Pepsi is still in the lead. Coke, rise against!

I'm better now. I meant to have this up yesterday, but my best friend kidnapped me and wouldn't give me back. Anyway, I'll make this quick. Go vote if you haven't already.

Killing Loneliness

"Do you remember our first date-date?" she asked softly, resting her head on his shoulder. He hugged her closer to him. The hand still on her bare skin moved down to her hip. She loved this best—the closeness.

"I remember that halter," he answered. "You looked so hot. I'm glad Nikki was there, otherwise I might have down something I shouldn't have."

"As I recall that didn't stop you later," she teased.

"As I recall you didn't complain," he answered her, sounding pleased and a bit smug.

"I do my suffering in silence, Mr. Punk," she smiled up at him. He leaned down and connected his lips to hers. The chaste kiss turned more and more passionate until they had to break for oxygen.

"Masochist," he grinned.

"Well, kissing you is such a hardship, you know."

*~*~*~*~*

Seven months, one week earlier…

"Come on! You have to! Please?"

"Alright, fine. I'll do it."

"Awesome!" she cheered, pulling him by the arm towards the Ferris wheel. The line only had a few couples, so they didn't have to wait long. At first Jen had been a little nervous when Punk turned off onto an exit towards the carnival, but now she was glad he did.

So far he insisted on paying for everything—the admission, food, a few games, and even the ride tickets. Whenever she tried to pay for something, he said, "Don't worry about it. Let me treat you."

Tucked under her arm was a giant stuffed teddy bear he had won her at the balloon darts. Soft, fuzzy, and white, the bear did not resemble the usual cheap fair-prizes.

Punk was again glad he looked normal enough that most people ignored him. He really didn't want a crazy fan to ruin this…whatever this was. He'd like to call it a date. Yea, a date sounded good.

Soon the line moved up and the ride operator—a weedy looking twenty-something college student—assisted them as his job demanded by making sure the lap bar was secure before pressing the button to start the machine and get the next car to the platform.

"I can't remember the last time I was on one of these things," Jen remarked as the ride really started moving. She turned towards Punk and said softly, "Thanks. I haven't this much fun is a long time."

"I'm glad," he said back, suddenly unable to look away from her. She had gotten cold earlier, so he had given her is sweatshirt. It was too big for her, but looked right on her, like she was supposed to be wearing it. The teddy bear he won her was between them so it wouldn't fall off. She was so close to him, their legs touched, and she rested her head against his shoulder.

"Screw it," he muttered, and before Jen had a chance to ask him what he meant, Punk leaned over and kissed her.

At first she was shocked by the kiss, but soon her felt her return the pressure against his lips. His arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her even closer to him. The other hand undid the tie holding her ponytail back and threaded his fingers through her now loose hair. She just wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself to him. They didn't realize they did most of this. The only impulse they were aware of was, "more, now."

She didn't know him. She was as much a stranger to him as he was to her, but Jen was very much attracted to him.

"Wow," she gasped when they broke apart for much needed oxygen. Her head was buzzing form the lightheadedness. She was still flush against him, but she didn't pull away.

"Wow," he agreed before leaning in again and kissing her for a second time.

The loud carnival music filled the air, and so did the scents of lots of food. The whole area was full of light and life. It was magic, and it all faded out from their awareness, so wrapped up in each other as they were. Jen could only think of how good Punk smelled and how wonderful his lips felt against hers. All Punk could think was how perfect Jen felt against him and how right she looked in his shirt. He didn't think of himself as possessive or jealous, but seeing her in his clothes seemed like a warning to keep others away, that she was his.

They broke again for air when the Ferris wheel stopped with their car at the top, overlooking the skyline of Chicago. He nipped lightly at her bottom lips as they pulled apart reluctantly, a smug grin overtaking his features.

"Promise you won't wait three weeks to call again?" she asked breathily, one of her hands over his chest.

"If you promise to go on another date with me," he bargained.

"Okay," she agreed, smiling. "You know, I'm not supposed to like you this much. I practically just met you."

"I know," he said, still catching his breath.

That didn't stop them from kissing again. She surrendered to him, and her lips parted. His conquering tongue slipped inside her mouth and dueled with hers. His piercing on his tongue made her gasp and his lip ring caught on her lip, still they continued. They didn't stop until someone cleared their throat.

Punk pulled up first to see the blushing ride operator going to unlock the lap bar. The ride was over, and they had spent most of it kissing. Jen half laughed, still breathless, as he offered her his hand and together they stepped off the ride platform. Still holding hands, they walked away.

"You won't turn into a pumpkin if I have you out past midnight, will you?" he teased.

"No, but Nicole might have a Hulk moment," she bantered back.

"OH MY GOD! THAT'S CM PUNK!"

Punk's head immediately turned in the direction of the scream and he repressed a groan. A blonde girl, maybe sixteen, seventeen, wearing one of his T-shirts from the WWE was exciting chattering to her gaggle of friends as she got closer. "Shit," he cussed.

"Is she screaming at you?" Jennifer asked him, sounding confused.

"I can explain," he said. "Just let me handle this." Thankfully the noise of the crowd had prevented too many other people from realizing what she said.

"Oh my god! I was at the show when you cashed Money in the Bank on that prick Edge! I don't care what JBL says, you're the best champion ever!" the girl gushed all in one breath.

"Thank you," Punk said, his tone telling Jen that he was use to this happening.

"I know you're busy and have lost of ass to kick, but would you please sign my shirt?" she begged, producing a silver sharpie.

"Sure, why not?" Punk asked, taking the marker and quickly penning her ring name by the printed fists on the shirt. Of course the other girls wanted him to sign their own shirts, though none of them wore any WWE shirts.

"Thank you so much!" the girl gushed before running off.

"So what was that?" Jen asked, one eyebrow raised as they walked off again.

Punk grinned at her crookedly (she was beginning to get fund of that grin). "When you asked what I do, I told you I travel a lot, right? I'm a professional wrestler signed with the WWE, hence why that girl had an attack of fangirlism."

"You wrestle?"

"Yea. I take it you don't watch wrestling?"

"No," Jen answered. "I just realized how much I don't know about you."

"Well, my name is Philip Jack Brooks," he started. "I'm from Chicago. I'm straightedge. I've been wrestling professionally for the last ten years. My ring name is CM Punk, and I'm constantly changing what the CM stands for. Um…I'm never in a city for longer than three days in a row. I may have a minor addiction to Pepsi, but I'm down to one can of diet Pepsi a day…usually. I such at most video games, but no one can beat me at Guitar Hero…I'm a huge comic book nerd…I think I like you a lot," he added at the end of his monologue, that grin still plastered across his features.

"Hello ,Phil. My name's Jennifer McCorvik, but nearly no one calls me Jennifer," she started in the same tone he had begun with. "I'm from Philadelphia. I work as a waitress at my best friend's fiancé's bar. Um…I never call…ever…since I never have minutes. I'm not proud of my past. It isn't something I like talking about. I had a lot of problems that Nicole and Bambi saved me from," she said softly, and Punk had a hard time hearing what she said over the hustle and bustle of the crowd around them. She stopped walking and glanced at him. "I like you, too, I think."

He leaned in and kissed her again, but this time softly.

"Let's get some food or something," he said, taking her hand again. Within then minutes they had a funnel cake with extra powdered sugar and were sitting in an area of relative quiet. They had a table to themselves and sat across form each other.

"So shy wrestling?" Jen asked before popping a piece of the fried batter into her mouth.

He grinned wider. "When I was little I watched wrestling whenever I could. There was this one guy—Rowdy Roddy Piper—and he cracked a coconut over another guy's head, and I knew that I wanted to get paid for that."

"So have you?"

"Huh?"

"Cracked a coconut on someone's head?"

He laughed at that. "No, not coconuts." He popped a piece into his own mouth. "I'm on Raw Monday nights on USA. You should watch sometime."

"We'll see. 'CM Punk?'" she asked to which he nodded. "What does that mean anyway?"

"Championship Material, Chicago Made, Cookie Monster, Crooked Moonsault, Chick Magnet," he rattled off. "As for the 'Punk,' well, I was always a bit of a punk growing up. Got into fights a lot—got arrested in high school—, got illegal tattoos at 17, and generally caused a shit load of trouble. It just stuck."

"Seventeen? Better than me. I was fifteen," she answered. She turned so her back was to him and took off his sweatshirt. She held her hair out of the way so he could clearly see the expanse of colorful ink across her upper back. The amount of detail shocked him. "My first is the one kinda where my back stops and my neck starts. I worked down from there. I guess you could say I never really finished."

The tattoo she talked about was a black Celtic knot formed into a sun. it was the only solid spot of color on her back.

"Beautiful," he whispered, taking in the colorful mesh before him.

"I got work done every couple of weeks for a couple of years," she added. "It's kinda amazing I didn't get anything from the needles. Apparently I had some kind of issue with image, self-destruction, and impulses."

The rest of the visible skin on her back was covered with images of fairies, tropical flowers, and bright butterflies all forming a massive Garden of Eden.

"There's a fairy for everyone who's really mattered to me. Like, my sister is watching over the rest of them form my left shoulder. My mother's down near m hip—she's a hag."

"It's amazing," he said softly, reaching out to trace his finger along the delicate curve of the wings of one of the fairies along Jen's spine. He felt and saw her shiver when he touched her, so he pulled back.

"Thanks," she said, turning around and putting his sweatshirt back on. "So what about your ink?" she asked.

"Honestly, I lost count how many I have after the eleventh or twelfth. My left arm was dubbed "the good luck arm." My right arm is mostly classic tattoo art. This one," he started, gesturing to the hand of aces on his right arm, "is for my trainer—Ace Steele. He pretty much turned me from a street punk into a wrestler. There's a banner that says, "Luck is for Losers," and that's kinda my philosophy. You gotta do the work to get the rewards."

"Does that fish have three eyes?"

"Yea," he answered.

"So, any others anywhere?"

"I think I'll keep that a mystery. Besides, you didn't tell me about the one by your ankle," he observed casually, but she tensed.

"Look, don't ask about it, okay? It personal."

"All tats are," he said softly.

"I'm still not telling you," Jen reiterated. "You're insanely sweet, but Nicole didn't even know for a real long time. I like you, but I barely know you."

"Then I'll have to work a little harder I guess," he answered, his crocked grin again in place. Jen was definitely getting attached to that stupid grin.

"Yea," she agreed. "I think I'd like that."