John was hesitant to wake Punk up. It was a rare thing, to be able to watch Punk sleep. John had always been an early riser but Punk was always up before him. That morning, however, Punk had actually managed to get some sleep and he was currently fast asleep on his stomach, head turned towards John, hair falling across his closed eyes.

"Watching me sleep? That's kind of creepy."

John was startled when Punk spoke and he let out a small laugh. "How long you been awake?"

"Long enough to know that you enjoy staring at people who are unconscious." Punk's tone was alert.

"I can't help it, can't keep my eyes off you," John answered with a bright smile.

Punk actually laughed and pulled John closer. "You're so damned corny."

John's grin only widened before they kissed. His hands went to Punk's waist, dragging him as close as he could get him. Then he rolled them until he was hovering over Punk. Punk's hands went under his shirt, fingers trailing over his stomach.

They sat up and Punk pulled his shirt off before helping John do the same. When they went back down on the bed, he wrapped his thighs around John's waist and John was surprised at the clear message. They hadn't gotten much farther than kissing yet.

"You sure we should…?" He trailed off, gasping when Punk pressed himself even closer and his fingers brushed the waistband of the pants John had worn to bed.

"I'm sure, trust me."

And John took his word for it, especially when Punk trailed his hand lower and he pulled John's head back down for another kiss.

Xxxxxxxxx

Chris had not, despite how many times Punk had spotted him in the halls, approached him. Punk was both grateful and a little worried about that fact. So far, Chris had gone down to the ring a couple of times, ran around with a stupid smile on his face and not said a word yet. Punk knew Chris, though, and knew that the man was planning something.

Kane had not yet pulled another one of his sneak attacks. While Chris' presence pissed him off, the fact that Kane seemed to have switched his focus to taking Zack Ryder apart was a little more than strange. But what worried him about that mess even more was how it was getting to John and, leading up to the Royal Rumble, it was getting to him.

But those worries had to be put aside when he had to deal with the combination of Ziggler and Laurinaitis, who seemed to think it was a great idea to put him in a tag match with Chris. Punk was already antsy and missing John, who hadn't been scheduled for RAW that night.

He and John had taken things to the next level and things were going good between them, so good that Punk was almost expecting something to happen. He still had no idea what Chris was planning but the idea of being in the ring with the man wasn't a pleasant one.

Xxxxxxxxxx

John smiled, his phone out, as he made his way back to the hotel. He hadn't been scheduled for RAW and had decided not to go to the arena that night but he had traveled with them, mostly because he hadn't wanted to be away from Punk just yet. They had been doing extremely well in the first stages of their relationship and John was completely infatuated and falling fast.

He and Punk would be separating the next day, each going to their respective homes over their days off that week and John wanted to spend as much time with the man as he could before that. He really did need to spend some time with his family, though. His parents had been calling him to come back home for a bit and he planned to and he knew Punk's friends and sisters had been bugging him about the same thing.

He also kind of needed the break from the show. The stuff with Kane was starting to get to him. And it wasn't even the attacks on him so much as the constant attacks on Zack. Zack had become a rather good friend and John was worried about him, worried about how far Kane would go.

He did watch RAW even though he wasn't there and he knew that Punk would be coming back to the hotel in a foul mood.

Xxxxxxxxx

He was once again seething with rage by the end of the show. Not only had Bryan been taken out but Chris had first refused a tag and then ran off with that damn smile on his face, leaving Punk in a handicap match. Mick Foley had saved his ass but then Laurinaitis had come out, disqualified his win and the rage boiled over.

Even after tearing into Laurinaitis and promising the man that he would beat the hell out of him if he screwed Punk over, he didn't feel any better about the situation. He stormed into the locker room, considered just leaving and grabbing a shower at the hotel

He had just unwound his wrist tape and gotten the padding off his shoulder when he became aware of someone else in the room. He'd left the door to the locker room open, only intending on pulling on some shorts and a shirt before heading out but he was caught by surprise once again as someone grabbed his arm and spun him until he hit the wall face first.

He'd turned his head as well, which probably saved him from another broken nose. The side of his face did bounce off the wall, his head hitting hard and before he could recover from it, one of his arms was wrenched behind him and a body pressed against his back.

"Miss me, Phillip?" Chris pressed even closer, his lips next to Punk's ear. Gritting his teeth as his newly bruising cheekbone scraped against the concrete wall, Punk didn't answer, instead using the only leverage he had by slamming his head back, catching Chris on the forehead and forcing the older man to release him.

Seething, Punk spun and tackled Chris before he could completely recover. They rolled on the floor when the landed but Punk was at a disadvantage. Fresh off what had essentially been a handicap match, his shoulder hurting from where Chris had wrenched his arm back, his head hurting from hitting the wall, it didn't take long for Chris to gain the upper hand.

Chris slammed Punk's head down against the floor; hard enough to leave him dazed and then shoved his forearm against Punk's throat, cutting off his airway.

"You should be ready, Phillip. Because things are about to change around here for you. Trust me on that." Chris stood and landed a kick to Punk's ribs when he started to roll over onto his side. He walked out then, leaving Punk on the floor, one arm wrapped around his chest, the other around his aching head.

Xxxxxxxxx

By the time Punk made it back to the hotel, he was exhausted and hurting. Too tired to even still be pissed about the attack from Chris, he really just needed to find John. He'd ended up dragging himself into the showers at the arena after all, trying to give himself time to shake it off a bit and to think about what he was going to tell John about the bruise that was forming on his face.

When he finally reached his hotel room, it was late. He used his key and had started to open the door when it was jerked open and he was face to face with John, his expression a mixture of concern and anger. He opened his mouth, probably to yell, but stopped himself when he saw Punk's face.

"What the hell happened to you?"

Punk might have been able to get away with telling John it was from his match but he didn't. Instead, he moved closer to John. He was bone deep tired, irritated and he didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to think about Chris.

"Can you ask me that later?" He requested.

With a frown, John pulled him close, reluctantly relenting at the look on Punk's face. "Sure."

Punk let out a relieved sigh and sunk into the embrace John was offering.