Title: Make It Better
Rated: M (Mature)
Genre(s): Romance/Hurt/Comfort
Pair(s): Jericho/Phil, John/Phil, Jeff/Adam
Summary: Sequel to Please, Don't Leave Me. Chris has finally pushed Phil too far. After his actions on Raw, it seems as if there is no way for him to redeem himself in Phil's eyes. Is there any way to make it better?
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone, besides my OCs.
Warning: Slash, Possible Mpreg
Part: 11/?
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(One Week Later)
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"Shit." John hissed as Phil carefully washed the mist off of his face with a towel, and Phil could tell that he would have to flush his eyes several times before the burn went away. "Of all the wrestlers that he could have chosen, why did it have to be Lord freakin' Tensai?"
Phil shook his head. "Because he's a bastard that's abusing his power and hiding behind 'the people', that's why. Lord Tensai is out to hurt the other wrestlers. You didn't deserve that. And you did your best."
Tears budded in John's blue eyes from the constant irritation. "I just… I feel like I'll never be able to come back from my loss to the Rock. The GM won't let me." Phil took a clean towel and started to wash his face. "I hate this."
Phil smirked. "Don't we all?"
"But what about you, Phil?" John asked, watching as Phil's hands and eyes traveled down to wash the little droplets of mist that had collected on his neck and chest. "Your storyline with Chris, that is."
"Chris just made the biggest mistake of his life, thinking that he can beat me in a Chicago street fight. And honestly, until then, I really could care less if he dropped off of the face of the earth." Phil said seriously.
"He really hurt you, didn't he?" John asked, concerned.
"He lied to me." Phil looked down at the ruined towel in his hands. "He said that this was over. And then he poured beer on me."
"I'm sorry, Philly." John said.
Phil tried to shake it off. "It's not your fault. It's not like you were the one who did this to me."
John took his hand, looking at him seriously for a moment. Finally, he asked: "Phil… you remember that kiss that we had in that little café last month?"
Phil nodded, his olive eyes wide. "Yeah. What about it?"
"It didn't upset you, did it?" John asked.
Phil shook his head, confused. "Why would it upset me?"
"'Cause…" John leaned in, so close that he could smell the soap that clung to Phil's still-wet body. Phil shivered at how close they were, but made no move to move away. "…I kinda want another one."
At last, John closed the final distance between them and locked their mouths in a passionate embrace. Phil felt his heart hammer in his chest, a reaction that he had once believed only came when he was with Chris. Slowly, his olive eyes slid closed and he leaned in closer. His t-shirt clad chest was pressed to Cena's bare one, where beads of murky water still trickled down the sculpted skin. John's hands knotted in Phil's silky, sodden ebony tresses. And Phil's own arms hooked around the older man's neck and held his body close.
It felt like an eternity since he had been kissed like this. Sure, when he had showered with Chris after last week's Raw, the man had kissed his face and worshipped his body. But when was the last time that Chris had kissed him so violently, so possessively? When was the last time that he had staked his claim on the Straight-Edge Savior, marking him for everyone to see? It had to have been months now. His husband had been so different ever since he came back to the WWE, and all he wanted was some semblance of normality. This was as close as he could come.
Neither noticed the door open. The husband whom Phil had thought of so fondly not five seconds before stood on the other side of the door to Phil's locker room, confused and hurt. For one, he didn't understand why Phil would have invited John to his locker room. And the other… why was Phil kissing him so passionately? It was almost as if his life depended on it. And it reminded Chris of the way that Phil used to kiss him. Finally, Chris felt the familiar burn of tears start to irritate his eyes. He couldn't take another minute of this. So he left.
John was the first to pull back. "That was -,"
"Wonderful." Phil finished for him, a small smile on his face.
"Yeah." John nodded. "I should probably head back to my locker room and get changed so that I can go to the hotel and sleep for one hundred years. But we should get together some time. Call me so that we can set it up."
Phil nodded, the smile never faltering. "Sure. That's sounds perfect."
OOOO
Phil was walking down the abandoned halls of the backstage area at around 1:00 AM, when most of the other members of the roster had taken to the hills and run for the cover of their hotel rooms. Phil had stayed behind to call his mother. Now, more than ever, he needed her support. It would be just like the GM to make him drop his title to his own husband in his home town. Phil shook his head, absently patting his jeans pocket where the phone sat. It was dark, and he had to walk carefully to make sure that he didn't stumble and fall.
"You weren't supposed to win the damn match, Brooks!" A black mass in the darkness seethed, before two hands reached out and shoved him back into a solid structure – most likely a table.
The gym bag that had all of his wrestling gear flew across the room, forgotten. Slowly, Phil climbed up from his position on the floor, delerious with pain. He had managed to hit the area of his back that was still hurting from Henry's Power Slam several hours earlier. It was so dark that he did not see where the punches were coming from, only that there were so many that it couldn't be just one man. The wound at his lip ring burst and bloodied his face again. It burned.
Curses flew from his mouth as he was beaten down into a corner, bloodied and broken. The loud pop of a cork coming out of a bottle followed, and in his weakened state, he didn't notice the distinct scent of liquor until it was too late. All of a sudden, the cold liquid splashed on the crown of his head and splattered on the walls all around. He whimpered pathetically, kicking out to try and reach his unseen attacker, but he was unable to connect any of his blows. When the bottle was empty, the offendor smashed it on the back of his head. His vision wavered, not that he could really tell in the darkness.
Tears silently streaked down his face as a large, heavy foot made contact with his abdomen. He howled, falling on the glass and wrapping his arms around his stomach to stop the painful blows. But he was simply rolled onto his side, a foot coming to rest on his chest… and then the other. Four-hundred pounds pressed down on his chest, and he could literally feel his bones bending under the pressure. He screamed, knowing that no-one could hear him. But soon, it was a lost cause, because he had lost all of his air. He floundered, gasping. The attackers laughed.
Blood slowly oozed from the areas were the glass was now imbedded into his skin. He could feel bile rise in his throat from the sheer amount of alcohol that he wore… the stuff Chris doused him with was never this potent. Or was it from something else entirely? Weakly, he tried to buck off the man once more, but it was no use. With a soft mewl, he succumbed to the inevitable and passed out. But even then, the pressure did not let up. In fact, it spread out. One foot was now on the rib cage, and the other at the juction between Phil's neck and shoulders.
"You won't make it to Extreme Rules, Phil! Consider this your warning. Drop the title, or suffer the… unfortunate consequences." The man hissed, before he spit in Punk's face.
Seconds later, the man stepped down and the lights turned on. But the only man standing there was Chris. Chris… who had a glass beer bottle in his hand. He looked unsettled and agigtated, but when his blue eyes fell on Phil, they widened considerably and he rushed over to him. His breath smelled of liquor, but he wasn't drunk. Phil shook his head. Trying to come up with a reasonable excuse for his presence at the arena at this time of night, he found himself with more questions than answers. Had Chris been one of the ones to attack him?
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A/N: Well… here it is! I was watching Raw last night and I was soooooo scared for poor Punky. I mean, I love him and have faith in him and all, but I was sure that Mark Henry was going to kill him. So the fact that he retained his title was a pleasant surprise.
Can you name Phil's attackers? There was a big hint about one of them. :)
Please Review!