December 6, 2011

Punk awoke to a numb feeling in his hand. He tried to pull it toward him but it wouldn't move. He looked up to find John looking at him with a stern expression, holding a bag of ice on his hand.

"You can really be a dumbass sometimes," John said with only a slight inflection of humor in his tone.

"I thought it might be better in the morning."

John removed the ice and gingerly lifted Punk's had so he could take a good look at it.

"Does it look any better?"

"Well…"

"Well, what?"

"It actually looks worse."

"Get up, get your clothes on, we're going to the hospital to get this checked out."

"Do I have to?"

"Yes you damn well have to. I may be your competition from time to time but first and foremost I'm your boyfriend and you don't have to be sneaky and try to hide things like this from me. We're going to the hospital and that's final."

Punk and John arrived at the ER and after an interminable wait Punk finally got his hand x-rayed. When the doc put the x-rays up on the board Punk burst out laughing and the doc looked at him like he had gone insane.

"Your hand has a small fracture. It's small enough that we don't need to cast it. Just keep it wrapped up and it'll be as good as new in a few weeks. The swelling should go down in a few days. I can prescribe you some painkillers."

"No thanks, but I'm a professional wrestler, can I wrestle with it like this?"

"It will be painful if you fall on it."

"But I can't damage it anymore than it already is…"

"No. Are you sure you don't want some painkillers?"

"Positive. Can I get copies of the x-rays to show the trainer so that he'll clear me to compete?"

"No problem. Just go back to the waiting room and someone will bring them out to you."

Punk went back to the waiting room where John was waiting.

"Well?"

"It's just a small fracture. They're not even going to cast it. It'll be better in a few weeks."

"But TLC is in two weeks!"

"I can fight through the pain; we've all done it before."

They waited until a nurse brought the x-ray films out. Punk thumbed through the films until he found the one he was looking for.

"Check this out!"

"The hell! Were you and the doctor playing shadow puppets in there or something?"

"I was going to try to hide the injury but this is too hilarious not to post on twitter."

"Go ahead and amuse your followers at my expense."

The film showed Punk's thumb and forefinger touching and the other three fingers spread out. It was an exact replica of the sign John threw up when he entered the ring.

December 10, 2011

Punk was lucky that there was only one house show before Raw on Monday so he had time to rest his hand. The other hand had been busy enough though with autograph signings and appearances for the last four days. John had been constantly mothering him which should have annoyed him to no end but for some reason it just gave him a warm feeling inside which was definitely not in the CM Punk range of acceptable emotions.

The second they had reached the locker room John had run off, leaving Punk to get ready for his match against del Rio, wrapping his hand up with gauze over the bandage. He doubted that del Rio followed his twitter posts and maybe he hadn't gotten wind of his relatively minor injury.

John returned to the locker room looking very self-satisfied.

"I just go out of my match and into yours."

"What!"

"I can keep del Rio off you for some of the time so your injury doesn't get any more aggravated than it has to."

"Okay, I didn't mind you Florence Nightingale-ing me but this is really one step too far. I can take del Rio all on my own."

"I'm just trying to help."

"By making me feel helpless?"

"I really thought you would be okay with this."

"Well I'm not. Don't expect me to take a backseat to you in the ring so it looks like you're fighting my battles for me which I am more than capable of handling on my own."

If John was expecting Punk to let John lead the charge in the match he quickly found out he was extremely mistaken. Del Rio was pinned by Punk after a GTS in the shortest match the two men had ever had. Punk was in a fiery mood as John learned very early in the match.

"Well, you turned out to be completely unhelpful in the ring."

"No joke. That was probably because you kicked me in the head, threw me outside the ring and the proceeded to suicide dive me sending me barreling in the barricade."

"You're not hurt are you?"

"No, but I'm going to have one hell of a headache."

"I hope that kick to the head knocked some sense into you."

"Consider the message delivered but you have to know that if something like this occurs again I'll probably do the exact same thing."

"What the hell am I going to do with you?"

"Take me back to the hotel and teach me a lesson?"

December 12, 2011

Monday Night Raw

John practically had to drag Punk by the hair to get him into the Norfolk Scope. Punk couldn't think of anything more boring than having to sit through three hours of an awards show. It was all a little too red carpet for his tastes. At least he was scheduled for a match, teaming with Randy against Miz and del Rio. John had pulled a definite low card in having to deal with Mark Henry in the main event. The only thing that was going to save this night was the annual Slammy Awards Sports Book that turned the backstage area into pure chaos. The monitor bay became something that resembled a back alley dice game. The Sammy's were for the fans because the only gold that anyone cared about in the back was what could be worn around your waist.

Although gambling was a major straight edge no-no, Punk allowed this lapse each year because it was all for fun, the bets never exceeding a dollar or two, and no one was going to get their legs broken if they failed to pay up. It turned a mind-numbingly boring evening into something that at least passed the three hours that usually showcased as little wrestling as possible. If the winner of an award was indeed present in the room when the award was announced they were the victim of a avalanche of dollar bills being thrown at them and calls of "making it rain" being yelled by the crowd. Punk found this part of the tradition especially hilarious considering that if they took away the violence from their workplace it would closely resemble a strip club considering their uniform required them to compete barely clothed.

He was pretty positive he had Pipe bomb of the Year in the bag, who the hell else would they give the Slammy to when he had coined the phrase personally. He had slipped a backstage tech $500 to set something up for him and when he tried to pay the guys in the production truck they wouldn't take his money, happy enough to do what he asked for free.

The show began and the wild ruckus ensued. He was sitting next to Randy, making bets while discussing their match later in the show. John was on his other side caught up in the amusing distraction that was the yearly tradition. He turned to smile at John but he was looking over his shoulder like he could kill someone with a mere glance. A set of hands wrapped around his head, the hands covering his eyes.

"Hey you," was whispered into his ear and then he felt a kiss on his cheek. He removed the hands blocking his vision and then desperately wished he could put them back. Anything to not see John looking like he was seconds away from strangling someone.

"Lita, hey, how have you been?" Punk asked, very uncomfortable with the situation he found himself in.

"Better now that I get to see my favorite Straight Edge Superstar," Lita said sultrily, taking a seat in Punk's lap and wrapping her hands around his neck. He saw John jump up and stalk out of the room. Punk pulled Lita's arms from around him and moved Lita to the seat next to him.

"Randy, would you mind…"

"Hell yes I mind. That's all on you Straight Edge Superstar," Randy responded, laughing so hard that he almost fell out of his chair.

"I'm glad you find this so hilarious, see if I have your back in the ring tonight."

"What's…" but Lita was cut off by a shout from across the room.

"Punk, they're doing Pipe bomb of the Year!" Zack yelled from the center of the gambling fray.

"That's my cue. See you later Lita…you too backstabbing traitor," the latter directed at his tag team partner for the night.

Punk hurried to the arena entrance, hoping like hell that no one was following him. The production tech in the gorilla position nodded at him, "I'm pretty sure this one is all you, I'm cueing up your music…" but whatever the tech was going to say was cut off when he looked over Punk's shoulder with a highly confused look on his face. Punk was afraid to turn around.

"Punk, I've got your…thing," the backstage tech handing him a mannequin wearing a "Dynamic Dudes" t-shirt and a crazy blonde wig.

"It's perfect. Good job!"

"I don't think you paid me enough, the rest of the guys were looking at me like I've lost my mind."

Punk's response was cut off when Jesse James announced him as the winner. Punk walked out into the arena, toting the half-dressed mannequin with him, Road Dogg handing him the Slammy and walking off cracking up laughing.

Punk began talking in a serious tone about recognizing someone from the back whose achievements have gone unnoticed. Punk continued in the same tone, beginning the litany of insults that could only describe John Laurinaitis. Punk gestured to the big screen where the video that the production guys had made up began playing, with cheesy 80's music as a soundtrack. As Punk watched the video he tried hard not to laugh his ass off, those guys in the truck must really hate Laurinaitis to put something like this together.

He was still chuckling when the video ended, "Well unfortunately Johnny couldn't be here to accept this award, he's watching Point Break in the back wishing he was Patrick Swayze. So I graciously accept this award on his behalf and say this just as he would," and then with his best Laurinaitis impersonation, "You like me, you really like me!" and Punk left the stage with his mannequin and Slammy in tow.

Punk returned backstage and was surprised to see Hunter standing just beyond the entrance.

"Hey, what are you doing here?"

"Well, I'm definitely not here to make an ass out of myself on worldwide television."

"Come on, that was hilarious, and who are you to talk with your obsession with dressing up midgets as your competition."

"Point taken. I'm here to collect my Slammy award of course."

"How do you know you're going to win?"

"This isn't the Oscars. The results weren't sitting in a bank vault somewhere. Have I been gone so long you've forgotten who my wife is?"

"Point taken. Go get your Slammy and while you're at it put the fear of God into Nash."

"That motherfucker doesn't need to fear God, he needs to fear me."

"Right, well, you go do that. Me and my friend here are going back to the monitor bay."

Punk was halfway back to the bay when he felt himself jerked into a room. John locked the door and then pinned Punk's shoulders to the door the mannequin and Slammy clattering to the floor.

"What the fuck was that!"

"The thing with the mannequin…" Punk said warily.

"You're not blonde so stop acting like one. You know damn well that I'm talking about that slut draping herself all over you."

"You know she's one of my ex's and I didn't invite that…"

"You invite that all the time with your pretty thighs and your pert ass," John said darkly, spinning Punk around until his front was pressed against the door. "You should remember that all those things belong to me, maybe you need something to remind you of that."

Punk felt his shorts and his trunks being pulled down to his ankles, his legs being forced as far apart as they would go constrained by his clothing. He heard John's clothes hit the floor behind him and then John's body was pressing him against the door, his already hard cock pressing into the small of his back. John's grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head to one side and biting down viciously on the spot below his ear that always made him crazy with want.

"John, please…"

"Oh, there's begging now, I think you can do better than that," and John slammed into him, thrusting viciously without any preparation whatsoever. It had been a while since John was so rough with him and Punk found that he was fucking gagging for it.

"Please, John please, fuck me…"

John continued to pound into him and Punk couldn't help but moan John's name over and over again.

"You moan like a whore, is that what you are?"

"Your…whore…"

"Yes you fucking are," and John started thrusting faster, his fingers clutching Punk's hips and digging in with bruising force. John began thrusting erratically, coming deep inside Punk. John spun Punk around to face him, gripping Punk by his hair and kissing him fiercely, eventually pulling away with one last bite. John's hand slid up Punk's leg, running his fingers through the come that was sliding down Punk's thigh. He brought his hand up to Punk's mouth, coating his lower lip with the wetness.

"You know what this means? It means you belong to me."

Punk sucked his lower lip into his mouth and nodded vigorously. His cock was hard and aching, trapped between their bodies. He couldn't control his hips as he rocked against John, his cock rubbing against John's abs, desperate for any sort of friction. John's hands gripped his hips, stilling the motion.

"Do you really think…"

"John, please, please touch me," Punk whimpered.

"Seeing you so wrecked, your mouth swollen, your eyes glazed over, your hair completely wild, I just can't help myself," John said, his hand slipping between their bodies, gripping Punk's cock firmly, Punk coming between them after a few rough strokes.

John stepped back from Punk's body, but Punk threw himself at John, wrapping his arms around his neck and kissing him furiously. John leaned his head back out of Punk's range.

"We have matches…"

"We'll forfeit."

"Superstar of the Year…"

"They can keep it."

John seemed to have run out of arguments and dove back in, kissing Punk ardently.

"Punk! Where the hell are you!"

"Fucking Randy," Punk said miserably, his head banging against the door.

"We'll continue this later…" John said heatedly. "Randy, give us a second."

"Oh Jesus Christ," they heard Randy curse on the other side of the door.

John quickly cleaned themselves off with his shirt; both men reluctantly pulling their clothes back on and opened the door.

"Great, now he's going to be fucking useless in the ring now," Randy said, shaking his head and rolling his eyes at the sight before him.

"I'll be fine," Punk said, slicking his hair back into place. Punk quickly pecked a now shirtless John on the lips, leaving his Slammy in John's posession and followed Randy to the arena entrance.

When they got there Christian was out presenting the "Game Changer of the Year" award and announced that the winner was the Rock challenging John to a match at WrestleMania. Seconds later John rushed past them, pulling a fresh t-shirt over his head.

Punk and Randy watched as John mocked the Rock in his politest boy scout tone, "What? What do you mean he's not here? He said he would never leave, he said he was back, wait, get Brian his assistant, he's backstage. He's not backstage? I don't believe you. Wait, my mistake. There are many times when the Rock is busy so he sends us messages via satellite. We don't have a clip? I apologize on behalf of Team Bring It for not bringing it."

John returned from the stage with the award dangling in his hand but his eyes were on Punk's.

"Jesus John, can you stop eyefucking him for a minute; we actually have a match that we have to go out there and win!"

John just smiled, his dimples popping, and walked away.

When Punk and Randy entered the arena they acted wary of each other because as far as the audience went, it wasn't that long ago since they were trying to beat the hell out of each other. Miz and del Rio were constantly double-teaming Randy, keeping him down on their side of the ring. Randy eventually tagged Punk in with him lighting up both del Rio and Miz until he too was double-teamed and found himself in the same position that Randy had been in. He needed to tag Randy in but watched as Randy was attacked my Barrett and his match suddenly became a handicap match. Miz took advantage of Punk in his beat down state and pinned him after a Skull Crushing Finale.

Punk tried to get up but Miz and del Rio continued to beat him down long after the bell hand rung. He saw them bringing a ladder into the ring and he knew he was in trouble. The proceeded to brutally attack him with the ladder. Punk eventually made his way backstage and found the trainer waiting for him. He was going to be checked out whether he wanted to be or not. Punk felt like he had been in the training room for hours, every bit of him being checked over.

He eventually walked back into the locker room to find everyone silent, staring at John.

"Okay, what the hell did I miss?"

"Kane's back," John said, obviously leaving something out.

"And…"

"He choke slammed me," John said, trailing off at the end.

"Aw, hell…"