This is short but I loved writing it. And I'm thinking of changing the rating on this just because of Punk's language…

An Interlude with John Cena and CM Punk

It was past one o'clock when the knock came on his hotel room door. Punk wasn't sleeping and he doubted he would be at all. He was pretty sure that most of the other guys were sleeping. He got up from the bed, abandoning the latest comic he'd been reading to answer the door. He wondered a moment if Ziggler would be stupid enough to show up at his room as he swung the door open. It wasn't Ziggler.

"Hey," John greeted before letting himself in without an invitation. He went to sit on the edge of Punk's bed. Punk raised an eyebrow, thought about protesting before he simply shrugged and closed the door. It wasn't like he'd be sleeping anyway.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, genuinely curious about why John was in his hotel room in the middle of the night.

"I figured you'd be the only one up."

"And…?"

"And…" John hesitated, chewed his lip a moment. When he spoke next, his tone had turned incredulous. "Randy asked me out."

Punk considered this a moment. "Huh." He went over to the bed, and dropped down on it as well, moving so that he was sitting against the headboard and picked up his discarded comic.

John twisted so that he could face him. "That's it?"

"Well, come on. It's not that surprising," Punk answered with a shrug.

"It's not?"

"Not with the way he's been staring at you for the past several weeks." He paused, considered his own words. "Might have been before that but that's when I first noticed."

"And you didn't tell me about it?" John asked angrily, grabbing a pillow and hitting Punk several times on his outstretched legs.

"I thought you knew," Punk said with a glare. "It's not my fault you're blind as a fucking bat."

"I'm not blind," John protested, although not strongly.

"So? Did you say yes? Are you and Randy an item now? Are you dating? Are you going to leave here and head up to his hotel room to get it on-"

"Shut up," John cut him off, scowling. Punk's tone had been mocking. "I didn't know it was supposed to be a date," he admitted after a moment.

Punk snorted. "Sure, your eyes are wide open. Seriously, now that you know…?"

"No way," John said immediately. "It's Randy Orton. The guy who kicked my father in the head. The guy who put me on the shelf for eight months."

"Thought you forgave him for all that shit. You two are friends now, right?"

"Just because we've been scheduled in tag matches doesn't mean we're best friends. And it doesn't mean I trust him. I still can't believe he asked me out in the first place."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, Ziggler practically shoved his hands down my trunks during our match," Punk offered almost idly.

John nearly choked on the air at that. "What? Dolph Ziggler?"

"No, his brother Dolby. He's not as good looking but just as forward apparently and just as cocky."

John rolled his eyes. "Funny." He paused. "Wait, you think Ziggler's good looking?"

Punk shrugged. "Sure."

"So, you and he are…?"

"Fuck no. I elbowed him in the face and told him to fuck off," Punk stated plainly, a smirk beginning to form on his lips.

"So, you don't like him?"

"I like him fine," Punk protested. "He's one of the more interesting guys backstage. Even though it does piss me off when Vickie constantly interferes in every match I have with him."

"Then why…?" He was pretty sure he'd never get Punk's screwed up thinking process.

"I could say it's because I don't do one night stands and I'm pretty sure that's what he's looking for. Or maybe it's his ego. That seems like it'd get in the way."

"This coming from the guy with the words 'Best in the World' on the back of his tee-shirts."

"And it also pisses me off when people get into my personal space without me asking first," Punk continued, ignoring John for the moment.

"I'm sure there are very few things that don't piss you off," John said a little dismissively, dropping back on Punk's bed. Punk kicked him lightly on the shoulder.

"Get up. You're not fucking sleeping here."

"Like I would. I definitely don't need rumors that we're sleeping together."

"I don't give a shit about rumors but I still don't want you in my bed."

"You're a dick. I think maybe you and Ziggler are made for each other."

"Uh huh." Punk lifted his comic again. "Say hi to Randy for me."

John let out an exasperated breath and threw the pillow he'd hit Punk with earlier at the man before he got up and left the room, wondered a moment why he bothered trying to talk to him. But there was one thing that was true. He definitely did need to do something about Randy.