Hm…so, this is extremely short. I know I haven't been writing much lately and I'm sorry for that to anyone who's reading my other stories. I am still working on them all, I promise.
I don't own anyone mentioned in this fic
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When he starts thinking like this, Punk knows he's been awake just a bit too long. Everything seems a bit brighter anyway and maybe he's compared his co-workers to comic book characters because everything is a little different when he walks backstage after his match.
His vision is blurring on the edges and he could have sworn earlier that on John's tee-shirt had changed to the overly bright red and blue with a familiar logo. He imagines Lesner a moment bald and wearing a white suit and thinks he may have reached his limit.
He has to blink several times to clear those images. He's hardly aware that he's teetering on his feet when he exits the showers in the locker room and somehow manages to dress himself. He blinks again and John is back. For a moment, he imagines bulky glasses on him. He can picture that rather easily.
"How long?" John asks with a sigh.
Punk shrugs, wraps his arms around John's shoulder and doesn't answer. Although he does allow the other man to drag him from the building. For a moment, he wonders if that strange little insomniac detective he'd read about earlier in the day would allow someone as bulky and goofy as John to drag him back to a hotel room.
Then he curses his sister and himself internally for her obsession with those Japanese comic books and for allowing her to convince him to read one.
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This might have been a product of a dream I had after flipping between wrestling and Death Note. The detective Punk is referring to is a character from Death Note named L and I might have had a dream where Punk was L….