"Eli, get dressed. We're going out." Punk yelled from the kitchen not ten feet from the bedroom door.

I groaned.

We'd been here for two days already, and I was enjoying every second of it.

Aside from the random visits from his long time friend Colt Cabana, Punk and I were alone 95% of the time.

It was awesome.

I'd been laying in his bed for almost fifteen minutes now, and refused to move.

I wanted him to come get me.

So I could drag him back under the blankets and do some naughty things to him.

But no.

I retched myself up and reluctantly pulled on a random t-shirt of Punk's that I thought might go past my ass.

Almost.

But it wasn't quiet long enough.

I was too damn lazy to change it, so I just pulled on a fresh pair of undies and opened the bedroom door.

I stared straight ahead, not quiet sure what I was looking at.

Then it clicked.

"Huh. I guess it was a good thing I put some clothes on then." I muttered and walked to the kitchen where Punk was making gravel.

Uh. I meant breakfast.

"Yeah, because it was such an inconvenience."

"Actually, Colt. It was!"

I turned around to shoot him a sarcastic smirk.

"Oh good. You're not actually cooking!"

I breathed a sigh of relief and smacked Punk on the ass.

"No smart ass. Colt brought over some frozen breakfast sandwiches." Punk said matter-of-factly.

I made some sarcastic remarks like, 'oh Colt must feel so special' and turned to sit at the table.

"Nice Eli. Batman?" Punk said, motioning to my ass.

I turned my head back to try and catch a glimpse of the backside of my underwear.

"Huh. I guess so." I muttered and sat down.

"You like it." I smirked at Punk.

He smirked back.

Oh yeah he liked it.

"Ok, so I'm going to go jump off of a bridge now..."

I heard Colt trail off from behind me.

But I just ignored him.

The microwave went beep, and Punk pulled out a steaming pile of breakfast sandwich and brought it over to me.

He placed the plate in front of me, and leaned down towards my face.

"Good morning." he muttered against my lips.

I pulled him down by his shirt to kiss him again.

"Good indeed." I muttered back, releasing his shirt.

"So Colt. What brings you to Punk's humble abode today?" I asked, starting to stuff the sandwich in my mouth.

"Well, I just came by to-"

I cut him off with a small scream.

"What the fuck?"

"I'm sorry, Asshole. It was hot!" I grumbled, taking a sip of the cold milk Punk at placed next to me.

"But please, continue with your lame story."

And so he did.

"Like I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, I stopped by to see if you guys wanted to hang out today, but Punk said you already had plans. And thank you. Thank you for stealing my best friend."

I smirked and raised my hand.

"You're welcome."

I then took a bite of the now cooled off sandwich.

"It's been a pleasure doing business with you." I said though a mouth full of muffin, egg, cheese, and Canadian bacon.

Damn those Canadians and their bacon lies.

I heard both of the guys laugh, then say their goodbyes.

In seconds the muffin sandwich was gone, and Punk and I were alone once again.

–

"So let me get this straight,"

I paused gathering my thoughts.

"Since I won't tell you what I'm wearing to Smackdown, you won't tell me where we're going. That about sum it up?" I asked, turning my head towards Punk.

We were in his car, and headed somewhere mysterious.

He nodded.

"How is that the least bit fair?"

As we stopped at one of Chicago's many traffic lights, Punk shot me a questionable look.

"Can you at least tell me how much longer? We've been in the car for like an hour!"

"Eli, it's been barely ten minutes! Wow, you are impatient!" he laughed.

I just stuck out my tongue.

"But seriously, how much longer?" I grumbled.

"We'll be there in like ten minutes. Calm down."

And at that Punk continued driving and the car ride went by relatively quiet.

That is until the radio station that we were listening to played our jam.

"Oh god no."

Ok.

So it was my jam.

I instantly turned up the volume as high as I could stand it, then turned to Punk.

"If there's something strange in your neighborhood, who you gunna call?"

I sang into my fist, pretending it was a microphone.

I shifted it towards Punk to have him finish the line.

He didn't.

"If there's something weird and it don't look good, who you gunna call?"

And again I shifted my fist towards Punk.

And again nothing.

"I ain't afraid of no ghosts!"

"Jeeze. This is going to be a long day."

I heard him mutter, but I kept on singing my tone deaf rendition of the Ghostbusters theme.