John's smile had been long gone, he shut the front door hard, his eyes soon coming to rest on a pair of undergarments on the floor in front of him; his smile returning in the form of a smirk – something, or rather - someone, was upstairs waiting.
Punk's eyes are glazed over. John's talking, again. Punk isn't exactly sure what he's talking about, but every so often he'll nod like he'd been paying attention. Just like back in high school. Punk slips away entirely, thinking much more dirty thoughts that included costumes this time.
A mewing noise causes the Texan to bash his head down onto the the table, he'd been sure he cleared the room of his many pets; until he looks up in the door way, standing his tattooed beau carrying a solid black kitten he managed to find. It takes every bit of common sense for him not to freak about his business proposal getting wrecked.
The raven haired boy has had enough with his lover's constant need to diet. They hadn't talked in several tension filled hours: until John Layfield has plopped down next to him, sucking on a strawberry with the most lustful look in his eyes, "I can get sexual, too."
Those creamy, gorgeous legs are heavily taunting the Texan, he knows there isn't anything under that "Misfits" band tee-shirt. His eyes are focused on the news paper in hand, rather than the thighs switching into a seductive position on his lap... He doesn't care – at least not until his paper has fallen to the ground, and he's on top of Phil Brooks again.
John's pressing Phil up against the glass wall panes, the New York City streets far below them, and he loves that he can feel eyes on him when he's licking and sucking on Phil's lip ring. Until a nervous cough tells him it's time to get in front of the Fox News cameras.
Seven: I'm Here.
Phil is growling, sitting alone in the corner of an Chicago restaurant – an upscale one. John's late. Very late. When he glances up at the clock, he can't help but smile when he hears John's voice, panting, "I'm here," he can barely say as he hands him a large bouquet of red roses.
Eight: With Me.
John hasn't been so in love in his entire life; but the object of his affection is flirting with that snotty Englishman he'd beaten earlier in the year to retain his United States title. He knew then killing him in the ring hadn't been enough, but he'd chosen to ignore the feeling. Now snapping his neck wouldn't be a problem. "He belongs with me," he cussed under his breath and promptly stepped into the conversation.
Dinner is never very typical in the Layfield home. John usually ignores the way Phil Brooks-Layfield is shoving his dinner around the plate, his elbow propped up on the table, and hand barely holding his head up. "Darlin', you're doing it again," he mentions before Phil is up and in his lap again, taking his belt off with record speed.
A crash wakes John from his deep slumber, throwing Phil under him, who'd been sleeping quietly on top of him. He reaches into the dresser, pulling out a pitch black pistol, a glance around the room as he told him to follow close behind, their hands linked together as they went to discover the dog had gotten into mischief down stairs.
Green eyes are filled with terror; he'd gone too far this time. John was sitting half up on the floor, holding his mouth as he coughed up blood for the second time. "...I'm sorry," Punk whispered, sitting on the ground beside him, "I love you."
Twelve: Find Me.
Punk had come home earlier today, John hadn't been anywhere in the house. He roamed the fridge for his iconic choice of soda, until a noise upstairs irked him. "John?" he questioned aloud to himself as he headed up the stairs, opening the bathroom door to find his lover with his finger jammed down his throat.
John Layfield remembers being there: but he doesn't want to believe it was real. When tears swell up in his eyes, Phil is always there to wrap his arms around him, and tell him it's alright. John holds his husband tight, and tells him just how much he wishes Eddie knew how much he loves Phil, because they'd always shared everything... He smiles when Phil tells him that the other man is looking down, and knows.
Phil is cuddled up close beside his husband, when John jumps up triumphantly. "I figured it out!" he cheers, a hearty laughter coming from his belly, "Look! I got that picture of your ass as my cell phone … thing!" Phil sighs with a smile; chuckling and shaking his head, "Wallpaper, dear."
Fifteen: Disco Stick.
They're both naked, Phil crawling into John's lap, "I want to take a ride on your disco stick," he whispers. He's taken aback when John gets up and leaves the room, wrapped in a bath robe. He grumbled, following him out the door, "God damn it, what happened?!" he hissed loudly, finding him sitting at the computer. His palm hits hard against his forehead when John answers him, "I don't know what a "Disco Stick" is, Darlin'."
"I'm not taking my shirt off," John growls as Phil wrestles him into the sand, attempting to pry it off. "Yeah? Then I'm going to start wearing pants," the tattooed boy stands up, his arms crossed, "So screw you, too." Needless to say – John complies.
They're laying in bed. John brushes Phil's long, black hair back. "I love you," he whispers, pressing his lips gently against those perfect pierced ones. John promises his straight edge lover that he's going to be sober from now on. Phil closes his eyes to prevent himself from crying, and holds him tight. John never lies to him, and never will.
JBL's eyes are wide, he'd spent all day with Jillian trying to make himself look like a typical goth, and now he'd been ready to walk up to CM Punk and impress him... Until he found him wrapped around William Regal's arm. He stared at them longingly, Punk's eyes never even giving him a second glance and stormed off, Jillian running off after him...
When John falls asleep against Phil's shoulder after a shower, he can't help but smile and sigh in contentment when he smells the coconut shampoo.
They're on vacation, again... but John still needs to work. He's in front of the camera set up, dressed in only the top half of his suit... Phil's on the ground between his legs, and John can't help but worry he's going to let the entire fox team know what he's really doing.
Twenty One: Lost.
John hardly knows how to drive, having chauffeurs to do that for him. He's struggling with the map on the dashboard, while Punk is trying to piece together the GPS John punched clear off the holder... That woman just wouldn't stop telling him what to do.
Twenty Two: Taxi.
John's completely wasted when Punk helps him into the taxi back to their hotel. Punk is lecturing him and cussing up a storm when he's nearly vomited on. He's going to have a long talk with him in the morning about being Straight Edge.
Twenty Two: Gloves.
Punk and several divas are standing in front of the mirror, girls circling him and helping him get into his wedding outfit. He wasn't too certain about what he had on, but the gloves Maria made to match it had been perfect, and made him feel a hell of a lot better with the wedding dress on.
Twenty Three: Secret.
It's no secret that John has always wished that he was anorexic, but when he confesses it to Phil, all he can do is apologize and hold the younger man while he cries.
Twenty four: Storm.
Phil is sitting in John's lap, holding him close and pulling the blanket tighter over them. He curses loudly when the television's satellite dish goes out from the hard rain. A crash of lightning shuts the lights off... and the thunder nearly knocks the wind out of JBL when Punk holds tighter; and he loves it.
Twenty five: Cry.
Phil's face is buried in his husband's chest. The older man's face is full of fury as he holds his "wife" close, feeling his suit start to dampen with the boy's tears. He's going to make sure Mr. McMahon personally fires the other superstar who dared to cross his lover's path.
Twenty Six: Search.
John and Phil's romantic kiss turned into a burst of laughter when Phil had moved into the older man's lap, from his pants had New York's finest underwear began to start... singing: "Only you," by The Platters.
Twenty Seven: Looking Down
Five hours on a plane, and finally he'd been landing at LaGuardia; he'd been watching the city go by, he hadn't seen his husband in a week, and he couldn't wait to have him back in his arms, and twirl him around until they both got dizzy and collapsed on the couch.
Twenty Eight: Last Night
John Layfield and Ron Simmons are always the Bar Room Heroes; last night they got to throw down in the parking lot with the man who just wouldn't leave John's gorgeous goth the hell alone. This morning, Phil got to bandage up Layfield's knuckles, and give Ron pain killers.
Twenty Nine: Dance
Phil was cautious when the Divas invited him to the night club, and he took John along... Both unaware of how badly they'd get made fun of the next day in the locker room for their horrid dancing skills.... They couldn't tell the camera flashes from the strobe lights.
CM Punk didn't imagine that spending the summer at their Texas Estate would mean that Mark Calaway would be there almost every day... trying to help John Layfield learn how to ride, and stay on a motorcycle... and not run himself over. ..Punk cursed himself for mentioning that danger was kind of sexy.