Rivals 4

"Name five things you don't like and could do without in your life."

As soon as he heard his new partner Randy Orton read that 'question' out loud in his customary monotone tone of voice, the Straight Edge Superstar also known as CM Punk rolled his eyes to the back of his skull and then allowed his upper body to fall in a heap against the soft mattress of the bed he was sharing with Orton.

"Carbs, Nickelback, bad movie re-makes and people who don't know how to count."

After throwing that answer without really thinking about it, Punk took one of the index cards he still had in his hand and eyed the question briefly, the corner of his lips curving into an apathetic smirk and his eyes closing to slits.

It was ridiculous… the whole thing was, and as he used his free hand to pull at his shirt so it would stop riding up his stomach, Punk couldn't help but to snort. It was just that they had been doing the stupid question and answer little thingy for a while now and even though he has asked and answered some of the most silly questions in the whole world, the one he was supposed to ask Randy now was the worst question of them all.

Did Vince really think that he cared what Orton's favorite color was? Because he didn't; he didn't care about his siblings or that his most prized possession was some stupid car and he was pretty much sure that the third generation superstar could care less that in his free time he liked riding bikes or that every Wednesday night he would indulge in his infamous cheat meals.

That information wasn't going to make them bond, like at all; If anything, the only thing that little exercise was accomplishing was making him feel like he was competing in some kind of bizarre dating game show he was never going to win.

"Don't you think this is weird? I mean all this shit is so conveniently arranged that it's creepy. Like when you say that you don't know me that well and voila, out of nowhere that woman has some cards with crappy questions that will 'help us' in that department…"

"Was that question in the card or you just made it up yourself?"

Arching an eyebrow, Punk lowered his eyes and saw that Randy Orton still sitting over the bed. He was now facing in his direction, one foot set in the floor and the other one resting casually over the mattress.

If he would be an inch to the right, he would even be touching him, their legs brushing against each other and maybe even pressing together. But they weren't, even in such a reduced space they were keeping their distance and the only way they were linked in that moment was through their eyes.

"Anyway!" Punk said throwing the card with the favorite color question far away from him, then after doing that he took another card and read it out loud. "How were your days in high school?" Another bad one, great!

Blowing out a breath, Orton shrugged. "Not the best time I can remember."

"What, not enough kids to bully?"

Tilting his head to the side so he could look deeper into Punk's eyes, Randy's lips curved into what could be considered a smile. "And what makes you think I was a bully?"

"Oh come on, I mean… it's obvious. It is scientifically proved that bullies turn out to be the biggest assholes later in life so there, you are an asshole, then you were a bully; it's logic at its simplest form." Satisfied with his answer, Punk grinned, nodding his head slightly as he returned the other man's stare.

"Scientifically proven by whom, you?"

"Well yeah… I worked in a lab you know." Sure, he has done nothing in that lab other than sleep and being fired for being caught sleeping but that was not the point… was it?

At that answer, Orton lifted a hand up in the air and with his fingernails he started to scratch absentmindedly at his beard. "Then I'm sorry to be one who proves wrong this theory of yours but no, I was not a bully. Far from it, back in school I was that boy with braces, bad acne all over his face and no confidence whatsoever that was picked on by the bullies."

Using his elbows to propel himself up in a half sitting position, Punk pursed his lips and frowned. "You were bullied at school? Nah I don't believe you."

Not that he ever wasted a thought on it, but if he would have tried to picture Randy back in high school, he would definitely have imagined him as being one of those stud athletes who dated the head cheerleader and who would put other kids through hell during the day just for the fun of it.

He looked the part and as much as he was trying, he couldn't picture him otherwise.

"Believe it, it's true."

Snorting, Punk shook his head and went back to lying on his back, his eyes fixing in an undefined spot in the ceiling as he pulled his shirt down once again. "That's messed up."

Just imagining it felt messed up… Randy Orton as something other than perfect… Sure, Punk didn't thought the man was perfect, but if he would be the kind of person that allowed a person's look dictate his nature, he would definitely label Orton as perfect.

"I know." Randy said as he looked down to his cards. "So… what made you become Straight Edge?"

Chuckling, Punk looked down to Randy. The other man was still looking at the card, his full attention to it and thus giving the appearance that he was re-reading the question he just asked.

"Was that question in the card or you just made it up yourself?" He asked in amusement, repeating the same thing Orton asked him a few minutes ago.

As an answer, the man known through the Wrestling world as the Viper showed the card to him and amazingly, the question was there.

Like he said before, in that place, things were so conveniently arranged that it was creepy. Not that he was surprised with the question, all through his life people has been asking him the same little thing and he was used to answering; what really surprised him was that the question was in the card for Orton to read.

What if he had taken that card instead of Randy? They cards were randomly distributed by none other than himself so the chances of that happening had been possible…

"Alright. First of all, people don't become Straight Edge, that's just something they are or they are not. As for me… I was Straight Edge before knowing what being Straight Edge really meant. My father was an alcoholic and growing up watching him being like that made me decide that I wasn't going to become like him… like I said, this is something you are, not something you become."

Letting his answer float in the air so Randy could grab it and digest it, Punk pushed the small ring adorning his lip with the tip of his tongue, his mind swirling around the upcoming dinner.

He was hungry, and he was wondering how more questions he had to ask and answer before being called to dinner.

"Your turn."

Snapping back to reality, the Chicago Native took one card and read it out loud. "What do you dislike the most about you partner and how could he fix it? Hmm."

"The thing I dislike the most-" Tapping his finger to his lips and moving his eyes to Punk's, Randy answered. "Well, for starters I don't like when you call me Randal. Not even my mother calls me like that and you can fix it by not doing it… Philip." He finished by putting emphasis to Punk's given name and the other man nodded.

"Fair enough… but I can't promise anything; I tend to forget little things like this and maybe this will slip off my mind before my head hits this pillow for good."

Listening to the other man hum low in his throat, Punk took another card. "Tell your partner, meaning me, one thing he doesn't know about you."

"That I'm not more of an asshole than you are."

"Yeah yeah." Punk said as a response while rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, well this card right here says that I should ask about your pets."

"I don't have any; the last one died of the willies. It wasn't even my dog, she just ended up dying in my place." Once that was answered, Punk quirked his lips and shrugged.

"So whose dog was it?"

"It was Beth's."

Nodding, Randy looked back to his cards. "So is Beth your girlfriend?"

At the question he was asked Punk guffawed. Beth his girlfriend… she would kick Orton's ass if she heard him even imply something like that. Hell, she would also kick his ass just to prove a point so… "No. She's just a very good friend." Not that Randy cared, but Beth was perhaps his best friend after Cabana.

"Oh okay, okay… I just thought that since you know, you two go everywhere together and stuff… everybody thinks you are going out."

"No we are not… shows you that you can't believe everything you hear. But anyway, let's get this done with. What color are your partner's eyes?"

He snorted at the question he just read because he has heard many people mistake the color of his eyes for years and he was expecting Randy to do the same and blurt out a 'brown'.

"Green." Orton said, plain and simple and unable to keep his surprise hidden, Punk looked down to him and grinned.

"I see you've been paying attention. Good, most people would have gone with brown."

"Well, they look brown from a distance; but then as you get closer they seem to be hazel and if you really pay attention you'll notice that they are green, olive green to be exact."

Arching an eyebrow, Punk clicked his tongue and his eyes locked with those of Orton's for what felt like an eternity. Olive green on greyish blue… he has been paying attention too so he knew.

In all fairness of being honest, he hadn't expected Orton to utter such an accurate description of his eyes and as much as his mind tried to, he couldn't come up with some witty remark that would break the spell he has fallen into by looking deep into Randy's eyes.

He had no words to say so instead he just stared.

But then, after a while the exchange of looks got really awkward and all of a sudden the air felt too thick to breathe on it easily; it was as if a huge tension was starting to brew between them and somehow he felt as if the room was closing in while they remained inside.

As a result, in his mind the room was shrinking in space and he could even feel Randy getting closer. It was almost as if…

"Fight!"

Startled, Punk sat back on the bed and his eyes moved from Orton's to the door. Matt, or as some of the guys indiscriminately called him even when they were backstage, Evan, was standing there with what looked to be a very excited look on his face. "Mike and John are fighting!"

Once that was said, the smaller man ran out the door and disappeared, leaving the door open and Randy and Orton watching at the door.

Now that he was sitting, Punk's leg was brushing that of Orton's, but instead of focusing on that, his lips curved into his patented crooked grin and he looked at Orton. The other man was staring at him with a smirk of his own and silently agreeing; they got up to their feet and ran after Matt.

At least on Punk's part, if there was a fight in that place where he was not involved, at least he wanted to witness it up close and personal. So with that in mind, he went after Matt… the thing with Orton… if there even was a thing with Orton, could wait for later.

~TBC~