Story Title: Your Own Fault
Story Type: Slash
Characters: CM Punk, Randy Orton, mentions of John Cena and Colt Cabana
Pairings: past Randy/Punk, Centon friendship
Rating: PG-13/NC-17
Disclaimer: Sadly, they still don't belong to me. If they did, I'd be in my room still. Since I'm watching bad TV and typing this, it's a sign they belong to themselves and WWE.
Warnings: Slash, angst, language, violence. Oh, and spoilers for Elimination Chamber 2011.
A/N: Alright, Elimination Chamber was definitely worth the $50. So much cool shit went down, and, of course, the epic Punk and Randy in the RAW EC match. This one is a sequel to "Eyes" and I strongly suggest you read that first, otherwise you might be a teeny bit confused. I have one more one shot that this PPV inspired and another possible. Enjoy, peeps.
Punk walked past the curtain, grinning despite the loss. He walked down the hall, even the injury to his thigh wasn't enough to banish his good mood.
He walked into the locker room, ignoring the few people that were still hanging around as much as they ignored him. After getting changed into his boxers, he hiked up the leg on the right side and used his phone to take a picture.
It took a few tries because of the awkward angle, but once he got it, he sent it to Colt and started debating if he should post it on his Twitter.
He had just slipped on his gym shorts -he knew there was a reason he never cleaned out his duffel unless Colt harassed him- when the door opened again and he heard footsteps headed for him. Punk wasn't surprised to see Randy glaring down at him when he looked up to see who it was.
"I guess you failed, didn't you?" Randy taunted, his eyes gleaming. He hadn't won but neither had Punk, and that was worth the price of admission as far as he was concerned.
Punk couldn't stop his grin, and he was even more ecstatic when he saw the confused look on Randy's face. "What makes you think I failed, Randall?" Punk questioned, his glee with the whole situation in his voice.
Randy narrowed his eyes but before he said anything something about Punk's new chest piece caught his attention. He raised a hand to point at something. "Was that -" Punk took a step back before holding his right hand out. "Now, now, Randy, you lost that privilege a while ago."
Randy gritted his teeth. "I just wanted to see something." He hated the fact that the other man could still rile him up so badly. Regardless of what may or may not have happened that led to their break up, they were still broken up. Punk shouldn't be able to do this to him any more.
Punk threw on his shirt, smirking. This was going better then he had hoped; he had denied Randy the chance to go after the title at 'Mania and he was getting in his head. He shrugged on his hoodie and put on his sneakers before he hefted up his bag and turned back to Randy.
As soon as the strap hit his shoulder, Punk winced and switched shoulders. "John got me good, he's not holding back." Punk mused out loud as he tried to walk past Randy.
Randy smirked; even if it was petty, he was glad that the other man was injured. "John's a good friend." He said smugly as he followed Punk out the door.
"Look, just admit that you lost," Randy taunted again, trying to anger Punk. He needed to know that he could still make the smaller man react to him. He wanted to get under Punk's skin as badly as Punk had wormed his way under his own. "Admit it and maybe we can...work something out between us again."
Punk paused in the doorway and looked over his shoulder at Randy, unable to believe he thought he wanted to get back together. When it became obvious that Randy was completely serious, he burst into laughter and started making his way down the hall.
"I didn't fail at anything, Randall," Punk informed him, calming down. "Do you ever listen at all? Or is it only yourself that garners that privilege? I told you before: this isn't about me getting the title," Punk went on, the anger in his voice apparent now.
Anger that he had held onto for two years; not for himself but for someone who meant more to him then Randy could ever begin to understand. And in those two years, it had festered and grown and become almost all compassing for him.
"It's about you not getting the title -at all. As long as I'm forced to be on the same show as you, you will never see that title again -unless it's on someone else's shoulder.
"I play to win; but winning tonight wasn't the main goal. Making sure you didn't was; even if it cost me my own chance. Happily it didn't; even though John won, I still got to see you eliminated. And the fact that you got eliminated by my knee to your face is the cherry on top, Randy.
"Once again, I cost you your chance to go to 'Mania; once again I'm the one who kept your dream out of your hands. Once again, you get to know how it feels to have your dream denied; and I'm the one who's doing it.
"It's poetic justice, Randy, can't you see that much at least? I'm the reason you went after him in the first place and now I'm the reason you can't get the title. And if it's the last thing I ever do, I'm going to make you regret the day you ever started this. It's your own fault, it really is. You need to learn to control yourself."
With those last words, he left a slightly stunned Randy standing int the middle of the hallway and started towards the exit before he paused for a minute.
"Oh, and one more last thing, Randy: I wouldn't touch you outside of the ring again if my career depended on it."
Punk grinned again and then reached for his phone when The Fuck Shop started playing. He turned his back to Randy and promptly forget him for the moment.
"Hey, Cabana. Hmmm? Yeah, it's a shame, I guess. But I've been to 'Mania before and- My thigh's fine; it stings a little. You can check it out for yourself when you get here later."
Randy watched him walk away and doubted it would matter to Punk in the slightest if he knew that Randy already regretted it. And what made it even worse was that Punk was entirely right about one thing: it was his own fault and that made it a very bitter truth to accept.