The light grey "whites" in Wilde's eyes faded into an indiscernible mist of hazel brown eyes. His pupils were a bit small - a sure sign his mind was awash in contemplation. He didn't notice at first when his daughter started grabbing at his hand. All things said, however, even with a state of mind such as Wilde's, offspring are not something nature made easy to ignore.

Wilde's head quickly snapped down towards her. She recoiled in shock, nearly stumbling back over her lanky legs in surprise from the quick head movement. Amanda then looked up and smiled at her father, surprising a giggle long enough to pass a message on. "Aunt Shelly wants to you! Go! Here come!" She started pulling on her young father's hand again.

Wilde stood up, and used his free hand to rub the sleep out of his eyes with his other hand. He was dealing with some mixed emotions over the booking for his next match, and hadn’t gotten much sleep the past few days. "Ok, ok, relax, rugrat," Wilde answered to his daughter over a yawn. "Come, come here," she repeated.

"Spoiled rotten," Wilde said with a smile before scooping the two year old up. "Gee, wonder where you got *that* from, 'Manda?"

Amanda nuzzled against her father's nose. "Me!"

"You got it from you?" Wilde asked with a smile, as he turned, leaning his back in to open the door. He, of course, found Shelly on the other side, with her own son (not Wilde's), seated at the table, and apparently taking an early nap. Shelly quickly looked up from the sausages and eggs she was tending to. "Ah, Willend, you are awake."

Wilde groaned. She sounded wide awake. A little too awake, Wilde thought. "Course I'm awake. We ARE having friends over today." Wilde gently put his daughter on the floor. Unexpectedly, she vanished into the next room, probably to turn on the cartoons SHE liked.

"Don't worry, Ah fixed those holes in the wall a week ago," Wilde answered, sitting down, shaking his head. "Stupid out of control, super powerful kitchen appliances."

"Nevertheless," Shelly commented, "it was quite a unique soup, as I recall."

"Well, as Ah recall, it was supposed to be spaghetti," Wilde recalled with his own shrug. "I bet Terri's developed."

Shelly shot her an eye. Wilde couldn't help but smirk. "Of course, Ah only have eyes for your development, Shelly."

Wilde looked around, waiting for an interruption. When none came, he continued his train of thought from earlier. "Getting back to da topic at hand, do we know where Terri and Ivan are going to stay? With Rebecca staying in the guest room, we only have one other guest room left."

Shelly paused long enough to think to herself, which lasted several seconds. "I suppose we could try to rent them a hotel, or themed log cabin."

"Themed log cabin?" Wilde looked up at her, eyebrow raised an unnoticeable tad.

"Seriously. I think they'd enjoy it." Shelly answered, sitting down. She frowned a little, rubbing her shoulder. "Wilde, I could use a massage right now."

"Morning, sleepyhead," came a voice from the back of the kitchen. It's Penelope Skene, fully dressed in her ring attire. She leaned casually against the doorframe. "Better finish up your breakfast quick so we can get to work."

Wilde looked up at her, then stood up. "Hey have some . . . what do you mean, 'Get to work?'"

 "Ate already," she replied curtly. She paused for a moment. "You're not hoping to win this match sitting on your ass, are you? We've got training to do. Roadrage is waiting outside."

Wilde took a few steps closer to her. "Sorry, we're having guests, I really need to get dis house ready first. We can train later."

Pen tsk’ed softly and shook her head. "There's always an excuse. . . 'Company's coming over', 'I don't feel well', 'My leg fell off', blah blah blah." She glanced to Shelly. "Tell 'im."

Shelly nodded politely. "I appreciate your sentiment, but I can assure you it is quite misplaced. We are having some . . . associates we've not seen in quite some time. Childhood friends, as the old saying goes."

"You might like them," Wilde said. "At least, one of them . . ."

Shelly shot Wilde a look that convinced him not to elaborate on that thought.

Pen scowled. "I'm not interested in losing ANOTHER match because of your incompetence. Either act like you're trying to win or you can damn well get ready to train in this kitchen!"

Wilde shoved himself in her face. "Say that again?"

Pen straightened, going nose to nose with her tag team partner. "I said," she began, speaking very slowly and clearly, "I'm not interested in losing another match because of your incompetence."

Wilde didn't smile, although his eyes almost seemed to smirk. "So you wanna lose on your own, like last week? I know, why don't you go write another little tidbit about how we're supposed to be impressed at you for losing, girl."

He paused, and almost took a step back, before pressing his face even closer to hers. "LITTLE girl!"

SMACK! Her hand flew to the side of Wilde's face with a hard slap. "Outside, right now, dipshit!" she snarled. "You'll see something impressive!"

"Fine!" Wilde said, "You'll regret that before you take five steps!"

Pen nodded and turned sharply, striding purposefully out the door in challenge of his words. Wilde followed a nasty smirk on his eyes. However, he stopped at the door, slammed it shut, and quickly locked it.

Shelly just looked up at him, quizzically.

"Told her she'd regret it before five steps." Wilde switched off the stove, then sat down, feet propped up on the table. He looked rather satisfied with himself.

There's a muffled cry of "Coward!" from the other side of the door. Wilde smirks, looking very pleased with himself, when suddenly there came the sound of a key in the lock. The door was violently thrown open, and Pen stood there glowering with indignant rage.

Wilde's still smirking when he looks up. "Missed you, honey. Bring me anything?"

 "Right here!" Pen turned, her foot lashing out at Wilde's smirking face. Wilde managed to dodge somehow, by a literal hair, and pulled to his feet, quick as a cat. "Try that again, and Ah'll have the police on you faster than you can ask, 'Why are my roots still blonde!'"

"Great. Trying to crawl to the phone when you're in a Scorpion Clutch'll be good practice for you. Chicken shit."

"Would you please GET OVER YOURSELF?!" Wilde answered, his temper obviously having snapped. Wilde stepped closer to Pen. Surprisingly, considering how nonchalantly he'd treated her visits in the past, he then grabbed her chin, forcing her to keep eye contact . . . roughly. "I think I've been rather tolerant with you so for, Penelope! Hell, I've let you walk in here like you run the show, but I am NOT letting you turn my home into a battlefield in front of my own god damn daughter! UNDERSTAND ME?!"

The two glared at each other for several heartbeats. The air in the kitchen quivered with tension. Slowly, a grin spread across Pen's lips. "Guess you'd better come outside like I wanted in the first place, hm?"

Within the blink of an eye, not that either noticed, Shelly was between them. She quickly applied pressure with her fingers and thumb that caused Wilde to immediately release his old on Pen's jaw. She then spoke, showing what could only be defined as an extreme amount of passive forcefulness. It could also be described as hypnotic in it's even tone. "Perhaps we should sit down and discuss our mutual agendas like rational adults?"

Pen glanced at her sharply. "Do we look like rational adults to you?" Shelly caught her gaze and held it for a few moments, and Pen finally let out a sigh, calming somewhat. "I just want this guy to train. That's it."

Shelly put her hand over Pen's, instinctually. "Believe me, we have every single intention of training. This match is of great importance to us. In fact, if you'd indulge an explanation from us, I feel confident you'd understand why we take preparing for our guests so seriously."

Wilde didn't say anything, although he looked like he was desperately trying to get his outrage under control before he caused the situation to explode again as he rubbed his sore hand.

Pen took a step back and folded her arms over her chest. "Alright. Shoot."

Shelly sat down. Wilde and Pen still stood, but their eyes were on her. "How to articulate . . . do you have any childhood friends of your own?" Pen shook her head. Shelly took note, then continued. "Ah, then I can only ask you attempt to emphasize the importance of them in our lives. We've known them since Willend was a freshman in high school. I still recall vividly spending hours talking to Ivan about poetry, and Terri and I . . ." Shelly smiled, lost in memories. "Pardon the ramblings of a normally unemotional individual, but I trust you can understand why we simply wish to prepare ourselves, and give due time to preparing four their arrival?"

Wilde unfolded his arms again. "They're friends. No. . . they're a part of us. Laugh if you want, but . . . I KNOW they're understand what I'm dealing with. Grubb, I thought he and I put ALL the crap behind us, then . . . I don't know what he did, I don't know why he did it, I just want to talk to my friends before I have to go back into that damned world again, ok? Let me do that and, pardon the phrasing, I'm yours for whatever wrestling crap you want. Whatever tickles your tummy. Just . . ."

The purple-haired woman nodded after a moment and turned to give Wilde a steady look. "Same time tomorrow." She turned to leave.

Wilde let out half a snort, half a laugh. "Like Ah'll be up this time tomorrow."

"Get a good rest," she replied without turning around, ignoring his comment. She pulled the door shut behind her.

Wilde looked up. “Ah don’t think she’ll take no for an answer two days in a row. Hey, would you get that?”

Shelly seemed quizzical for a second, before turning to notice the smell of burning eggs. Mentally chastising herself for not noticing it earlier, she quickly moved to remedy the problem. Wilde smiled. "I'm gonna go get some things ready. See you in a few."

Shelly nodded, as Wilde stood up. It seemed to dawn on him - they were finally gonna see their old friends again!

Wilde couldn't wait!
 

End chapter.