"I still say you're not human," Punk stated even as he held up John's phone as asked, recording John in his ridiculous outfit. He couldn't help but to grin at the sight, however. The weight belt John had on only made his waist seem smaller and his chest and shoulders seem bigger.

John didn't answer, only flashed Punk a smile and he recorded John as he achieved a dead lift on over six hundred pounds. He stopped it as soon as John let go of the weight bar and shook his head as he handed the phone over.

"Thanks," John said with another smile, messing with his phone for a moment, no doubt posting the video online.

"That still doesn't make me wish I'd done body builder training," Punk commented, sidling up close to John and re-watching it over his shoulder.

"I'm glad you didn't," John answered, looking him over. "Your shoulder feel any better?"

Punk shrugged, and created some space between them. "It's fine."

"You sure you're going to be alright for a TLC match?"

"When is anyone ever alright for a TLC match?" He was already dreading how much he was going to hurt after that match. "I am going to kick both Miz and Del Rio's asses, though."

"Well, I always knew you never lacked confidence, I guess."

"Why would I? I am the best wrestler in the world." Punk smirked at him before turning away. John followed after him, the both of them heading out of the hotel gym and towards their rooms.

"What about you? Worried about Kane yet?"

"I can take Kane." John sounded just as confident as Punk had moments before.

"I still don't get why he's pissed at you and not Mark Henry. If I was him, I'd go after the guy who injured me." He paused. "I did do that with your buddy Orton."

"Please." John held up a hand. "Can you not remind me of your cult leader faze?"

Punk shrugged. "Fine. Can I remind you of your Vanilla Ice faze?" Punk brushed off his shoulder mockingly.

"Hey, I'll have you know that I am very proud of some of the raps I pulled off then. They were awesome."

"Sure they were."

"What are you doing now anyway? You wanna go grab something to eat?"

"Sure. I'll meet you in the lobby in thirty minutes," Punk offered before he broke off from John and they went in different directions.

Xxxxxxxxx

John settled back in his hotel room, for the first time when he wasn't injured during a pay-per-view, he wasn't scheduled for a match. He understood, to an extent, why he wasn't on the card and he was still going to watch.

He'd thought about going anyway to be backstage with the guys but decided against it. It wasn't like he'd be far from the arena if something happened and something always had the potential to happen at TLC.

He was mostly concerned, of course, with the US title and WWE title matches. He was sure of Punk's abilities in the ring but TLC was a different thing altogether. It was a bit more unpredictable and he had no doubt that if Punk didn't win it, that he'd come back to the hotel in a foul mood.

John and Punk had been spending a great deal of time together. The more time they spent together, the more John liked the guy. He was a bit on the cynical side, and chronic insomnia, apparently, could make a person pretty damn irritable but he was also funny and fun to spend time with most of the time.

Of course, he shouldn't have had to worry. Punk did win his match, although it'd looked like, on several occasions that Miz and Del Rio had taken him out of it. John couldn't help but to wince every time a chair shot landed and he had no doubt that Punk would be hurting when he got back to the hotel.

Xxxxxxxxxx

The adrenaline was running way too fast for him to feel any sort of pain. Punk sat on the top of the ladder for several minutes, holding up his championship. In fact, he stayed in the ring for a while after the bell had rung.

He made it backstage and after congratulating Ryder and a brief, and somewhat surreal, conversation with Bryan, he finally made it to the locker room to take a shower and get changed. When he was dressed, his phone rang and, thinking it was probably John, he answered without even looking at the display.

"Congratulations, Phillip."

At the sound of the familiar voice, his good mood almost went sour. And at the sound of his first name. There were very, very few people that he allowed that from, that called him by his first name. There were very few people he allowed that close to him.

Somewhere in their two year relationship, they'd gotten that close but that had been before, before their last blow out.

"Don't call me that," he said immediately. "What do you want Jericho?" He wasn't using the man's real name, he wouldn't any longer. They'd passed that point months ago. It was all about respect to him and he seriously doubted Chris respected him any longer.

"I just called to congratulate you on your win, of course. Very impressive." Sarcasm rang heavily in Chris' voice and Punk could practically hear the smirk on his face.

"Sure you did. Those promos they've been playing on RAW…they yours? Is that why you've been calling me so much lately? Because you're coming back? You really think you're going to end anything?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I have no plans of coming back although if you were hoping for that-"

"I wasn't," Punk cut him off. He really wanted to believe what Chris had just said too. Chris coming back would only cause him trouble, he was sure of that. Six months ago, he would have been happy at the prospect and it would have been one of the few things that would have made him reconsider resigning with the company but now…

"Things are about to change, Phillip," Chris said, his voice turning dark and low.

"Things have already changed, Christopher. Don't call me again." He hung up before Chris could answer and pocketed his phone.

His good mood had officially dropped during the brief conversation. The adrenaline had worn off and all the aches and pains he'd acquired during his match were beginning to make themselves known.

He started out of the arena. All he really wanted to do at that moment was to find John.