New Fic
Story Title: School
Story Type: Slash, AU
Characters: CM Punk, Colt Cabana, Jimmy Jacobs, Traci Brooks, John Cena, Allison Danger, Chris Hero, Alex Shelley, Chris Sabin
Pairings: Punk/Colt
Rating: PG-13/NC-17
Series:
Disclaimer: Not mine; not now and not back then, either. It pains me, but they belong to themselves, WWE and, of course, each other. Everyone else belongs to their various promotions, etc.
Warnings: Slash, language, AU
A/N: OK, so me and the awesomely cool burgandybaby were talking, during one of our many daily SCS perving convos, about the boys when they were younger. It seemed to us, that despite the differences between them -a poor, pissed off, punk rock straight edger with an attitude and a cheerful, well off Jewish kid whose always smiling- they would find each other. And their mutual love of wrestling would help them to realize that under the obvious differences, they are the same person. Their bff link would kick in then, and lead to their other obvious relationship. You can read burgandybaby's contribution for this AU in her fic journal, here.
A/N2: Just a quick thing to let you guys know I've never written Traci Brooks or Allison Danger before, so if they come off as OOC, I apologize. And, yeah, Jimmy is here -mostly for Punk and Alex to use as a punching bag. It's what usually happens to him in my fics, the muses don't like good ol' Jimmy that much and I don't either, so this is what ends up happening when he insists on making an appearance. I never figured on doing a high school AU, but hopefully this doesn't suck too bad.
A/N3: This is dedicated to my fellow #OSCSD sufferer, burgandybaby. I may have started the #OSCSD, but you're no slouch at it, either, lol. And you've taken my love of Punk and shifted it into overdrive. And it's cool to talk to someone who understands my obsessive streak, lmao. Hope you like this, chica. Hope everyone else enjoys it, too, and please leave feedback, peeps. I want to know what you guys think -and if I should bother writing more of this, lol.
Punk walked into study hall and immediately went for the table in the back of the room; study was the only class he had without any of his friends in it. Hell, even having Jimmy in here would at least give him someone to beat on. Instead, he was stuck with a bunch of jocks and cheerleaders.
He smirked to himself at the look Traci threw him; he figured it would only be a day or two before she was begging him to fuck her again. Punk had no delusions about how good he was when it came to sex -he knew when it came to Traci, being with someone who didn't belong with her group of friends was what got her off.
Not that that stopped her from sleeping with football players -and almost anyone else she came across. Punk figured it was a good thing he didn't really believe in monogamy or he'd be pissed about it.
He settled into a chair and pulled out a battered notebook, completely dismissing Traci from his mind. He might not be able to draw as well as Alex did -not that he would ever admit that to Shelley's face- but he could get his point across well enough.
He spent the next few minutes detailing the ring gear he wanted when he started wrestling full time, completely absorbed in his drawing until he sensed someone coming over by him.
Punk glanced up when someone stopped by his table. An automatic sneer crossed his face when he realized it was one of the jocks.
“Hey, I'm Scott,” the jock told him, grinning. Punk rolled his eyes but before he could say anything, the other teenager turned to answer one of the cheerleaders that called out to him.
Colton, Punk thought to himself with familiar disdain when he saw the back of his jersey. That just sounds like a rich asshole's name.
“What do you want, Colton?” Punk asked, not bothering to look back at him.
“We're supposed to be working on that project together for dickhead,” Scott reminded him, referring to their history teacher. “I just wanted to know if I should meet you at your house or if you wanted to come to mine, or whatever.”
“Look, Colt, I know you're new, so let me fill you in on a couple things: one, I hate everyone, so stay the fuck away from me. Two, I'm too stupid to know anything to help you with that jack off's project. Just tell him you did all the work by yourself, and he won't make you share the grade.”
Punk looked up at Scott - Not Scott, he thought with amusement, he doesn't look like a Scott; he looks like a Colt- to see if his words had the desired effect; namely making him leave him the hell alone.
But the grin hadn't faded and he was looking at Punk thoughtfully.
“I don't believe that,” Scott told him, his head tilted to the side. “I think you just act like it so people will leave you alone.”
Punk stared at him, completely speechless for the first time in years. He scoffed but it seemed weak to him, and his mind was blank for a come back.
“Hey, I gotta go,” Scott went on, a note of regret in his voice as the bell rang. “If you feel like waiting around, I get done with practice at four; we can talk about the project then.”
With that, he turned around and left, leaving Punk gaping after him. It took Punk a minute to get his head back together and dump his notebook into his book bag before he left the room, his trademark sneer on his face.
But his thoughts lingered on Scott Colton for the rest of the morning; no matter how hard he tried to get rid of them.
“Dude, what are you doing talking to him?” John asked, looking over at Scott.
“We've got a history project together,” Scott answered absently, his thoughts still on the other teenager. “What's his deal?”
“Brooks? He's an asshole,” John scoffed as they made their way to chem lab. “Keeps to himself mostly; he's only got a couple friends. No wonder with that fucken attitude of his -there's a reason everyone calls him 'Punk'.”
“Brooks, huh? He related to Traci?” Scott asked as they walked into the classroom.
“Hell, no,” John said, lowering his voice as they sat down. “Don't suggest it to Traci, either -she bitch slapped some girl who asked her that last year. I see her point, though. I mean, look at her and then look at him. Someone that fucken fine is not related to that little dickhead.”
The conversation stopped after that but instead of concentrating on the lecture, Scott found himself thinking about the other boy's dark green eyes and black hair.
Punk slid into his usual spot at lunch, in the far corner of the cafeteria, at the end of the bench. Instead of eating, he pulled out a copy of PWI to look at.
“Hey, Punk,” Jimmy said as he sat down next to him. Punk rolled his eyes; why the hell Jimmy kept sitting with them was beyond him -especially since Alex, and sometimes himself, used the kid like a punching bag. “How come you're not eating?”
“Not hungry,” Punk grunted, not bothering to look up. It was really more of a case of not having the money, but there was no way in hell he was going to tell Jimmy that.
It was quiet for a minute, but at the sound of a muted thud and Jimmy's startled “Ow!”, Punk looked over his shoulder, not surprised to see Alex standing behind Jimmy with a pissed off look on his face and Jimmy rubbing the back of his head.
“What the fuck do you think you're doing?” Alex demanded, shoving the younger boy down the bench. “You're in my spot, asshole. Fucken move.”
Jimmy scooted the rest of the way down the bench; fast enough to have Punk chuckling.
“You're a dickhead, Shelley,” Punk told him, snagging a drink from the open can of soda on his tray.
“Come on, Punk, you know talking like that just makes my dick hard,” Alex said, elbowing him and taking his diet Pepsi back.
“Christ, can we stop it with all love talk?” Chris said as he sat down across from Punk and Alex. “You're turning into a couple bitches. No offense, Ally,” Chris added as Allison sat next to him.
“Please, if I took offense every time something stupid came out of your guy's mouth, I'd be pissed 24/7,” Allison laughed, punching Chris's shoulder affectionately.
“Hi, Allison,” Jimmy said, his voice just short of adoring. He blushed when she smiled and said 'hey' back to him.
“Fuck, Jimmy, stop it,” Alex said, slapping him on the back of the head again. “You're like one of those little ankle biter dogs that dry humps people's legs. It's fucken annoying.”
Punk and Chris exchanged amused looks at the embarrassment on Jimmy's face, but before they could say anything someone interrupted them.
“Hey, Punk,” Scott said cheerfully, pausing on his way to sit with the other football players.
Acutely aware of the looks of disbelief on his friend's faces, Punk tried to keep the blush he could feel under his skin from showing.
“What do you want, Colt?” Punk sneered, raising an eyebrow as the other teenager looked over his friends.
Here it comes, Punk thought with disdain as Scott took in Alex's uneven mohawk and ridiculous dye job to Chris's long hair and ripped jeans to Allison's skull shirt and black make up to Jimmy, who looked like he was ready to wet his pants at the attention. Here's where he gets that disgusted look on his face and goes back to his own clique.
But Scott never got that look on his face; in fact, he didn't look put out at all. He had the same look on his face the whole time, there was none of that superiority and distaste that every other jock looked at them with. Scott just looked cheerfully curious and Punk wondered, briefly, if the other kid was for real. In his experience no one was that nonjudgmental and no one was ever that fucken cheerful.
“Nothing, just wanted to see what you were doing,” Scott said, glancing over when John called his name.
“Your boyfriend's calling you,” Alex snickered when John started waving his arm and yelling. “Better get over there before he pisses his pants.”
“Nah, he's not my type,” Scott told him, laughing. “See you later, Punk.” He walked off, glancing over his shoulder to smile at Punk before he turned his attention to the now furious John.
“Sooooo,” Chris said, drawing it out as Punk felt four pairs of eyes on him. “Making new friends and influencing people, Punk?”
“Shut up,” Punk snapped as Alex started making kissing noises. “We got paired up for the history project; which you would know about if you did more then sleep in class,” Punk said, glaring at Chris.
Chris held up his hands in a placating gesture, but he couldn't stop the smile. Allison had a small smirk on her face and even Jimmy looked amused.
Punk glared but before he could start yelling, Allison changed the subject.
“So, the party at Sabin's still on for Saturday?” She asked Alex, changing the subject.
“Yeah,” Alex answered her, a smirk on his face as he thought of his best friend. “His parents gave the OK right before they left for -hell, I can't fucken remember.”
Punk snorted; Sabin's parents were always taking off for a week here or there, leaving Chris at home by himself. Hell, Punk had known him for years, and had only met them once on their way out the door when he had gone to hang out with Alex one weekend.
The fucked up part was that Chris's parents weren't rich; they could barely remember to leave money for Chris to eat while they were gone. Sabin liked being alone, as far as Punk could tell, so he guessed it was a fair trade. In fact, Punk thought Chris could go weeks without talking to anybody except for Alex and be perfectly fine with it.
“There'll be beer and shit for those of us man enough to drink,” Alex said, dodging the elbow Punk sent his way. “He said he's going to run and get some soda, too,” Alex added, his voice more serious.
Punk nodded, appreciating the gesture. They might not understand why he didn't drink or anything, but at least he knew he could count on his friends to respect it.
The bell rang and as they dumped their trays and Punk stuffed the magazine back in his book bag and they headed to class, Punk kept wondering what kind of fucken game Colton was trying to play with him.
Scott walked out of the gym, his duffel bag over his shoulder. John was at his side, going on about why he needed to stay with the football players and not those “fucken idiotic rejects”. Scott wasn't really listening to him; he might be easy going in almost everything, but that didn't mean he was going to let someone shove him around or tell him what to do.
There was something about Punk that made Scott want to get to know him. Scott wasn't sure why he was drawn to the other teenager so much, but it wasn't in his nature to question his instincts -he just followed them and he was rarely disappointed in what happened afterward.
And when they hit the parking lot, he couldn't help the smile that curved his lips at the sight of Punk leaning against his battered Civic.
This is definitely the start of something interesting, Scott thought.