Chewing Tobacco:

You walked in the catering room and instantly went to your husband's lap, taking your rightful spot in it. You leaned against his chest and listened as he talked to Kane about their upcoming match when the sound of him spitting made you pull back.

“Ew!” You exclaimed with disgust while getting off his lap.

Him and Kane looked confused as to why you were acting the way you were, but it didn’t take much to connect the dots.

“Why’re you still chewing that shit?” Taker began laughing at your words, but he knew you weren’t joking.

“No seriously! It’s nasty, unhealthy, and it makes your breath stink!”

Taker continued to ignore you slightly, knowing you're complaining now, but if he were to chew some tomorrow, you wouldn’t say anything.

You decided to sit in the chair next to him, not wanting to hear or see him spit brown saliva in his cup. Just as he was about to keep talking about his match, a staff member came by to let the two men know their match was in 5 minutes.

Kane stood up and began walking to the gorilla while Taker stayed back, getting up and leaning over towards you with his lips puckered.

You recoiled as if he was some random fan who had a weird obsession with you, a look of betrayal crossed his face once he noticed. “Why are you leaning away from me? I’m just tryin’ give you a kiss.”

You shook your head. “Not with that tobacco breath you are.” You could see him roll his eyes in annoyance.

“No good luck kiss until you brush your teeth. Now go! Your match is gonna start!” You scolded, forcing him to leave the room.

It was after his successful match that some co-workers suggested going out to a bar. Taker instantly agreed and that’s how you found yourself sitting beside him while being surrounded by other muscular men.

“Hey Taker, you want some?”

You turned your head to see Bradshaw offering him some “yummy” chewing tobacco.

“Nah man, I’m alright. I think I’m gonna stop messing with that stuff.” He sighed, readjusting the chain on his jeans. You couldn’t help, but smile once you heard his choice.

“Awe, you really stop chewing tobacco because I wouldn't give you a kiss?” You teased with a giggle.

Taker cleared his throat as he leaned over to your ear.

“No, ‘cause you told me too.”

Your laugh came to a halt and all you could do was look at your man with adoration.

Hungry Motorcycle

Woo-hoo’s and woo’s could be heard backstage as Kurt came through the entrance curtain and ran towards a table full of snacks.

“Woo! That’s what I’m talking about, baby. I got the win!” He yelled to a poor staff member while grabbing them by their collar, a scared look coming across their face.

Kurt was so overwhelmed with joy that he couldn’t wait until he got to his hotel room and celebrate. He had to celebrate now.

Without looking behind him, he started grabbing everything off the table and throwing it behind him, juices and snacks falling over him, but he couldn’t care.

Someone who did care was Undertaker, who stood behind him watching all the food and drinks get thrown over his precious motorcycle—the one you liked the most out of his collection.

What made him snap was when Kurt picked up a bowl of cucumbers and threw it. Taker hates cucumbers, he’s even scared of them, but that’s not something anyone, but you need to know.

With three long strides, he was already behind him, turning him around, and grabbing him by his neck. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” He asked, but didn’t expect an answer due to Kurt gasping for air.

“You really just put that cucumber shit all over my bike!” Kurt’s face slowly turned red as his hands clawed at the biker’s wrist, pleading for him to let go.

“Do you know how much this cost me? $4,000.” He answered for him, making Kurt feel even worse. Not only is he probably gonna die, but his family's gonna owe him $4,000.

“Babe, get your hands off him, right now!”

Taker’s hold loosened just a little as his head turned to see his wife standing there with a shocked look on her face.

When he didn’t listen you crossed your hands over your chest, giving him a stern look. “Let go of him.” He let out an annoyed sigh, but complied, letting go of the Olympic Gold Medalist.

“I-I’m sorry I-” He gasped out with a cough, trying to catch his breath.

“Just get out of here Kurt.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Kurt rushed off in a different direction, glad he could still breathe.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You asked your husband, looking up at him with crazy eyes. “I got staff members coming up to me saying you’re trying to kill Kurt, and I get back here and you’re choking him to death?”

When he didn’t answer you looked back at his bike to see it was spoiled. You sighed an understanding sigh. “Okay, I see why you’re mad, but you gotta calm down! It’s just one bike out of your 23 at home!”

“It’s your favorite bike though.” He muttered, making you grin. “My second favorite. The red one is the first.”

Taker’s mouth was in an O shape, surprised that he got the information wrong.

“Yeah…” You teased him. “So now that you know you’re in the wrong, I think you should go apologize to a certain someone.”