I reread this chapter and just realized how much cussing there is in here on Randy's part…but Randy does cuss a lot, so…

I know CM Punk likes comics. I don't know which ones he likes. But I thought the first bit was cute after I wrote it…and I hated the X-Men movies myself…I have heard, however, CM Punk reference he and John as Batman and Superman in an interview, which I also thought was cute.

This is my real last chapter. Sorry about the confusion on the one before this…

June, 2007

"I think I want to wash my eyes out after that," Punk stated idly. He was stretched across the bed, head hanging off the side while the credits played on his television.

"It wasn't that bad," John protested mildly. He had his back against the headboard and was watching his boyfriend with a mildly amused expression.

"I should expect Hollywood to completely decimate all the best comic book villains," he said with a fair amount of disdain. John suppressed a grin. Punk had been bitching about the portrayal of Victor Von Doom since John had rented the Fantastic Four movie.

"There are worse movies out there," he pointed out.

"I guess it wasn't as bad as that atrocity they like to call X-Men 3," Punk allowed. "But, come on."

"You didn't like X-Men 3?" John asked lightly with a raised eyebrow.

Punk lifted his head to glare at John. "You're just waiting for me to go on a rant, aren't you?"

John shrugged. "Maybe…" Punk only dropped his head back again in response and John watched him a moment. He'd been restless pretty much since the movie had started. He reached his arms backward, over his head, causing the faded tee-shirt he was wearing to ride up a little bit.

"So, if you could be in one, what would you want to be in?" John asked, a light in his eyes.

"We could both be in one," Punk suggested. "I'll be Batman. You can be Superman." He placed his hands flat on the floor and flipped himself into a standing position. A second later, he dropped back down on the bed, face first this time.

John smiled as Punk moved around restlessly on the bed and he was reminded of how much he liked this, of how much he liked Punk's bitchiness and his weirdness, of how much he did not want it to end. The past six months with Punk had been some of his best months.

He reached forward, wrapped his fingers of his left hand around Punk's forearm. Punk stilled, and turned a questioning gaze on him at the serious look that was on John's face.

"I love you," John stated plainly, easily. He was surprised at how easy the words came out, considering he'd realized it weeks ago. He was still mildly worried about Punk's reaction but it felt right to say the words.

He shouldn't have been worried, however, because Punk smiled and he answered just as easily.

"I love you too."

Xxxxxxxxxx

February, 2011

"So…you guys have been apart for a year and half and he needs a few more days…?"

"That's what I said." John attempted to keep his attention focused on the game and not on the incredulity in Randy's voice.

"A year and a half wasn't enough time to think?"

"Apparently not," John answered shortly. He didn't want to be discussing this. He was already anxious about the situation. The next houseshow was twelve hours away and he still hadn't seen any sign of Punk.

John had taken a page from his book; however, because he hadn't slept much at all since the last time he'd seen Punk. Telling Randy about it must have been a product of exhaustion.

"Think this is going to go my way?" John asked after a moment.

Randy shrugged. "No clue."

"Thanks. You're real helpful." John took a swig from his beer and Randy rolled his eyes.

"Look, man, there are a lot of people who forgive others for a lot of fucked up shit. My wife has forgiven me a lot. And, hey, we're friends, right? Even after all the shit I pulled on you. But, Punk…I don't know the guy, at least not like you do. I don't know if he's the type to forgive that kind of thing. And…what you did? That was really fucked up."

"I know that." John sighed, rubbed a hand across his face.

"Maybe he will forgive you." Randy paused, studied him with narrowed eyes. "You gonna be able to handle it if he doesn't?"

"I don't know," John mumbled, letting out a sigh when someone knocked on the door. It was probably Evan. He'd been bugging John about going out with the guys since the day before. When he opened the door, though, he froze. Punk stood before him, bag over his shoulder, hands stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie.

Randy leaned over so he could see who it was and then he was standing. "See you later Cena," he said, with a glance at Punk before he skirted past both men and made his way down the hallway.

"Hanging out with Orton now?" Punk asked with a raised eyebrow but there was no ire in his tone.

"Uh…yeah," John answered, his surprise still evident.

"You going to let me in?"

"Yeah…" John stepped to the side and Punk walked past him. John closed the door, turning to him just as Punk dropped his bag on the bed. "I was beginning to think I wasn't going to see you…"

"Yeah, well, I wasn't sure if you were either."

"But you're here." John shifted on his feet and crossed his arms.

"Yeah."

"Why are you here?" John finally asked, unable to take the unreadable expression on Punk's face any longer.

"I'm here because I apparently can't move on." He paused, shook his head. "I was still angry but I do still love you. I just could not figure out what to do about it."

"But you have made a decision."

Punk nodded. "I love you and it's bigger than the anger," he admitted.

John let out a breath and started closer, stopped when Punk took a step back, and held up a hand. "First, wait. You've been after me for a second chance for a while now. I'd like to know how much you really want that?"

"I want that more than anything," John said immediately. "I can't move on either and I've never loved anyone the way I love you."

"Okay." Punk closed his eyes a moment. "Okay, here's the deal. Even after all this time, I can't just instantly forget what you did and I don't know if I can fully trust you again but I don't think I will know unless I try."

"But you are willing to try?" The relief that welled in John was almost overwhelming.

"We go slow," Punk started, still keeping his distance. "I don't even know if this is going to work but I can't just jump headlong into this again. I know it won't work that way."

"Okay. Slow is fine. Whatever you want," John agreed. Punk nodded and John was finally able to get close. And, for the first time in a year and a half, he allowed John to pull him close, into his arms.

"I missed you," John breathed, wrapping the man securely in his arms. Punk didn't say anything but he did bury his face in John's neck and wrapped his arms just as securely around John. It felt good, it felt right. For the first time in a long time, John felt whole.