Disclaimer: I own nothing with it comes to the WWE. If I did, I wouldn't be doing a Diva reality show on E!. I would follow around CM Punk, John Cena, Randy Orton and Cody Rhodes with cameras 24/7. I imagine the footage would make some damn fine entertainment. Just think of the grainy footage from all the out of the way broom closets!
Punk's breath caught in his throat at the sound of John's voice. He hadn't been expecting him to pick up. He'd honestly been hoping for his voicemail.
"Hello?" John's deep voice had an annoyed edge to it. Swallowing hard, Punk gathered his courage. He didn't know why he was scared. It wasn't like he would lose anything by talking to him.
"John?" His voice came out as more of a croak and he didn't understand why his voice rose in question. He knew exactly who was on the other end of that phone just by that deep, sexy voice.
It was John's turn to be shocked into stunned silence. It sounded like Punk on the other end. His mind has to be playing tricks on him. "That you, Punk?"
Punk cleared his throat, "Uh, yea, it's me. I heard you had to have knee surgery and I wanted to check and see how you were doing." This was awkward. He hoped John would hang up on him so he didn't have to keep this conversation going.
There was another pause on John's end and Punk waited anxiously for the soft click that would signal the end of this horrible phone call, but it never came.
"It's healing up just fine. Been hitting the physical therapy pretty hard to get back to work on time." John stopped to clear the growing lump in his throat by swallowing hard. "So, how are you doing? Heard you and Lita are back together." His voice broke at the end of his sentence and he hoped Punk didn't notice.
But he did notice and his brow furrowed in confusion. Was John sick or was he upset about something? Punk pushed the thought away, concluding that he was just hearing things that his mind wanted to hear. "I've been doing okay. Being back home was a little weird to adjust to, but I managed. Lita and I…" Punk paused for a moment, trying to think of something to say that would describe the current state of their relationship. "We gave it a shot, but just like last time, we aren't meant to be."
Punk wanted to add that it was all John's fault for ruining him for everyone else, but he didn't want to give him the satisfaction of admitting that.
John's heart skipped a beat. Did that mean that Punk and Lita were no longer together? "Did you and Lita break-up?" John hated the hopeful note that invaded his voice.
"Eh, kinda. It's not official and we haven't talked about it, but I think we're done. There's no saving this relationship. It was stupid to even try again after what happened last time."
John felt like he was flying. He had a chance to get Punk back if he and Lita were splitting. All that hopeful energy made its way into a joke. "At least she didn't try to kill you on her way out. I should have kicked Liz to the curb back in high school. I kept hoping she would suddenly become right for me, but she never did. Now I know why." It was underhanded, but John hoped Punk would take the bait and ask him why. He didn't want to scare him away by shouting "I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you" over the phone. He had to ease Punk into this and make him feel like he had a part in this.
Punk's brow furrowed in confusion again. He reclined on his bed and sighed before taking the bait, "Why is that? She seemed like you type…well, until she tried to kill you," John could hear the smile in Punk's voice.
Closing his eyes, John smiled to himself. Taking a deep breath, he plunged into the deep end. "I learned on the island why she wasn't right for me." John paused a breath, "She wasn't right for me because you are the only one who is. I don't know where you got the idea that I don't love you and I was just using you, but I've loved you for years, Punk, and you never gave me a chance until we were alone on that island. I wouldn't mind going back to that island and living like that forever if it meant I could have you forever." John took a few deep breaths after his confession. He was worried about Punk's reaction.
John's heart plummeted to his stomach when he heard Punk stutter, "Uh, I gotta go," and the phone click softly as the call was ended.
"Fuck!" John screamed angrily and threw his phone across the room, which broke as soon as it smashed into the wall. John rested his elbows on his thighs and torn his nails through his scalp. He'd blown it. He'd been too direct with Punk and had overwhelmed him. If he'd been feeling half as bad as John had in these last few weeks, Punk had to be emotionally exhausted and dropping that bomb on him had shocked him way too much and he hadn't been able to handle it.
John guessed it was a good thing that he had cleared up some of the confusion that had caused Punk to leave him in the first place, but he didn't know if Punk would ever come back to him, even knowing what he did now.
Punk couldn't catch his breath as he placed his phone on the bed beside him. He felt like he'd just finished running the Chicago marathon, but panic and shock were making him gasp for air and not exertion.
"What the fuck," said softly to himself. That phone conversation had not gone as he had imagined. He had expected John to hang up on him most likely or, in a rare case, have a very short and impersonal conversation. Instead, John had spilled his guts like a coon struck by an 18-wheeler. Was he lying or was he sincere? Punk head was spinning from the lack of oxygen and his rushing thoughts.
Cabana. He would talk him through this, right? He was boinking Ambrose so he had to have at least a little experience with batshit crazy.
Punk sat up and pushed Cabana on speed dial. It rang three times before Colt's overly happy voice came across the line.
"Punkers! Did you call him yet? Don't even try to get out of this because you've already collected your end of the bargain."
Punk was silent for a moment before taking one last, cleansing breath. "I called him." That was all he was able to get out before he had to take another breath.
"Awesome! How did it go? Now, I'll go cake tasting with you, but wedding dress shopping is not in my friend contract."
Even in his panicked stated, Punk rolled his eyes at Cabana's dumb joke. "Uh, well, he said that he's loved me for years and, "Punk stopped to take a breath and swallow hard, "he would live on the island for the rest of his life if it meant that he could have me forever." Punk breath seemed to speed up even more. He knew he needed to calm the fuck down before he passed out. Jeebus, he was CM fucking Punk for fuck's sake! He was acting like a fucking girl.
"Hn, he jumped right into it, didn't he. A little on the cheesy side, but I guess it got the job done. So, what did you say?" Cabana's voice had an excited note to it.
Punk cringed. Colt was going to kill him. "I, uh, I hung up on him…basically.
Colt made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. "You hung up on him. Jesus, Punkers, are you trying to kill the poor guy? He obviously loves you. A guy doesn't pull that total cheesy shit just to get into something he's already hit, no offense. This is the real deal, Punk. You love him, he loves you. I don't know what you're freaking out about. If John's anything, he's loyal. He's not going to be like all the others who have hurt you. Call him back and tell him how you feel. Don't let him slip through your fingers." Colt said gently.
Everything he said made sense, but Punk was still hesitant about John's sincerity. "I'll think about this tonight and then call him back tomorrow."
Colt sighed. "Okay, but I wish you would call him tonight. He loves you and you love him. That's not going to change overnight."
"I know. I just need some time to wrap my head around this."
"Alright, I guess I'll talk to you tomorrow then. Oh, you better call Lita and end that whole…thing."
Punk laughed to himself. "I guess that's fair. I shouldn't have pulled her into my mess in the first place. Thanks, Colt, for everything."
"Who knew I was so good at giving relationship advice! I should have my own show, Dr. Colt or some shit."
"Ha! Don't quit your day job, Cabana. "
"You know I'd be awesome! Talk to you tomorrow, Punkers!"
"Bye, Cabana." Punk all but laughed out. It was amazing what a five minute talk with Cabana could do. He felt so much better and even a little hopeful. He could see himself with John. Tomorrow would dictate if that was possible or not. "Now to call Lita."
Five minutes after Punk hung up on him, John was still in his hunched position. He kept running the conversation through his mind, wishing he'd been more subtle and eased Punk into it, instead of punching him in the face with his feelings.
John was pulled from his thoughts when his doorbell rang and someone pounded on his front door. He didn't think about getting up to go get it. He was off his crutches and only had a slight limp, but he didn't want to make the effort when he was feeling so crappy. It had to be a door to door salesperson, and the way he was feeling, they'd be lucky to walk away with their head still on their shoulders.
Suddenly, John heard a huge crash and then his alarm started blaring a high-pitched, ear-splitting sound. John's heart started to race in fear. Opening the drawer on his bedside table, John grabbed his 9 mm Glock and clicked off the safety. John rushed over to the side of his bedroom door, pushed his back against the wall and listened for anything other than his blaring alarm.
His brow furrowed when he heard a few pairs of heavy, rushing feet and a few voices saying "clear". John lowered his gun. It sounded like a freaking SWAT team was in his house.
John's bedroom door was suddenly kicked open and a face came around the door. "Is she here?" The man behind the helmet yelled at John while staring down at the gun held tightly in his hand.
Bending over and placing the gun on the carpet, John raised his hands. "No one is here except me." John was still confused. Why in the hell was a freaking SWAT team storming his house?
The man turned his head towards the hallway and bellowed, "All clear. She's not here. Cena's fine."
"What the hell is going on?" John was at a total loss. It felt like he was in a very weird dream.
"I'm very sorry, Mr. Cena for disturbing you, but one of the agents will explain everything to you soon. Come with me."
John followed the man down the stairs and into his kitchen where a man in a suit was standing by the island. The man turned around and gave John a sheepish smile before sticking his hand out for John to shake. Still in shock, John shook the man's hand.
"Hello Mr. Cena. I'm Special Agent Ohler. I've got some bad news for you. Your ex-wife escaped from jail last night and we suspect that she is coming to kill you. When you didn't answer the door, we thought she was already here."
John's mind was reeling. "How did she get out?"
"Well, it seems she was in a relationship with one of the prison guards and he helped her escape. When my partner and I talked to her cellmate this morning, she said that Liz wanted to kill the man that had ruined everything. Obviously that meant you, so we need to keep you protected until she is captured."
The information slowly sunk into John's skull, but something didn't sit well with him. He couldn't put his finger on it.
"We're going to place two men outside your house to make sure you're safe and hopefully capture Liz when she comes here. Sorry about your door. We'll get that fixed for you soon. Here's my number if you have questions" The man handed John a business card and then turned to his men and motioned for the front door, "Okay, guys, we're done here for the most part. Bobby and Sam, you guys are gonna stake out the place until she shows up and then take her in."
The men started filing out of John's house and then closed the door behind them when the last man was out.
John stood silently in his kitchen for a few minutes, letting everything process. It all seemed so surreal. Even after everything, he found it hard to swallow that Liz would escape from jail just to kill him.
It nagged him all the way up the stairs to bedroom. Something wasn't right, but he couldn't up his finger on it. Picking up his Glock from the floor, John clicked the safety one, walked over to his bedside table and placed it back in the drawer.
John turned his head and looked down at his phone sitting on top of his bed. The next instant, John felt like hot water had been splashed on him as dread and horror spread throughout his body. Punk. She was going to go after Punk. Fuck, why did he tell her about Punk? In Liz's crazy mind, she probably thought that Punk had ruined their marriage.
Grabbing his phone, John called Punk to warn him, but it went straight to voicemail. "Punk, it's John. You need to get out of your apartment to someplace safe. Liz is coming after you. Please call me when you get somewhere safe."
John ended the call and then ran down the stairs to get the business card that the agent had left. His fingers were shaking as he dialed the number on the card.
"Ohler."
"It's not me Liz is after. It's Punk. She's going to try and kill Punk." His words came out in a desperate rush. John grabbed his wallet and car keys before heading to his garage. He was going to Chicago. He couldn't sit around on his ass while Punk was in trouble. Liz could be killing him right now.
"Mr. Cena? Look, from our investigation, Liz is after you, not this Punk guy. You need to calm down and stay where you are."
John growled to himself as he turned his car on and raised his garage door. "No, you don't understand. Liz thinks Punk ruined our marriage. You've got to send people to protect him, okay? He's in danger."
"I know you're upset, Mr. Cena, but we have the case covered. Liz's cellmate never said anything about Liz talking about anyone named Punk. I'm sure he'll be just fine."
John could tell that Ohler was trying to placate him, not even considering what John had just told him. Fine, John would just get to Chicago as soon as possible and protect Punk himself. John hung up on Agent Ohler and tossed his phone into his passenger seat. He noticed the two agents parked in front of his house as he pulled out of the driveway. On his way by, John let the bird fly.
Punk stripped off his jeans and T-shirt before falling into bed. His come to Jeebus talk with Lita had gone surprisingly well. At first, it had been a little touch and go, but when the truth had come out, she seemed to understand what he was going through. He wondered if it had something to do with that whole Matt Hardy and Edge fiasco that had happened before they got together the first time.
They were officially done and Punk was free to see this thing through with John, wherever it leads. Punk pulled the sheet up to his chest and settled in for the night.
An hour later his mind was still running wild thinking about all the possibilities that tomorrow holds. What was he going to say to John? Sighing, Punk turned over onto his side and tried to push everything out of his mind. His eye caught the blue glow of the clock beside his bed. It was 2 am already. Punk groaned to himself. His insomnia was rearing its ugly head tonight.
Punk was suddenly pulled from his thoughts when he heard a squeak. Knowing his apartment, Punk recognized it as the squeak the second step gave when someone stepped on it in the wrong spot. Small tingles of fear weaved their way through Punk. Was someone in his apartment? Punk listened for a few more seconds, but didn't hear anything. He should have just thrown it off as the building settling, but for some reason, he felt paranoid tonight.
Tossing the covers off, Punk quietly got out of bed and headed to his bedroom door. He grabbed the baseball bat that was displayed on wall before heading out into the hallway. It was autographed by the entire Cubs team, but he would still bash someone's brains in with it if they were in his house.
Making his way down the hallway, Punk checked each room to make sure no one was in them. When he reached the stairs, he stopped for a moment to listen. He didn't hear anything, so he started to descend the stairs, careful to avoid the second step from the bottom.
He stood at the bottom of the stairs to listen and look around his apartment. The large window only served to cast shadows around the apartment, giving Punk an unsettled, eerie feeling.
Stepping further into his living room, Punk kept his bat raised in case someone rushed him. He made it all the way to his dining table before anything happened.
Punk heard a floorboard behind him creak and he turned quickly, only to see a woman in black smiling at him. He was stunned and couldn't seem to make his body work.
"Hi, whore." The woman said before something crashed into his temple with crippling pain. Everything went black.
He was almost there. Just a few more blocks until he was outside of Punk's apartment. "Hey, can you go a little faster. It's really important." The taxi driver looked at John in the rearview mirror before stepping on the gas.
John's leg bounced with his anxiety and impatience. He had tried to call Punk four more times, but each time, the call went straight to voicemail. He had even tried calling the Chicago PD, but they said that they didn't have the men to go check on Punk. John couldn't believe that. Did someone have to be dead in order to get a freaking officer in this city? If John was right and he didn't get there in time, there would be a dead body. He had to push that thought to the fringes of his mind in order to keep his sanity.
The tires on the taxi squealed as it stopped in front of Punk's apartment. John was out of the car and throwing a wad of crash at the driver before the poor, old man could blink. John rushed to the door banging on it and ringing Punk's doorbell incessantly. After a minute, John tried the door and his stomach dropped when he found that it was unlocked.
Stepping inside, John crept through the hallway. He noticed a sword hanging on the wall and John vaguely remembered it from a movie. Taking it off the wall, John looked to see if it was sharpened and he let out a breath of relief when he found that it was. Thank God for Punk and his nerdy ways. If he was still alive, John was going to kiss him for this.
The sword was heavy in his hands as he continued into Punk's apartment. When he reached the kitchen, John was both relieved and horrified when he saw Punk tied up in a chair by his dining table with Liz standing behind him, holding a knife to his throat. There was a trail of blood from his temple that dripped off his jaw onto his bare shoulder, but he was alive and awake.
"Nice of you to join us, John. I didn't expect you to come see your whore get what's coming to him, but that makes this moment even better." Liz smiled manically at John. "Don't even think about coming any closer or he gets it sooner than I want."
John swallowed thickly before raising one of his hands. "Don't hurt him, Liz. He has nothing to do with us. Just let him go and we'll get through this. Please." John's voice was steady and soft. He didn't want to provoke her into hurting Punk.
Liz laughed hysterically for a full minute. It unsettled John to his core and he saw Punk's eyes widen in fear even more and his teeth grit through the gag Liz had tied around his head. Liz's laughter suddenly stopped and her voice turned angry. "He has everything to do with us, John. This whore ruined our marriage, don't you see that? You wouldn't have divorced me if you hadn't fallen in love with him. What's so special about him, John? What makes you love this freak?" Liz pressed the knife harder into Punk's neck, making a bead of blood well-up in the small cut it made.
John carefully inched forward with one of his hands still raised. His other hand was beginning to hurt from grasping the hilt of the sword so hard. "Liz, please, just let him go."
"Tell me, John!" Liz screamed at him. Her crazy eyes bore into him.
John kept carefully inching closer to Liz. He just had to get close enough to take her out. There was no other option or she would kill Punk right before his eyes. "Please, Liz, don't hurt him. I don't know why I love him, I just do. He's perfect for me. We might be complete opposites, but he completes me and makes me happy. Please let him go, Liz." John pleaded with not only his words, but his eyes, too.
Liz shook her head. "What a load of shit. Well, no matter why you love this whore, he's going to die right now." Liz moved her knife to the other side of Punk's neck to slice his throat, but she never got the chance to cut into Punk's neck.
John's feet ate up the last few feet and he swung the sword at Liz, slicing her head off.
Even after watching so many gory TV shows and movies, they still didn't prepare him for the blood spray that came from cutting Liz's head off. The hot blood hitting his face and neck was something he would never forget.
As Liz's headless body fell to the floor in a heap, John heard Punk gag and saw his body seize with the force of it. "Shit, try not to throw up before I get the gag off or you might choke on your vomit." John sprang into action. He dropped the bloody sword and picked up the knife that Liz had dropped. He untied the gag first before he starting cutting the restraints that were holding Punk to the chair.
Punk had taken the brunt of the blood spatter and he was covered in it. As soon as John cut the last rope, Punk was on his feet, but took only a few steps before collapsing to his hand and knees and then gagging.
John dropped the knife and walked over to Punk. Collapsing onto his knees beside Punk, John rubbed Punk's bare, blood-covered back. "I'm sorry. It's okay now. She can't hurt you anymore."
Punk dry heaved one more time before grabbing onto John, sending them both to the wood floor.
John noticed that Punk was cold and shaking. He was probably going into shock. Wrapping his arms around Punk, John pressed Punk's face into his shoulder, so he didn't have to see the gore around and on them anymore. "I'm sorry, Punk. I love you." John ran his hand through Punk's hair. He grimaced when he felt it was damp with blood.
Punk wrapped his arms around John and buried his face in John's strong neck. "God, when she was standing there with that knife to my neck, all I could think about was that I never got to say I love you before I died. I'm sorry I've been so stupid and stubborn, but I do love you, John. You've ruined me for anyone else."
John smiled softly to himself and sighed. He rubbed Punk's back absently. "We're going to be okay, Punk."
Epilogue
"Here's your satellite phone. Call me if you need anything, but otherwise, I'll be back in a week to pick you guys up. Enjoy your honeymoon." With that, the surly, old man started rowing back to the larger ship.
John stood next to Punk, holding his hand while they watched the man go. He let one of his fingers rub against the black ring that was wrapped around Punk's left ring finger. Punk was finally his.
"I can't believe you sent us to the island for our damn honeymoon. A little sentimental, don't you think, John?" Punk smiled teasingly over at John.
"Maybe a little sentimental, but really, I just wanted to fuck on this beach again. This time you won't walk away from me after I get done with you." John wrapped his arms around Punk's waist and pulled him into a searing kiss.
Punk broke the kiss. "Right now? We joined the mile high club on the way here. Don't you need a little more recovery time?" Punk wagged an eyebrow at him.
John smirked before biting down on one of Punk's earlobes. Trailing his hands down to Punk's ass, John grabbed handfuls and pulled Punk hard into his groin and ground his hardness against Punk's hip. "That answer your question? You should know by now that I'm always ready and willing to fuck you. You aren't going to be able to walk by the end of this week if I have my way." John whispered hotly into Punk's ear before pulling Punk's shirt over his head. John's greedy hands immediately started undoing Punk's loose jeans.
Punk stood dazed for a moment before coming back to himself. He loved it when John got this desperate for him. He couldn't help but tease him a little more. "Can we do this anywhere but the beach? The sand gets everywhere and that's not very sexy."
John pushed Punk's jeans and underwear down to his ankles and then rubbed a thumb against the scar on Punk's hip, making him gasp in pleasure. "Then it's a good thing I thought this through."
John's hands left Punk's body and Punk opened his eyes to see John digging through one of their bags. He pulled and blanket down and spread it out on the sand.
Punk knew it wouldn't completely get rid of the sand problem, but the blanket would make it infinitely better than nothing. Stepping out of his jeans and underwear, Punk waited for John to turn around before he caught his mouth in another kiss.
Frantically pulling John's shirt off, Punk felt like he couldn't get John bare fast enough. He wanted him right now and his cloths were in his way.
Once John's pants were off, John broke the kiss and pushed Punk down onto the blanket. John quickly covered Punk's body with his own and renewed their kiss. The kiss was hard and he knew both their lips were going to be swollen after they were done, but he didn't care. Punk felt so good.
John pulled Punk's lip ring into his mouth and sucked. He remembered when he use to wonder what it would feel like to do this. He didn't have to wonder anymore. Punk was his and he was Punk's.
Punk spread his legs when one of John's large hands caressed the outside of his upper thigh. Once of John's fingers pressed into his entrance and then another. Both fingers slid into him easily and pressed against his sensitive prostrate. He was still stretched and wet from their interlude in the plane's cramped bathroom.
Wrapping his thighs around John's hips, Punk was reduced to begging. "Please fuck me, John. Please."
John pulled his fingers from Punk and used the hand to guide himself to Punk's entrance, but he didn't thrust into Punk's tight heat. He wanted to hear him beg a little more.
Punk gave a strangled noise and lifted his hips, trying to get John to penetrate him, but John moved with him, keeping the tip of his hardness against Punk's entrance.
Wrapping his arms around John's wide shoulders, Punk brought his head up closer to John's and pressed a kiss against his neck. "Please, John. I need you inside me." Punk scraped his teeth along the tendon in John's neck, sending shivers through the bigger man's body.
Without any warning, John surged forward, filling Punk to the hilt in one thrust. Punk's back arched and he left out a moan before pulling John into another kiss.
The pace John set was punishing and it wasn't going to take long to get them both off at this harsh, punishing pace. Breaking the kiss, John pressed his face into Punk's sweaty neck and licked a stripe from the base all the way to his ear. "You are so fucking tight, Punk, and I already had you once today. God damn I love fucking you."
Punk moaned as each one of John powerful thrusts brushed into his prostrate. "You feel so good inside me. So big and hot. Harder!"
John growled into Punk's ear before grabbing handfuls of his ass and angling his hips up against his own, making him drive even deeper into Punk's tight heat.
It was so intense. John pressed against his prostate even harder at this angle. He wasn't going to last much longer.
Suddenly, John pulled Punk even tighter against him and then sat back on his ass. His hands traveled around to Punk's hips, lifting him and pulling him down as he thrust up into Punk's willing body.
Punk slammed his body down onto John, making the sensations even more intense. He could feel the familiar tendrils of pleasure signaling he was about to come. Wrapping his arms even tighter around John, Punk sucked on John's earlobe, making John's hands tighten on his hips. "John, I'm going to come."
John growled and moaned into Punk's neck. "Come for me, Punk. I'm right there with you."
It only took a few more thrusts before Punk was coming untouched onto his own and John's stomach. The rhythmic tightening of Punk's body around him sent John over the edge and Punk felt the rush of heat of John's come into his willing body.
They stayed quietly wrapped up in each other for a few minutes, letting themselves come down and their breathing return to normal.
John rubbed Punk's back and pressed a kiss into his sweaty neck. "I love you, Punk. Never doubt that."
Punk smiled against John's shoulder. Without a shadow of a doubt, he knows John loves him more than anyone else has ever loved him. They've been through too much for Punk to ever doubt that. He realized that when he was on his floor covered in blood and wrapped in John's safe arms. "I know, John. I love you, too."
It. Is. Finished. Thank you all for the favorites, follows and wonderful reviews. A year ago, I never thought Lost would ever surpass Ghost of You, but how wrong I was. At times, this fic was a pain in my ass, but I think it kept me from going off the deep end during this crazy year of college. Ah, it's been a ride, hasn't it?
HeartDeNijs