A/N: Song by Paramore
Chapter 12: The Only Exception
Max really doesn't like dogs. And more than that, he doesn't like little weird looking rats that call themselves dogs and find themselves living the dog life in any level of proximity to him. But what he does like is the way that Punk relaxes a little with Larry around. Larry brings out a softness in Punk that's almost paternal, and Max has to love that. They've been sitting on the couch watching a movie (some stupid horror shit that Max thinks is complete garbage, but Punk loves), with Max curled close to Punk's side, and Larry squishing himself into the space between Punk's thigh and the arm of the couch. One of Punk's arms is wrapped around Max's chest, and the other pets Larry absentmindedly. It's like he doesn't even know he's doing it – it's just that natural to him.
When I was younger, I saw
My Daddy cry and curse at the wind
Ordinarily, Max would complain about the movie, but Punk had been really excited about getting to share it with Max, and… He can't take that away from him. Sure, it isn't Max's thing. Sure he thinks horror movies suck for the most part. But what doesn't suck? Is having someone who matters to you try to share the things that are important to them with you. So Max settles in for the movie, appreciative of the way Punk's arm drapes around him… strong and protective, but somehow gentle, too. As if he's holding something that could easily shatter. Max isn't sure how he feels about being seen that way. But he is sure that he feels good – safe – in Punk's arms at the moment.
He broke his own heart and I watched
As he tried to reassemble it.
A couple minutes into the movie, Larry's head has lolled to the side, resting against Punk's leg – and his tongue has flopped out the side of his mouth and begun a small drool spot on Punk's loose sweatpants. Punk's hands are so uncharacteristically gentle and comforting right now, and apparently Larry is feeling it, too. Max's hand has come to rest on top of Punk's arm where it crosses his chest, and while the movie goes on in the background, Max is distracted by tracing his fingers along the tattoos on Punk's arm and hand. It's only about half an hour into the movie when he feels Punk's body become heavier – hears his breathing slow down and even out. It's a rainy day in Chicago, but Punk's place is warm and comfortable, and Max is content.
And my mama swore that she would
Never let herself forget.
Once Punk has been sleeping long enough that Max isn't worried about waking him, Max takes the remote from the coffee table and pauses the movie, sitting up next to the older man on the couch. Every so softly, he presses a kiss to Punk's temple, and smirks just a little at the image of Punk and Larry, both fully knocked the hell out. He slips his phone out of his pocket to take a picture real quick, because this is just fucking cute, and he's not going to let a moment like this pass him by. He takes a couple different angles of the shot to make sure that he's gotten a couple good ones, and then he goes to the kitchen to load the dishes from their movie snacks into the dishwasher. He does his best to stay quiet as he does this, then comes back to sit down on the couch again, next to Punk.
And that was the day that I promised
I'd never sing of love if it does not exist.
He takes the other man's hand in his and softly kisses it, giving it a gentle squeeze. Even though Punk's asleep, his hand nearly instinctively returns the squeeze to Max's. It feels so good – so damn simple, but so beautifully good to Max. Just – just the knowledge that, even in his sleep, Punk returns this affection, though it may seem like a small thing overall. In a way, Max sometimes finds himself wondering if the small things are the things that truly matter. And not just doing the small things, but doing them when it's not easy.
But, darling, you are the only exception
Max is pretty sure that Punk has little to no control over squeezing his hand at the right moment to make the younger man feel good, but the thing that is still running over and over in his mind is the knowledge that Punk has not only been doing those sorts of things, but he's been maintaining control over his usually hair-trigger temper – and Max knows that hasn't been easy, in large part due to how much Max himself has been dedicated to triggering said temper. The morning before they came to Chicago, when Punk had told Max what was going on – quite openly and honestly at that – Max had been determined to make it a problem. It is so much easier to just assume the worst – to assume that anyone he has ever loved is going to leave him. It's a foregone conclusion as far as most people are concerned, and Punk's no different. Only – only this time, maybe he is?
You are the only exception
Max is terrified to trust that feeling of hope. He's just been dumped. He's not in his right frame of mind to make any long term decisions, or trust any of the emotions he's feeling – they all seem so intensely strong. The heartbreak and loss of Adam's leaving him. The shock that Punk showed up, has continued showing up. The understanding that Punk hasn't taken the easy way out with Max this time, something he has done more times than the younger man would like to think about. Punk doesn't do well with changing the way he does things. He never has, and Max is kind of used to that. But he's making the effort here, and as much as Max is terrified of what that might mean, he's also so so fucking hopeful that he has a chance of coming out of this thing without the remaining pieces of his heart shattered into dust. He doesn't want to borrow trouble from tomorrow, but he's not sure that being in the same city – let alone room – as CM Punk isn't just already a guaranteed recipe for disaster. And everything else has hurt lately anyway… He might as well go ahead and accept that everything will.
You are the only exception
Only Punk has made a concerted effort this time to show Max that it is going to go differently. That he isn't doomed to misery just for trying to love this man. It feels too good to be true. Well, aside from Cody giving Punk a concussion, and the fact that it took Max literally losing the man he thought was The One to get them to this point. The Scarlett O'Hara mindset of "I'll think about that tomorrow" has its charms, but in Max's experience? It's never been the best way to live. It just means by the time you think about the thing you should think about? It's blown up in your face and you're left picking up the pieces.
You are the only exception
Max wishes he could lie to himself, as well as he can lie to other people – most other people, anyway. But the truth is, he knows that there has to be some middle ground between ignoring every bad possibility and living as if those bad possibilities are guarantees. He doesn't know how "normal" people ever manage to find that middle ground. But right now, in this moment, despite everything that has damn near ripped him apart, Max chooses to believe, if only just for now, that this might not be just another in a long, long list of bad decisions. He chooses, in this moment, to let himself have a little hope – as a treat.
Maybe I know somewhere
Deep in my soul that love never lasts.
Punk stirs a little, peering at Max out of sleepy eyes. "What happened?"
"You fell asleep, gramps," Max says playfully, looking at Punk with a warm smile. "Like… 20 minutes in."
And we've got to find other ways
To make it alone or keep a straight face
"Why didn't you wake me up?" he asks, trying to get his bearings while trying very hard not to look like he's trying to get his bearings. Max can see right through it, but he kind of wants to let Punk have his moment of silly pride. "We were watching the movie, babe. I wanted to finish it," Punk protests.
And I've always lived like this,
Keeping a comfortable distance
Max shakes his head, turning to face Punk, and brushes the older man's hair back out of his face. It's not styled and slicked back… Max prefers it this way… It reminds him of when he'd known Punk before…When his hair was still long, and Max could run his fingers through it. Ironically, he'd tried to get Punk to let him style it once, and he only realizes now, all this time later, that the things he once tried to change in Punk were the things that ultimately, were what he loved about him. The things that he still loved about him. "We can finish it later," Max says, moving closer to Punk and kissing him gently. "I've done a lot of reading about geriatric care since we first met, and you do need your sleep."
And up until now I had sworn
To myself that I'm content with loneliness
Because none of it was ever worth the risk
Punk would ordinarily have a quick comeback to that, but Max cheated at the unspoken little game they played by making his first move when Punk was still half asleep and in no way in competition shape – least of all for a competition to string together words that managed to be sharp and funny at the same time. Right now, he's barely managing to get pretty cohesive sentences out, so, this is clearly a tactical move by Max to get the jump on him. Instead of an immediate verbal response, Punk shifts over a little, making sure to be careful of Larry, and leans incredibly close to whisper in the younger man's ear. So close, in fact, that Max can feel Punk's lips brushing against the shell of his ear… so close, Max can feel the vibration of Punk's words as a targeted tingle down his spine. "It's very, very fucking cute," he says, his tone dangerous, but not in the way that scares Max. "That you think that this old man can't still handle himself and his business."
Well, you are the only exception
Max starts to make another snide remark, but before he's even opened his mouth, Punk's caught him in a kiss. There are some things that work strangely well at shutting people up – even people as stubborn and loud as Max.
You are the only exception
Max puts his arm around Punk and pulls him in closer, returning the passion in his kiss. They shift on the couch until Max's on his back and Punk is on top of him. The younger man chuckles as he pulls back from Punk's kiss to look at him. "Are you trying to fuck so you don't have to remember words?" he teases.
You are the only exception
"No," Punk says. "I'm trying to fuck so I can show you that the old man's still got it." He smirks before giving Max another deep kiss. "I'm kissing you so I don't have to remember words… Because if I'm kissing you, you can't say anything, and I don't have to say anything."
You are the only exception
Max smirks at him and pulls him back in. He revels in the familiarity of Punk's beard brushing against his skin. In these moments, the memories of their good times come back so fast, and Max can't help clinging just that little bit tighter to Punk. He doesn't really know how to trust him –or even if he should. Past experience would indicate no. But right now, in this moment, what he needs most of all is to feel the comfort in being with someone he trusts completely, and maybe that isn't Punk – or maybe it shouldn't be.
I've got a tight grip on reality, but I can't
Let go of what's in front of me here.
But for right now? Max is content to pretend that this is forever – that the past won't repeat itself this time. If only for this moment. Breaking the kiss, he whispers in the older man's ear. "Punk?"
I know you're leaving in the morning when you wake up.
Leave me with some kind of proof it's not a dream.
"Hmmm?" Punk replies still a little sleepy from his nap, and distracted by the way he and Max have been kissing and touching each other.
You are the only exception
"I love you," Max says, unsure of himself – unsure of how Punk will take it.
You are the only exception
Punk looks at him with a sleepy smile and gives his cheek a soft pat. "I love you, too, Max," he replies.
You are the only exception
They return to their kissing in a matter of moments… until Larry decides that he's completely over the humans moving too much around him. He's small, dammit! He's not trying to be smooshed. The little dog hops down from the couch, and walks over to where one of Punk's hands is braced against the sofa. Standing up on his hind legs, he licks Punk's hand, demanding attention.
You are the only exception
Breaking the kiss, Punk starts laughing. Max doesn't catch on to why right away, but when he does, he's laughing too. "Apparently I'm not the only one here who loves you," Max says, shaking his head. "And he's a lot more demanding of attention than I am."
You are the only exception
"Bullshit," Punk replies with a smirk. "At least he understands when I tell him no. And he forgets about it a lot sooner than you do. He can't touch your pouting game." He glances up at the clock on the TV screen and groans. "I do have to feed him, though. What say I do that, then come back here and finish what we started?"
You are the only exception
Max smirks. "Sure… don't think I don't know how much that dog loves you. You probably set up a signal with him to get you out of there before you actually had to prove the old man's still got it."
You are the only exception
Punk's smirk is even more wicked than Max's when he looks back at him. "Oh, don't you worry, princess," he says, leaning over Max to kiss him one more time. "A five minute interlude is all you get. This old man takes this shit seriously. And I'll show you what I've got… If you think you can handle it."
You are the only exception
"Go feed the dog, old man," Max teases, shifting to sit up on the sofa as Punk walks away.
And I'm on my way to believing.
No… trusting Punk may not be the thing that makes the most sense. But tonight, it feels like the thing that might give Max even a moment's peace. And he'll be goddamned if he's going to let even a moment of peace pass him by.
On, and I'm on my way to believing.