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

The Next Night

The next night, they were filming SmackDown in order for it to air the following Friday. Once again, a little while before the show, Hunter had asked Mark if he'd be willing to watch the kids for a few hours while he handled 'business'. Mark had, of course, agreed. But the Deadman had no intentions of staying at the hotel room that night. Like Hunter, Mark had also been talking with Stephanie McMahon concerning WrestleMania arrangements. He had a meeting with her tonight to finalize their arrangement.

At about seven o' clock that evening, Mark paused in front of Stephanie's office door. The magnitude of this meeting had been troubling him all week, and now that he was to come face-to-face with the inevitable… he steeled himself and knocked on the door. Within seconds, the heavy oak door swung open and an immaculately dressed Stephanie McMahon greeted him with an undeniably McMahon-esque smile. Firmly shaking his hand, she ushered him inside with a hand on his back. Lily lagged considerably behind.

"I'm very glad that you could make it tonight, Mr. Calloway. Though I must say, I would've understood if you were forced to reschedule due to familial commitments." She inclined her head toward Lily.

"Lily's grown up in the WWE. It's practically her second home. I have no problem bringing her here." Mark said curtly. There was no time for pleasantries – this was strictly a business-oriented affair.

"I see." The smile waned a little bit. "Well, then – shall we get down to business?"

Mark shifted in the chair, making himself comfortable. Leisurely, he drew one leg up over the other and, in a calm, almost neutral tone, proclaimed, "I want to be booked to lose my match with Brock Lesnar."

The smile vanished completely. "I'm not sure that I understand… You want to lose?"

"Yes." Mark nodded firmly. "I want to lose."

"I don't think that you comprehend the enormity of what you're saying, Mr. Calloway. The Streak is unprecedented – hell, it's the most coveted mark in sports history!" She exclaimed.

"Yes." Mark continued calmly. "And at WrestleMania XXX, it will be over."

The relief came when the words were finally proclaimed aloud, when he could finally reflect on exactly what it was that he wanted. He and Hunter had been together for quite some time, and had many memories (both good and bad) to show for it. But the most beautiful things that they had made together weren't 'things' at all. Their two daughters, two precious little girls, were Mark's crowning achievement. Not The Streak. Not the World Heavyweight Championship, or the WWE Championship, or the now unified belts.

"Three years ago at WrestleMania XXII, my daughter was forced to watch as her parents brutally battled to the end, only to have her father be carried out on a stretcher. It changed her. I can tell." Mark said.

Stephanie cocked her head to the side and steepled her fingers on the desk. "That's part of the territory, Mr. Calloway. If you have no problem bringing her here, you should expect her to see a little carnage now and then."

"My husband and my daughters are my number one priority. I won't let The Streak come between me and my family." He said firmly.

He could see the tension forming in her brow. She was nervous. He liked it. "That's not your call to make."

He thought that she might go there. "I'm fully prepared to throw the match."

"You'd ruin yourself!" She exclaimed viciously – but Mark could see the truth in her eyes. She wasn't worried about the legacy of the Deadman, she was worried about the ruin of WrestleMania XXX.

Mark smirked lightly, "Where do I sign?"

"I never said that I would go along with this!" Stephanie fumed. It looked like steam was about to blow out her ears.

"Fine." Mark rose from his seat, smoothing invisible wrinkles from his clothes. Reaching for Lily's hand, the pair started for the door. "Then I'm prepared to walk out now, and there won't be a match at WrestleMania."

For several moments, the two simply stared at one another. It was clear that Stephanie didn't want to believe what she was hearing, that she wanted to think that all of this was just one nasty nightmare that just… wouldn't… end. But then, he started for the door and she knew that he was dead serious. Her dark eyes flickered down toward that little girl, with her soft, fluffy curls and pretty eyes, and knew that she had her Daddy wrapped perfectly around her tiny pinky finger. This was just wonderful.

She was trapped in a lose-lose situation. Should she let him walk out now, WrestleMania would be ruined. Without the Brock Lesnar vs. Undertaker match at the forefront of the pay-per-view, the entire show would undoubtedly be a flop. At the same time, should she agree to his terms, The Streak would come to an end and the brute, the monster, Brock Lesnar, would be heralded as both super-human and a monster. And WWE would lose one of their greatest WrestleMania money-makers… second only to Shawn Michaels.

He opened the door and Stephanie's heart practically stopped in her chest, her mind's eye vividly portraying the metaphorical dollar signs flushing down the toilet. "Wait!"

Mark turned back, one eyebrow raised. Lily clutched his hand tightly. "Yes?"

With a sign, she plopped down into her chair (vaguely allowing herself to wonder when she'd stood up in the first place). Producing a contract, she begrudgingly tossed it onto the desk. "You sign here."

"I found out the gender of the baby today." Phil said nonchalantly. He didn't look up from the comic book as Bryan slowly and methodically packed their things.

"Oh?" Bryan paused, momentarily meeting his husband-to-be's eyes. "I thought that we wanted to be surprised. Did you change your mind?" He cocked his head to the side, trying to read Phil's expression.

"It's funny. I thought that I wanted to be surprised. But then, the tech was saying that the baby was in there all spread-eagle, and it made me laugh. It just seemed like something our son would do." He said.

Bryan felt his heart clench and his eyes slowly widen. "Son?"

"Yeah." Phil finally set the comic book aside. "It's a little boy."

Bryan felt tears stinging at the corners of his eyes and, as his vision blurred, he scooped up the former WWE Champion into his arms and squeezed him with all of the care and love that he could muster. Phil, who was understandingly momentarily caught off guard, had to hide a small smile as he was showered with affection by his love. The road for the two of them had been a difficult one over the past several months, and there was no conceivable reprieve in the near future. But at least, right then, they had peace.

Bryan carefully lowered Phil back down to the bed and Phil let out a soft chuckle, smoothing a hand over his growing belly. He didn't think that it was possible to be this happy, this content. His fiancé seemed to have an extra 'bounce' in his step as he folded the rest of their clothes and packed the rest of their accoutrements into their respective suitcases. Phil was feeling a little better now, and his spirits were higher now that he knew about the baby. They'd travel with WWE that week and Bryan would be on Monday Night RAW.

"Hunter must've wanted your head on a silver platter for skipping out on Main Event." Phil said, a tad viciously. He didn't feel for Hunter in the slightest.

"We had a little chat when I got there to film SmackDown. He put me on probation – I had to do the dark match and on Monday I have to do triple duty, run the gauntlet against the Shield."

Phil looked considerably apologetic. "You know that you didn't have to stay home with me." It was as close to 'I'm sorry' as Phil would ever come.

Bryan wasn't fazed. "I love you, Philly. You didn't feel right, and you're almost six months pregnant. What kind of fiancé would I be to just let you suffer alone?" He asked.

"I'm a perfect ass when I don't feel well. I'm sure you would've much rather been at work." Phil said.

"Trust me," Bryan leveled him with a hard stare, "I much prefer your company to those ass-kissers at work."

The raven-haired man smirked. "If I didn't know better, I would think that I'm rubbing off on you."

Bryan smirked in return. "Oh, honey, you haven't rubbed off on me in a long time…"

"Mr. Danielson," Phil looked positively scandalized, "I do believe that you are trying to get into my pants." Nonetheless, he leaned back and spread his legs a little. "And I might just let you."

"Might?" Bryan raised an eyebrow. "I think I like those odds."

Suddenly, the idea of packing to make the plane that would carry them to their destination for Monday Night RAW was the last thing on Daniel Bryan's mind. Phil hadn't been in a mood like this in ages, and his pregnancy had been particularly hard on his body. The fact that he was already out of his shirt and hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his trousers could only mean one thing. His Philly wanted him, and after three months of forced-celibacy… well, who was he to turn down such a pretty offer?