A/N- So, at some point in here I mention a little marijuana use by Cara, and would just like to make it clear, this is FICTION, I have no idea if she does or not, nor am I insinuating she does. It just went along with the story.


Punk sighed with relief as he stepped into his apartment. He was finally back from a grueling three week tour of the United Kingdom, and all he wanted to do was crash in his bed. He had four days off; two to sleep in bed all day and two to spend with his girlfriend. Speaking of his girlfriend, Punk didn't hear any noise so he figured she was sleeping. Walking into their spacious living room, he saw her.

"Cara...What are you doing?" Punk stood still, hoping he was dreaming.

"Phil! I didn't think you would be home so early."

"What is this?" Punk asked, gesturing to the scene in front of him that Cara was trying to subtly hide.

"This? Nothing. How was your trip?" Cara gave a nervous laugh, trying to gauge Punk's reaction.

"Please tell me you are kidding and this is all a joke." He ignored her question, and adverted his question back to the scene in HIS apartment that HE paid for.

"Punk, listen...."

"This is what you do behind my back? How long has it been going on?"

"It's not what you think,...."

"How long, Cara?" Punk asked again, his patience defying him.

"Before you go and get mad, you should listen to me."

"Dammit, how long Cara!?" His voice raised this time and she flinched. She didn't know why though, he'd never hurt her.

"Not long. Two weeks at the longest" She finally admitted. This was not the welcome home she was planning on giving him. She didn't figure him to be back for another two hours.

"Why?"

"I don't know...."

"Yeah you do, tell me." He gave out a short laugh, mocking her.

"Punk..."

"Don't insult my intelligence Cara, I'm not stupid."

"I just needed something else. Just for a little while. It was nothing permanent."

"I see. Were you ever planning on telling me?"

"This isn't exactly something I could tell you." She was hesitant. He was going to dump her any minute now, she was sure of it.

"Obviously." He grunted. Cara was becoming angry herself.

"Fuck you Punk! I gave up everything for you! Drinking, partying, marijuana, Brian Kendrick on weekends! Sorry if this doesn't fit into your plan!" She was now yelling at him. She left the room as soon as she felt the tears start to flow.


Punk winced as he heard their bedroom door slam. He really didn't mean for this argument to go that far. He had suspicions for a while now, but he figured she would have came to him. She made him feel guilty when she listed all the things she gave up for him. He knew she loved him, he had no doubt about that. He couldn't help if he liked to pick fights every now and then. Especially after long trips. She knew that.

"Cara, dinner is ready. I cooked. Well, I didn't cook, I ordered out." Punk heard a muffled laugh that she was tried to conceal, and knew she was going to forgive him.

"Are you done giving me the third degree?" Cara asked, peeking her head out the door.

"Fine, I might have overreacted a little, but with good reason!" Punk defended himself.

"There was no good reason at all."

"Okay, you're right, again. But to make up for it, I'll listen to The Beatles for like....ten minutes without complaining."

"Make it twenty and we'll have deal."

"Fine babe, but you owe me. I expect payback later tonight." Punk raised his eyebrows in a suggestive way. Cara laughed, but agreed.

"Anything you want."

"You know Cara, if I get whatever I want in bed every time you drink Coke, you'll have to do it more often."

"And risk you have a nervous breakdown? No thank you." Cara joked.

"I say we eat later, and burn some calories now." Punk suggested, leading Cara into their room.

"Uh, wait a minute." Cara rushed in a head of him and cleaned up-kicked under the bed- all the scattered empty cans of Coke she had threw around the room to piss her boyfriend off.

"Now get in here so I can show you how much I missed you!" Cara pulled him inside and for the second time that night, slammed the door.