Story Title: Soon
Story Type: Slash
Characters: CM Punk, Randy Orton, Colt Cabana
Pairings: Punk/Colt, past Punk/Randy
Rating: PG-13/NC-17
Series: No Words Needed:Eyes, Your Own Fault, 5 and 1 -Punk Remix, Long Time, Don't Even and You and Me
Disclaimer: Not mine, still. I keep hoping, but so far I haven't been adopted by the McMahons. They belong to themselves and Vince/ROH.
Warnings: Slash, language
A/N: So, here we go again. More epic Punk/Randy on RAW means my muses want some action. Hope you guys like. Enjoy, peeps.
Punk wasn't fazed when he got more dirty looks and hisses then normal when he left the arena and got in his rental to head for the hotel.
Randy had stepped up his game and Punk could admit he was surprised with the way he had taken it. He would never have thought that Randy would drag Sam into this; a fake Sam, sure, but still using her name had been a jolt.
Once Punk thought it through, he could see Randy's reasoning behind it. Even if the whole roster knew that Sam was just a cover; hell, even if other promotions knew it, there was hardly anyone outside of wrestling who did. And bringing his wife into it, and make him seem like a creepy stalker was genius and it should have gotten in his head, made him doubt himself.
And it would have worked -if Punk was anyone else. As it was, it just made him smirk and appreciate the fact that Randy was finally starting to get serious about this. And having fans genuinely loathe him was a plus as far as he was concerned; it meant he was doing his job.
There was only one person whose opinion mattered to Punk, only one person who mattered to him at all. And Colt knew him inside out, knew him better then anyone could even began to understand -and as long as Colt knew who he really was, everyone else could go fuck off for all that Punk cared.
When Punk got to the hotel and parked the rental, he went into the lobby; stopping to sign a few autographs -he was surprised anyone wanted one, which was the only reason he did it.
After he finally made his way upstairs, he wasn't surprised to find Randy in the hallway waiting for him. Smirking, Punk shook his head; no matter what else he did, you could always count on Randy to come gloat whenever he thought he scored a hit on someone.
"So, Punk, still confident about Sunday?" Randy sneered, his eyes narrowed. He knew he had to have gotten to Punk, finally. He was pulling out his best plays and there's no way Punk wouldn't be feeling it by now.
"Randall, what a surprise," Punk said, still smirking. "Is the part where we go back and forth again? I'm sure I've heard what you have to say -several times in fact.
"Let me shorthand it for the both of us: You want me to be unnerved by what you did/said -I'm not. That makes you angry. You want me to be scared -once again, I'm not. That makes you angrier. You pull off what you think is a brilliant tactical move in our own little private war and you came to gloat. I'm still not impressed, so you spout off some garbage about ending my career and storm off.
"Does that sound right to you, Randall?" Punk taunted, smirking again when Randy's jaw started ticking.
"Listen, you stupid fucker," Randy snarled, backing Punk into the wall. When Punk just looked bored it pissed him off more. "What the hell is wrong with you? You're acting like this doesn't mean anything to you."
"Oh, it means something to me, Randy," Punk spit out, his own temper flaring. He shoved Randy away from him but instead of getting in his face, he just leaned against the wall.
"The whole reason behind this means more to me then you can even wrap your fucken brain around. Trust me when I tell you that this has more of my attention then almost anything right now.
"Just because you can't control yourself doesn't mean everyone else has the same problem."
"Fuck you, Punk," Randy told him, his temper snapping completely. "You're acting all noble and shit when I fucken know how selfish you are. You can't fool me, I know this is about you getting the title. And you better fucken believe that you're not getting it before me."
By this time Randy was shouting, his face red. People all along the hall were opening doors and looking out to see what was going on.
Punk could see John hurrying down the hall toward them, a worried look on his face. Ah, always the good boyscout, Punk thought, sneering a little. He heard the door next to him opening and the sneer softened into a smile before he could stop himself.
"Again, Punkers? Can't you do anything without causing a scene?" Colt asked, leaning against the door frame. Punk returned his grin before nodding towards Randy and rolling his eyes.
Randy was staring at the two of them, ignoring John who was trying to get him down the hall and away from the fight.
"If you think for one fucken second that this is over, you got another fucken thing coming," Randy spit out, rage making his voice shake. He shook off John and took a step toward Punk before John grabbed his arm and dragged him back.
"What the hell are you doing, Randy?" John asked, his voice worried. "Leave them alone and get back in your room."
"You're going to be fucken sorry you started this, Phil," Randy hissed, straining against his best friends hold.
"I don't believe in regretting anything," Punk said quietly, moving away from the wall to go stand in front of Colt in a gesture of protection that made Colt roll his eyes and Randy seethe.
"But if I did, I'd be sorry that I ever went near you.
"Regardless of what happens at 'Mania, I'll have accomplished what I wanted: you're out of the title picture, for at least the next couple months, you're going out of your mind and you're off your game.
"That's worth more to me then a title shot ever could be. Seeing you running around, out of control and barely able to function is almost perfect. The only thing that would make this better is if you lost at 'Mania.
"But even if I lose, I win, Randall," Punk smirked, turning to go in his room. "Can you say the same?
"Go back to your 'wife' and have fun, but remember that you have yourself to thank for the mess you're in now. Soon enough, it'll just be you and me."
As Punk closed the door, he could hear Randy scream and then punch the wall by the door. Yes, things were going the way he wanted.
And as he watched Colt stretch out on the bed and flip through channels, Punk couldn't help but think that maybe he was wrong: if being with Randy led to this, then he would never be sorry for it, even if he did start regretting things.