paul-"
"I know that we're still a bit out, from the next big anniversary," he began as he reached to pull something from his pocket. "20. And I do wanna do something super special for that. Renew our vows or whatever you do."
"That's 25," she whispered softly, never able to shut up fully, but her eyes were locked on the black box the man had produced. "Babe."
Ignoring her, he continued. "This all...shook me though. Really badly. I…"
"We don't have to-"
"I want to. Stephanie." He looked away from her then, out to the water. "I just don't know how to say it. That's all."
It was still again and Steph shifted closer, so her arm brushed his. Softly, she said, "Just tell me everything. Baby. We have forever."
"No, we don't."
"I mean, we have tonight," she said. "Tomorrow morning, yeah, I do have to make some calls, but-"
"That's not what I meant." Bowing his head, he stared at his lap, his hands resting there, one gripping the tiny black box tightly. "Forever doesn't fucking exist. We're only going to get older, you know. And sicker. It's stupid. Life."
He thought she'd withdraw from him a bit, question him, but Steph only fell further into the man, her arm snaking around his back as she gave him an awkward hug.
"So forever doesn't exist." She stated this plainly and he appreciated it far more than if she corrected him. "It's not like we're stupid, babe. I know that I… That… It's not what I mean when I tell you forever. Or what I think of when you say it to me. When we talk about forever, it means we would never choose to be apart. Eventually, I guess, you just lose the choice."
Shaking his head some, he muttered, "I just never thought I'd get this old. And broken."
"You're not broken."
"I am."
"You're not."
"I almost lost you, Steph. All of it." He looked up then, to the lake, envious of its continual replenishment. "Everyone. And everything."
"No, you didn't."
There was an added edge to his voice as he insisted to the woman, "I did. I could've died."
"I know that." Her free hand came up to his chin, gently forcing the man to look down at her. "But you never lost us. You wouldn't have, even if… We'd have lost you, but you'll lose us."
That time when he bowed his head, it was to press it tenderly into the woman's as they both had tears in their eyes, his welling, but unmoving, while Steph's fell in their place.
"This wasn't," he grumbled a bit, "supposed to be some big sad thing, you know."
"I know," she agreed, hand falling to his chest now, opposite his heart. "You said you, uh, head something to give me or-"
"Yeah." He had to be the one to pull back then, blinking away the wetness in his gaze as he said, "Well, sort of."
"Sort of?"
Looking at her then, his beautiful, charismatic, intelligent wife, it was the least he could do for her, after all she'd done for him, to reach out and wipe at her tears.
"Yeah." Thumb lingering on one of her cheeks, he forced himself to smile as he said, "When you asked me where I wanted to go, that morning, for our anniversary, I said this place on purpose."
"So we could just relax," she reasoned. "And you wouldn't have to risk running into any fans or something. It could just be us."
"Sure," he agreed. "But also… I really like being married to you, Stephie."
Beaming then, her eyes betrayed the grin, but it looked full anyways, to the man. Laughing softly, she said, "I like being married to you too."
He nodded. "I know. You're very open about it."
That made her blush and her grin was a bit more real, unable to help the heat generated in her chest as it spread over her body. As his hand dropped, it was only to retrieve the box.
"One day," he told her, "we're gonna have another big ceremony. Everyone'll be there. And we'll do this all right. But right now, after everything that happened… I'm committed to you, baby. Forever. Our forever. Whatever. "
"What did you buy?" She couldn't take it anymore and reached out to grab the box. She'd expected some sort of flashy jewelry, but instead, as she opened the box, it was to find two similar black rings. "Baby?"
Reaching out to pick one up, he only nodded at her, waiting for the woman, with a giggle to raise her hand.
"You're so special," he whispered as slipped the ring on the finger beside the one her wedding band lay. "To everyone else, but especially me."
"It pretty." But he could hear in her tone that it wasn't exactly what she wanted. "But why are there two?"
"I only bought yours cause it'd feel weird," he remarked. "Not buying you anything new."
"Huh?"
His grin was real, but faint as he held out his left hand. Steph was confused, he could tell, and only said, "The other's for me."
"Really?"
"I won't forget anymore, baby. Lose it. Get tired of it." He didn't know why he'd avoided this moment so much. Now that it was here and Steph was staring at him with such intense warmth, he couldn't imagine having missed out.
Not been there.
"I married my goddamn best friend." He chuckled, slightly, unable to stop it as the woman moved to slip the ring onto his own finger. "Everyone should fucking know it."
She almost caused them to fall off the rock, when she fell into him, but the man swayed, not toppled. He laughed louder now, fully released it felt like, from all the shit that had been hanging over him these past few weeks. Stephanie laughed too and she was saying something, trying to talk too fast, into his chest, and that was fine because all he wanted to do was bury his face in the top of her head.
He hated the idea that this was almost robbed from him. This moment. This day. Her. And it didn't matter what she said, because it did feel like life was trying to drag them away from one another again and he hugged her tighter, enough so that her giggles died down along with his laughter, and then it was just them.
Together.
Suddenly, things weren't so scary anymore.
"Did you engrave anything on them?" When Steph shifted back, it was to pull her ring back off. Using her phone as light, she tried to decipher what lay on the inner side. "I can't really see out here."
"Well." He was feeling all better then and ready to shift things back inside. "I do know of a place with excellent light."
"Or you could just tell me."
"Or," he kept up, "you could come inside, I'll turn on some music, run a bath-"
"Light some candles," she added because he hated them (it was tedious and added nothing to the experience for him), but she absolutely saw them as part of the mood.
"Light some candles," he added though he did frown a bit, "and just see where things take us, huh? Bathroom has the perfect light for ring examinations. Among other examinations…"
She eyed him then and the intensity had faded some, but he was obviously hoping to transfer what remained into their bedroom. Still, she only placed the ring back on her finger before saying, "Fine. But no Metallica."
"Baby. I'm setting a mood." He began his awkward tumble back down off the big rock. "It's a Megadeth kinda night."
"Uh, no."
"Fine," he grumbled as he stood by to help her off the rock. "Motorhead is my final offer."
"It's not your birthday, babe," she reminded before adding, "And your hand on my ass did nothing to aid in me getting down, by the way."
He liked her there, on even ground with him.
"It aided in other things," he offered.
Turning to face the man, she only leaned up on her toes so she could gently rub her nose back and forth against his. Paul never liked this (at least not openly) and pulled back some with a smirk before moving to grab her hand.
"Maybe I'll let you pick the music," he decided as they walked together, fingers interlocked, back up to their home. "If you're nice to me."
"If I'm nice to you?"
"That's right."
"I'm always nice to you."
"You won't even let me play the music I want," he reminded, "on my anniversary."
"Our anniversary."
"That's right. So I was gonna play our favorite songs." He grinned down at her as he said, "That's one of the first things you told me, when we started working together."
"That it's our anniversary?" she asked with a frown.
"No," he replied and when he let go of her hand, it felt sudden to the woman, but he rectified it as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close as they trudged up the stairs of the deck. "I was talking to someone else, I don't remember about what, probably an album or something, cause you just interjected, insisting that you had seen whoever it was in concert and I called you out on it, but you insisted."
"There's no way you remember that happening."
"I do."
"How?"
"'cause I love you, baby." They were on the deck when he paused to look at her, the woman eyeing him suspiciously, but lovingly as he turned to face her. "Did you forget already?"
"Never," she swore and when they embraced then, one last time before a race up to their master bathroom, where he'd complain about just how many candles she brought into the room and she'd complain when he absolutely let her pick the music...for the first ten minutes of their bath, at most, there were no tears or thoughts, really, of anything other than the person before them.
"Good." When they separated, the man could only smile, nodding his head as his wife grinned at him. "Good."
