Title: Backside Of The TV
Author: Emono
Rating: FRM
Fandom: Wrestling
Pairings: Jeff Hardy/CM Punk (Junk)
Summary: Yes, they knew they'd been stupid about…well, everything. But they were in love!
Disclaimer: The WWE is not mine nor are any of it's child branches, it is the 96% property of the McMahon's and God bless the bastards that work for them. I respect the sexual preferences and identities of all the wrestlers on WWE roster, and who they share a bed with is really none of my business.
Warnings: An actual love story!! A touch of angst, but nothing hard core!
On-screen rivals, off-screen lovers.
Somehow that concept had gotten screwed up. Their words got sharper, their actions harsher. They had both played dirty these past few weeks, both hurting one another more than they could say. It got so horrible that they didn't room together anymore, hadn't touched each other in two weeks, They took pains so as not to see each other outside the ring, avoiding mutual friends, keeping to opposite sides of the locker room.
Matt told Jeff he was being stupid, that it was only a storyline and Phil didn't mean half the shit he said out there in the ring.
Jeff just screamed back at him that he had agreed to it, throwing Matt's decision to feud against him in his face to get him to shut up about it.
Kofi told Phil he should talk to Jeff, make him realize he still loved him, but all he got was a hot mind your own fuckin' business and a door slammed in his face.
Adam tried to help, but he only made it worse.
And then Phil got the garbled message on his phone, "W-Well I hope yer fuckin' happy, Punk, 'cause I'm done wit' you. We're over. Take yer gold, love it the way…the way I thought ya loved me…"
+J+U+N+K+
Raleigh, North Carolina
Phil drove through the rain, knowing the way to Jeff's house by heart. The middle of the night, and where was he? Ready to go kick Jeff Hardy's ass.
Phil was chewing at his lip ring, his heart going a mile a minute. Tears had welled up in his eyes a few times, but he fought them off. He white-knuckled the steering wheel, breaths sharp and quick.
How did Jeff expect him to react to that kind of message? To break them up, just like that? It wasn't fair to either of them! A strong two-year relationship…gone. Well, not if he had anything to say about it. The fuckin' title wasn't worth this. He didn't want to loose Jeff, but damn that stubborn bastard! So what if their relationship had been a little rocky these past weeks? It wasn't all his fault!
But sometimes, when they fought in the ring, he could feel the erosion on their love.
//No! Stop thinking like that// Phil shook his head sharply, relieved to see the familiar drive way appear in his headlights. He pulled in easily, parking his car outside the garage. The ravenette stepped outside, scowling when the unforgiving rain pelted down upon him. He hurried to the porch, only half-soaked once under the structure.
Phil pounded his fist on the door, the other coming up to wipe the rain from his face. No answer. But the lights were won. He scowled, knocking harder. Jeff's car was in the drive.
Punk's face twisted in rage, clawing his wet hair out of his eyes. Oh! So Jeff wanted to play it like that, huh?
//Fucking ignore me, will he?// Punk sifted through his keys, finding the one to the house (the one Jeff had given to him a year ago) and sticking it into the lock //I'm going to go in there, I'm going to scream at him, throw him into a wall, and show him just how fuckin' wrong he is. He wants anger? I'll show him anger. I'll bring the storyline to life.//
And suddenly Phil was ready to go in there and break Jeff's heart…maybe even his face.
He shouldered open the door, throwing it wide and looking around. Jeff was nowhere, so at least he wasn't just inside the door laughing. Phil slammed the door loudly, kicking off his wet shoes on the carpet, then went in search of the Enigma.
"Where are you, Hardy?" Phil shouted, stomping around like he owned the place "Quit hiding! I know you're here! You think you can ignore me? You think you can just break up with me without an explanation?! This isn't high school, Jeff, we're grown men! You have to look me in the eye when…"
Phil stopped just inside the living room, dark eyes going wide at the sight before him.
A shattered bottle of Jack Daniels was scattered over the carpet in front of the blank TV, not a drop of it to be found. There was another bottle of Wild Turkey perched in the corner of the coffee table, only a quarter of the amber liquid left inside. A few discarded playing cards lay on the table as well, a large razor…a wooden cutting board, a smear of white powder and an empty baggy…
Jeff was half underneath the coffee table, face-down. Shirtless, in those damn Tripp pants.
"Son-of-a-bitch!" Phil ran over, flipping the coffee table to get to the man underneath. Everything crashed to the carpet, the bottle shattering, the table thumping, but it didn't matter.
"Jeff?" Phil turned the older man over, cradling his head carefully "Jeff, wake up."
Nothing. Jeff was just laying there, mouth open and breaths shallow.
"Jeffy, please, say something" Phil begged, brushing back the soft blonde hair scattered over his lover's face. He noted that there wasn't a hint of color in it, and somehow that worried him more than anything. He swallowed down his fear, smacking him quite firmly on the cheek.
Jeff sniffed hard suddenly, seeming to choke in the back of his throat and let loose a sharp burst of breath like he had been punched in the gut. His eyes bugged open, red-rimmed and suddenly oh-so-aware.
"Oh thank God" Phil nearly cried right there in relief "Are you ok, Jeffy?"
Jeff saw him and scowled, trying to push him away weakly. He rolled out of Punk's reach, pressing up against the bottom of the couch and running a hand over his face.
"What the fuck are ya doin' here?" Jeff glared a him, the fierceness dulled by the blown pupils.
Punk tried to pull in his anger again, but he couldn't accomplish it after seeing his lover supposedly lifeless on the floor.
"You left me a message and told me we were over" Punk replied, staying knelt on the floor "I came over to find out why."
"God, I was fuckin' high, I don't even remember where my cellphone is" Jeff laughed when the look of disgust passed over the ravenette's face "Aw, what's wrong?"
Phil let his eyes drift to the scattered remains of what was on the coffee table, trying not to think of what Jeff had taken into his body. What those substances could be doing to him, to his brain.
"Come on, Punk, it pisses ya off, dudnit?" Jeff drawled, getting on his hands and knees and crawling over to the other. Phil crawled backwards, trying to get away from the evil gleam in those dark jade eyes, giving a little sound of distress when his back hit the wall.
Jeff got right up onto him, breathing right into his ears, "It pisses ya off that those drugs can give me a better high than fuckin' you could ever bring me? Jealous."
Phil wanted to deny it, but sharp teeth dug into his neck, "Well good."
Jeff pulled back enough to look him in the eye, one hand coming up to twist in raven hair, "I bet if I kissed ya right now, you'd taste every drop of alcohol and ever hit I had tonight…wouldn't ya?"
"Don't even joke about shit like that" Phil pushed him away, wincing when the Hardy lost his balance and crashed to the floor "Damn! I'm so-…Jeff?"
The Enigma stood up on shaky legs, a hand clamped over his mouth. He stumbled out of the room, disappearing down the hall. Punk closed his eyes and counted to ten, then got up and followed. The door to the bathroom was wide open, the light bathing the darkened hall. There was a rough groan from inside, then sickening gut-wrench sounds of Jeff losing everything in his stomach.
Phil wet his lips, trying to think of what to do. He hated feeling so helpless, and he didn't want to stay that way. His lover was hurting and needed his help, whether he wanted it or not. The Straight Edge turned himself back around, his feet taking him to the kitchen. He got a glass down from the cabinet and a cloth from one of the drawers. He ran water in the sink, getting it as cold as it was going to get.
Armed with a newly damped cloth and a glass of water, he returned to the bathroom.
Jeff was gasping desperately, another dry-heave ripping apart his throat. Tears slicked his cheeks, but he didn't notice them. He had been numb for so long, and now he was feeling every ache with an intensity that he hated. Horrible…pain was his only companion here.
Jeff raked his hair out of his face, still panting as he rested his cheek on the cold porcelain.
Phil thought out his actions carefully, knowing he didn't want to hurt his lover anymore than he already was. He flushed away the mess, from the looks of it his stomach had no more to give (so they were out of that red zone.) He knelt beside the toilet, seeing his lover's eyes were closed.
"Jeff?" Phil brushed the cool glass of water against the man's bare shoulder.
Glazed emerald eyes cracked open, "What…?"
"It's water" Phil stated, brushing the rim against his lover's dry lips "Wash out your mouth. Take small sips. Too much and you'll get sick again."
Surprisingly, Jeff tilted his head back and obeyed. He swished the water around, cleaning his pallet before spitting it out into the bowl. His eyes faded, body swaying…
Phil hurried to the other side of the older man, catching him before he hit the tile. The solid force pushed him back against the tub, overbalancing him 'till he had to sit down on the floor himself. Jeff squirmed in his grip, trying to get away or get comfortable he didn't know. Punk kept his arms wrapped around the lithe form, not letting him go.
"Shhh, Jeffy" Phil cooed, pulling his lover into the cradle of his body. Jeff's back settled against his chest, between his legs, his head resting on the plane of flesh below his collarbone. Phil wrapped an arm across the very top of his toned stomach, afraid to put too much pressure on any part of the Hardy for fear of starting up the dry heaves again. He took the cloth and wiped at the older man's face, taking the sweat from his brow, cleaning his lips and chin lovingly.
"Mmmm…" Jeff's eyes fluttered shut, warmth surrounding him. He caressed the arm holding him so lovingly, his mind so gone that he couldn't even remember why he had let his lover go. Comforting, soft spoken words drifting into his ear and soothing his mind like a balm.
"Love you, Phil" Jeff murmured, tongue like cotton lead in his mouth "Always loved you."
"I love you too, Jeff" for the second time today, Punk had to hold back tears.
"Tired of hurting" Jeff rolled his head, voice more of a rasp now.
"No more hurting, Jeffy" Phil promised, kissing his lover's cheek sweetly "Let's get you to bed."
Phil lifted his lover in his arms, smiling when the older man curled around him. He carried Jeff toward the bedroom he knew as well as his own in Chicago, knowing that if Jeff survived the night he would have one hell of a hangover. Drugs and alcohol? In one night? Jeff would be lucky if he was walking tomorrow. Of course, his Enigma was resilient when it came to being put down, so who knows.
"We'll forgive each other in the morning" Phil laid the man down, smoothing back flaxen hair that had seen one too many Kool-aid jobs. Jeff looked like he had passed out again, chest falling in an even rhythm, pretty eyes closed to the world.
Phil kissed him once more on the forehead, knowing he had to leave or else make things worse, "We have to forgive each other, Jeff…I can't take this heartache."
Punk tried to leave, but a strong tattooed hand snatched his elbow and pulled him down onto the bed. Phil collapsed in a graceless heap, gaining his composure enough to look up into those ivy green eyes he adored.
"No" Jeff growled, fisting a hand in his lover's hair and refusing to let go "You're not leavin' me."
"I…" Phil wet his lips, knowing when his Hardy wasn't going to be moved on something "No, Jeffy, I'm not leaving. I'll stay right here if you want."
Punk stripped down to his jeans, laying down again next to the man.
"Stay" Jeff crawled up on top of him, burying his head in his neck and curling his arms under the straight edge's waist "Mine."
The ravenette found himself forced on his back, giving a breathless laugh, "Yeah, Jeff, yeah. All yours."
Jeff fell asleep with a smile on his face.
+J+U+N+K+
Muted sunlight washed over the bed, birds making their first calls outside. The curtains hid most, but not all, of the slowly brightening morning.
Phil woke up slowly, blinking rapidly to try and pull himself out of the depths of sleep. He found a lovely pair of jade eyes staring back at him. Phil clenched his eyes shut, shaking off all the tangled webs his mind had woven during the night.
When he looked again, he sighed in relief to see the man still there. Jeff was on his back beside him, head turned to stare at him. His face was set in an easy expression, hands folded on his firm stomach. He seemed a bit paler than usual, eyes bloodshot.
"Hey" Jeff whispered, voice a little raspy.
"Hey" Phil tried to smile, not really knowing what to expect.
"I'm sorry" Jeff stated simply "That was really fuckin' stupid. No one's ever…taken care of me after I've tried to off myself before."
"You didn't try to kill yourself" Phil reached out, tucking back a lock of blonde hair "You just…"
"Did something stupid to spite you" Jeff scooted closer, sighing when he ducked down and nuzzled his head under his lover's chin "And boy was it really fucking stupid. I remember everything, Philly…and I'm serious about this. I don't wanna fight anymore, it fuckin' hurts."
"Yeah" the ravenette agreed eagerly "I love you."
There was a long pause, followed by a drawn out sigh of content, "I love you too, Philly."
"I haven't heard that nickname in so long" Phil couldn't help but smile, inhaling the sweet scent of his lover's blonde locks "It feels good to hear you say it."
"Let's leave all this championship shit in the ring" Jeff kissed at every bit of flesh he could find.
"Agreed."
Jeff started placing kisses on every inch of skin he could find, so content in this moment even as his body was suffering the affects of last night, "Philly?"
"Yeah?"
"Later, when I feel a bit better…" Jeff clamped down on the younger man's collar bone, getting a soft whine out of him "I'm gonna fuck you over the kitchen counter and remind you just who you belong to."
Punk wet his lips, body already reacting, "I'll be counting the seconds, Jeffy."
Sorry there's no sex scene! But come on, he just almost OD'd himself. I wanted to write a fluff fic, but even this got a little dark. Damn Junk, always making their stuff angsty. But still, hopefully this will show people Junk doesn't always have to be hate-sex and rape. I got tired of all the depressing fics.