A/N: Just a little one-shot that has been swimming around in my mind since I read that statement on Punk's Twitter months ago. As I said, it's only rated T due to cursing. And it's slash, so you can't say I didn't warn you :) Hope you all like.

Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one, so please don't come after me with lawyers and the like, student loan payments are killing me as it is.

The bar slammed into the holders, weights clinking together. The oddly satisfying ache in his muscles telling him it was time to quit as much as the sweat rolling down his back. John was known for pushing himself to the limit, and sometimes past it, especially in the weight room. But today he simply had better things to do. Such as meet up with his love for some relaxing time alone. Something that was a hard task to accomplish considering both of their work schedules.

After deciding that it was quitting time, he gathered up his belongings and waved goodbye to his friends before heading to his tour bus. The second the crisp, autumn air his lungs, John instantly felt revitalized. Feeling the need to keep his hands busy, something he was sure that he had picked up from his restless boyfriend, John immediately pulled out his phone and began looking through Twitter.

Seeking out Punk's page as he usually did, John felt himself relax even more. The man's sense of humor was sometimes off, but it was just perfect in John's opinion and he loved seeing what his opinioned man's mind was coming up with on a regular basis. When the page loaded, John couldn't hold back a chuckle when he saw a question and answer scenario occurring. God help him, this was going to be good. And he was right, John thought as he found himself laughing at some of Punk's more surely answers. Then he read one that had him stumbling.

"Do you ever want to get married?"

"Nope."

His mind simply shut down, just repeating those words over and over. He numbly put the phone back in his pocket and climbed the few steps to his home away from home, immediately heading towards the bedroom in the back. Digging into the drawer on his side of the bed, John's hand clasped around the familiar small felt box. Suddenly feeling drained, John collapsed back onto the bed and snapped the lid open.

He laid there thinking over the last few years with his crazy lover as the simple black band stared back at him, taunting him. They had been together for nearly two years, John had never once considered that Punk didn't want to marry him and spend forever together. Sure, the few times that he had brought up the idea of marriage, Punk hadn't lept at the idea. But he sure as hell hadn't completely dismissed the idea. Maybe his boyfriend was thinking that way because he hadn't yet met the person he wanted to marry.

With that horrible thought floating around in his mind, John sat up and placed the ring back in it's hiding spot. He would have to see if there was a way to return the ring, or maybe exchange it in some way, once he got back to Tampa. Hell, he didn't even know if he could find the receipt for the damn thing. He had bought it nearly two months ago with the intention of proposing on Punk's birthday, but his plans just never panned out. But knowing what he did now, maybe things had worked out for the best.

John heard the door to the bus slam open and then immediately slam back shut. The sound of padded footsteps soon accompanied the noise and John knew that his lover was back as well. He watched through hooded eyes as Punk practically bounced into the room. Before John really knew what was happening, Punk was flying through the air and landing on top of him.

"Hey John boy."

"Hello." John said as he moved Punk off of him and to the side. He saw Punk's brows draw together at his curt answer and actions, but he choose not to elaborate on his response.

"Did I tell you that Colt had his surgery? He's doing really well."

"Good." Now Punk was openly staring at John in confusion. He knows he's being distant with him and he knows he shouldn't, but he's hurting and doesn't really want to deal with it right then.

"Okay, well I'm going to take a shower."

"Yeah whatever." John replies before turning his head away from his boyfriend to stare at the wall as he listens to Punk move into the bathroom. He could sense Punk's confusion and discomfort and a part of him wanted to reach out and fix the problem. But a bigger part of him was still reeling from the information he had just learned and that kept him from moving anywhere.

So this has been going on for a week now, Punk thought as he snuck glances at his boyfriend sitting on the opposite end of the couch. This wasn't like them. John usually couldn't take his hands off of him, always needing some form of contact, but not lately. Something had happened and Punk didn't have a clue what it was. Hell, they barely even talked now, it was just him asking questions and John giving the shortest answers possible. To be honest, it was really starting to scare him. He might as well make one more attempt, maybe bringing up the holidays would brighten his surly boyfriend's mood.

"So do you want to talk about what we're going to do for Christmas, we never really decided."

"I don't know, I guess you'll go to Chicago and I'll go to West Newbury." John told him, never looking away from the television.

Punk snapped his head around in disbelief and just stared at John with an open mouth. He finally was able to gather up his composure enough to try to figure out what the hell was happening. "Wait aren't we going to be together?"

"It doesn't really matter if we are or not."

"What the fuck John!" Punk had finally had enough. This wasn't like his boyfriend and he wanted to know what the hell was happening. "You've been acting like a dick for a week and now you tell me you don't want to spend Christmas together? Is this you breaking up with me?"

He waited for John to say something, anything, but he just stayed silent. Maybe that was all the answer he needed. Heartbroken, Punk stood there in shock. How could this be happening? They had been good together for so long and now, what? John was just finished with him? None of this made any sense and he didn't know what to do.

As the silence stretched on, both men staring at the other, not making any move, Punk realized he couldn't do this. He was going to fall apart and he sure as hell didn't want to be around John when that happened. The sick bastard had already gotten enough kicks at Punk's expense. Somehow pulling himself together as much as he was capable, he hurried to gather up his essentials and left, not sparing John another look.

"Alright, what the hell is happening. A week ago you were planning a Christmas proposal and now you two aren't even together." John barely caught himself before jumping from Randy practically yelling at him.

He stared at his friend for a few seconds, deciding whether or not to share his mental torture.

Hell, what did he have to lose. "Do you follow Punk on Twitter?"

"Why would I do that, I get a front row seat to his opinions damn near every day of my life as it is."

"Anyway," John replied with a touch of irritation, "Punk used Twitter to make his opinion on marriage very clear not that long ago. He doesn't want it."

"So that's a deal breaker for you?" Randy asked with a lift of his brow.

"Yeah, I don't want it to be, but it just is. I need to know that he loves me enough to stand in front of our friends and family and tell me that."

Just then, the subject of their conversation walked through the door to the looker room. It pissed John off that his heart still stuttered and his breath became shallow whenever he laid eyes on the man.

"He looks bad, like worse than usual. Are you sure that's the way he feels?" Randy quietly asked, his head still turned towards the door.

John lifted his head and slowly raked his eyes over the object of his current torture, taking in Punk's gruff appearance. While the man was still sexy as fuck, he didn't look as breathtaking as usual. He had lost weight, and the bags under his eyes was proof of his lack of sleep. Although, his hair, which was usually slicked back in a way that made John hot all over, was hanging limply down his forehead almost covered that evidence up. The man looked like he had been through hell. Good, John quickly decided. Even if it wasn't right, he enjoyed the knowledge that Punk was hurting as much as he was.

"Hey John," Punk slowly walks up to him, his eyes glancing everywhere but at John's eyes, "can I get on the bus and gather up the rest of my stuff?"

"I don't care. Why don't you go do it now so I don't have to be there." Harsh, but necessary in his mind. Punk's head actually snapped back at the malice he didn't bother to disguise.

"Yeah, sure I guess." Punk mumbled before turning and leaving the room.

"Damn John." Randy told him, staring at him like he had never seen him before. John quickly looked away from the judgment he saw in his friend's eyes.

"Heartless bastard. Pathetic son of a bitch." Punk continued to mumble under his breath as he threw his possessions into his duffel bag. As the time stretches on, his descriptions of John kept getting more and more ugly. By the time he dropped to his knees to go through the bedside table, Punk was practically ripping the drawers out and slamming them shut in anger. He didn't even know if he had anything in this drawer, but there is no way he's not going to check. For all he knew, one of his favorite comics would be in there and he would have to talk to the bastard again about coming to pick it up. And talking to John was something Punk had no intention of doing that ever again.

When he shoved his hand towards the back of the drawer, performing one last sweep to make sure he didn't miss anything, his hand bumped into a small box. Curiosity getting the better of him, he grasped the object and pulled it out, almost dropping it when he realized what he was holding.

Ho-ly fuck. Opening the lid, Punk felt his breath lodge in his throat. Was this meant for him?! If that was the case, why the hell weren't they together now with this ring on his finger.

He needed to get out of there, fast. Closing the box and returning it to where he found it, Punk grabbed his things as quickly as possible and more or less ran from the bus, hailing a cab to take him to the hotel.

By the time he made it to his room, Punk was nothing more than a group of frayed nerves. He pulled his cell phone out, scrolling through his contacts until the name he was looking or appeared. As he sat on the bed and listened to the rings through the connection, he tried to hold his fidgeting in check, but decided it was a lost cause as he watched his leg bounce continuously like it had a mind of it's own.

"Hey man, what's up?"

"John was going to propose." Punk blurted out to his best friend. Oh really smooth idiot. Punk thought as he mentally rolled his eyes at himself.

"What?" Colt asked, obviously confused.

"John was going to ask me to marry him. At least I think he was, I found a ring. I don't think he was cheating on me so I don't know who else it could be for. I should have tried it on to see if it fit. But that wouldn't have worked for sure. Maybe he wouldn't have had my size and then planned on having it sized after giving it to me. But with everything that happened, maybe I should be more concerned about the cheating idea. I mean…"

"Punk, wait a damn minute. You're rambling, you always ramble when you're freaking out. Calm the fuck down."

'Alright, alright. But I don't understand, do you think this break up is just him having cold feet and freaking out? Why didn't he go through with it?"

Punk tried harder to control his nervous movements as he listened to silence coming from the other end of the line. After a few minutes of the silence, Punk pulled the phone from his ear to make sure the connection didn't get lost. "You still there?"

"Yeah I'm here. Punk," a sigh came over the phone, "you said you didn't want to get married."

"What, no I didn't."

"Yes, you did, on Twitter. When you were answering all those questions. Someone asked if you ever wanted to get married and you said no. I bet John saw that, didn't you guys start having problems around then?"

The memory suddenly slammed back into Punk robbing him of his breath for a second time that day. "Fuck. I wasn't thinking right, I was in character mode, John has to know that."

"You can't hold that against him, the real you and your character are damn near the same person."

"Yeah you're right, but I mean, I would marry John. I love him and he knows that, at least I thought he did."

"Maybe you just need to prove that to him."

"Yeah, maybe I do."

"Why the hell do I have to come out here and practice with you? We aren't even working together these days." John asked with a hint of whining in his voice.

"Because," Randy told him with a roll of his eyes, "I like working out spots with you, reminds me of the good old days. Besides, you've been a real ass lately, you need to get out of this fuck and I can't think of a better way than to get thrown around the ring by me like back in the day." Randy finished with a smirk.

"Shut up jackass." John told him, his mood not improving any. That didn't stop him from following his friend down the ramp and to the ring that was already set up in preparations for that night's events.

"Just put on a happy face and get to stretching, I want your help figuring out this new move I'm thinking of."

"Whatever." Randy felt the smirk on his face becoming more smug as he reached for his phone and sent out the text message like he had been asked. He was going to truly enjoy the look on John's face when this all went down.

The two men started out slowly, working their way up to the level that they were used to performing at. Their focus was so intense that John didn't even notice when all the various superstars and divas began slowly filling into the arena. After one particularly nasty blow, John turned his back on the other man to try gather his senses. While doing so, he looked out over the stadium and saw the majority of his friends from the roster. His confusion mounting, John opens his mouth to ask what was going on when he noticed his family mixed in among the sea of faces. He walks over to the ropes about to ask what was happening when a throat was cleared behind him. He spun around to find a nervous looking Punk, dressed in his suit from the previous year's Hall of Fame ceremony.

John couldn't do anything more than stand there with his jaw hanging down as he took in the various details around him. He took a few cautious steps towards Punk, his nerves beginning to ignite. "What's happening Punk?" John asked so quietly he was practically whispering.

Tears instantly sprung to his eyes when he watched the man he loved drop to one knee.

Punk cleared his throat once more and began in a shaky voice, "You're my love, my everything. I want to spend the rest of my life with you because I don't know what I would do without you and I never want to find out. So, John Felix Antony Cena, will you be my husband?" He slowly opened up the small box revealing a thick silver band with a black boarder.

John was left speechless, he slowly looked up and around the seats, his friends and family all smiling at him, his mother with tears in her eyes. He didn't know what to do or say, but when he turned his head back around to the kneeling man in front of him, John knew that he only had one answer to give.

"Yes, yes of course!" John shouted as he dropped to his knees as well and embraced his one. John knew he was an overly sentimental guy, but he couldn't care less when the tears started streaming down his face. His vision was so blurry, he could barely take in the ring being slipped onto his finger.

"I don't understand." John told him as he soaked up the embrace he had been without for almost two weeks. "What brought all this on?"

"I found the ring when I was looking around the bus for my things that one day. And, I quickly realized what an idiot I was to say what I did on Twitter. I should have known better than to say something like that when I knew it could hurt you. I just don't always think before I speak sometimes."

"I know, it's one of the things I plan to fix about you." John pulled his head back to grin at Punk.

"One of the things?" Punk asked, trying to fight his own smile.

"Yeah, I have a list."

"I love you." Punk said around a chuckle.

"I know and I love you too. Let's never do this separating thing again, okay?"

"Okay." Punk says before leaning in and pressing John's lips to his own in slow, sensual kiss, pouring all the love he could into it.

Punk breaks their kiss to look at John with his eyebrows pulled together, a scowl overtaking his face. "Just know I'll never be this romantic ever again."

"I wouldn't expect anything less love." John told him through his dimpled smile right before he closed his eyes in an attempt to stop the tears. But when he felt Punk pulling him back into his arms, and his lips lightly brush the shell of his ear as his whispered words told him once again that he loved him, he realized it was probably a lost cause anyway.