The night before his surgery felt as dreamlike as the days prior. He'd been dazed, since the incident (as well as hoped up on some pain pills), and it felt almost as if it wasn't even happening to him. That he hadn't blown his quad and wasn't in the process of watching his world crumble around himself.
He was on the cusp of what he knew would be the lowest point of his life. A doorway with a shadowy entrance way, obscuring his vision on what laid away. As much as he wanted to back away from it, the only way was through.
The was no time for stalling. He was always the kinda guy who, once he found a problem, sought to solve it as quickly as possible, but this was the one scenario where if he had the chance to drag his feet, he certainly would. But from the moment he had his diagnosis confirmed, his surgery was scheduled and there was an expectation that he would do whatever he could to find his way back to the ring.
But there was also the expectation that this was a fool's journey and he never would accomplish such a feat. He was going to run into a wall, somewhere in the many months where he'd be rehabbing, and it was a shame. A damn shame.
Even Steph thought this.
At least he was pretty sure.
Paul hadn't out right asked the woman. He hadn't really asked her anything, at all, the past few days. He'd been far more focused on himself than her or their relationship (or whatever it was, right now). Now though, he didn't want to think about himself, as he laid mostly awake that night, drifting in and out of it from his pills, equally dreading and hoping for the digital clock on the nightstand to eventually ring. Then it would be morning and there were no decisions to be made; they were already made for him. He'd get dressed and head down to the hospital for surgery.
Easy.
He just had to make it through the night.
Rather than spend it sleeping (as he should) or continuing to dread what lay in wait, he eventually found that he did have time to ruminate on the woman and their current situation. It helped that, by his side, she slept soundly in the hotel bed, curled up away from him, breathing barely audible.
Things had been...weird between them, prior to this, and he actually hadn't had her in his bed in a few months. They were supposed to be distancing from one another, outside of work, per the current directive of her father. While it had been difficult in the beginning (their on-screen relationship didn't help), but just as things were beginning to settle out, this happened.
Stephanie had been with him the whole time. She was really broken up over everything. Everyone was, of course, and he felt the sentiment of them all, but Steph's feelings were different. His feelings towards Steph's feelings were different.
It all happened without mentioning it to one another. She was just there, now, with him, having followed him on his plane ride from Alabama and he hadn't questioned it, knowing doing so would potentially cause her to withdraw once more.
He didn't want that.
So he said nothing and she never left.
Just hung around.
They spoke infrequently, but when they did she was always smiling at him, no doubt hoping that this brought the man some comfort, and while it didn't, he did appreciate her presence.
Especially then, in the hotel room, as it gave him an easy way to distract himself.
"Steph," he whispered her name, at first before, with a bit more bass, doing the same. "Stephie."
"Wha'?" She raised her head before turning it to glance over at him. "What's wrong?"
"Nothin'." He felt a little bad at waking her, but the damage was already done. Softly, he admitted, "I can't sleep."
It took Stephanie a moment to process his words, but once she did, she rolled over, scooting closer to the man. In a tone just as quiet as his own, she asked, "Are you nervous?"
"'bout surgery? Nah." With Steph, he liked to walk a very tight line between appearing completely cool and detached while also sharing some of his most personal thoughts. It was difficult at times to navigate. "It's, uh, the pills. You know?" He wasn't lying and his tone relayed this as he actually seemed annoyed as he insisted, "Got me feeling all weird and shit."
"Mmmm." Blinking sleepily over at him, she asked, "Did you want me to get you water? Or something?"
"No." She was close enough that when he bent his head down and to the side, he was able to brush his forehead against hers. While this elicited a soft giggle from the woman, he merely said, "Just wanted to talk to ya."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah."
Steph reached over to rest a hand atop his chest about the same time he reached over to pat at her head and they were lying awkwardly, kind of, but it was the best position for his propped up leg, and just having her attention now calmed him down.
At least for the moment.
He'd heard recently that she was seeing some guy. She hadn't told him about it, of course, but he found out in passing and it was just as well. It was good. Because they were supposed to do that. They were supposed to move on.
But then he blew his quad and now here she was, in his bed, and the idea of her being in someone else's didn't sit well with him any longer. It hadn't really from the start.
He wanted to ask her about it.
He wanted to ask her about a lot.
But the pills made him feel weird and the best he could do was mutter, "You talk to Vince?"
"About what?"
When he only stared at her, Steph skewed her eyes shut and hummed.
"No, not about...us, if that's what you mean," she admitted. "But he does know that I'm here. And you know, he wants to film you in surgery so that's a thing too."
"Yeah." He tried hard not to sound bitter, hoping that his tone came off as playful or sardonic, but he must've missed the mark because when he joked, "My last televised appearance," Steph was quick to shove up some.
"Why would you say that?" Making a face, she insisted to him, "You're going to get your surgery, rehab for a few months, and be back in time for WrestleMania."
He couldn't help it.
He laughed at her.
"What?" she griped, but he only shook his head.
"There's no fucking way," he insisted to her. "It's May now; it'll be at least a year."
"No way."
"What do you know?"
"I know that you're still you." She patted his chest. "If you want something, you're gonna get it."
He enjoyed her confidence in him (she always seemed to have boundless amounts of it) and maybe it was the pills or their recent distance, but he couldn't help himself. Gently he tapped a folded thumb against her chin, locking eyes with the woman as he insisted, "I want you."
Paul meant more than what he said, but he wasn't sure how to explain it to her. Not without sounding overly dramatic. But shit. Shit. He knew her words were just an attempt at soothing his fears, but there was something about her words, the assurance she had in them being true, the fucked him up.
Because he didn't always get what he wanted. He didn't always work towards it. He was going to let her go, before this all happened. He'd caved, so she'd done the same, and that was fucked up. Really. Steph thought that he knew everything and was so worldly and smart, but when he promised that if they just cooled it for awhile, followed what Vince wanted, then later down the line they could force the issue, it had been a lie. Or at least just words that felt good to say, but he had no intention on acting upon.
He cared about Steph so much. He wanted her. More than he could manage. But when it mattered, he cowered.
She smiled at him, sleepily but true, before replying, "I want you too."
"No, Steph." He looked to the ceiling. "I wanted you. Before all this too. But-"
"It doesn't matter anymore."
"How do you figure?"
"You're not going to be around," she pointed out. "At least for a few months."
"At," he agreed with a frown, "least."
"So why can't we date? Like what difference does it make to anybody?"
He didn't answer that, instead only taking in a deep breath before remarking, "I heard you're someone."
It was his turn to get laughed at. Steph was making a face too, almost incredulous.
"Do you gossip about me? Hunter?"
He didn't like when she called him that off the show. It felt wrong. But he knew it was hard for her, switching back and forth, and he hadn't been Paul to her in a number of months. She was always Steph to him though, either version of herself, spirited and somewhat obnoxious, but in an endearing way.
"No," he answered easily with a frown of his own. "Just something I heard."
"You never were only sleeping with me so I don't get-"
"I'm not mad at you." At least he didn't think so. "I'm just asking."
"Why?"
"I don't fucking know, Steph, I just…" He shook his head some. "I just wanna know if you're...with someone. For real now. Like were you planning on-"
"I can't be alone," she admitted and it was in a much softer tone as, slowly, she shifted to rest against his chest as he brought an arm down over her. To his flesh, she lamented softly, "I'm sorry."
"Why?" He couldn't shrug in the position he was laying, but he tried anyways before adding, "You didn't do anything."
"I dunno." She stroked gently at his pec. "It's just not something I wanted you to hear about, I guess."
"I don't give a shit. Past is the past." Even if it was shit that happened recently. "All that matters is now. The before and after."
"Before and after we got back together?" she asked, tilting her head up to stare at the man, but he merely shook his head.
"Before and after I fucked my quad."
"Paul-"
"Besides, Steph," he insisted then, keeping her gaze as he added, "I just want you to be happy. You're my friend. Even beyond all this shit."
It was her turn to insist then, replying, "I'm happier with you," and he gave it to her because he didn't feel like arguing anymore.
The next morning sucked. And whether he could admit it or not, he was nervous about what was going to happen. Going under the knife was awful and he was in a bad state of mind not only over work, but now Steph as well, and maybe it was a good thing he was going to be unconscious while they operated.
It would at least give his body some real peace, even if it was only for a short while.
His parents were in town, for his surgery, but his father had to head back to work the following day while his mother wanted to stay close for awhile. He told her she didn't have to, but she insisted. The time following surgery but before rehab was going to be brutal and he imagined he'd enjoy the company.
Steph was sticking around too.
Not for as long, but for a day or two, she claimed, before she had to go back to work.
"Privilege of being the bosses daughter, eh?" he father had laughed because he and his mother were in the room then, and they liked Steph, he knew they did, but their words were cutting in another way they weren't privy to.
Paul knew that he should enjoy this time period. It was when he was still in the thoughts of others and shit. That would fade soon. It probably already had for some. Already, he imagined, people would be plotting about how this could affect their standing.
The man couldn't even be mad as, honestly, he would have been wondering much the same that very night. His wrung was empty and now it was time for another to step up the ladder. It was the way of the business. Beauty of the beast. Same as you came, same as you go.
Stephanie made it difficult to stay too focused on the distant future though, honestly, it was all she could talk about. She gushing about how things would be, when he was back, and he let her, when they were around his parents, but that first night back, after the pair were finally alone in their hotel room, he found that there were some other things that were still nagging on his brain.
"Hey, Steph? Can we talk?"
She'd just finished sliding the chain in place over the hotel room door following his parents exit and giggled some, looking over at him with a rather wide smile as she reminded, "There's not a lot else we can do, Paul."
"Guess that's true," he remarked from where he was lying on the bed, feeling just as exhausted as he had the day prior. Post surgery was turning how to be just as painful(ly boring) as the few days leading up to it. "Gonna be like that for awhile."
"It's good to rest," she assured the man with a smile. "This is going to be the first time your body could truly, fully recover from the shit you put it through. Maybe think of that as a silver lining."
"Too soon," he said and she tossed her hands up, as if in defense, but it was still with her smile and his chest hurt. Not in a scary, medical way, but because he was struggling to find breath due to the words that were swirling in his mind, that he knew he had to somehow choke out, but it was just too much.
Steph came back to join him in bed, sighing some. Paul felt awful, because she'd seemed so happy, getting to mix with his parents and just be with him, honestly. Relief was a crazy drug and he hated that he was about to snatch it right back from her.
It wasn't that he wanted to break up with Stephanie. Again. Especially not after getting her back. It was a lot more than that.
"Was there something specific you wanted to talk about?" Steph asked as she sat beside him, on her knees, waiting. "Or-"
"Yeah." He even nodded. "I, uh… I just… Fuck it, you know? I should just fucking say it. Right?"
"Uh, it depends," Steph remarked as she was cautious now, shift back some, "on what you're gonna say."
He nodded at this and maybe he should have backed down, but he was too worked up over it now.
"I just don't think that now's the right time."
"For what you're gonna say?"
"No." He'd been staring straight ahead before, but turned his neck now, so he could have her eyes. "I don't think that we should be together."
"W-What?"
"Right now," he was quick to say, but this did little to assure the woman.
"What are you talking about? Paul?" She frowned as she asked, "If this is about Daddy-"
"It's not."
"-I already spoke to him," she continued. "While you were in surgery yesterday. I think he feels bad for you or something. I guess. But he's not going to stress about it, since you're stuck here anyways, and by the time he does roll around to stressing about it again-"
"I meant it, Steph," he repeated. "It's not about Vince."
"I don't get it," she asked as she folded her arms over themselves. "Then what? You don't wanna be with me?"
"I didn't say that."
"You just fucking did, Hunter. You-"
"No." He shook his head some. "I'm… I was just thinking, okay?"
"About what? That other guy? Because that's fucking stupid. You can't be mad at me for-"
"I'm not," he insisted to her again and it was so fucking hard to have this conversation as he laid in in bed, leg all casted up, like an invalid. "I'm serious, It's… I just don't want you tied down to me."
"What are you talking about?"
"Come on, Stephie," he huffed a bit, exasperated. But when she only stared, he specified, "I'm going to become a chore for you."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm going to be here, Stephanie," he told her. "For a long time. Months. Just stuck here, rehabbing. And you're gonna be out doing all that shit and I don't... I don't want you to feel like you're stuck. Or that you have to be with me."
"I don't feel that way."
"You don't know what you feel," he pointed out. "Because it hasn't happened yet. But it will. You're gonna be out, doing your normal shit, and think, fuck, I have to call Paul. Or, oh shit, I have to fly all the way to Alabama to see him instead of spending the one time in six months I can do anything I want doing what I want. You're going to feel like you went through all of this, just to be with me, and then grow to hate me."
"Never."
"Steph-"
"You don't just get to fucking tell me how I feel about something that hasn't even happened yet, Hunter."
"I'm not trying to," he huffed. "I'm just trying to stop you from making a mistake."
"So now we're a mistake?"
"Is that what I said?"
"I don't fucking know," she retorted. "Because none of what you're saying is making sense. Why are you talking like this? Now? If you don't want to be with me-"
"I absolutely do, Steph. That's why the fuck I'm doing this." He struggled a bit, as he shoved himself up more, so he could glare down at her. "I like you. So much. Too much. Enough that I'm ready to risk everything on it. But.. Not if it's all just gonna go to shit anyways. I want to be together, but I don't want to put you in shit situations, you know? You should be able to do all of the things I'm able to do, when I'm out, single, doing whatever the fuck I want on the road. Not worry about me, back here."
She sat back then, off her knees and onto her butt as she considered, for once, the actual words and intent they carried. Eventually her bowed head was raised and, glaring right back up into the eyes to the man, she retorted, "If you think that you're some kinda hero in this, just know that you're not."
"What are you talking about?"
"You think that you're some big, strong guy and that you're helping poor, little me come to terms with our big scary relationship because I'm just some pathetic, hopeless woman who can't figure shit out on her own. Well guess what, Hunter? I can."
"I don't even know what you're-"
"You can't decide for me whether or not I want to be with you," she said to which he snorted.
"That is not what I'm trying to do."
"Is so."
"In what way?"
"You think that I'm too weak to handle being in a long distance relationship. And I'm not. I've been in them before you and probably after this moment, so-"
"It's not about that, Steph," he replied. "It's not that you're too weak. It's that I want this work. When I get with you, I want it to be a real chance. This isn't it. We're forcing it. When I get back-"
"When you get back," she took over, "then it's not going to be the right time either."
"I'm telling you right now it is."
"You tell me a lot of things." Looking off, she said, "But never the truth."
"I'm telling you the truth."
"It doesn't feel like it."
"I'm stuck here, Stephanie," he pointed out. "For months, I'm going to be stuck here in this shitty state with shitty people doing shitty things I don't want to. Use your head. If anything, I should be begging you to stay with me, to call me, to come see me. But I'm not. Because I don't want you to be stuck in this too."
Still, she only shook her bead before saying, "You don't get to be selfless in this, Paul. Make decisions for me. You can decide for yourself you don't want to be with me; you can't decide for me if I want to be with you. Right now I'm telling you it's now or never. I put everything on the line for you, with Daddy, and if you burn me, literally the day after, then no. No. We won't ever be together."
"I just want," he grumbled to her, "for things to be-"
"Perfect?"
"I mean… I don't know."
"They won't ever be," she said. "Perfect. Nothing will be. Someone's always going to hate to see us together. We're both always going to be separated, sometimes, with temptation right there. There's going to be periods of time where we don't get to see one another, for long stretches. Your relationship with my dad, with my brother, with everyone up at work, it'll all have to change. Mine will too. And it has nothing to do with your injury. That's just how it's gonna be, if we get together. For real."
He sat there for a moment, silent, thinking. It wasn't as if she were speaking thoughts he'd never considered, but rather giving breath and life to ones he'd only kept in the recesses of his mind. She was speaking words that scared him, when he thought about them too hard, so he usually left them lingering, between the two of them. But now that she'd spoken them aloud, there was no reclaiming them
With the truth currently laid bare before them, hiding from it was no longer an option.
"It's always gonna suck," she told him softly then. "You don't think it sucks for me? With or without you?"
"What do you mean?"
"I'm always going to just be Vince's daughter to most people," she said. "No matter what I do, how I improve, or even if I fail, still, I'm always going to be his daughter. My accomplishments don't matter. I don't even have any, really. Everything's tainted by him. By my name."
"Steph-"
"I'm not sad about it," she cut him off. "Anymore. Or angry. Or upset. It's been that way for years now. Even before the company. That's the way it is, when you're a McMahon. And if you're with me, you're one too. Not really, I guess, but you're aligned with us now. So I'll tell you the same thing he always tells me; it's us against everyone else. So you can either be with us, Paul, or with everyone else. But you have to make the decision now, right fucking now, because I'm not offering it again."
For a moment, they only stared at one another, her as honest as her words, him somewhat thrown by them.
Eventually, his head fell back, into the propped up hotel room pillows behind him. Tightly shutting his eyes, he remarked to the woman after a long, drawn out sigh, "Why does agreeing to be with you sound like a fucking bad idea?"
"Probably because it is," she said simply. "I just always thought you were different, I guess, from everyone else."
"What do you mean?"
"I always thought that...that you wouldn't care. Really. About what other people think."
"I don't."
"You do."
"Steph-"
"I thought you would be happy with me." And her arms fell as, defeated it seemed like, her anger was falling away into something different. "When I told you I talked to Daddy. I thought we'd finally be together and be happy and it wouldn't fucking matter, any of it, for so long, that we could just… I don't know anymore. You don't want that, and that's fine."
"I do want it."
"I'll head home early, tomorrow," she continued on. "Regroup."
"Stephanie."
She looked at him, because she heard his words, she truly did, but was no longer listening to them.
"I really liked you," she told him and his eyes opened once more, just so he could turn his head and stare over at her. There were no tears welling in her piercing blue eyes, because Steph wasn't sad, he didn't think; just disappointed. "Hunter."
"Paul," he corrected, finally, but it almost felt too late as she merely shook her head.
"Whatever."
"Not whatever." He didn't have it within himself to shove up again. Instead, he glared from where he lay as he insisted, "I want to be with you."
"Not enough."
"More than enough."
"You don't-"
"If you're telling me you don't give a shit," he spoke over her then, finally, wanting to get out all of his thoughts before she distracted him, "about any of that? That you don't give a shit that you'll have to call and drop it. That you don't care that we're probably gonna fight, at first, all the fucking time, because I'm going to be miserable here while you get to live my dream. That you don't care that your dad will look at you differently, treat me differently, that everyone will consider us, you know, us now, together, instead of separate entities. You're saying you're don't care, huh?"
"I," Steph declared to him, voice unwavering, "couldn't give less of a shit what people think of me. Ever."
He nodded some, the man did, before saying, "Everyone hates me, you know? Whenever shit ends with them."
"You're hard to get over," she offered softly as her emotions were trending back down and she felt a flush overcome her being.
"No," he assured her. "It's not that. It's me. I'm just…"
He didn't really know what he just was, but it didn't matter as it was then that Steph reached down and out, to where his own arm laid on the bed.
Resting her palm flat against his arm, she was glad for his eyes, his full attention then, as she assured him. "They hate me too. When it's all over. Sometimes even during. So don't worry, you're not alone."
Paul smiled some, for the first time in their conversation it felt like, as he said, "I know, Stephie."
She waited a moment, certain there was to be more. When no more came, she tried prompting instead with a soft, "But?"
"But nothing." He shook her hand gently from his arm before reaching out with his own to cup her cheek. "You want me, baby? You got me. And I got you."
"What about all that stuff you said?" she asked though, already, a lightheaded giddiness was beginning to take her over. She couldn't describe it. Elation was too soft a word for the emotion coursing through her then. It was a huge swing, from a massive low to an even more monumental high. She could almost pass out. "Before?"
"I still mean it." He thumb stroked gently at her cheek bone as he added, "But if you don't give a shit, I don't give a shit. Fuck 'em. Fuck all of it. I just… I guess really… I just don't want you to hate me, Steph. Ever. I don't wanna hurt you like that. You're my friend. One of the only ones I have right now. And I'm just...scared, I guess, that it can all go to shit really fast and I'll be stuck here, worrying about my injury, and that we'll fall apart. I don't fucking want that."
"Neither do I."
"I know." He sighed. "I just thought that if we waited….then you could still call me. Sometimes. To check in. Not as much. And just not tell me about the shit you do, on the road. Like friends."
"But I don't wanna be friends, Paul." Her hand came up to where his rest, falling over it, much smaller and more tender as it was her turn to caress. "Being friends with you just makes me want you more."
"I know."
"I like you."
"I like you too."
"And if we're gonna mess each other up, we're gonna mess each other up. There's just no other way."
"Yeah." He let out a long sigh and, when her hand fell from where it rested over his, he allowed his to do the same. "No other way."
There was a beat, a moment, one that almost passed, but in it, Stephanie decided to try, one last time, before she gave in.
"You don't want me to hate you, right?" she asked and, when that got a half shrug, half nod from the man, she only shifted back onto her knees, pressing them firmly into the mattress as she now towered over the downed man.
"What are you-" he started, but she cut him off as she held out a hand to him, palm open and welcoming. Almost like she was asking him for a high five.
"I can't promise you that we won't fuck this all up. That someone else won't try to. I can't say that I'm going to always feel this way about you or that this is forever or anything, but… I do like you, Paul. A lot." She smiled some, down at him. "I'm not stupid, you know? Relationships do take work. Work that maybe the two of us weren't willing to put into other things, but I want you so much that I will. I'll try so hard to make this work, whether it's you laid up somewhere or me. I want you. Whatever that means, I want."
He'd let her finish, but couldn't help himself as he asked softly, "Why's your hand up?"
"'cause I'm promising it to you, silly. Like pledging."
"Like marriage?"
"No." She even shook his head. "I'm just promising that no matter what, I wanted this. And I'm not going to blame you anymore than myself if it all goes to shit."
"So you're saying no matter what I do-"
"No." She wouldn't let him derail the moment. "If you fucking, like, cheated one me or something, yeah I'd probably fucking hate you, Paul. But I don't think you will."
"Why not?"
"Because I think you feel everything I'm openly saying," she said and, for the first time, her chest heaved as her own inner thoughts were being drug out, same as his. "When I'm with you, I just feel this...spark. And ease. And comfort. And… I've always thought you felt the same way. Do you?"
He was silent for a moment, perhaps one or two too long as Steph's face looked crushed when he finally raised his eyes, no doubt assuming that his answer wouldn't be what she wanted. Either lack or not at all. Underwhelming.
Just disappointing.
But instead, he pushed up some for that last time, just so he could press his palm firmly against hers.
A smile tugged at her lips, confused, but excited as she asked, "What are you doing?"
"I'm pledging to you, moron," he grumbled a bit and she laughed and he liked it. That he could get her to do that. No matter what. Pushing his hand roughly against hers, it was difficult not to note the size deviation and how nice it felt, for them both, to feel the opposite, everyone once in a little while. "What's it look like?"
"Did you not take scouts as a boy?" she griped a bit. "You just hold up your hand. You don't press into mine."
But he paid no mind to this as, locking eyes with the woman, he said, "I've wanted you for a long time. I used to think it was just because I couldn't have you and that it was just our stupid fake marriage fucking with my head, but it's more than that. I can't explain it, but I really do think that we need to be together. At least once. So we can know for sure."
"Know what?" she asked, breathless now as the man's eyes narrowed not in annoyance, but as he struggled to define his own feelings.
"If this is forever." He wanted to fall back then, into the bed, but refused to be the person to retract their hand first. "I'm afraid to let you go to far. I always have been. Because what if you don't come back? But I guess I've also been afraid of going forward. Going after you. 'cause… This does mean a lot to me. You know? Everything I've built for myself in the company. Now it's all gone shit anyways.
"I'm so freaked out, all the time, because if I'm with you, fuck it, you're right, then I'm one of you. Aren't I?" He snorted then, shaking his head some as he said, "If you were anyone else-"
"But I'm not." She couldn't be silent for much longer. In any situation. "I'm who I am, you're who you are, and there's nothing we can do about it."
Nodding, he said, "I'm not gonna fuck this up. I'm not gonna fuck around or cause shit between you and your family or anything. I'm in this for you. And me. Promise."
She sniffled some, as she was tearing up then, before adding, "Pledge."
"Stephie," he grumbled then, but it was fine because she was laughing.
It was Stephanie that dropped her hand first, only because she was coming to fall into him and they had to be careful, of his leg, but he only rolled with her fall, onto his back, and something that had been hanging over them, something they didn't quite understand, felt as if it had finally left the room, leaving the two of them alone.
Truly alone.
She burrowed her head into his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. Not much up for more than these cuddles, he bowed his head to rest atop hers and they could have laid there forever.
"When's the last time you showered?"
Well, he could. Steph, apparently, couldn't.
"What are you trying to say?" he pretended to huff at the woman, his girlfriend now. Really. "Steph?"
"I'm saying," she sang a bit, as he released her, allowing the woman to pop up once more. A devious grin hung on her lips as she offered, "That you need to wash off. And with your cast-"
"It would be a bit difficult," and he could feel a smile forming across his own features. "Alone."
"But you're not alone though."
"That is true." He patted at his chest. "It's so hard, you know? Running a wet cloth over your own rippling muscles."
"Oh, are they rippling now?"
"They will be," he breathed as she leaned in closer then, towards his face now, and their foreheads brushed one another. "Once I have someone polishing them off for me."
That made her pull back some, making a face as she asked, "What are they? Stones?"
"Stephanie-"
"I was just asking." She was tumbling away from him then, out of bed. "I mean-"
"Hey, hold on."
He wasn't going to let her escape so easily and grabbed onto her hand as, now half out of bed, she gave him a bit of an incredulous smile. She'd just offered to give him a sponge bath (with very little emphasis on actually getting clean) and was surprised he wasn't also rushing into it.
"I meant it, you know?" He gripped her hand tightly. "All the shit I said tonight, yeah, but also the other one. The other day. You were my friend first, Stephanie. And you've become one of my closest ones. I don't want to do anything that ruins that."
She smiled at him then and, though she had the past few days as a way to assuage his many fears, this didn't feel the same. At all. Her smile was genuine and, though it offered some reassurance to the man, that wasn't it's true purpose.
Shifting her hand in his, she turned it until they could interlace their fingers, as she told him, "You won't."
"How do you know?"
"I just do."
He frowned some as he told her, "That's not an answer, Steph."
"It's the best one I can give," she said with a shrug. Shaking his fingers off hers, she headed into the bathroom, to prepare for him. She really did intend on helping him wash off. Among other things. Still, over her shoulder, she added, "Some things you can't know, baby, until you know. And I do. Right now."
Deflating, Paul fell back onto the pillows to rest for a moment (as well as soak in all that had gone on). When Stephanie called out to him, curious over whether he required help in getting up, he was quick to snag his crutches and hobble his way in there.
Later that night, when they fell into bed together, it was with her head resting on his shoulder and his arm gently wrapped around her. Everything felt still, finally, and he knew it was nights like the one they were in that would make the ones when he was all alone so much harder.
"I wish I could stay here with you," she sighed some as he nuzzled her forehead with his own.
"No, you don't," he retorted. "It's gonna suck here."
"Only cause I'm not here."
It was his lips this time, brushing her forehead as he said, "I dunno, princess. I don't even think you could make this shit any better."
"I made today better, didn't I?" Her hand was on his cheek now and when she stroked at his face, it was far rougher than her own.
He had to blow hair out of his eyes (it was too dark in the room to tell if it was hers or his own) before agreeing, "Yeah, Steph, you did. Absolutely."
