Every Irish person likes St. Patrick's Day, right? Wrong. That was a stereotype that needed to go as quickly as it dared reared its ugly head. Sheamus O' Shaunessy absolutely detested the day and the antics tied with it. He felt like it made fun of his Irish heritage at every possible turn and he wasn't one to just mock Ireland like that, no matter if all his friends were doing it. While others were drinking green beer and wearing 'Kiss Me, I'm Irish' shirts, he was trying to just drown the night away in regular colored ale. If he could manage to drink enough, the rest of the night thereafter would be a blur and he wouldn't really have to deal with the idiots that roamed the streets. Well, that was the plan when he left his hotel room. Turns out, it wouldn't be as easy as he anticipated it would be. He ran into several drunkards already before he even walked through the doors. He was already pinched about ten times just because he wasn't wearing any kind of green. He refused to. It wasn't like that was gonna change anything, but in his head, it was.
In the back corner of the club, former WWE Champion CM Punk was seated with a couple of fellow WWE employees having a good time. Although he never drank alcohol, Punk always knew how to have a good time without it. He adopted the Straight Edge lifestyle at a young age, where he devoted his life to never touching drugs or alcohol. At the corner of Punk's eye, was Sheamus, standing alone at the bar, drinking like there was no tomorrow. Punk couldn't help but laugh. "Pathetic." He thought, as he took a few steps in the Irishman's direction. "Do you think you've had enough to drink, buddy?" Punk asked. "You seem upset."
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw CM Punk walking toward his direction. He heaved a mental sigh as he downed another glass of alcohol. They weren't exactly the best of friends, but, they were enemies either. They just mutually respected each other. However, tonight, he wasn't exactly in the mood to deal with anybody's bullshit, whether it was from the former WWE Champion or from Vincent Kennedy McMahon himself. Unluckily for him, Punk had a tendency to not know when enough was enough. Hopefully, he would be able to squash this bug before it got too annoying. "Leave me alone, Punk. Ah'm not here to deal with yer antics tonight."
"Having issues?" Punk asked, giving Sheamus a playful shove. "You should be happy! Today is like Christmas for the Irish. Am I right? or am I right?" Punk couldn't help but let out a chuckle at his own joke. However, judging by the stern look on Sheamus' face, he wasn't too impressed. "I'm sorry. You know, you probably wouldn't be so upset if you would have worn green like everyone else in this club. Then you wouldn't give people a reason to do this." Punk extended his arm and pinched the Irishman's right bicep as hard as he could, trying to get a reaction out of him.
He was doing his absolute best to just drown his co-worker out. He could tell he was just trying to get a rise out of him, but, it wasn't working. Well, it wasn't until he had the nerve to pinch his exposed arm. Even though the Irish had a notoriously high tolerance for alcohol, that wasn't exactly the case with Shea. He was already angered and that just about pushed him over the edge. He would stay calm, though. He wouldn't lose his cool. "Punk, Ah'm gonna let one go fer now. But, ah would advise you not do that again, if you know what's good fer you."
"if you know what's good fer you." Punk replied in an annoying, mocking tone. "Ooh, I'm so scared. The guy that can't win a match to save his life, while I had one of the longest title reigns in decades! You're pathetic." Punk reached out and pinched the milky, pale skin of the former World Heavyweight Champion, this time his destination was a little closer to Sheamus' chest. He could hear the low growl of anger coming from the Irishman. But he kept pushing his buttons. It was fun to Punk.
"Punk, a choinneáil do lámha diabhal as dom!" He didn't want to physically harm a co-worker, but, it was definitely getting to the point that it was a viable option. The drinks he did drink were beginning to have an effect, albeit a small one, but, the effect was still there. He was trying his best to keep his calm, but, his self-restraint was slowly wearing away. The bartender, having been trained in these matters, noticed it and came up to the two. He had no idea who either of them was, so, he wasn't starstruck or anything. "Uhh, dude. You should really leave him alone. He looks about ready to pop a gasket..."
"Hey, why don't you mind your own fucking business?!" Punk responded, shooing the bartender away. "What's wrong, Sheamus? getting mad?" Punk once again pinched the angry pale body, this time, the tattooed superstar gave the Irishman's nipples a hard pinch, loving the way Sheamus growled with anger.
Sheamus' eyes slowly filled with more and more fire. He was thankful that the bartender tried to help him, but, he knew it wasn't gonna be of much use. Punk was gonna keep doing what he wanted, regardless. That's just the way he was. So, instead of engaging in a physical battle, he just decided that the best course of action he could take was to just remove himself entirely from the situation. If he wasn't around him, he couldn't be annoyed by him. Simple as that. He got off his bar stool and headed out the door. Good thing the hotel was in walking distance.
"Hey, where are you going, Big Guy?" Punk asked innocently. He quickly followed after the Irishman, pushing through the crowds of crazy drunks to keep up with him. Once he made it outside, he knew Sheamus was going back to the hotel. In a jog, the former WWE Champion kept his pace until he was within footsteps of Sheamus. "I figured I'd help you get back to the hotel. Since you're pretty hammered."
"Get tha hell away from me, Punk. Ah'm fine. Yer nuthin' but a pest that's tryin' to get on me last nerve. Ah don't need yer help getting back to mah hotel." Sheamus would've told him off more, but, he didn't want to waste energy. He could literally see his hotel from where he was. All he had to do was make it to his room. Once there, he would be able to sleep the rest of the night away.
"But I want to help!" Punk said placing a hand on Sheamus' shoulder. "I promise once we get to your hotel room, I'll leave you alone, and you can rest. Deal?"
As soon as he placed that hand on his shoulder, he was quick to shrug it off. "Deal." He had a sneaking suspicion that Punk wasn't gonna exactly stay true to his word, but, he didn't care. If he had to, he could just throw him out of the window. It always worked in the movies and the tv shows. Just to make things hurry up, he quickened his pace a tad.
No matter how fast Sheamus walked, Punk was right behind him. Before they knew it, they were approaching the parking lot of the hotel. Sheamus broke out in a full sprint into the building, trying to reach the elevator and close the metal doors before Punk could. The Irishman was successful in his goal, and Punk was left facing the closed doors of the elevator. Thinking on his feet, Punk quickly found the stairwell. He didn't know which floor Sheamus' room was, but he did remember hearing Wade Barrett and Dolph Ziggler bragging about the Smackdown Main Eventers being on the top floor. "This is going to be a shitload of stairs" Punk muttered to himself as he sprinted up staircase after staircase. Once he reached the top floor, he looked down the first end of the hallway, then the other. "No Sheamus." He ran down the hallway looking for him, and he was nowhere to be found. Suddenly Punk heard a high-pitched ding. He knew it was an elevator. He ran to the elevator entrance, and patiently waited to see who was on the other side.