This is a drabble born from a combination of the prompt "the conversation began playfully" and a friend putting the idea of writing Punkicho into my head. Figured I might as well post it here as well for anyone wishing to read it. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I own naught.

"Just one."

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Two?"

"I don't think you're quite understanding the meaning of the word 'no', Jericho." Punk rolled his eyes, shooting a side-eyed glare at the man sitting next to him. "What makes you think that I would want two if I said no to it once?"

"Because more is better, obviously."

"In this case, more is certainly not better."

"More is always better, Punkers." Chris smirked, patting the Straight Edge star on the shoulder before making a point of downing what was left of his drink in one go. Punk rolled his eyes, shrugging the hand off him.

"You disgust me, Jericho."

"Come ooon. Three?"

"Three… You'll get three something, alright. Come on, we're going." Sliding out of his seat, Punk grabbed the older man's arm and pulled him up as well. "I don't even know why I bother com—Damn it, Chris, no!"

Chris smiled innocently as his hand was knocked away from where he'd placed it on the other's butt, "Why not?"

"You're drunk."

"No I'm not."

They were inside the elevator heading up to their floor now. Most of the time was spent bickering and with Punk moving Chris' hands away from various body parts. By the time they reached his room, he had been groped at least ten times.

"I'm letting you come inside, but we are not doing anything. I just don't want you passing out on your back and choking on your own puke or something stupid like that." Punk knocked the blond's hand away from his hair and led the way into the room.

"You just want to make fun of me in the morning like the asshole you are." Chris grumbled half-heartedly, seeming to give up on his quest to start something and moving to lay across the bed. "Why can't I just have one?"

"Because you've been drinking and that's the last thing I want."

"It wouldn't be the end of the world."

Rolling his eyes, Punk moved to climb on the bed and hover over the blond on his hands and knees. Chris gave a goofy smile in response and slid his hands into the back pockets of the other's jeans in attempt to urge him closer. Punk didn't budge, merely glaring down at the man beneath him until Chris decided to break the silence.

"Your hair tickles."

"Yeah? Your hands are bony."

"You wanna know what else is bony?"

"No."

"Stop saying that."

"No."

"I hate you."

Punk smirked, lowering himself just enough to place a kiss on the blond's cheek before pulling away and off the bed. Chris blinked, then pouted.

"That wasn't what I meant by 'one'!"

"You never specified."

"But—"

"Go to sleep, Chris. You got what you asked for." With that, Punk vanished into the bathroom to shower, locking the door behind him.