Written for lita_fics 500 words or less, prompt 11. "Did I vomit on you?" Part one in a series.

Amy couldn't remember the last time she'd been this drunk and was beginning to feel pretty fucking stupid for doing it. She didn't know why she had let Trish convince her that this was a good idea, because it most definitely was not and she didn't even know where Trish had gone off to but seemed to recall something about going back to Jeff's room.

Bleary eyed she looked at the guy helping her and smiled, "Thank you for helping me."

Preoccupied he nodded his head, glancing around him as his arm tightened around her shoulders. "I'll get you back to your hotel, don't worry babe."

Amy nodded her head, stumbling under the weight of his arm, "Thank you again."

"Actually, I work with her and can help her back to the hotel, thanks man," a new voice said.

Amy turned and looked at Phil Brooks, better known to fans as CM Punk. "Hello," she told him, and stumbled forward to greet him, surprised when he caught her with ease.

"It's really okay," the guy said, gesturing widely, in a way that made Amy feel dizzy.

"Amy do you know this guy?" Phil asked, looking down at her.

Amy glanced back at the guy and shook her head, "no. He was just a good...a good sim...silmarillion."

Phil's lips quirked up in a small smile and he looked amused. "I think you mean Samaritan and not a book by Tolkien."

"Yes, that," Amy nodded her head.

"Well I will take care of you from now on," Phil glared at the guy, who deciding it probably wouldn't be good to mess with a professional wrestler took off.

"From now on? But Punk we hardly know each other," Amy told him, leaning heavily into his side she whooped when he lifted her like he would a bride. "Are we getting married?"

"We haven't even had a first date," Punk told her but laughed softly.

Amy groaned, shifting around she opened her eyes, feeling like someone was taking a jackhammer to her skull. She glanced next to her and jerked up startled, making her stomach turn.

"Oh god," she murmured, her voice seeming too loud.

"Good morning," Punk said from where he was lying on top of the covers on his side, clothing on but she still felt suspicious.

"Did we sleep together?" Amy asked him, biting her bottom lip.

"Sleep as in slumber yes, sleep as in sex no, I like my woman conscious," Punk told her.

"Did I...vomit on you?" Amy questioned, red.

"Only my left shoe at which point you told me you would replace it, apparently you know people who sell only left shows," Punk said, chuckling.

"Oh God, I am so sorry," Amy told him.

"It's fine," Punk squeezed her shoulder. "You owe me a date though."

"I do?" Amy asked surprised.

"Yep."

The End