Warnings: 2nd person Colt PoV, Slash (Colt/Punk), Smut, Profanity, brief mentions of AJ Lee and implied het.

You're beyond grateful when you get off the plane and are greeted by a grinning Punkers, cap pulled low over his eyes, clearly trying to blend in with the crowd, though you think being the only person stupid enough to wear shorts in the snow, probably makes him stand out. You are going to have to talk to O'Neil and get her to remind him that when it's cold outside, you wear long pants. You have terrible visions of him catching a cold. April is a smart woman, there is no chance in hell she'd put up with a sick Punkers, he'd be passed off to you so fast you wouldn't have time to say no, he's your boyfriend, you deal with him. He wraps you in a firm hug, complete with the requisite, to make hugging acceptable for males in public, back slaps, the subtle squeeze he gives you and the fact that the hug lasts a little longer than most men would be comfortable with, appears to be something everyone in the airport is content to ignore.

"You hungry?" He seems overly happy at having you back, his grin bright and toothy; you get the feeling that he must have been bored.

"Tired." You mutter, rubbing your eyes. He grabs your bag and starts walking out of the terminal.

"I figured that, got you a sub anyways. How was the flight?" His voice burbles in one ear and straight back out the other, your attention is caught by his mentioning of a sub but ignore everything else, he seems to be talking for the sake of it, to fill up the air more than anything. It's rather unlike him; he really must have spent the whole time, he's been on his own, doing nothing. Inactivity always makes him act oddly, this rather cheerfully, babbling Punkers is generally the version who's been stuck laid up, not able to go and do something, you think this is the first time you've seen him like this at the expense of his own choice.

"What you been up to, Punkers?" You ask him, once he's settled in the driver's seat. Your bag stashed in the trunk and the wrapped sub, he bought for you, clutched in your hand. He almost winces when you ask. "Punkers." He definitely winces that time. He's been doing nothing, brooding, watching TV, not sleeping, building pillow forts, nothing constructive or useful at least.

"I've been, uh." He starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot, to the little machine where you have to pay. "I cleaned your place." He says brightly, grinning at you and then starts swearing that the machine, damning its father as a walkman and its mother a pocket calculator. Madness is always an interesting look on him, you think with a shake of your head and start eating the sub, devouring it without really tasting it. You're too tired for such complex processes as actually tasting food.

"Cabana." You feel a gentle shake of your shoulder. "Cabana." Another shake and your name in a mildly singsong voice. "COLT!"

"Oww." You rub the ear he shouted in, startled to find that you must have slept the whole way home; the car is parked outside your apartment building, Punkers standing by the open passenger door, your luggage in his hands and a lazy grin on his face.

"Sleep inside, yeah?" He offers you a hand, which you bat away and clamber inelegantly out of the car. You nod vaguely and head up the stairs, cursing the lack of elevator in this building. You flop against the wall by your door and wait for him to open it, courtesy lets him go first and once you're through the door, you lock it behind you, kicking off your shoes and hanging up your jacket. He's standing watching you with an oddly amused look on his face. His sneakers and jacket removed far more quickly. "Go shower." He tells you and you briefly consider telling him to fuck off, you'll drown if you try showering but he's right, travelling makes you feel dirty and bucket showers stop being twee and fun pretty quickly.

You're mildly disappointed when he doesn't join you in the shower, you probably would have been done quicker if he'd been there to wash your back, he did pop his head round the door, dropping you in some clothes, boxers and a sleep shirt, telling you to hurry the fuck up. Eventually, once you're clean, somewhat dry and dressed, you stumble to bed, flopping down on it, realising that his pillow fortress is still there, his pillows still mixed in with your own. O'Neil's, you confirmed the origin of the unrecognised bed linen with her on one of the Skype calls you made to her, encouraging her to push for some time off to spend with him, is conspicuous by its absence. You fall asleep the moment your head hits the pillows, his scent clinging to the fabric and filling your nostrils.

You wake up to the feeling of him, warm and heavy, against your back, his warm breath seeping through the thin fabric of your shirt.

"Hey." Your voice sounds croaky and quiet, there's a glass of water on the table by your bed, you reach for it, disturbing him and getting a soft grumble for it.

"Uh, you awake?" He wriggles up the bed, seemingly refusing to surrender his spot on top of you, his chin digging into your shoulder. "Gimme." He plucks the glass from your hand after you take a drink and finishes it, sets it back down and lets all of his weight rest against you. You collapse against the pillows awkwardly. "Still tired?" His voice is soft in your ear.

"Should get up, sleep'll be all fucked." You think your words are probably slightly muffled and slurred from where you're pressed against the pillows.

"Hmm, probably." He mutters softly and nibbles lightly on your earlobe. "Could be worse though." He sounds mildly amused and starts trailing softly biting kisses down your neck. You start groping under the pillows, you've no idea where your cell is but his should be in here somewhere. He tugs on your shirt slightly, the little nipping kisses becoming more softly sucking and gentle at the spot where your shoulder and neck meet. You find his cell eventually, it's just after nine o'clock, your sleep pattern is already fucked up it would seem. His hands are pushing your shirt up, you spare him a quick glance over your shoulder, he grins at you, the overly bright light of his cell makes it look mildly ridiculous. You find yourself snorting with laughter, turning on to your back and letting him pull your shirt over your head. He settles over you and kisses you softly, unhurried and thorough. "Fuck me?" He mutters softly, kissing you again.

"Hmm." You don't really respond to his, you suppose, question, it sounded like a question, his kisses make it feel like a question. You wrap one arm about his waist, your other hand cupping the back of his head, keeping the kisses between you soft and languid. He twists off of you, pressing his back against your side and starts hunting around in the pillow fortress.

"Ah-ha!" He produces your little bottle of lube, it looks like its contents have been severely depleted since you saw it last. You, once again, wonder just what he's been up to in your apartment. You move on to your side, lying behind him, ease one arm under his body and he glances back at you. "Like this?" You can't think of the last time you have sex like this, you nod vaguely, gazing down his bare back to his firm little ass, you'd never noticed till now but he's been naked this whole time. You awkwardly squirm out of your boxers, pushing them out from under the covers with one foot. He pops the cap on the lube, covers a couple of fingers and drops the bottle somewhere in amongst the pillow fort. He preps himself with irritating efficiency, he always forgets how much you enjoy watching him fingering himself, his long fingers moving in and out of himself, not that you can see much but the pictures in your mind are pleasant. You trail your hand down his back, down his arm to where two of his lube-slicked fingers are inside of him. Then move it back up his arm to fish around amongst the pillows, trying to find the bottle of lube, eventually locating it and coat a few of your own fingers, nudging one into him, beside his own. "Ah, fuck." He gasps, there's a big difference, in size terms, between his own fingers and yours. His are long, elegant things, tapered and slender, your own are broader, thicker, bigger in general, the addition of even one of your fingers seems to throw him. He tries to move his hand away from himself but you withdraw your finger first.

"Finish up." You murmur against his shoulder, moving closer to him, trapping his arm between you, using the lube on your fingers to coat your cock. The angle his arm is trapped at, has to be uncomfortable but he doesn't complain, keeps stretching his body open for your cock. When he deems himself ready, he reaches behind him, his hand groping for your cock, you chuckle softly and line yourself up with his hole, catching his hand and guiding it to your cock. "Slowly." He nods and eases his hips back, letting your cock enter him, once you're halfway inside of him, you take his hand, lace your fingers together, moving your joined hands to rest against his thigh and snap your hips forward, burying yourself inside his body. He makes a quiet, little pleased noise and brings your laced fingers to his lips, kissing yours softly. He reluctantly lets you withdraw your hand from his and you settle it on his hip, your other arm, trapped as it is under his body, you wriggle a little further around him so you can draw him closer, letting your newly freed fingers stroke his chest.

"You gonna move?" He asks you, mild amusement in his voice and his hole tightening around your cock.

"Yeah, yeah, gimme me a minute." You press several kisses to his shoulder, enjoying the feeling of him soft and pliant in your arms. You move in him slowly, taking your time to stroke every inch of his skin that you can reach, the comforter on your bed feels heavy, it hinders your movements, forces you to move even slower than your exhaustion would have. He matches the slow pace, rocking back against you, one hand against your ass, squeezing the flesh and trying to draw you closer to him. You move your leg so that it covers his, use the new position to force him closer to you, his hand skimming along your thigh, stroking your skin. "Okay?" You ask him softly, he nods and moans as you thrust into him, rubbing against his prostate firmly.

"Again." You keep your thrusts unexpected like that, slow and steady, interspersed with the odd randomly powerful one, drawing moans from him, making his body tighten around you. It's all soft and gentle, reflexive almost. Fucking slowly, like this, isn't something you've done in a long time, not really since you shared hotel rooms out on the hustle. It brings back hazy memories of fucking him in motels all over the country, of fucking a man much less broken down and weary. You wonder then what he's actually thinking about, is he fully focussed on the feeling of your cock moving in and out of him, of your hands as they hold him close and stroke his skin, the weight of your thigh and the press of your heel against him or is he thinking about the past too.

"Hey." You mutter softly against his shoulder, you can see his eyes are open, focussed on the backs of your hands as they stroke his chest and stomach.

"Hmm?" He moans softly, twisting his head slightly to get a better look at you.

"You okay?" You think it's a stupid question, he seems fine but you mean more than right now, you mean in general, is he more himself, is he getting better, is whatever drove him to you two weeks ago resolved or at least being better handled. He laughs softly, rocks his hips back against you.

"Good, great, fabulous, in fact." He smiles, a big content, genuine smile, his body squeezing around your cock, making you gasp. "Fuck me." He sounds smug, you move slightly, getting at a better angle behind him and do as he asks. You fuck him as firmly and slowly as you can, watch over his shoulder as he works his cock, strokes at your pace. When he comes, it's with his head back against your shoulder, trembling and quiet, your own orgasm follows shortly and it hits you harder than you were expecting it to. The next thing you're aware of is his head against your chest, fingers stroking your skin gently, his sweaty hair sticking to your neck, in a mildly irritating fashion. "April has the weekend off." He sounds soft and sleepy; you can feel his lips moving against your chest as he talks. You're glad she took your advice and pushed for some time off, the girl needs it, the more you spoke to her whilst you were away, the more concerned you got for her. It'll be good for them to spend some time together, some time being all coupley and sweet, alone together.

"You gonna take her home?" You ask him, absently attempting to bring order to the disarray that is his hair; you give it up as a lost cause and ruffle it back up. He chuckles softly and shakes his head. "C'mon, you're not making her hang out here again, Punkers."

"No, no, I'll take her back to my place." He mutters, squirming in your arms to rest on his forearms, hovering over you, a soft smile on his face.

"Good, was beginning to think you were never going home again." You cup his cheek, stroking the scruffy mutton-chop there. He shakes his head, his nose brushing against yours, kisses you gently and then wriggles back down your body slightly, tucking his head beneath your chin.

"I am home."

earthandblood: Thank you very much! It's always good to hear new peoples thoughts on my work! I am very glad you thought AJ was written in a real person way, it's exactly what I was aiming for. Women in fiction, not even specifically fanfiction, can be done so horribly, it's why I was quite so very worried about writing her, your words were every welcome and I am very thankful for them.

littleone1389: I think the Batman part of that chapter is my favourite part... any excuse to mention Azrael! LoL

alizabethianrose: I kind of think that AJ is a good fit for Punk right now so I do hope that she's able to bond with Colt. The Joe shoot is one of my favourite Punk shoots... the whole belt mark story cracks me up every time. :D

And we are done here. Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to fave, follow, pm and review. I am very grateful. The whole Punk situation may still be up in the air but I can only hope that the scruffy little gitbag is getting the rest he needs. :D

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!