Wrestling Fic: For Now 1/1 (Lita/Punk) PG
Jun. 13th, 2010 07:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
awritinglilypeaTitle: For Now
Fandom: Wrestling
Pairing: Punk/Lita
Rating: PG
Complete: Yes.
Genre: Fluff, romance.
Summary: She's trying to run from him, but the fire gets them both.
Warnings: Just fluff, slightly melancholy fluff.
There are moments, times really when Lita fantasizes about strangling CM Punk.
It’s harsh and she knows this, but when it comes down to it he can be really fucking annoying and when she finally gets to meet his mother she apologizes for what a horrible child he must have been not surprised when the woman only laughs and claims innocence on her son’s part.
He is fucking maddening, insanely fucking maddening and if he weren’t so gorgeous she probably wouldn’t have a problem with it but she has always liked guys who were assholes.
When he steals her last peanut butter cup on his way past her table in catering she feels like kicking him.
When he nudges her, almost knocking her over as she’s trying to finish lacing up one boot in the hallway she really wants to trip him up and watch him fall on his face.
When he laughs at her, covered in mud after she got shoved into the pit from an earlier match during her match she wraps her arms around him and gets him covered in it too because as far as she’s concerned he deserves it. She doesn’t expect the feeling of electricity which shoots through her when he returns the hug, laughing in her ear instead of getting angry.
When he congratulates her on winning the Women’s Championship belt again by handing her a package of peanut butter cups she doesn’t know what to say because he’s not being an asshole.
When she comes out of the small plane bathroom to find him in her seat she frowns because she doesn’t want to sit next to Adam.
“That’s my seat,” she tells him, crossing her arms over to her chest and annoyed because his eyes don’t drift from hers down to her breasts like every other asshole’s.
“I don’t see your name on it,” his voice is filled with taunting and she just wants him to shut up.
Lita barely has a moment to think before sits on him, garnering attention from the flight attendant who immediately comes over and asks them to please calm themselves and for Punk to please return to his seat she smirks.
The smile he shoots back at her causes a frisson of heat to travel down her spine and she pushes any dirty thoughts she might have about him away.
When she hears his dog died she finds herself seeking him out because she knows how horrible such a loss can be.
He looks at her and manages a half smile and she wraps her eyes around him and murmurs her apologies to him before she leaves him, squeezing his shoulder gently on her way out.
She doesn’t want to leave him in his sadness, the thought occurs to her as she’s about to leave the room and her footsteps falter before she raises her head and walks away quickly.
She can’t afford to get drawn in by him.
When a black rose is pinned to her hotel room door with only words of thanks on it she finds her cheeks turn as red as the rose most likely was before being dyed. A throat clearing makes her whirl around and she’s face to face with him and any words she wants to say get caught in her throat.
He kisses her, and she doesn’t know what to do, but it’s a quick slide of his lips against hers and she’s mewling and melting into him, her fingers gripping his T-shirt.
She might regret this, this fire which threatens to burn them both in the worst possible way but at least she’ll get something good out of it in the meantime.
And for now that’s good enough for her.
Fandom: Wrestling
Pairing: Punk/Lita
Rating: PG
Complete: Yes.
Genre: Fluff, romance.
Summary: She's trying to run from him, but the fire gets them both.
Warnings: Just fluff, slightly melancholy fluff.
There are moments, times really when Lita fantasizes about strangling CM Punk.
It’s harsh and she knows this, but when it comes down to it he can be really fucking annoying and when she finally gets to meet his mother she apologizes for what a horrible child he must have been not surprised when the woman only laughs and claims innocence on her son’s part.
He is fucking maddening, insanely fucking maddening and if he weren’t so gorgeous she probably wouldn’t have a problem with it but she has always liked guys who were assholes.
When he steals her last peanut butter cup on his way past her table in catering she feels like kicking him.
When he nudges her, almost knocking her over as she’s trying to finish lacing up one boot in the hallway she really wants to trip him up and watch him fall on his face.
When he laughs at her, covered in mud after she got shoved into the pit from an earlier match during her match she wraps her arms around him and gets him covered in it too because as far as she’s concerned he deserves it. She doesn’t expect the feeling of electricity which shoots through her when he returns the hug, laughing in her ear instead of getting angry.
When he congratulates her on winning the Women’s Championship belt again by handing her a package of peanut butter cups she doesn’t know what to say because he’s not being an asshole.
When she comes out of the small plane bathroom to find him in her seat she frowns because she doesn’t want to sit next to Adam.
“That’s my seat,” she tells him, crossing her arms over to her chest and annoyed because his eyes don’t drift from hers down to her breasts like every other asshole’s.
“I don’t see your name on it,” his voice is filled with taunting and she just wants him to shut up.
Lita barely has a moment to think before sits on him, garnering attention from the flight attendant who immediately comes over and asks them to please calm themselves and for Punk to please return to his seat she smirks.
The smile he shoots back at her causes a frisson of heat to travel down her spine and she pushes any dirty thoughts she might have about him away.
When she hears his dog died she finds herself seeking him out because she knows how horrible such a loss can be.
He looks at her and manages a half smile and she wraps her eyes around him and murmurs her apologies to him before she leaves him, squeezing his shoulder gently on her way out.
She doesn’t want to leave him in his sadness, the thought occurs to her as she’s about to leave the room and her footsteps falter before she raises her head and walks away quickly.
She can’t afford to get drawn in by him.
When a black rose is pinned to her hotel room door with only words of thanks on it she finds her cheeks turn as red as the rose most likely was before being dyed. A throat clearing makes her whirl around and she’s face to face with him and any words she wants to say get caught in her throat.
He kisses her, and she doesn’t know what to do, but it’s a quick slide of his lips against hers and she’s mewling and melting into him, her fingers gripping his T-shirt.
She might regret this, this fire which threatens to burn them both in the worst possible way but at least she’ll get something good out of it in the meantime.
And for now that’s good enough for her.
