Warnings:7 Sins Continuity 2nd person Colt PoV, mild slash (Colt/Punk), kind of maudlin, brief mentions of AJ Lee.
The next morning you're woken by your cell, an insistent buzzing that makes you want to launch the damn thing against the wall. Punkers didn't move after he fell asleep last night, he's still tucked up safe and sound, laying half on top of you, fast asleep, utterly undisturbed by your alarm. It surprises you, usually any alarm will have him jolting awake, grouchy, groggy and desperate to go back to sleep. You manage to dig your cell phone from under the pillow without waking him. You curse the fact you forgot to switch off your alarm, the urge to launch your cell at the wall is still there but you refrain when you notice the sheer volume of missed calls and texts you have. You decide that the greatest thing Apple have ever invented is do not disturb mode. There's really only a few texts that you need to reply to, the simple ones, the ones that merely ask if he's okay. You're not certain you can answer that fully but you know that they are relying on you to keep them up to date. Your reply is vague; he's with me, is as accurate and non-specific as you can make it and for the important people it will be answer enough.
When he wakes up, he trades lying in your bed for lying on the living room floor, staring apathetically at daytime television. You think you should be concerned with his apparent obsession with shows about storage auctions, although it does appeal to the hustler in you. You briefly wonder if he's decided to become one of these auction people instead of a wrestler, he seems to be devoted to staring at the screen, maybe he's gathering tips. New profession or not, you really should be getting on with recording the intro for the podcast and whilst it's strangely fascinating finding out what's in the storage units, it's not helping you get on with your work. You get off the sofa, carefully stepping around Punkers and drag the recording equipment to the table, setting it up and considering his prone form. You enjoy recording intros with Punkers, it strangely reminds you of your youth, sitting around in cheap hotel rooms talking shit and laughing at nothing, he looks so miserable, like he needs to laugh at nothing for a while. He will refuse but you ask him anyway.
"You wanna help me?" He turns from the screen and stares up at you balefully.
"No." His voice dry and clipped.
"Aww, c'mon, I'm sure the adoring IWC would love to hear your thoughts on the Rumble." You smile down at him, he's not explained or expanded on his I quit from last night and you'd rather like some answers or some sort of clarification, getting him talking might encourage him to be more forthcoming with information.
"I don't have any thoughts on it." He mutters turning away from you and watching the TV again.
"Bullshit, Punkers." You lean over and turn his face back to you. "What's going on?" You keep your hand on his cheek, stopping him from looking away.
"I'm done, I quit, I don't care. Lemme go, Cabana." He won't look you in the eye and you sigh, you know better than to push him, he'll give you what he thinks you need to know, when he thinks you need to know it. You record the intro quickly, it feels rushed and mildly unenthusiastic but it's done and you can get on with editing, headphones on so he can keep researching his new career in peace. After maybe ten minutes of you working, he shifts, sits up, resting his head against your knee, one arm around your legs, stroking your ankle, still riveted by the TV. You absently stroke his hair a few times before getting on with your work, editing is tedious and dull but you learnt to do it for a reason. You want to be able to rely on yourself, its nice knowing that if you have to, you can give it to someone else to do but you want to be as DIY as possible. He's fallen back asleep by the time you finish, his arm still around your legs, his head still against your knee. You slip the headphones off and consider changing channel, you're not sure how many more episodes of this crap you can take and he's asleep, it's not like he'd notice. Your cell starts ringing and you grab it, answering quickly to keep from waking him.
"Hey, Colt." The girlfriend, you slightly regret not looking at the caller id before answering, even if her name isn't stored there, it would have prepared you for talking to her. Punkers' revolving door of girlfriends all get entered under the same contact name until they last more than three months, this one is getting close to the mark, you're going to need to remember her name soon.
"Uh, hi." You hear her laugh softly. You carefully get off the sofa and go stand in the hall, closing the door quietly behind you.
"Cabana, do you even know my name?" You make a vague noise and feel mildly embarrassed, rubbing at the back of your neck with your free hand. "I'll give you a clue, it's a month." April! You feel depressingly proud at remembering that.
"Of course I know your name, O'Neil." You hope she'll get the reference, Amy would have and you really don't want to start comparing Punkers' girlfriends because none of the newer ones give him cupcakes like Nate did and that makes them all inferior.
"Ha, how is Leonardo, then Michelangelo?" You laugh quietly, glad she got what you meant, it puts you one-step closer to the $20.
"Can't I be Raphael?" You know you're whining but really, you're sure you're better than the comedy relief.
"Nope, you're so Michelangelo." She's definitely laughing at you, amusement plain in her voice.
"Leo's asleep." You can perhaps see her point on Raphael, if anything that might be Joe. "How about Donatello?" You're not sure you would be able to claim to be the brains of the operation or able to pull off purple but orange isn't your colour either.
"Let it go, Mikey. Has he spoken to Splinter yet?" She asks you, you can hear the smile in her voice, she may have a point and at least you'll get the majority of the pizza and have the coolest weapons, unless Punkers gets sword-chucks because there is nothing cooler than those.
"Not yet." She sighs and you can hear the concern in that little huff of air. "He's been asleep. Don't worry, O'Neil, everyone who needs to know how he is, knows."
"Kay, tell Leo, I'll be back when Krang lets me go." She hangs up and you find yourself shaking your head, that $20 is yours, you're sure of it. You re-enter the living room and settle back on the sofa, he's still slumped where you left him, though his eyes are open now, still staring at the TV.
"When's O'Neil's birthday?" You ask him, your hand ruffling his hair, in response he merely shrugs.
"March some time. Why?" It somehow fails to surprise you that he knows who you're talking about straight away.
"Good, plenty of time to find a yellow jumpsuit." You mutter and purposefully stroke his ear, he snaps at you and you're certain that's the most active he's been since you stepped on him last night.
"I get to be Shredder?" He asks you, clambering up onto the sofa, lying down with his head in your lap, face turned to the TV.
"Leonardo." You tell him, running your fingers through his hair; he makes a soft, noncommittal noise.
"What she want?" He still sounds so very wrong, so unlike Punkers should, tired, weary and lost in place of fire, sarcasm and vinegar.
"Advising us we don't need a rescue plan, she can break free of Krang's clutches herself." He glances at you, a slight smile on his face, small though it is, it's the first smile he's worn in hours and you can't help smiling back.
"Good, I'm comfy, Mikey, don't wanna move." He settles back down, facing the TV watching for a few minutes before grabbing the remote. "Why the fuck were you watching that shit, Cabana?" He starts clicking through the channels, far too quickly to see what's on any of them but he always does that, he's not so much looking for something to watch as trying to make the TV match the kaleidoscope of thoughts in his head. You shake your head and absently start stroking his hair, he seems more like himself right now, perhaps sometime before O'Neil gets here, you might have some answers for everyone important, something beyond he's with me.
littleone1389: A little more to this, as I mentioned there might. :3
alizabethianrose: This whole situation is painfully sad... I so want it to be a work but I'm getting more and more certain it isn't. :(
EmbraceLove:I did try to pour my feelings about the situation into this... though I didn't mean to make you tear up! I'm sorry...
I hadn't really intended to write more of this but I did... There might be some more to go with this, I make no promises if I have time there might be more, who knows... not me.
As ever:
If you liked it: YAY! Let me know what you liked and why!
If you didn't like it: BOO! Let me know why so I can try to fix it!