This is adult fiction.
Content-language,violence and SLASH.
Muses of-mostly Derrick,plenty of others.
Monday was M day.
He could be Mark Henry or Mason Ryan, huge and towering, large, intimidating.
He could be Santino Marella, backstage joker, comic relief, made even the roughest exterior break into a smile.
He decided to be Mick Foley that day.
Cut his hair very short.
Cut a chunk out of his earlobe too, stood bleeding with a smile, concern showing on his face, wrinkled forehead.
The most important question, would Wade like it?
He had to, he HAD to!
Derrick stood, smile fading.
He would never be beautiful enough to satisfy, to please his husband.
Sighed harshly, snipped more at his ear.
'You're not doing it right, stupid.'
That little hiss of a voice, always judging everyone else.
That was Phil.
'Let ME cut it, I'm expert at this.'
Derrick stood still, not a breath or a blink, allowed Punk to shear his new sheep.
Being Saved was SUCH a great thing.
They had simaliar yet different goals, each to rid the world of a certian not-Sheamus redhaired pest.
Then their paths split.
Derrick wanted to keep his beloved, Punk would prefer life without him.
That one difference.
He'd let Punk spout his demands, obey him to a point but nobody would ever harm HIS Wade.
No, that would be done with his own hands.
'There.' Last curl, crimson drenched, hit the floor. 'All done.'
'Thank you for the help.'
'Anytime. But remember you owe me now.'
Derrick swayed, a bit weak from blood loss.
He looked pretty now, enough to catch his husband's eye, keep him from straying.
wonder-frikking-ful.
Another sigh, bliss, contentment.
He turned back to thank Punk again.
Ask what favor Phil wanted.
Nothing there but hair.
Clumps of curls, blood stained scissors, and one still in package Mattel Elite Punk figure staring at him from its plastic enclosure.