Disclaimer: I don't own anyone, other than Lily and Madison.
Rated: M
Warning(s): Slash, Past Mpreg, Storyline Fanfic, etc.

"I hate my job." Daniel Bryan hissed darkly. "I fucking hate my job."

Phil slowly lowered the comic book that he was reading, raising one eyebrow at the ranting and raving form of his husband-to-be. "No, you don't. You love your job. This is just your anger for Hunter talking."

"He's mocking me. He's treating me like I'm some second rate wrestler, even after I mow down everyone that he puts in my way! I've beaten his little 'face of the WWE' how many times? How many? His face was quickly reddening as he screamed.

Phil shrugged. "I haven't counted." And then, "It has happened a lot, though."

Bryan huffed, exasperatedly. Then, a little softer, "How can you just sit there so calmly?"

Another shrug, "I don't have to listen to Hunter on a daily basis anymore… well, at least not for another three and a half months." He paused, shifting carefully on the couch. "Come on over and have a seat." He patted the couch cushion beside him.

Bryan hesitated for a moment and Phil returned to reading his comic book, knowing that, sooner or later, Bryan would make his way over to him. Just as he had suspected (and after making a quick trip to the en-suite kitchen for a bottle of Merlot – after all, deep conversations were always easier to handle when he had a little bit of alcohol in his system), Bryan plopped down beside him and folded his legs beneath his body. They sat in silence for several moments. Bryan uncorked the bottle and brought it to his lips, not even bothering with a glass. Phil would call it improper… but didn't dare.

"They have had me in so many stupid little storylines. First, I was the bitch of the Wyatt family. Now, I'm engaged to Brie Bella, even when most of the WWE Universe knows I'm gay. Hunter's walking all over me and he loves it. I don't know what to do." He sighed.

Phil turned the page, not really focusing on the material in front of him. "Maybe you need to be more like me."

That caused Bryan to raise an eyebrow. "What exactly do you mean?"

"Hunter only walks all over you because you let him." Finally, Phil set the comic book down. Bryan took another swig of wine. "He pushes you, only because you don't push back."

"You want me to push back. Don't you think that I've been trying to do that all along?" Bryan hissed, suddenly angry with Phil.

"Not hard enough." Phil said. "Use the crowd to your advantage. Take the 'yes' movement to another level. And whatever you do," now, Phil was looking his fiancé in the eye. "Don't take no for an answer."

With that said Phil leaned forward and tossed his comic book onto the coffee table. He eased off of the couch and stretched, showing off the slight swell of his belly. Bryan had a hard time believing that he was already five-and-a-half months along. In just three-and-a-half short months, he would be a father. It seemed like such a short amount of time… and, at the same time, unbearably long. And in that time, he would be competing in various matches for the WWE and continue to be walked on. While it was nice for Bryan to be able to come back to the hotel to be with his fiancé… it wasn't the same as when he was competing.

"Hey, Phil?" Phil, who had been rounding the corner to head to bed, paused at the sound of his name.

"Yeah." He turned, bracing one hand on his hip and the other on the corner of the wall.

"You are planning on coming back to the WWE after the baby is born, right?" Now, he finally voiced his secret concern. Now, he vocalized his fear that Phil had finally gotten fed up and had walked out… this time for good.

Phil shrugged nonchalantly. Bryan realized how much he hated shrugging. "Yeah, 'course I am." And then, turning back, he started down the hall again. "Night."

When Mark and Hunter awoke to find Lily curled between them, fast asleep, neither could convincingly claim that they were surprised. As Hunter had mentioned the night before, Lily was obviously distressed by the previous night's proceedings – even if she did not necessarily understand what they were about – and she needed to be around those capable of comforting her. Hunter was the first out of bed. Grabbing a complementary hotel towel, he headed into the bathroom for his morning shower. When he returned, Mark was sitting up in bed with Lily in his lap, working a comb through her knotted blonde curls.

Neither said a word, but what was more important was what went unsaid. They wouldn't mention how nervous Hunter was about the impending collision between Mark and Brock, the almost superficial worry that Hunter possessed about showing his body to the world… the fact that their daughter could read all of this. Hunter couldn't understand how Mark was so nonchalant about his impending collision with the monster. While Hunter had the upmost faith in Mark and his ability to win, he was constantly forced to consider the alternative – after all, thinking the worst was technically part of his job description.

Hunter slowly started to dress. It was Mark that struck up the conversation. "When do we leave for the house show?"

Hunter eyed the clock, before responding, "About two hours or so." And then, "Do you think that I've put on weight?"

Mark watched as Hunter eyed his reflection in the mirror self-consciously. He rolled his eyes and then, "No, I don't. You can't even tell that you really put on all that much weight at all." He continued. "Stop obsessing over it."

"I've just been thinking about the match that Bryan's been demanding." Because, really, to call it 'asking' would have been an incredible understatement. "Steph is saying that I need to make a decision sooner rather than later so Creative can work it in."

"Do you want to fight him at WrestleMania?" Mark asked in a matter-of-fact manner.

"I want to get back in shape so I don't feel like the only thing the world is staring at is my paunch." Hunter grumbled.

Mark rolled his eyes. "I'll take that as a 'yes', then." Pausing, he set the comb aside and ruffled the little girl's curls softly. "You're all done, Lils. Go get dressed and wait for breakfast, hmm?" Lily ran off to do as she was told.

Hunter's eyes followed her out of the room, before he turned back to Mark. "I guess I'll be making breakfast, then?"

Mark, not bothering to meet his gaze, was rolling off of the bed and starting to undress. "I'm guessing our earlier conversation isn't over?"

"Not by a long shot."

Breakfast went by rather quickly. Lily's earlier discontent seemed to have disappeared entirely now that she sat with her entire family in a somewhat less pressure-filled environment. She even ate her entire meal, which was of great concern to both of her parents. After breakfast, Mark and Hunter bundled up both of the girls and decided to head to the airport early. Hooking up the car seats in the back of the rental car, Mark took the wheel and Hunter slid into the passenger seat. They started off; taking more of a scenic route, and the car ride was rather quiet. That was, of course, until Hunter's phone began to ring. It was Daniel Bryan.

Not even bothering to say a word in introduction, Bryan immediately started in with, "Phil's not feeling too great and I don't want to force him to travel. I won't be able to make it to the house show tonight."

"What the hell, Bryan? Could you have waited any longer to tell me?" Hunter was absolutely furious, and the sweet, comforting silence of the car was completely disrupted. "You're billed in the main event for tonight! Do you realize how inconvenient this is?"

Bryan didn't seem to be too impressed with Hunter's current situation, however. "I'm not about to compromise my fiancé's health just to put a little extra money in your pocket." Bryan was fuming, he was so mad. "Apparently, you know what's best for business. You figure it out."

"Do you have any idea who you're talking to -," but before he could finish, Bryan had hung up. Hunter frowned, "Little bastard."

Hunter was running through countless scenarios in his head, trying to find a way to compensate for Bryan's sudden decision to drop out of the house show that night. He was acutely aware of the fact that such behavior was grounds for immediate reprimand and possible suspension – especially with the way that Bryan had talked to him at the end of the conversation – but at the same time… he was almost impressed that the little bastard had finally grown a pair and stood up to him. Just so long as it didn't become a habit… he could let it slide, just this once.

"Is there a problem?" Mark asked, almost sarcastically.

"No." Hunter shook his head, taking deep breaths to try and lower his blood pressure. "No, not yet." And then, a thought occurred to him. "How do you think the crowd would like to see Randy, Batista, and Alberto del Rio vs. The Shield in the Main Event?"

Mark smirked. "I think you could've had a real career ahead of you in Creative." And both laughed about it.

It was that night, in the middle of the house show, that Steph confronted him with the idea of a match with Daniel Bryan and WrestleMania once again. His storyline wife was actually all-for the idea, despite her appearance on camera. She believed that it would be a great way to finally solidify the underdog character that they'd been building for him over the last several months. After their little phone call in the car earlier, Hunter found himself incredibly tempted to simply decline the offer – after all, what reason did he have to want to push a pompous little snob who totally wrote him off like that? But, for some reason, he didn't jump at the chance.

"I can tell that he's getting frustrated, Hunter." Steph said, thumbing the paperwork that was tucked into the crook of her arm. "We can't have another incident like the one with Phil. Dad's still working on it… but his status is still up in the air."

"Daniel Bryan is a solid competitor, truthfully. And it would be an honor to compete with him in a match." Hunter told her. "But it's been almost a year since I stepped into the ring… after I almost miscarried against Axel. I don't know if I'm ready."

Steph frowned. "You don't know if you're ready, or you don't want to be?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Hunter hissed, suddenly infuriated with the slim brunette.

"We always question what became of the Randy Orton of old, but I'm beginning to wonder what happened to the Triple H of old. The Triple H of old would have been in the gym twenty-four seven, trying to get his body in perfect shape for an impending match."

"You try hopping into a ring seven weeks after having a four-day overdue baby, and then tell me how easy it is." Hunter snapped.

Steph stepped forward, setting the paperwork down on Hunter's desk. "I need an answer by Monday."

He watched Steph leave, a grimace forming on his face. Who the hell was she to insinuate that he wasn't the same man, the same wrestler, that he had once been? His body had gone through an incredible trauma, producing two children. It wasn't like he was some sort of rubber band that could just snap back into place after it had stretched! And even a rubber band got a little bit bigger, a little less stretchy, every time it stretched, right? He stared down at the paperwork, feeling a sudden contempt for his storyline wife. And as he took pen to paper and signed his name, he tried to convince himself that he was angry at her… and not at himself.