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Okay, even though this is just a second account (because I do write for other fandoms, but every time I tried posting a Wrestling one, everyone following me for my other stories would get upset. I just thought it's easier this way.) I'm still worried. I mean, this is technically my first story, at least on my new account.
Anyway, as of right now, no smut yet, however I am keeping it M. Sex IS going to happen (of course), just in a few more chapters. I probably should keep it at T until then, but, I have a feeling then I'd draw in hardcore T-Only people, who wont like the sudden change of rating.
Ok, enough rambling!
Disclaimer- I don't own, you don't sue.
Tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap.
Fingers drummed steadily on the wood of the table, the rhythm piercing through the thick silence. Then, they would stop, and eyes would flicker up and stare at the other man sitting feet away. The pattern continued as such; Tap-Tap. Stare. Tap-Tap-Tap. Stare.
Chris Jericho squinted, studying the dark-haired wrestler across the room, who, in turn, seemed oblivious to the set of eyes on him. The Canadian took in everything; from the subtle pucker of the man's lips as he sipped at the soda in his hands, to the way he seemed to purposely withdrawal himself from the rest of the men in the catering hall. Chris had to admit the man was attractive. He'd have men and women alike flocking to him, if it weren't for his sharp tongue.
The blonde chuckled to himself. He'd been on the receiving end of the raven's rage more than once. Smirking, he moved his fingers back to the tabletop, tracing the small cracks in the wood.
Tap-tap-tap.
CM Punk stiffened in his seat, hands clenching the Pepsi bottle tight. He knew the blonde was bothering him on purpose. Hell, the man had done everything in his power to get under his skin. Fingers drumming on a table shouldn't get him this riled up. Then again, everything Jericho did got him riled.
Punk shut his eyes, rubbing his temples. He considered up and leaving, until he heard the scrape of chair-on-tile. A smirk quirked onto his lips as he felt absence of eyes on him. Peace. Finally.
He opend his eyes, only to be face-to-face with Chris himself. Biting back a yelp of surprise, Punk settled for a glare.
"Don't give me that look." Chris scolded, plopping down in the open seat across from Punk.
"What look?" Punk asked with an innocent cock of his head.
"That look that you give people you hate."
"I hate everyone, so it's more of a permanent expression than a 'look'" Punk quipped, taking a swig of his soda. "But I especially hate you, so who knows what 'look' I give you?"
Chris bit the inside of his cheek, holding back a response. It wasn't the time or situation for some verbal spar that he knew Punk was itching for.
Yes, for once, that wasn't his goal.
Instead, Chris stayed silent, eyes drilling into Punk's skull, as if he could see right through it, as if he could pluck out his thoughts and lay them out on the table. Punk suppressed a shudder at the thought.
The straight edge stewed in the silence. How dare Chris have the audacity to even be in the same room as him, after what he's done, after the things he said? Punk's stomach tightened in anger. Chris was teasing him, purposely toying with him to see how far he could push.
"Leave or I'm leaving." He finally murmured, voice hard.
Jericho's expression softened slightly at the words. Punk wasn't full of his usual snarky remarks. He was to the point, no less no more. The blonde knew he was dancing on thin ice by merely sitting near him.
It was exciting.
Punk took the silence as a cue to leave. Huffing, he shot up, turning and storming out of catering.
CM Punk sighed, leaning his face into the cool surface of the wall. He was sick of Chris and his mind games. What was he trying to do?
The Chicago native bit his cheek, thinking back on Chris's silent stare. He looked like he was trying to devour him alive just using his eyes. Punk shut his eyes, breathing deeply. Whatever the Canadian was trying, Punk wasn't going to let him succeed, not this time.
A finger tapping his shoulder caused him to whip around in surprise.
Chris Jericho.
"Is stalking your new pastime?" Punk remarked, eyes burning a hole in Jericho's face.
"Clever." Chris chuckled, lips upturned in a smirk.
Silence fell over the two, before Chris held something out to Punk.
"You forgot your Pepsi." He whispered, leaning close as he set it gently in the man's hands. Slowly, he turned to walk off, before stopping, back turned to Punk. "They say if you drink a lot of something, your lips start to taste like it. Wonder if that's true?"
Punk slid to the floor, eyes never leaving the man's back.
Well, there it is. Trust me, dear readers, it will pick up. Fast.
Shit's gonna go down.
Ahem. Anyway, read, review, love.