Story Title: Bete Noir
Story Type: Slash
Characters: CM Punk, Colt Cabana
Pairings: Punk/Colt
Rating: PG-13/NC-17
Series:No Words Needed:Eyes, Your Own Fault, 5 and 1 -Punk Remix, Long Time, Don't Even, You and Me and Soon
Disclaimer: Not mine, either of them. I wish I owned those two. Unfortunately, they belong to themselves/WWE/each other. I do enjoy looking at them, though.
Warnings: Slash, language
A/N: So, I have no idea where this came from; I was trying to sleep and got attacked by a rapid SCS bunny. It's set in my 'No Words Needed' series, but you don't need to read any of those to follow this. Enjoy it, peeps.
Punk wasn't afraid of much; he supposed, when it came down to it, there were only two things that had the power to scare him. Of course, he'd only ever really loved two things his whole life.
Ever since he could remember, wrestling called to him -more seductive, more addicting, then any drug could ever hope to be. After years of hard work and blood and sweat, he had made it, he had signed with the WWE. And after four more years of sacrifice and pain and fights, he had clawed his way to the top of the pile; and when Randy had tucked his tail between his legs and ran to Smackdown rather then face Punk everyday, Punk had known the taste of his own personal victory against WWE.
So, yeah, Punk could admit that the idea of getting injured and not being able to wrestle again scared him. Even once he left the WWE as long as he could go back to the indies, as long as he could wrestle some where, he knew he'd be alright.
But even that wasn't what really scared Punk; no, what scared Punk -what terrified him- wasn't the idea of something happening to himself. No, Punk's own personal nightmare was a lot more frightening then that. And, for anyone who didn't really know him, a big surprise.
Most people assumed Punk was a selfish asshole, more concerned with himself then anyone else. And, for the most part, they were right. There was only one person who Punk cared about, who Punk counted on, there was only one person Punk put before himself and that was because there was only one person Punk loved.
Colt was as ingrained in Punk's life as wrestling was and the idea of something happening to him, in or out of the ring, the idea of losing Colt was Punk's own idea of hell.
So, in his own way, Punk always made sure Colt knew to be careful -"Make sure you don't get killed, Cabana,"- and that he loved him -"If I didn't care, I would have murdered you in your sleep years ago, you Jewish bastard,"- and missed him -"When are we going to be in town together again? I'm bored off my fucken ass."
Because, when it really came down to it; when it was 3 a.m., and he was still staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep, Punk could admit that if something happened to Colt, he would never to be able to go on without him.
And because Punk knew Colt better then he knew anyone else, he knew Colt understood everything he didn't say.