WWE Fic: Blues

[awritinglilypea]

Title: Blues

Fandom: WWE

Pairing: Colt Cabana/CM Punk

Rating: PG

Summary: Colt is feeling a little low, and in all honesty, Punk isn’t very helpful. Post-August 16^th 2008 Smackdown.

 

Punk stared at the screen, his mouth agape for a moment as he blinked, barely reacting to the match going on in the ring. Slowly he turned to Colt and a grin slipped across his face, eyes glinting with amusement in the low light of the hotel room. He couldn’t help himself, or the chuckle that bubbled up in his throat as he pointed at the screen then at Colt. He couldn’t even explain why it was so amusing to him, Colt’s debut on Smackdown.

“Shut up,” Colt snapped, flopping back on the bed he didn’t say anything more.

Taking a deep breath Punk calmed himself, still smiling as he flopped down on the bed next to his best friend. “Look, it wasn’t that bad. I mean Brian, not such a bad guy,” He commented lightly. “It was just…” He chuckled again, ‘“I’m in a box,”’ He quoted, rolling onto his side he looked at Colt, frowning when he realized that the other man wasn’t joining in on the joke.

“Hey,” Punk nudged him gently, pushing his index finger into the flesh of Colt’s stomach. “What’s going on in your head?”

Colt let out a frustrated sigh and shook his head. “Doesn’t matter,” He muttered, sitting up and grabbing the room service menu. “What do you want to eat?”

“A burger and Pepsi,” Punk spoke the same time as Colt, not shocked to have his order repeated back at him. “So tell me what the hell is going on with you? You should be happy. I mean you’re here man, not back in Florida and we’ll get to see each other more. That’s awesome.”

“Yeah,” Colt murmured before ordering the food. “It’ll be parties galore for sure,” He cracked a smile but to Punk who had known him for almost ten years it looked weak. “Maybe we can get Joe to come up and visit.”

Punk gritted his teeth, trying not to get angry. It had been a month since they’d last seen each other and he didn’t want to end up fighting him over something stupid. He took a deep breath and decided to let it go for the moment, at least until after they’d had their dinner and were full and hopefully more wound down.

“That would be cool, I could watch you two get piss drunk and it would be just like old times,” Punk grinned at him, stretching out easily on the bed. “Only this time I have a better video camera so it makes it easier for me to collect blackmail against you, and I can introduce you to some of the guys you might not have met yet, or reintroduce you…” He fell silent, seeing no enthusiasm in Colt’s gaze.

Colt nodded along with his words, standing a few moments later when room service arrived. He wheeled the cart in himself, giving the bellhop a tip he sat on the bed and pulled his tray onto it, leaving Punk’s there.

“Here’s the deal,” Punk took a deep breath; “If you tell me what’s going on I will drink a single shot.” He waited, nearly holding his breath, waiting for his best friend’s reaction.

“I wanted you to be proud,” Colt said out loud finally, not sure where these insecurities were coming from suddenly, or why it suddenly mattered so much to him to know what Punk thought. It had never been like that before. Something twisted in his stomach and he pressed his hand to it. “I know that’s stupid and you don’t have to drink a shot.” He didn’t like that thought, even though he knew Punk had been lying; something about Punk giving up his morality for him just hit him hard in the worst way.

“Good because I lied about that,” Punk smiled crookedly. “There’s nothing wrong with you wanting me to be proud of you and I am Colt, that was a funny entrance, a great and very Coltish way of entering the WWE which is great. You waited for your moment and when it was offered you took it,” He moved closer, squeezing Colt’s shoulder gently.

Colt shifted, “You’ve gotten real snippy since you became the Champ you know that,” He teased lightly, leaning into his touch.

Punk nodded, leaning forward he sealed his mouth over Colt’s before he could even think about what he was doing.

Colt jerked away, looking up at him with surprised eyes. “What’s that for?” He asked, the feeling in his stomach coiling tighter.

“Shut up Cabana, I’m having an epiphany,” Punk kissed him again on the lips, flopping back on the bed and taking Colt with him, just barely managing to not knock over their trays.

“Forgive me then, wouldn’t want to interrupt your epiphany,” Colt joked, deepening the kiss by nipping on Punk’s bottom lip. “You really are proud,” He murmured.

Punk laughed, his arms sliding around Colt’s waist. “Yes, I’m proud. Real damn proud of you Colt.” He grinned, “Now let’s get back to the kissing and pretend we’re in a box, a box where no one can see us.”

Colt couldn’t help but laugh softly as well. “Sounds good to me.”