Disclaimer: I own nothing when it comes to the WWE. If I did, I would have made sure that the rigged Slammys were at least a little bit believable. WWE insulted my intelligence.

One Month Later

Dean Ambrose and Colt Cabana, two of WWE's newest hires, stared heatedly into each other's eyes. Colt had blood dripping from a cut above his eye and Dean had a swollen lip.

Both men had only been with the company for three weeks, but already, they couldn't stand the sight of each other. The hate between them had started innocently enough. Colt had compared Dean to Punk, which he was tired of hearing, so he shot back that Colt would never be able to fill Cena's shoes.

The fighting continued in verbal barbs and strikes for a while, but tonight after the Pay-Per-View, the tension had dissolved into an all-out brawl between the two newcomers.

So here they were, sitting in Vince McMahon's office waiting for a firm dressing down and their punishment.

"I don't care if I get fired, beating the shit out of your fatass was worth it," Dean sneered into Colt's face.

"I don't care either because I was doing just fine before I was hired. You were struggling, though, weren't you, Ambrose? Yea, I saw that shitty ass apartment that you were living in. Wasn't your neighbor a stripper? Get any free lap dances from her?" Colt shot back. His happy-go-lucky personality had flown out the window. He couldn't stand the sight of Ambrose's ugly mug. It was a face only a mother could love.

What both men didn't know, was that Vince had been sitting outside the door listening to their exchange for a few minutes. He had a gleam in his eye.

Stepping into the room, Vince put a stop to the bickering, "Alright, Ladies. You're both pretty, so stop throwing your shit at each other.

Colt and Dean both turned to Vince with less than amused expressions on their faces. Both men wanted to shoot something back at him, but considering the situation they were in, they decided that wasn't the best choice and kept their mouths shut.

Vince smiled ear to ear and sat down in a chair in front of his desk. "You two fellows really hate each other, don't you?"

Colt and Dean turned and scowled at each other, "Yes, sir," they said at the same time.

"Well, that's perfect! You know how I like to put real life drama into the storylines. I'll make a deal with you two. If you agree to be in a feud with each other onscreen, I'll sweep this little cock fight under the rug and you won't be punished. But, if you don't agree, I'll have to fire you both. What do you say?" Vince smiled hopefully. He was bluffing with the firing thing, but they didn't know that.

Ambrose and Cabana looked like they had both smelled something horrific, but they both nodded their heads in agreement. Dean was silent for a moment before speaking up. "I have one suggestion. You need to let us have carte blanche, so this seems as natural as it can. Your writers won't get the dialog right and the emotions and reactions won't be as real."

Vince was silent for a moment, mauling the suggestion around in his head. The last time he had given someone that much freedom with a promo, he had run away with it, but it hadn't been what he had been expecting. It had turned out to be one of the best promos in history, but he was worried about taking that gamble again. Cabana and Ambrose were not CM Punk, after all.

Sighing heavily, not believing he was going to say this, but Vince gave them the okay. "I want this feud to start tomorrow night, so you better start working together and make this something people will remember for a long time. The company needs a ratings boost."

RAW opened the next night to Ambrose sitting Indian style in the middle of the ring. It seemed like a nod to Punk's famous pipe bomb, but as soon as he started speaking, fans and wrestling personnel alike realized that it was more of a mockery.

"Do you idiots realize why I'm sitting in this ring right now and not rotting away in Louisville? It's because CM Punk is now swimming with the fishes. If he was still here on his soapbox about respect, my talent would have been wasted because they thought CM Punk was the cash cow, the golden boy. They thought they didn't need me and my superior talent." Dean dropped the mike for a moment and listened to all the boos chanting around him. This is exactly what he wanted.

"You all are lucky that CM Punk became shark food a month ago because that brought me up for your entertainment." The crowd thundered with boos. He knew he was crossing the line, but he was a born line crosser. He was about to go even further. "He was a bad person. Always cranky, nasty and foul-tempered. I don't understand how you listened to his whiny ass day in and day out. He was always saying how the company was screwing him over, but…" Ambrose was stopped mid-sentence when Colt Cabana's music started blasting through the venue.

Colt stalked out from the back with a mike tightly held in his hand. His face was red and his body was visibly shaking with his anger. He stood at the top of the ramp for a few moments, staring Ambrose down. "Where the hell do you get off? What gives you the right to talk that way about a man you never even had the privilege of knowing?"

Ambrose looked affronted, "What gives me the right? I'll tell you…"

"No! You shut the hell up and listen!" Colt yelled angrily at Ambrose. "Punk was family to all of his friends. He bent over backwards for all of us. We loved him and he loved us. Being famous didn't change him. He was the same old Punk I met in wrestling school. He bought houses for his friends when they were going through a rough patch and were about to lose their house, he granted dying kids' wishes and he gave more of damn about this company being successful for the right reasons than even Vince McMahon. Don't you dare talk about a man that you never even knew." Colt had walked from the top of the ramp down to the ring while he was saying his peace. One of his hands grabbed the bottom rope as he finished his sentence.

Ambrose visibly rolled his eyes. "So he bought a guy's house and talked to some sick kids for a few minutes, that doesn't change the fact that he was a whiny asshole. Oh, he cared about the company, alright, but only when changes benefited him. Let me tell you something, Cabana, "Ambrose said mockingly. "The only reason you are here is because CM Punk and John Cena died in a plane crash. Your ass would still be peddling your merch and 'padcast' if they were still stinking up this place."

"You think I don't know that? I was happy with what I was doing before I was asked to come back to the WWE. The only reason I came back was to finish what Punk started. If he's never found, I know he would have wanted me to change this place if he couldn't. I'd rather have my best friend back than this gig." Cabana and Ambrose were nose to nose in the ring.

Suddenly, Vickie Guerrero's music filled the arena. She walked to the top of the ramp with a fake smile on her face. You could see the shock in her eyes from the promo that had just unfolded. "Since you two have so much hate for each other, you'll be facing each other in a match tonight."

Cabana and Ambrose turned their attention back to each other and glared into the other man's eyes. "I'm going to break your face, Cabana," Ambrose hissed.

Cabana gave an amused laugh, "I'd like to see you try." With that, he turned around and walked out of the ring and into the back. Everyone was silently staring at him. Cabana realized that one of history's best feuds had probably just begun. It was a little ironic that all their hatred and malice toward each other was one hundred percent real.

Walking to the locker room, Colt sat down on a bench and sighed. He missed Punk and wished he was here with him. He really did want his best friend back. While search crews were still out looking for the wreckage and the two men, the search was bound to be called off soon. "I hope they find you soon, Punk." Cabana said softly.

Punk was awakened by a calloused hand sliding its way down his body and to his groin while a pair of soft, plumb lips nibbled at his ear. He smiled softly before grabbing the wondering hand and turning his head to stop the stimulating lips. "You really need to stop molesting me in my sleep," Punk sighed sleepily. He was still half-way in dream land.

John's hot breath ghosted over his ear when he chuckled softly. "But you like it when I wake you up this way," John sucked Punk's ear lobe into his mouth and let his tongue play with it.

"And you know that I don't put out when I'm hungry. I'm starving!" Punk swatted at his ear to break John's hold on it before he sat up on their two cots that had been moved together a week ago. Glancing at the cabinet across the small cabin, Punk asked, "What is there to eat?"

Propping himself up on one elbow, John answered, "Well, if you want fish, I'll go catch you a few. If you want meat, I'll go shoot something." He said matter-of-factly

"Well, you go shoot something and I'll gather some plants and refill the water bottles." Punk stood up from the cot and grabbed his old messenger bag and a few empty water bottles before turning around to face John, who hadn't moved from his spot on the cot. "Come on! I'm hungry and you have to be, too."

"Yea, yea. I'm getting up. You sure you don't want a pre-breakfast quickie?" John asked as he stood up and slipped on a pair of shorts. He looked up at Punk and caught his baleful look. "Okay, forget I asked. I'll go shoot you something." With that John walked out of the cabin and headed into the trees with the gun slung over his shoulder.

A satisfied smile spread over Punk's face. It wasn't that he didn't want to roll around in bed with John this morning, because he did. He couldn't get enough of John's body and the pleasure it brought him, but they had been out of food since yesterday afternoon and John's alluring body is exactly what had kept them from looking for food then. Someone had to keep them from dying of starvation and sex. Wouldn't that be a way to go!

It was amazing how much had changed in just the short month since he and John had first gotten together on that beach. Punk didn't hate himself anymore and he wanted to survive at least long enough to experience all he could of John Cena. Punk knew that as soon as they were off this island, John would drop him like yesterday's news, but he was living in the moment. He was going to take as much as John was offering.

Punk picked edible plants on his way to the pond to fill the empty water bottles. It was fortunate that he had taken a liking to biology in high school and knew a little about what plants were edible and what were not. He had saved John's life a few times, just by keeping him from eating a bad plant.

Life was honestly good here. Punk was not the type of person who needed civilization to be happy. As long as his physical needs were met, he thrived. He liked it here on this island. There were no fans to bother him for an autograph all the time, no frustrating meetings with Vince to sit through, and he had John all to himself without having to worry about people judging him.

Punk could just imagine what people would say if they knew he was sleeping with John Cena. They would probably think the same thing he would if he were in their shoes. That he was sleeping with Cena to get higher up in the company and improve his career.

His messenger bag was full by the time he reached the pond with the small waterfall. Carefully edging closer to the waterfall, Punk opened an empty water bottle, placed it in the flow of water and waited on it to fill.

He was with John mainly because he was attractive and Punk craved the intimate human contact he was offering. Things had been developing recently that he didn't really want to acknowledge. He wasn't sure if it was love, or just attachment. He'd only really loved one person in his life, Natalie, but he had fucked that up pursuing his wrestling career.

It was okay, though. She was happily married now and her happiness was all that mattered. She meant so much to him, all his friends did. He didn't love John Cena. He just loved the sex.

Punk placed another bottle under the waterfall and pushed all thoughts out of his mind. He didn't need to have such heavy thoughts this early in the morning, especially without his music.

By the time he walked back to the cabin, John already had a fire going and he was plucking feathers from a medium sized bird. "That was fast," Punk said genuinely surprised that John had beaten him back to the cabin.

Hardly looking up from his task, John replied, "I got lucky. She was sitting all pretty on a branch just waiting on me. She must have known how hungry we are,"

Punk scoffed, "Luck is for Losers and I'm sure she was jumping at the chance to die so we wouldn't starve." He heard John laugh as he turned toward the cabin to drop off the things that he had gathered. After putting everything in its correct place, he walked back out of the cabin to see how the bird was coming.

His eyebrows rose when he noticed that the spit the bird was on over the fire was turning on its own without John's help. Looking around for a moment, he tried to find what was moving it. "How?"

John smiled proudly and puffed his chest out a little. "I had to take physics in college. My professor was an outdoorsy kind of guy and taught us how to do this. Since the bird is taken care of, want to take a walk down to the beach with me while we're waiting on it to cook?" John looked hopefully up at Punk.

Thinking for brief moment, Punk nodded his head and then offered a hand to help John get up off the ground. John didn't let go of his hand when he got on his feet. He kept Punk's hand firmly incased in his own as he started walking toward the beach.

Smiling softly to himself, Punk squeezed John's hand. They walked in silence all the way to the beach. Punk listened to the waves hitting the beach and the various animal sounds from around the island. It was so peaceful here.

Once their feet touched the sandy beach, John looked over at Punk with a mischievous look on his face. Removing his hand from Punk's, John slid his hand down his own chest and abs teasingly before unbuttoning and unzipping his shorts. Punk watched in interest as John stepped out of them and started walking toward the ocean.

When water was gently lapping at John's feet, he peered over his shoulder at Punk, "Are you just going to stand there or are you going to join me?" He smiled, his dimples popping in the bright sun.

A smile crept across Punk's face, showing the small gap in his front teeth and causing his lip ring to glisten in the sun. John's heart skipped a beat at the sight. Whenever Punk smiled like that, his heart would melt.

Punk quickly pulled off his shorts and started running toward John. Stretching his legs out in the run pulled on his scar on his hip and leg, but it wasn't painful. Punk didn't slow down when he got close to John and he tackled him into the ocean, sealing his lips to John's.

The kiss started out rough and passionate, but it soon evolved into a slow and sensuous kiss. The two men made their way into deeper water without letting their lips part. When the water was chest high, John grabbed both of Punk's thighs and placed them round his waist. He pulled Punk's thin lower lip into his mouth and toyed with Punk's lip ring with his tongue. Punk bit down on John's upper lip and then licked it to ease the pain.

John groaned and lowered one of his hands to the small of Punk's back where he pressed to make Punk grind himself into his straining erection. He was rewarded with a soft moan from Punk and another bite to his upper lip.

Releasing Punk's lower lip, John began to press hot kisses against Punk's pulse point in his neck, making the other man growl in pleasure. Punk's hands began to roam John's back, feeling his strong muscles ripple underneath the soft, smooth skin.

Wanting to go further, John moved his other hand even lower on Punk's luscious body. He massaged Punk's full ass for a few moments before gently sliding a finger over his center. This made Punk gasp against John's forehead.

The exploration of Punk's body was stopped when one of Punk's hands grabbed onto John's questing hand. "I still haven't been fed, so I'm still hungry. I don't put out when I'm hungry." John felt Punk's teasing smile against his forehead.

John sighed, "I had hoped that I had you distracted enough that you would forget how hungry you are. Guess I failed. Come on, let's get back to the cabin and feed you." John let Punk's legs slide from his waist and both men waded through the water back to the beach.

Punk was smiling softly to himself while putting his shorts back on. Teasing John was so fun. He would never tell John this, but the man had the cutest pout.

John already had his shorts back on, but he was looking up into one of the trees. Curious as to what John was looking at, Punk asked, "What's up there?"

Startled, John looked over at Punk and answered, "There's a few coconuts up there. It would be something different to eat. I'm getting a little tired of the same stuff." John turned his attention back to the coconuts for a few moments as if he was thinking something over. "I think I'm going to try and climb the tree to get them." John was already planting one foot at the base of the tree by the end of his sentence.

Punk protested immediately, "That is not a good idea! What if you fall?"

"There's sand here, so if I fall, it won't be so bad. I don't plan of falling, though. Will you catch these if I throw them down to you?"

Still a little apprehensive about the idea, Punk reluctantly agreed. A few minutes later, Punk was catching coconuts without anything having gone horribly wrong. When John had gotten all the ripe coconuts, he started to climb down and Punk organized all the coconuts he had caught into a small pile.

Hearing a short yell from John, Punk looked up in alarm just in time to see John hit the ground awkwardly. His hearted jumped to his throat, but his panic abated a little when John rolled to his side and grasped his knee while groaning in obvious pain.

Rushing over, Punk knelt beside John and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright?" Punk asked anxiously.

John's face was scrunched up in pain. He hissed through his teeth, still holding his left knee. "Yes, except for my knee. I think I tweaked it when I fell."

Punk's brow creased with worry. "Come on. Take my hand and we'll get you back to the cabin." John placed his hand in Punk's who then slung John's entire arm over his shoulders before standing up. John struggled to stand up with him, making sure to keep his weight off his knee. It hurt so badly.

Both men slowly made their way back to the cabin, John hopping on one leg the entire way.

I feel like my mojo is slowly coming back. It wouldn't be because the semester from hell is over, would it? I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I would love to hear your thoughts on it, so please review.

On a side note, I'm sure there's some physics smarty pants out there who wants to tell me that John's automatic chicken turner is impossible. I already know, but watching an unfortunate bird cook doesn't make for a very exciting or eventful chapter and the boys have to eat

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