A/N: I don't own anyone!

A/N: This is my first time writing from Matt's POV, so it may be a little less smooth than the Michelle/Punk style.

Gravity

A Team Adorkable short fic

Chapter Two: Matt's Problem

I wish we'd thought to say no to dinner with Punk and Serena. Michelle seems happy, though, as we sit in the booth across from the two of them, rehashing the match. "I can't believe you kissed me," Serena says, shoving her boyfriend.

Punk chuckles, but he looks embarrassed. "Sorry, Raindrop. It was a spur of the moment thing." He turns to me. "You're pretty quiet tonight, Matt."

"Just thinking," I say, my fingers toying with the glass in front of me. Now that we're away from work, I don't want to keep up the façade, but I don't have much choice with the Straightedgers sitting across from me. Truth be told, I'd rather be back at the hotel, alone. I'm not even sure I want Michelle's company right now.

As though she can hear my thoughts, Michelle drapes an arm over me and leans close. "You okay?"

"Fine," I mutter, trying to smile. She gives me a look like she doesn't believe me, but she lets the subject drop.

"Creative is going to kill you, Cuddle Monkey," she says to Punk. "Mark my words."

^%^

Michelle waits until we're in the car, alone, before she confronts me again. "What's going on with you, Matt?" she asks. "You're been weird all night."

I sigh. I know I said earlier that I wanted to talk, but now that the time's here, I'm not so sure how to say it. "I'm not happy, Michelle."

Instantly, she's on guard. "What, with us?"

"No, it's not that. It's work."

"But we're finally getting our Team Adorkable storyline, and we're working with the new SES. It's like a dream come true."

"For you, maybe," I say, "but I want more than that. This storyline's fine, but it's not getting me anywhere that a good feud would."

"Oh. This is about McIntyre again." She sits back in the seat, arms folded, and glares at me. "Listen, Matt, that was a mess and I don't think you should do it again. You should be happy that we're getting to work together."

"I should be," I admit. "But you've held the highest championship in your division, and I haven't. It's not because I'm not good enough- we both know that. It's because someone at the top has something against me."

Michelle sighs. "You know what? I'm tired. Maybe we should just go back to the hotel and go to our rooms."

"We're booked in together," I say.

"Well, I'm sure Serena wouldn't mind me crashing with her tonight." I don't feel any better for having made her mad. When we reach the hotel, she says, "I'm worried about you, Matt. I can see how this could cause problems for us somewhere down the road. I understand what you're saying, but sometimes it should just be enough to be happy with what you've got for the moment."

"You don't believe that," I say.

She gives me a long look. "Yeah, I do." She slides from the car, then turns back. "I'll be by to pick some stuff up later. Think about what I said, huh?"

"Sure," I say, but I know that she's not right. She's not going to change my mind.

%^%

I spend most of the evening alone, laying on the bed and staring at the ceiling. It's not helpful, as the longer I do it, the more I know I'm right. Be happy with what I've got? How, when the one thing I've always wanted the most is still eluding me? Michelle doesn't understand. None of them do. They didn't grow up with a dream of being a WWE champion. Most of them just sort of lucked into the business. And then there's Drew…

I hate thinking about him. I hate thinking about how he's had all these chances and he hasn't even been in the company a year. I've spend most of my adult life, bleeding and sweating for this company, and along comes a man with a Scottish accent and they start handing him things? Michelle keeps telling me not to worry about it, that work ethic pays off eventually, Christian and I are proof that that isn't always true. Even Jeff held the title and as much as I love my brother, his work ethic often leaves something to be desired.

Deep into these thoughts, there's a knock on the door. I open it to find Punk outside. "Your girlfriend kicked me out of my room," he grumbles. "She wanted to have girl time with Serena. So what are you doing?"

"Nothing. Just thinking."

"That's bound to get you into trouble," says Punk good naturedly. "Come on. Let's go for a Pepsi or something."

I sigh. "Sorry, Punk, but…"

"You've been really mopey, Hardy," he says, his eyes narrowing. "You're not thinking of calling things off with Michelle, are you?"

"No! That's the furthest thing from my mind," I tell him. "I'm fine."

"Yeah. Sure." Punk smirks. "Look, don't be an idiot. I can see you're not fine. So what's bothering you?"

"Did Michelle send you to ask?"

"No. But she's in a mood, and she seems angry at everyone with a Y chromosome, so I figured you must have said something stupid."

He's not going to leave me alone. That much is obvious. I sigh. "Let me grab my wallet."

Punk shrugs. "Sounds good."

We're silent in the elevator and out to the car. Mine's closer, but he heads for his. "Are we riding together?"

"That depends," Punk says. "Are you going to tick me off enough that I want you to walk home?"

"I wasn't planning on it," I say.

"Then we should ride together. I saw a place about a block from here that looked promising."

I shrug and get into the car. "Sorry you're getting dragged into the middle of this, Punk."

"You and me both." He pulls the car into the parking lot of a little diner. A Pepsi sign is flashing in the window. The waitress takes one look at us, then raises her eyebrows. I try to think about how we must look to her. Huge guys, one covered in tattoos. I don't blame her for the look.

"Two?" she asks finally.

"Please," Punk says. "And if you could find us something out of the way, that would be good."

She looks even more startled by that. I have this insane urge to put my arm around Punk and call him "honey" just to see the look on her face, but I somehow manage to refrain. Mostly because Punk's already irritated with me, and adding fuel to the rumor mill won't help anyone. Instead, we follow our waitress to the table and settle in. She takes our drink orders, then leaves us alone. "I think she thinks we're together," I say.

Punk shrugs it off. "So long as she's not on Twitter," he mutters. Then, his attention shifts back to me. "What happened tonight between you and Michelle?"

I sigh. "I told her I wasn't happy with the way things are going at work. That I want the title, and this new storyline isn't going to lead there."

Punk sits back and stares at me. "You're the one that pushed for Team Adorkable," he says.

"I know."

"And you picked the crappiest entrance music ever."

"Hey!" I shake my head. "Forget it. It's not my fault that you have no taste in music."

"I think you've got that backwards." He sighs. "But honestly, Matt. You say something like that to her, how do you expect Michelle to react? She's hurt that your singles career means more to you than she does."

"It doesn't!" I say. "I can't believe you'd think that."

"I didn't say I did," Punk says. "But she said something to Serena about it before I left tonight. She said you'd rather be on your own, which I thought meant you were being an idiot concerning your relationship. I can see now that it goes deeper than that."

"It's just work, Punk."

"And work is your life," Punk says. "Just like it's mine, or Michelle's or Serena's. If you're not happy with the way you're being treated in the company, then you're not in a good place. There are only so many choices in this situation. Swallow your resentment and make it work, and hope that it doesn't destroy you, or mutiny. And somehow, if it's coming up, I don't think you're going to swallow the resentment."

"I have been for months," I say with a sigh. "And it's just not working anymore."

Punk meets my gaze. "Then if it's to be mutiny, the best thing you can do is play out the rest of this storyline and give the rest of us time to steer clear before you self destruct. You're my friend, Matt, but I'm not going to let you drag me down with you. And I'm sure as hell not going to stand by while you do it to Michelle."

I want to yell at him, tell him he's being stupid. Instead, I bite my tongue because the waitress is back with our drinks. "Yeah. Okay. You win, Punk."

"I don't want to win," Punk says, picking up the glass and taking a sip. "I want to make sure that no one gets hurt in the backlash of whatever you're going to do."

"I'm not going to do anything yet."

"Good." He nods. "You've probably got a month before they resolve the storyline. Use that time to figure out what it is you really want."

"I know what I want. I've always known. I want the title belt."

"More than you want Michelle?"

I sit back, frowning. I hadn't considered that it might be an either or. "I don't know."

"Then you need to find out," he tells me. "One month, Matt. Use it to figure out what you really want, and then you can go from there."