Two Hundred Hours 5/?
A/N: Meant to post this one a week ago but we had some internet problems thus the delay. Anywho, enjoy and reviews are welcome!
Sitting quietly inside the still, stagnant, empty locker room John grazed a thumb over the metal lock that was clasped in his rough, calloused hands. The sight of the chain that was linked around his neck almost an hour ago had him recalling the things that had happened years ago. The memories made him realize how much he had changed and considering the things that had been happening to him in the past month, he wasn't even sure if the change that had happened to him was for the better at all. He used to be the guy who stood his ground, fought to prove himself, not even giving a fuck who it was that he was going to face as long as he was able to show that he would never back down from a fight.
But with the years that had gone by, he grew soft. That hard, rock-like shell that he wore along with his throwback jerseys and baseball caps he wore backwards had already faded away, crumbled down to the ground like a hundred year old wall. He didn't mind it at first; heck he didn't even notice that he had changed at all. As far as he knew, he was still the old guy who enjoyed every second that he spent in the ring. The raps, the chain locks and the filthy words might have been forgotten but he was still the same guy who respected everyone he saw worth respecting and gave credit when it was due. But he didn't know that this change in him was slowly destroying him from the inside and he would have been clueless up to now until a couple of people would point it out for him.
He became vulnerable; a man who forgot how to fight back when his name in the industry was on the line. He took all the blows and ate them up without even intending to hit back. He became weak and he wasn't denying it anymore. Yes, he was confident but it wasn't enough. He lacked the aggression and the resolve to win his matches. Edge was right. Where was the John Cena who used to kick ass and take names? Where was the John Cena who had defeated those legends who were now Hall of Famers?
Wake up!
Edge's voice rang inside the CeNation leader's head, making him close his eyes and flinch as his stomach gave a slight twist. Seriously, that guy really knew how to kick his nerves up. He got to hand it to the guy, though. Edge knew when to show up and get his head back in the game. Just heck of a timing he did, John thought with a little headshake. He really should catch up with the guy and thank him for what he did for him tonight.
"You know, it's so quiet in this room I can actually hear you thinking."
And yes of course, there was one guy that he had to thank the most.
"You know, Punk, you really should stop sneaking up on people."
There was a chuckle coming from behind him and turning his head, he found Punk leaning on one of the lockers, his hands deep in his pockets. Just seeing the guy made John's face break into a face-splitting grin and that was a thing that he still couldn't understand one bit.
"Hey, what can I do?" Punk said as he heaved himself from the locker he was leaning on. "I'm like a fucking ninja."
Suppressing the urge to chuckle, John merely shook his head in reply. "What are you doing here, sweetie?"
And in a split of a second, Punk's face turned beet red, making John laugh out loud this time. In some surprising but really peculiar way exactly a week ago, he had found himself addressing Punk in these ridiculous and ultimately cheesy names like honey, dear and most recently, sweetie. The first time he did Punk nearly shoved him through the concrete walls of the hallway to his hotel room and John couldn't do anything but laugh hysterically at the man's flushed face. Don't get him wrong, he wasn't doing it 'cause he was corny enough to be all lovey-dovey with the guy; he wasn't even really sure if he was falling for the younger man. It was all to make Punk blush in obvious embarrassment and just to mess with him. Nothing personal. Although he had to admit, it was rewarding on his part to call Punk in a way that no one would ever dare call him.
"Don't call me that, you poor excuse for a power ranger," the smaller man spat at him and it just made him laugh more. "Jesus, you sound like my mom, you ass."
"That's it, really?" John asked as he tried to recover from the laughing fit he was having. "'Poor excuse for a power ranger'? Darling, you need to think of a better way to piss me off now."
The word 'darling' obviously made Punk flip out and the champion threw both of his palms right on his face, covering his eyes and the blush in his cheeks. "What the fuck, dude, I shouldn't have come here."
"Hey, you know that I'm just joking," John said as soon as Punk had turned back toward the door. At least what he said had stopped the guy from going out of the room. "Kidding aside, what are you still doing here?"
Turning back to him, Punk walked to the bench where John was seated and made a move to grab his bag that was seated beside the bigger man. "You know, I should be asking you the same thing. I thought you left with the guys after that mini-celebration we had in the ring."
Then there was a large grin spreading across the CeNation leader's face and he didn't even bother hiding it from the straight-edge savior. In all honesty, he was still in shock. Never in his entire life in the WWE did he expect a guy like CM Punk to gather all the superstars he could, even the current and former COOs of the company, and have them sing him a Happy Birthday along with the crowd. His heart swelled in gratitude - he never expected anyone to prepare something as special as that, especially someone who barely gave a fuck about him two months ago.
"We did. Had a few drinks but I left early," John answered as he stood to follow Punk who was on his way to the door with his things. "I just came back to get this." Then he raised the lock and chain that was wrapped around his fist.
Punk gave him a look. "You skipped your own birthday celebration because of a lock and a chain."
"Why does it sound awful when you say it?" John let out an exasperated sigh and his shoulders sagged. "I need something like a reminder. And I kinda miss carrying this around. Makes me feel like the rookie that I was back in the day."
"You mean like the rapper wannabe that you were back in the day?"
The smart smile on John's face was gone in a second, replaced by a scowl that had Punk sniggering as he walked. "Wow, thanks a lot for ruining it, kid."
Punk threw his head back and let out a loud "Hah!" and John was expecting to see him jump up and down in amusement. Sometimes this guy could really piss the hell out of him without even trying, he thought. When his mood didn't change, he felt a knuckle on his arm, hitting him lightly and he turned to Punk who had an apologetic smile on his face.
"I'm kidding, Cena. Don't be such a party pooper."
And no matter how much John tried to suppress a grin, he felt the corner of his lips turn up into a smile. Really. He couldn't even keep a straight face when it came to this guy. "Fine, but you should know that you have to at least respect me. I'm older than you."
Punk snorted. "Yeah, like a year and six months older than me. Don't be so giddy just 'cause it's your birthday today."
"Hey, as far as I know, I can do anything I can since it's my birthday."
"Well you got thirty minutes left before your birthday comes to an end."
John let out a chuckle but he didn't say a word after that. He merely watched the man in front of him lead the way to the parking lot, blabbering about things that he wasn't even listening to. His head wandered about, drifting on thoughts like spending the last minute of his birthday by watching the game all night long, or actually sleeping through it alone. But he didn't want to be alone. For the past eight years he had spent his birthday in a bar with his friends celebrating with him. This time he skipped on them and chose to wait for this guy with him instead.
The guy who was holding out a hand to him and if it wasn't for the fingers snapping in front of his eyes, he would have stayed in his thoughts for a while.
"Wake up, Johnboy," Punk called out to him as he continued to snap his fingers. John blinked twice before he returned to reality.
"Yeah, what?"
"Your car keys," Punk said with an impatient huff. "I'm not letting you drive; you said you had a few drinks tonight. And don't try defending yourself by saying it was just a few; I still don't trust people who are under the influence of alcohol even if it's you."
Chuckling to himself, John fished his keys from his pockets, throwing it at Punk as he walked to the passenger seat of his car. "Wait a minute, why are you driving me back to the hotel? Aren't you supposed to be with your road wife right now?" John asked as he got in the vehicle.
After throwing John's duffel bag in the backseat, Punk got in the car and looked at John with wide eyes. "You mean Kofi? I let him go on first. And what's this thing about him being my road wife? He doesn't even stay in the bus that much unless we're traveling far - oh wait a minute."
"What?" John asked all of a sudden, somehow a bit surprised at Punk's change of reaction. The other guy merely gave him a look, a smug look at that, and John was somehow regretful about ever bringing up the topic.
"Are you jealous 'cause I'm calling someone else my 'road wife'?"
There wasn't denying that John felt his blood rush up to his face so fast that he had the urge to hide them away with his hands. But the question was enough to make him freeze on his seat, blinking at the man, halfway through buckling his seat belt. Fuck, was that too obvious?
"The fuck you talkin' about, man?" He had to look away and shake his head. He got to admit, his voice betrayed him. And it seemed that the other guy noticed it too for he could hear him snickering as he started the car.
"I'm talking about you being jealous of Kofi 'cause he's my road wife."
The statement almost had him jumping off his seat. Probably because of guilt, and the little feeling of someone finding out a deep, dark secret. Even so, he still tried to keep a confused face, acting all ridiculed about being accused of being jealous of someone he didn't talk to that much. Although inside him, he was already exploding and his heart hammered madly in his chest.
"Why would I be jealous of Kingston?" He kept his voice cheerful, almost incredulous and damn it made everything sound worse than a lie. Yep. Made him sound more like he was in denial. "Who wants to get stuck in a bus traveling with a guy like you?"
There was a playful smirk on the straight-edge savior's face as he glanced at him before turning back on the road, driving in a moderate speed as they made their way back to the hotel. "Of course you would. You like me, after all."
John snorted, letting out a forced laugh. "Please. You better stop stroking your ego, man. From what I remember, you were the one who said you like me, right?"
It was his turn to smirk at the man, who seemed to have resorted to gluing his eyes down the road, cheeks tinted with a bright shade of red. The sight almost made him want to cackle but he chose to let go of the reaction, knowing well that if he didn't, the night would surely end up with him getting thrown out of the car or getting punched in the nuts. Either didn't sound too good, so with a faint smile on his face, he let his head rest on the surface of the windshield, staring out on the road, feeling a bit smug but pleased. Even if Punk didn't admit it, John would always keep it to himself that the man's sudden confession in the ring meant more than just a compliment from another co-worker.
"…it's not a big deal, anyways."
Blinking as he lifted his head from the windshield, John turned to Punk again, a bit surprised for not noticing the man speak. Guess he was just that deep in his thoughts. "What was that?"
The Champion gave him a quick glance before turning back on the road, cheeks flushing a bit deeper than before. "Said it was true when I said I like you. 'Cause. You know. In this company, you're the only guy who can listen and deal with my bullshit without getting annoyed with me." He paused for a while, and when John didn't respond to that, he cleared his throat. "Just so you know, I appreciate that."
It took him every ounce of will not to crack a smile at the words, successfully managing a small nod and a somewhat forced chuckle, though in his chest, his heart felt like a bird frantically trying to get out of its cage. And he wasn't really sure why he was feeling like this. He had received compliments before, even from legends and well-known people, but he couldn't figure out why he felt so happy hearing the words from a co-worker, to whom he had feuded with for quite a short amount of time. For all he knew, Punk didn't give a damn about him, and the logical reaction was for him to not give two shits about him either. But for the past weeks that they had hanged out, he guessed that maybe change wasn't so bad after all.
Or. You know. Maybe having a crush on the guy wasn't so bad after all.
"No problem, man," he answered with a small smile, looking out the window again. "I'm kind of used to it, since I've experienced dealing with a quite stubborn guy before. And I managed to handle him quite expertly."
Punk snorted, slowing down as they neared the hotel's parking lot. "Really? I don't think Orton's as stubborn and hard headed as me though."
"Oh. No, no, it's not Orton, no." He let out a chuckle after saying that, shaking his head lightly. "As surprising as it may seem, Randy's a listener. And obedient, I have to admit. I was actually talking about Edge."
The younger man blinked at that, glancing towards the Cenation leader once more. John continued to stare outside though, smiling lightly to himself as some of the memories flashed before his eyes. It might not seem obvious, but he and Edge were quite close. Much closer than people knew, actually.
"Really?" Punk inquired as he parked the rental just near the exterior door of the hotel. "Wasn't really expecting Edge to be stubborn. More like a psycho but bull headed like me? No." He let out a sarcastic laugh, killing the engine of the car and unbuckling his seatbelt. "Also didn't expect you to be best friends with the Rated R Superstar."
This time, John snorted, responding offhandedly as he pulled off his own seatbelt. "Me and Edge? Nah. We're not best friends. We did use to sleep together, but best friends? Please."
By the time he realized that there was something wrong with the statement that came out of his mouth, Punk was already staring at him with slightly wide eyes, his jaw dropped slightly, brows creased in a frown. Oh boy. John's stomach gave a painful twist, heart dropping from where it was hanging. Great. Just fucking great. Why of all the damn things that he could blurt out, it had to be that thing? He tried to find his voice, gulping slightly, thinking of a great lie to cover the statement that he just uttered without thinking. But there was nothing to cover anymore. The words were loud and clear. It would just end up with him looking desperate if he tried making up a story just to defend himself.
"You're sleeping with Edge?" Punk asked out of the blue, slight disappointment coloring his tone. Or maybe John was just imagining it, he wasn't sure. He was certain with his reply, though, although his tone came out a bit defensively.
"No! I said used to. We stopped fooling around after he retired." His voice faltered with guilt, a sigh coming out of his lips as he took off his cap, running a hand through his growing hair. It kind of confused him though, he had to say, to find the man walking down the ramp, getting back in the ring with him only to lecture him. His words were accurate. They only fooled around. But to see Edge addressing to him after months of loss of contact, it made him wonder if their little affair was more than just a normal fling.
"Oh. So you're not sleeping with him anymore."
Another scrape in his stomach. It sounded so weird coming out from the man. "No. Not anymore, no."
"Well, alright."
Punk's voice was straight, somehow void with emotion and before John had the chance to speak for himself, the champion was already stepping out of the car, closing the door, leaving John inside. Not knowing what else to do, he followed suit, getting out of the rental and following the other back in the hotel. Neither man spoke a word as they made their way to the elevator, the awkward stillness almost suffocating the older man. He couldn't even glance at the other without feeling his guts tying a painful knot inside of him.
And the awkward silence continued as they walked down the hallway to their rooms, John's hands stuffed nervously in his pockets, fingers rubbing as he thought of something to talk about. Something. Anything. Just to ease his head of the racing thoughts of Punk hating him for keeping something as serious as that. To no avail, however, they made it to his hotel room without one speaking a word, instead, a shaky sigh escaping him as he flashed a forced smile towards the younger man. "Well. This is my stop."
Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Punk blinked at the screen and shrugged at John, his face calm. Opposite to what John was expecting to see. "Hey, it's still five minutes before your birthday ends." And then he was returning John's smile with a sincere one, a sight that made John's heart jump just a bit. Maybe he was overthinking again. Punk wouldn't hate him and stop being friends with him just because he found out he was sleeping with a man. Punk was a better guy than that.
"And boy am I glad to spend the rest of the minutes with you."
Okay, so maybe he just really needed to shut his talking hole and duck inside his room without another word. But somehow, Punk was chuckling, lip ring glinting slightly despite the dim hallway. "You're such a dork."
And that made John chuckle in return, shaking his head as he reached for the bag Punk was carrying. "Always the biggest dork you'll ever know."
Lightly taking the bag out of the man's grasp, he felt warm fingers wrap around his hand, causing him to blink down at it and watch as the tattooed hand enclosed his knuckles lightly, the move making him lift his gaze at the other in slight surprise. But he didn't have time to ask why or what he was doing for suddenly, his face was too close, his breath warm against his skin, moving even closer until he felt warm, plump lips touching his. It was a brief moment of contact, lips pressed in a soft kiss, which he barely had time to return for Punk was slowly pulling away, whispering in a soft voice.
"Happy birthday, Johnboy."
And then, he was watching him walk away, too stunned to even say something about what just happened, the corner of his lips tugging up in a small, flustered smile, shaking his head as he opened his hotel room with a chuckle.
For once in a very long time, he went into a peaceful sleep, deep in his slumber with a faint smile on his face.