awritinglilypea | Fic: Midnight 1/1 (Punk/Lita) PG

Title: Midnight
Fandom: Wrestling
Pairing: Punk/Lita
Rating: PG
Complete: Yes.
Genre: Romance
Prompt: 01. coffee at midnight at

lita_fics. Table to be found here.
Summary: She is a weakness.
Warnings: No spoiler.

It’s bitter on her tongue, the coffee, and it’s too dark despite the three creams that she put in it along with the two sugars.

She finds herself not caring about the disgusting swill though, as she sits across from him and smiles in his direction almost shyly, because it’s been a while since they’ve seen each other and she’s not really sure what to say at this point.

Amy has always been enchanted by him, and she’s glad he doesn’t know that because he would most definitely use it against her. Not in a mean way of course, but she doesn’t need to be teased about this.

It’s his eyes, she thinks to herself often. They’re dark, almost frighteningly so and when she stares into them she expects to see something hard and bitter but she never does and it’s pretty damn wonderful.

Or it’s his lips, the way they curve upward gently in a smile when he talks to her, or the way they part just before he lifts the cup of coffee to his lips in order to take a drink.

Neither of them truly care that it’s midnight, and that it’s beyond a little weird to be drinking coffee at this hour when both of them need to get up early in the morning.

“You should be sleeping,” his voice is soft, almost melodic despite the rough tone as he speaks.

Amy smiles, shaking her head she leans across the table and kisses him softly on the lips, her fingers carefully stroking his jaw line.

Phil returns the kiss, and she’s almost surprised that he doesn’t taste of coffee and even more surprised when she’s left breathless moments later.

“Who needs sleep?” she asks, as he takes his hand in hers, their fingers sliding together and a twinge of warmth shoots through her.

“Not me,” he responds, as his insomnia and difficulties with sleeping have been well publicized and she wonders if its her fault.

Coffee at midnight doesn’t exactly help that sort of thing.

She mentions it and he shakes his head, pushing away the thought that she should worry about him.

“I can’t sleep when you’re not in my bed,” he tells her, his lips sliding over hers again and she tastes of warmth, and smells faintly of sunlight and she finds herself wanting more than just midnight encounters.

It makes her resent the wrestling world a little more, despite their mutual love for it even though she’d been scorned.

“I’ll miss you,” she tells him, her voice coming out far breathier than intended as she speaks the words.

“I know,” he acknowledges smartly, a smirk on those lips as he does so. “Two weeks from now, same time.”

“Same bat channel,” she quotes, kissing him one last time before sliding out of her seat and making her way to the door without turning back.

It’s not a conventional relationship but it’s them.

In the end that’s all that matters.