Play It Cool - Jade
Part: 1/1
Pairing: CM Punk/Colt Cabana
Rating: R
Contents: m/m relationship
Summary: Colt Cabana feels a certain way but CM Punk doesn't know it.
Dislaimer: Fiction. I own nothing.
Author's Notes: This is a little late in coming, but it takes place after Colt Cabana's farewell Ring of Honor show in Chicago Ridge before he reported to OVW. I also have to thank Kate for helping me out with the Samoa Joe/Homicide hilarity. Enjoy!

Colt Cabana was finally alone. It had been hours since he had been surrounded by this much quiet. Days even. Ever since he had signed the WWE contract, it seemed there was a never ending parade of well-wishers. Normally, it would be just what he wanted, but right now, he just needed to be alone so he could be a little sad. He knew people were waiting for him to celebrate and when he went out there, he would need to be happy. He WAS happy. He had meant what he said after his match. This was a celebration. Right now, though, he needed this moment. It was so bittersweet. Right now, he needed to feel that. He needed to allow himself that before he closed this chapter and opened the next one.

Colt readily admitted that some of the sadness was not just about leaving. With all the people that were there, one important person wasn't. CM Punk was probably the most important person in his life even if he didn't know it. He had talked to Punk before the show, but it wasn't the same. How he wanted him there. How he wanted Punk to be the only sound in that emptly locker room. Colt sighed.

"You're supposed to be fucking happy, Cabana."

Jerking his head up, Colt stared at the doorway where CM Punk had seemed to appear out of nowhere. Blinking slowly and then grinning widely, Colt replied, "This coming from the guy who cried like a big baby at his farewell show."

Punk shrugged. "But I'm a pessimist. I was half-expecting to not have a job at all. You, however, are an optimist to the point of inducing vomit so stop being so damn unhappy."

As he spoke, he walked further into the locker room until he was standing in the middle of the room and crossed his arms.

"I'm not unhappy," Colt insisted, "I was just thinking."


"About how I can't believe I'm working for the WWE and what I'm leaving and how great the fans were tonight, " Colt looked up at Punk with a little smile, "About how I wished you were here."

Punk spread his arms, "I'm here now. So suck it up."

Colt gave a laugh and then stepped closer to Punk, "Yeah." Then he wrapped him in a hug. "I'm really glad you're here," he whispered.

Punk sighed and returned the hug, "Me, too." After a moment, he pulled away. "Ok. Let's go. People are waiting."

Colt grabbed his bag and followed Punk out the door, "Like you care."

Punk looked at him, "I don't, but you do."

He follwed Punk down the hallway, "What are you doing here anyway? When I talked to you yesterday, you said you couldn't come. And, hey! I just talked to you before the show and you didn't say anything!"

"Well, yeah. It's called a surprise, Cabana," Punk rolled his eyes, "And, I win. We were here all show and you never knew. We're fucking Navy SEALS."

"We? Who's we?" Colt latched onto the pronoun as he followed Punk out of the arena towards his car.

Punk looked confused for a moment then rolled his eyes, "Damn it. Oh, fuck it. I already ruined it. Joe's here, too. He's waiting at the bar with everyone else."

"Joe's here? Awesome."

As they reached Colt's car, he threw his bag into the trunk and tried to climb behind the wheel. Punk, however, was already sitting there.

"Give me the keys."


"I need the keys to start the car. And the car has to start before we can go anywhere."

"Yeah. I know how a car works because this is my car. I get to start it."

Punk sighed, "Look, it's your party tonight and you're going to be drinking and I really don't want to have to wrestle the car keys away from your drunk ass later. So, give me the keys and get in the fucking car."

As Colt debated whether to reply, Punk grabbed the keys out of his hand and shut the door. When he heard the car start, he hurried to the passenger side and got in.

On the way to the bar, Colt looked at Punk and asked again, "So, how'd you guys get the time off?"

Punk shrugged. "Asked for it." When Colt opened his mouth to reply, Punk interrupted, "Look, it's your farewell show. I couldn't miss it," he stated emphatically, "...I mean, we didn't want to, so we each got a couple days off. No big deal."

Colt grinned, "Ok. You know it means alot."

"Yeah, whatever." Punk shrugged it off. "All I have to say is that you better be fucking ecstatic by the time you see Joe. I thought he was gonna cry, like, four times during the show. Fucking pathetic."

"I am happy," Colt insisted again then smirked. "And do you really want to talk about someone pathetically crying? Really?"

"Shut up," Punk responded as he parked the car.

When Colt walked into the bar, he was greeted with the cheers of his friends. As usual, Joe walked up with a single minded purpose. After wrapping him in a tight bear hug, Joe clapped Colt on the back and steered him to the bar. "Let's get you a drink..."

"So, like I was saying, this is how you make a martini."

Four hours later found Joe behind the bar trying to convince Homicide that the slightly green concoction in a beer glass was, in fact, a martini.

"Homes, that is not a martini." Homicide argued.

"What do you know about drinks, anyway, asshole?!"

"Hey! I drink alot! More than you, you sissy bastard!"

Slamming his fist on the bar, Joe yelled, "Who are you calling a sissy bastard, you...girl!"

Homicide laughed in Joe's face, "Girl! Izzat de best you got? I cut you right now just to put you out of your misery."

"Oh, you cut me? I..."

Punk shook his head as the bartender struggled to regain some sort of control over the two friends. "Ah, some things never change, huh, Cabana?" he asked the man sitting next to him at the end of the bar.

Colt, who was leaning heavily on the wood in front of him, blinked slowly at Punk. "Huh?" he said.

Punk laughed, "Man, you are wasted."

"Of course I'm wasted..unless there really are three of you and if there are three of you," His eyes widened dramatically, ""

Punk shook his head as Colt leaned towards him and almost fell off the stool. He caught him and threw an arm around his shoulders.

"Ok, I think it's time to go home. After the 'too drunk to sit' part of the night, it's 'here's how I feel' and I'd like to knock you the fuck out before that." He raised his voice, "Ok, whoever's going with me. let's go!"

Joe looked up from his newly-acquired seat on the floor. "I can't go yet. I haven't taught wussy boy to make a martini."

"Yo, homes, thought that was a martini."

"D, you're a moron."

Homicide mumbled an incoherent response, tossing back the rest of his drink and reaching blindly for a bottle of tequila. "Show you how to make a...what-the- fuck-ever it's called. With a dog. Or, like, a bird or something. It was two words." His mouth hung slightly open as he stared off into the distance, blinking hard as he struggled to remember. Eventually, he abandoned the attempt with a shrug and poured the tequila straight. "Fuck it. We're doin' shots."

Joe laughed out loud. "Sometimes I love you, D," he announced, reaching out to pat his friend on the bandana-covered head.

Homicide scowled as he swatted Joe's hand away. "Don't be gettin' all drunk and grabby on me," he warned. "Maybe I can't shoot straight right now, but I got a big-ass gun, and you're a big-ass target. Now drink."

"Don't be such a baby about it," Joe said as he tossed the shot back. "I meant I love you like a friend. Like a guy. Not like a girl or anything."

Homicide frowned suspiciously. "Who you callin' not a girl, man?"

"I..." Joe stopped and blinked. "What?"

"Who you callin' not a girl? Iz you sayin' I'm not a girl so you don't love me like that, or that YOU ain't a girl, so you can't be lovin' on me?"

Joe chewed his bottom lip as he tried to process the question, eventually giving up completely. "I'm not saying either of us are girls, 'Cide. I'm saying we're both guys."

"So we're both not girls? So that makes it not weird?" Homicide waited for Joe's hesitant nod. "Cool. But what if we were both girls? At the same time and all."

Joe took another shot as he pondered that. "Are we hot girls?" he finally asked.

"Homes, I would be the finest chick on the planet. I'd be all stacked and shit."

Joe nodded. "Then I don't see anything wrong with two girls loving up on each other."

Homicide considered that, fingering his glass. "So you're saying that if we were both girls, you'd be all lezzed out for me?"

Joe shrugged, "Why the hell not? You said you were hot."

"That's real fucking gay, man. Real gay."

"That's not--"

Chris Daniels clapped a hand on Punk's shoulder as Joe began loudly defending his hypothetical lesbian lifestyle. "Don't worry, Punk, I'll get them home."

"Are you sure, Old Man?" he asked just as Colt leaned over and said "Did you know you're my bestest friend? No offense, Old Man, but Punk is it for me."

"Too late." Punk muttered.

Daniels laughed, "What about me, Cabana? Aren't I your best friend?"

Cabana threw an arm around Daniels, "You are my bestest friend after Punk...and Joe...and Homicide. But, that's it, I promise. You're next."

Daniels faked a pout, "I'm listed under D? Why?"

Colt sighed, "Well, you see, he pees on people. There was this one time..."

"Ok. Let's go." Punk interrupted.

After helping Colt out to the car, he got behind the wheel.

Colt turned to him and asked, "Did you hear me?"


"When I said you were my best friend."

"Yeah, I heard you."

"You believe me, right?"

Punk sighed. "Yes, I believe you."


Colt fell quiet and remained that way until they reached his apartment. When Punk led him to the couch and sat him down, Colt pulled Punk down with him and snuggled. Yes, snuggled.

"Too fucking late...Uh, Cabana what are you doing?"

Colt sighed, "I'm hugging you."

"Ok..why?" Punk asked slowly.

Colt closed his eyes and burrowed deeper. "I always want to hug you."

Punk laughed, "Do you?"

"Mm-hmm." Colt leaned up until he was right in Punk's face. "And kiss you."

He leaned up and pressed his lips to that of the other man. It was just a simple meeting of mouths before Colt leaned back, gave a goofy grin, and said "I love you. I really, really love you." Then he passed out.

'Oh, God.' was Colt's first thought. He felt like a marching band with a host of drums was playing a concert inside his skull. As he tried to roll over, he rolled right off the couch and landed on the floor with a thud. While laying face down on the floor contemplating never moving again, he heard a familiar laugh. Then it all clicked into place.

"Oh, God." There was no convenient blackout. All his memories were fully intact. "Oh, God."

"He probably has more important things to do than help your hungover ass," said the voice belonging to the familiar laugh.

Slowly turning his head, Colt found Punk crouching next to him.

"It's not just my ass. It's my whole body," he groaned.

"It's your own fault, but I guess I'll still help," Punk said as he held out two aspirin and a bottle of water.

Colt rolled onto his back and took the pills. Then he laid there with his eyes clothes and breathed. Things were quiet for a while as he mentally sang along to the beat in his head.

Then he heard, "Get up."


"Get your ass up."

"No. Can I get no sympathy at all? Just this once?"

"Fine. I'm trying to help and this is what I get. Fine. I'm not going to help at all. Not at all. Never again."

Colt cracked open an eye. "Help?"

"Yes. Help. As in if you get a shower, you'll feel better. As in I'll cook you breakfast. Then you can sleep if you want to," Punk snapped.

"Why didn't you just say that?"

"I did! I used the word help! You know what? Fuck you. I'm not doing a damn thing for you, you drunk bastard."

Colt closed his eyes, "So, scrambled?"

"Just this once."

Colt grinned.

While he took his shower, Colt thought about the night before. How stupid he had been...getting drunk and letting down his guard. He could still picture the expression on Punk's face when he had kissed him. He could still feel Punk's lips on his. Man, how he wished Punk wouldn't bring it up. Maybe he would just let it go and chalk it up to the alcohol. He always got emotional the more he drank...He decided to go with his first plan of action and just play it cool. That could work, right?

Colt did feel better after his shower and sat down to eat the scrambled eggs and toast Punk had prepared. As they ate, they talked about the show, the party, Joe and Homicide, OVW, ECW, and a million other things. Just when Colt thought he was safe, Punk said, "So, you love me, huh?"

Colt hesitated a moment as he put his plate in the sink. "Of course I love you, man. You're my best friend."

"Oh, yeah. I am. Your best friend that you want to hug and kiss all the time."

Colt gave a nervous chuckle, 'Dude, what are you talking about?"

Punk got up from the table and advanced on Colt until he had him trapped against the counter. With an arm braced on each side of Colt, Punk leaned forward.

"Don't lie to me. You know I can see right through that shit. I can see right through you."

As Colt tried to formulate a reply, Punk murmured, "I can't believe I missed this." Then they were kissing.

Colt squeaked in surprise then groaned when the kiss sank in. This was nothing like the press of lips from before. This was hungry and needy and hot. The smooth slide of Punk's tongue against his almost made his knees buckle so he wrapped his arms tight around Punk's waist. Then he decided that laying down somewhere was a good idea as long as Punk went with him. When Punk started dropping kisses down his neck, Colt tried to tell him his idea, but what came out was "What? I..."

"Shhh." Punk's hands began to remove his shirt so Colt decided to let him. Let him stay right there. Let him kiss whatever he wanted. Sweet mercy, please, let him fuck him. Wherever he wanted. He would let him do anything right now.

As if Punk sensed his decision, he dropped Colt's shirt, took his hand, and led him to the bedroom. Whey they got there, Punk gently pushed him down onto the bed. Feeling a bit dazed, he watched as Punk stripped off his clothes.

Laying there afterwards with Punk breathing beside him, Colt relived every moment in vivid detail. He remembered Punk removing the rest of his clothes only to look at him as if it'd be ok if Colt was the last thing he ever saw. He remembered Punk kissing him like he could do it forever. He rememberd the touches everywhere. He recalled the momentary pain then satisfying fullnes as Punk entered him. Being stroked inside and out driving him towards pleasure until he exploded crying out the only thing he could.."Punk! "

He was pulled out of his reverie when the man in question stirred beside him. Punk rolled over until he was laying on top fo Colt. With his head on Colt's shoulder, he said, "I can hear you thinking."

"Sorry." Colt replied as his hand stroked up and down Punk's spine. He couldn't seem to make it stop even though he had no idea if he was still allowed to do this.


Fighting the urge to ask questions that could ruin the moment, Colt concentrated on his 'play it cool' line of defense.

Propping himself on his elbows, Punk looked down at him, "What?"

"What?" Colt repeated.

"I know you want to ask so ask."

Colt blinked, "Uh..."


"What just happened?" Colt blurted.

Punk raised his eyebrow. "What? Did you miss it? We could do it again..."

Colt rolled his eyes. "Asshole. You know what I mean. Why did you..What... you know."

"Because I wanted to."

Colt looked at Punk and waited.

"And you wanted to."

Colt opened his mouth but Punk kissed him and that was much better.

Punk leaned back and met Colt's eyes, "And I love you."

He laid his head back on Colt's shoulder while Colt tried not to cry or yell or something. Punk loved him!

"Oh, and you really, really love me."

Colt smiled, "I really, really do."