Story Title: Snow Day
Story Type: Slash
Characters: CM Punk, Colt Cabana
Pairings: Punk/Cabana
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine. Seriously, I own nothing except a collection of completely crazy muses. These guys belong to themselves and Vince/ROH.
Warnings: Slash, Language
A/N: I'm so ashamed. Really, I am. Another Punk story. *sighs* I'm sorry, but I couldn't help myself. This was inspired by something that Punk posted on his twitter tonight: My hero DrColtCabana /15jyhz. Punks twitter is: CMPunk in case anyone wants to know.
A/N2: For some reason, all my Punk stories are turning out very introspective. Weird.
It wasn't often that they got the same day off. The career that they had both chosen was more demanding then either one of them could ever dream of being. If they had one day off together, it was a good week.
A lot of the time, one of them would fly out to the city where the other was. Usually, they would have, maybe, two or three hours together be fore they would either have to leave or sleep. Not very much time, but they made it work.
Punk knew that relationships fell apart all the time; he only had to go to work to see the evidence of that. He was lucky that he had someone who loved him the way he loved them. Colt was everything to him; his life, his family. He would have given up a long time ago without the other man to anchor him, to remind him that not everything was as bad as he usually thought it was.
The only thing Punk had never been able to figure out was how he managed to mean the same thing to Colt. They were so different that they never should have become friends, never mind fallen in love.
But from the moment he had seen Colt walk into the Dominion, he had been drawn to him. And, now, almost fourteen years later he was still drawn to Colt, with an intensity that used to freak him out.
He used to watch Colt train, or even just listen to him talk and crave his company, crave his touch. Punk could remember thinking that this must be what it was like for drug addicts and alcoholics. And for the first time in his life, he found himself sympathizing with them. It had taken him eighteen years, but Punk had found his downfall. And he could only be grateful that he had found it.
For a long time Punk had thought all the attraction, all the feelings he had felt for Colt had been one sided. But one night, he had made a sarcastic comment about something -he couldn't remember what it was, exactly, but it must have been a good one to have Colt blowing up the way he did.
They had ended up nose to nose, screaming at each other, until Colt had said "Fuck this," and then kissed Punk like his life was on the line.
And even though Punk never considered himself a romantic, he always knew that was the day he really started to believe that he wasn't going to end up alone.
Getting out of bed, he padded to the kitchen to get a can of Pepsi out of Colt's fridge. They'd been together for just about twelve years, but they still had their own space, their own apartments.
That was another thing he was grateful for, Punk thought as he watched the snow storm that was raging across the country destroy downtown Chicago. Colt understood that there was always going to be a part of him that believed everything was going to end badly; that he needed to know he had some place to go if everything went to hell between them.
Colt knew it wasn't him; Punk loved him with everything he had, with everything he was. But there were some things that stayed broken no matter how much you loved someone.
"What're ya doing out of bed, Punkers?" Colt asked, his words slightly slurred from sleep. He walked up behind Punk and wrapped his arms around the smaller man's waist.
Colt rested his chin on Punk's shoulder and watched the storm in silence for a few minutes.
"I couldn't sleep, so I decided to get a drink and watch the snow for a little bit." Punk finally answered, allowing himself the luxury of leaning on his boyfriend. "Should have woken me up," Colt told him, snaking a drink from Punk's can of soda.
"Come back to bed," He told Punk, handing him back his soda and heading back toward the bedroom. "We'll take a snow day tomorrow and hang around and relax all day."
Punk waited another minute before he finished his soda and tossed the can in the garbage. With a last look outside, he headed back to bed where he could lay down and believe that everything would always be all right. And, for the most part, it would be. As long as he had Colt, he could face anything.