Warnings:7 Sins Continuity 3rd person PoV, Het (Punk/AJ Lee), Smut, Briefly mentioned implied slash (Colt/Punk).

Work sucks, it's not something she wants to be true, but it is. For all she's Diva's Champion once more, for all she's enjoying feuding with Paige, work still sucks. No woman wants to be away from her man, especially when her man is a gorgeous dork of a creature, and her's is, but the bastard had insisted that now that he'd fulfilled his obligations of taking her on honeymoon, she should go get on with her work. It was a weird moment when he'd handed her a packed bag, and basically thrown her out of the house, promising to have dinner on the table when she got home. To be fair to him, the first time she'd come back, dinner had been on the table, it might have been takeaway, but it was there, even on the nice plates.

This is the first time April's been home since Cabana's been away. It's very strange that the first big hurdle in her marriage to Punk is the absence of his best friend. This should not be the hurdle it feels like, but Punk and Cabana were married long before she and Punk were. The first wife being gone apparently always puts him in a mood, as she's been warned by more than one person, though oddly enough, not by Colt himself. He rather like Punk doesn't seem to realise how they are, and how the rest of their social group sees them. They don't seem to have any idea that everyone goes out of their way to make sure that their heterosexual life-partnership is indulged. The poor boys have no idea how much people fuss around them. They live in this curiously deluded bubble where they're secretive and smart, the very idea of that being the truth does make April laugh more than it should. She knows that there's some people on the periphery of the group who don't understand, who think she's an idiot for marrying a man who's attention is so divided. Yet in her opinion, it's much easier knowing that when he gets too annoying, or when she just needs some peace and quiet, all she has to do is suggest he goes hangs out with his BFF. She's found Cabana to be surprisingly difficult to get to know. He's a nice guy, plenty nice, but he's not nerdy in the least so they can't bond over comic books, and he's in his head as much as Punk, having two of them prone to bouts of self-reflective misery is more than frustrating. At least unlike Punk, Colt doesn't end up unresponsive on the floor, he just descends in to what is lovingly referred to as robot mode. She's yet to witness it for herself, but Punk, and subsequently Marty, have some amusing BanaBot stories.

Upon entering the living room, April frowns down at her husband. He's sprawled on his back, arms folded under his head, eyes closed, and his cell resting on his chest. He looks fairly content, but in her experience, lying on the floor is a bad sign. There's no good to be had in him being there. She sighs, and concludes, that even with Cabana miles away, he's still the best bet in finding out what's wrong with Punk.

Why is he on the floor? - sent 10:32

Uh... What? - Mikey 10:36

Punk! He's lying on the floor. Why? - sent 10:41

Ask him? I'm kind of busy. - Mikey 10:47

April glances at her watch, mentally calculating what time it is in Scotland. Whilst having Colt's aide in getting to the root of the problem behind Punk's current location would be more than helpful, if he's doing a show, he'll be less than willing to help.

"Why are you on the floor?" She nudges Punk's foot with her own, deciding to do as Colt suggested and ask her idiot husband. His eyes open, and a smile spreads over his lips. She can't keep the soft little smile from spreading over her face; even just seeing him can make her feel all warm and mushy. There are times she curses the fact the WWE pissed him off to the point that he felt compelled to leave them in the lurch. If he were there, she wouldn't have to wait so long to have that warm, fuzzy feeling fill her.

"Hey! When did you get back? Why didn't you call me?" His smile doesn't stick around too long, it fades quickly, leaving him looking up at her blankly. She sits down by his head, stroking a finger down his nose, tapping the end of it gently. She can't think of anything she's done to upset him, she can't think of anything the WWE could have done to upset him, there's only one thing she can think of that could have led to him being on the floor, and there's not much she can do to remedy the cause. His cell makes a noise, and he picks it up immediately, sending a reply off without delay. His actions all but confirms her suspicion, no Colt, no happy Punk. Honestly, she's beginning to think she should have packed him off to Scotland too. It'd been something she'd considered, buying a ticket behind his back, packing a bag for him and just kicking him out of the house when she left for Raw. It'd solve one problem, but April is entirely certain it would cause the problem of him missing her whilst he was in Edinburgh, plus based on the whining Cabana's been doing, it's cold and wet there, two things Punk isn't overly fond of being.

"When was the last time you spoke to Mikey?" She flops down beside him, moving his cell, and resting her head on his chest. He tenses slightly, and the cause of his floor-based sulk is confirmed. A Punk too long without talking to his Cabana is a miserable Punk. Her own cell beeps, and she picks it up, reading the message.

Before you say anything, I'm waiting for a call from the Customer Support guy. I need the line free. - Mikey 11:01

More hacking, more stressing out for Cabana, more sulking for Punk. April sighs, considering her reply, as Punk's hand starts running through her hair. Its nice this lying cuddled up together like this. Punk had claimed to not be a snuggler when they'd first started dating. This had been proven false rapidly. On their first date, he'd given her the biggest, warmest hug she'd ever endured in her life, and from that moment on he'd taken every opportunity to treat her as his own personal teddy bear. Unless Cabana's around, snuggling his Colt trumps snuggling most everything else, and to be fair, Cabana is infinitely warmer than she is, though the longer she and Punk have been together, and the closer she and Colt get, the more Punk seems to be instigating, and more than likely engineering situations where he can sit snuggled up between them both, a smile on his face that makes him look like a cat that got the cream. He's spoiled, there's really no two ways about it, her man is overly indulged, and she and Cabana are entirely to blame, though the goofball would deny any involvement.

Call him when you can! I'm only here for a few days, I don't want to worry about tripping over him the whole time. What is the longest he's been a Floormaster, anyways? - sent 11:20

Punk seems to have fallen asleep, the gentle running of his fingers through her hair has stopped, and she mourns it, but she still has her comfy, if clingy and partially an Octillery pillow. His arms have wrapped around her tightly, his legs tangled with April's own. As she lies there waiting for Cabana to reply, she tries to decide if she should squirm out of his grasp, or have a nap with him. The last time he'd been like this, it'd taken going back to the WWE and forcing Colt to go to him to get him out of it. This time, she's no desire to go back early. She only has a few days off, and she wants to spend them being lazily in love with her dork. The other problem is Cabana is on a different continent, and he's not back till the end of the month. She'd had a feeling something like this would happen, so she can't be overly annoyed by the situation no matter how frustrating she finds it.

The longest? I think, and don't hold me to this, was a month. Why? - Mikey 11:28

The message from Cabana has her worried. She seriously hopes that this record month wasn't last August, because Colt seems to love the Fringe, and he's been talking about going back every year forevermore. If he does, it means August is going to be the month where she has to keep her eyes on the floor at all times because thinks he's part Floormaster, no one wants to be dealing with a Floormaster, not even Link.

When? - sent 11:35

Uh... August last year I think... Why? - Mikey 11:39

Fuck! How do I fix him quickly? - sent 11: 41

Quickly? Suck his dick? LOL I dunno, I usually let him get it out of his system or watch some shit he likes... You know how he likes to be humoured! - Mikey 11:50

April sighs again, Cabana makes two good points. Sex might help, and she can feel a blush forming on her cheeks. She might have told Colt she didn't want details of the full extent of his friendship with her husband, but that doesn't stop her imagination from getting the better of her. Whilst Cabana might not be her type, there's something to be said for the mental images she conjures up on long lonely nights in grimy hotels. TV might solve the problem too, but honestly, she's grubby from travelling all day, she wants a shower, she doesn't want to sit around feeling dirty watching TV. However, getting Punk off the floor is the priority for now at least, so it's door number one, she supposes. Punk's cell makes a noise, and he jolts beneath her, reading the message with a chuckle. He kisses her hair, and squeezes her tightly once he's replied.

"What's up?" He mutters, his voice mildly croaky, surprisingly he apparently really had been napping. April turns in his arms, grinning up at him, leaning down for a kiss. Kissing him since they got married has felt different, it more than likely shouldn't but it doesn't feel the same as when they were just dating, it's more official and somehow better.

"Quickie?" She grins, waggling her eyebrows, getting a mildly shocked but pleased grin from him.

"Here?" He asks, clearly pleased with the idea, his hands skimming down her back and up under her shirt to fumble with the hooks of her bra.

"Sure." She leans down to kiss him again, straddling his body, forcing him to surrender his attempts at removing her underwear. "Honestly, how have you not managed the art of one-handed removal?" She laughs, pulling her shirt and bra off in one move. He shrugs, and pulls her back down to him, the soft fabric of the ancient t-shirt he's wearing rubbing against her breasts, giving her gently shivery whispers of pleasure. He kisses her deeply, his hands cupping her ass, his hips grinding up against her. She strips the clothes from the lower half of her body, leaving her naked against his clothed form, his hands caressing her skin with almost reverential gentleness.

"Lie down." He mutters, she can feel his cock hardening in his pants, can hear his breathing speeding up a touch, just a little but more than enough to let her know he's into this, that he wants this as much as she does. She follows his request and lies with her legs spread, her fingers absently trailing over her own body. "I'm a lucky asshole, you know that right?" He pulls his shirt over his head, and leans down to kiss her, then takes one of her nipples in his mouth, licking at the peaked nub of flesh, his hand gently squeezing the other breast.

"Yup, you better remember that, Floormaster." She cards her fingers through his hair and he raises his head to stare at her.

"Floormaster?" Punk looks incredibly confused, and April can't keep the laugh back. She kisses the tip of his nose and smiles at him fondly.

"From Zelda! To think you call yourself a geek." She snorts in amusement at the indignant expression on his face.

"I know what a Floormaster is!" He snaps, pinching her nipple, making her arch her back and gasp. "I'd like to point out that I'm more than just a creepy shadow hand." He sounds ludicrously indignant, and April laughs at him again, her other nipple is flicked in retribution. "Meanest wife ever." He looks like a kicked puppy, and she can't help but melt at that face.

"Poor baby." She smiles up at him, her hand rubbing over his growing, clothing covered erection. "Want me to take care of this? Be a good little wife for a change?" She waggles her eyebrows, and unzips his flies, drawing his cock out. She licks her palm and starts stroking him, his cock hardening fully beneath her firm, quick movements. His eyes drift closed slightly as he gazes down at her, then moves between her spread thighs. She moans softly as his finger breaches her, slowly moving inside of her slightly. He pulls his finger from her, then eases it inside once more, in and out, not deeply, just teasing the entrance to her body. His thumb offers occasional flicks to her clit, making her change her mind constantly about what her legs want to do. When his fingers are fucking her, she wants to arch her back, buck her hips, spread her legs wider, and draw his thick digits deeper into her body. When he nudges her clit, she wants to wrap herself around him, and ride his hand to orgasm. He pulls his fingers from her eventually, and pulls away from her, to root about in his pocket, an odd, puzzled expression on his face.

"What?" April smirks at the oddly cute face he's pulling. She misses the goofy little reactions he used to have in the ring, thinks that there's no one in the company that's as expressive as her dork.

"I'm sure there's a condom in here somewhere." He mutters, pulling his shorts off, leaving him naked, and emptying the contents of his pockets on the floor. Several small and slightly odd items later, he picks out a little foil packet. "Ah-ha!"

"I never knew you were so prepared..." She says dryly, her eyebrows raised.

"Well, you know... Got a super hot wife with a career on the cusp of being legendary... Can't have little mini-me's spoiling her awesome figure yet." He laughs, and tears the packet open.

"The cusp!" April snarls, taking the open packet from him, and rolling the condom down his cock. "Fucking cusp... I am the best Diva in the World." She gives his cock a few quick strokes, smirking as he thrusts into her hand.

"Not really hard though is it? Not got much competition." He chuckles, easing her back down to the floor, covering her body once more, and positions his cock at her entrance. "You ready?" His voice is soft and quiet, his lips moving over her neck. Instead of answering verbally, she bucks her hips, the head of his cock sliding along her pussy. He enters her slowly, carefully; always so aware of the size difference between them, always so worried about hurting her. It's cute, frustrating but cute, like the man in general. He moves slowly, working the entrance to her body with tiny, shallow thrusts. Her finger moves rapidly over her clit, rubbing the sensitive little nub, her legs wrapping around his waist, squeezing, trying to urge him to move deeper, and harder.

"More." She gasps, his lips move over her neck, and his hips speed up, his thrusts driving his length into her at a pace she more than enjoys. "S'good." She moans, and he chuckles softly, nipping at her skin delicately. His body over her own is warm and solid, the weight of him pressing her down against the floor making her feel cocooned and safe. Each thrust he makes drives his cock deep inside her pussy, rubbing over the sensitive flesh, making her pant and moan.

"You gonna come, baby?" He murmurs in her ear, his teeth closing on her earlobe, nibbling at it gently. His hands slide under her shoulder blades, cradling her close to his chest. It's a surprisingly elegant move that he manages to pull, trading positions to have April resting over him. "Ride me." He grins up at her, and she rolls her eyes.

"Lazy bastard." She mutters, pulling herself up, shivering slightly as his cock leaves her body. She straddles his thighs, watching him stroking himself. His eyes are focused on her face, the hand not on his dick, skimming down her shoulder to cup her breast, her nipple rolled gently between his finger and thumb.

"C'mon, hop to it." He nods down at his erection, and chuckles. April frowns at him, her eyes narrowing.

"You're so close to being left on your own to deal with this." She snaps, knocking his hand out of the way, and taking hold of his cock herself, positioning herself just above the head.

"Hey, this is your fault. Your problem, you deal with it." His voice is almost a plaintive whine, and when he bucks his hips, trying to penetrate her, she raises up slightly, making him fall short.

"Patience, my young Padawan." She mutters, slowly lowering herself down his length, moaning quietly as he fills her. She rides his cock hard and fast, his hands unable to decide if they want to stay fondling her breasts, holding her hips or cupping her ass. If only he were more octopus like in the physical respect and whilst awake, then he could do all three. The idea has her choking back a laugh, and he looks up at her, confusion on her face.

"What?" He mutters, one hand resting on her cheek, the other resting on her waist, a soft little smile on her lips.

"Nothing." She grinds out, rocking down harder onto his cock, moaning as it drives him deeper into her body. He raises an eyebrow, clearly disbelieving. "Nothing situation appropriate." She moans as the hand on her cheek moves down her body, skimming her breasts to her pussy, his thumb starts rubbing her clit, making her gasp and shiver.

"Hmm..." He bucks up into her, throwing her off her stride slightly, but they find a matching rhythm quickly enough, their bodies chasing orgasm in concert. He comes first, his body tensing beneath her, his back arching, and his thumb moving more quickly, drawing her body to its own crescendo, leaving her trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure, slumped against his chest. April lifts herself from him, leaving him to remove the condom and knot it, leaving it in one of the innumerable tissues he'd pulled from his pockets earlier. Post-sex lethargy has more than set in, and she slumps back on top of him, his arms wrapping around her tightly. At this stage, she thinks she might be willing to join him in his lying on the floor stint. "So, how long you home for?" He asks eventually, his hand moving slowly up and down her back, his tone far happier than it was when she'd first gotten home.

"Few days. What you wanna do?" She nuzzles at his throat, feeling sticky; she needs a shower, and possibly some more cuddling in a more comfortable location. She absently wonders if she can get him relocated to the couch without too much fuss now that he's all contentedly just fucked. There's bound to be some TV show he thinks is imperative for her to see that she's never found the time to watch for him to stare at whilst she either gets utterly engrossed or falls asleep.

"How bout we shower, then I believe one of us has never seen the glory that is the Walking Dead." He chuckles, moving her off of his chest, and standing, a ridiculous dorky grin on his face. "You coming?" He offers her a hand, the smile on his face bleeding to a slightly leer.

"Oh no, not again. I'm tired. Go shower somewhere far away from me, you sexy thing you." She laughs, batting his hand away. He shrugs, and wanders off, leaving her dishevelled and still lying on her back on the floor. Quickie floor sex might be being added to her list of homecoming traditions she wants to continue, but only if it's not instigated by him being a miserable bastard.

You got him fixed? - Mikey 13:53

The message comes after she's showered and dressed in pyjamas, April's no intention of leaving the house unless utterly necessary for the entire time she's home, she and her beloved PJs are going to get well reacquainted.

How'd you know that? - sent 13:56

You really have to ask? Sheesh... Tell him I'll call later, bout 3am my time. - Mikey 14:04

I'd tell him myself but I don't want to be told more about how his wife is the most awesome thing ever, and if I don't find one soon he's gonna buy me one. I can get my own mail-order bride, thank you very much! - Mikey 14:09

Uh... I'll fix you on a date when you're home, that'll stave off him visiting discount-mail-order-brides . com, right? - sent 14:12

Fuck! The cheapskate would get a discount one too... She'd have like one eye or three legs or something... Cheap bastard I want at least the right amount of things on my bride! - Mikey 14:17

"That Bana?" Punk's arms wrap around her waist, he stoops over, trying to read the messages over her shoulder. "Ha, you want a Russian or Asian Mrs Cabana?" He laughs, picking her up, and awkwardly shuffling to the couch, tossing April onto it, and flopping down beside her, his head on her thighs. "I'm thinking Russian might be more his type, but well, your opinion is far more important. She's gotta be suitable for terrific lady days." April glances down at him, and laughs, ruffling his hair, leaning over to press a soft kiss to his temple, watching a contented little smile spread over his lips. It's not much of a surprise that that throw away comment was shared with Punk by the first wife, or maybe husband, she's not sure, and her opinion changes regularly on which one is more likely to be the girl. Honestly, Cabana's DIY skills edge him slightly in front in the manliness stakes, though by that token she's manlier than both of them, which would make them in some kind of quasi-lesbian relationship. It's a train of thought that makes her head hurt, so she abandons it in favour of petting Punk's hair some more. "So we ready?" He brandishes the remote, and grins up at her.

"Sure, show me your zombies, Floormaster."

I'm avoiding packing, I hate packing... So I wrote het smut... Yeah... Apparently being in this freezing country for too long does weird things to me... Normal business will resume once I'm home!

As ever:

If you liked it: YAY! Let me know what you liked and why!

If you didn't like it: BOO! Let me know why so I can try to fix it!

Also, AJ as ever troubles me... Any comments on the lovely Mrs Punk - PLEASE let me know!