Story Title: Lonely
Story Type: Slash
Characters: CM Punk, Colt Cabana
Pairings: Punk/Colt
Rating: PG-13/NC-17
Series: None
Disclaimer: Not mine; I've been trying, for years, but it's still a no go. They belong to themselves and WWE/ROH.
Warnings: Slash, language
A/N: So, I got the idea for this out of almost no where. I was just watching the video of Punk high fiving Colt at MitB and went 'I wonder...' This is set a few years ago, before Colt got signed to WWE -and then, you know, they shit canned him 'cause they're a bunch of retards. Enjoy, peeps.
Punk sat down in the locker room, resting his head in his heads. Since almost everyone else had left for the night, he let himself wallow for a little while.
He was in an exceptionally bad mood, even for him; he had a bitch of a headache, his back was fucken killing him and he had to listen to a twenty minute lecture from Hunter about how he shouldn't think he was any better then a rookie, just because he had been wrestling in the indies for years.
Under normal circumstances, Punk would've wrote it off as the price of doing business and went on with his day. But today, it was all he could do not to punch the older man and keep on hitting him until either he was in the hospital or Punk was carted off to jail. He was dangerously close to one of his infamous meltdowns and he knew it.
He was in his street clothes, his gear in the duffel by his feet. All he had to do was slip his sneakers on and he could leave, get in his rental and go back to his hotel room for the night. But he couldn't, not yet.
For all of Punk's reputation for being a loner and an asshole -which he couldn't deny since it was true- he just couldn't face going to the hotel room and being alone all night. What he really wanted, he couldn't have. Not yet; not until later in the week when he would get a day off, followed by a couple house shows in the Chicago area.
Punk could sneer at the notion all he wanted, but he missed Colt. With a desperation that would have been embarrassing if he admitted it to anyone. He missed having someone to talk over matches with, someone to hang out with, who understood that when he said "Fuck you, leave me alone," what he really meant was "I'm annoyed and tired, stay here and talk at me until I relax and can have a normal conversation."
He missed not having someone to road trip with, and he even missed not arguing over who's turn it was to pick the radio station in the car. He missed the stupid, inane debates over which was better, Coke or Pepsi, and whether Rhode Island was too small to be a real state.
Punk knew there was more to this then just missing his best friend; they had started dating a few months before Punk had gotten the call to go to OVW -six, to be exact. Although, for Punk, dating was just too casual a word for what they were. Colt had quickly become the only constant in his life besides wrestling and it had scared the shit out of him even back when they were still still only friends.
Eventually, Punk had just accepted it; he'd had little choice, he thought with a smile. Colt had pursued him with the same cheerful stubbornness that he used for everything else. And after watching Colt turn down dates and invitations -from rats and other wrestlers- for months, Punk had started to believe that Colt was serious. After another few months of introspection and arguing with himself some more, Punk had admitted that he was just as in love with Colt as Colt had said he was in love with him.
For the first time in his life, Punk had been happy some where besides a wrestling ring. When he got the call from WWE, he had seriously considered telling them no and not mentioning it to anyone -especially Colt. But Colt had come in the room a few minutes after that and knew something was up.
After arguing for a good two hours -first about whether he would go and then if they would break up if he did- Punk had stomped into the bathroom and threw a fit; slamming the door shut and then tossing whatever he could find at the wall.
Once he had run out of things to throw, he had stared into the mirror, asking himself what he wanted more. Punk wanted to sign with WWE, so badly that he could taste it. But did he want it more then Colt? More then their relationship and possibly their friendship? Did he, CM Punk, well known asshole and bad ass, finally do something he had sworn never to do? Namely, fall in love and depend on another human being more then he did himself?
When he had finally come out of the bathroom and saw Colt lounging on the bed, Punk had been completely lost. For the first time since he was twelve, he had no clear idea of what he was going to do or where he was going. All he knew was that he couldn't leave Colt behind.
Punk had been so sure it was an either or situation, and in typical Punk fashion, had immediately headed for the worst case scenario and gone off the deep end. Colt had quickly set him straight and he finished up his ROH shows -the last one with Colt leaving him in tears by the end of it; he knew Colt was the only one for him when Colt hugged him and told him to stop being a bitch instead of making a big deal out of it.
Punk had headed for OVW with a strangely optimistic view on life in general.
Now, it was different. He wasn't worried that they were going to break up -after this much time together, Punk figured he was stuck with Colt until one of them died, which suited him fine- but he was lonely a huge amount of the time. It was like someone had turned him into a bitch when he wasn't paying attention.
Maybe getting drafted to ECW would help keep him occupied; because as things stood now, whenever he wasn't actually wrestling, he was either bored off his ass or depressed because he missed Colt.
When his phone went off, Punk couldn't help the smile that crossed his face when he saw who it was.
"Christ, Cabana, don't you have anything better to do then bother me all the time?" Punk taunted, standing up and shouldering his duffel as he walked out of the locker room.
Even as he talked with Colt, Punk was telling himself to stop being such a pussy; he would see Colt in a few days and those two or three days they had together would make up for the past week or so -and would hold him until he could see Colt again.