Tame

Chapter Four

"Yes!" Mr. Heyman exclaims, slapping the WWE championship on Punk's shoulder once they make it to the back. "You're the man!"
"Munchkin," Punk says, grabbing my wrist once he sees my pace quickening.
"Don't touch me," I tell him, pulling away. "What happened out there?"
"He won his match," Mr. Heyman butts in. "If you were a good friend, you'd be happy for him."
"Heyman, leave, now!" Punk shouts.
His manager huffs and stomps away.
"What happened out there?" I repeat more loudly, receiving sideway glances from some superstars and divas. Some glare at Punk as they pass.
He shrugs, shaking his head. "I don't know," he answers.
"So you didn't know they were going to come out there?" I ask, skeptical.
He shakes his head again, grabbing my hands and placing one on either side of his cheeks.
"You have to believe me, Munchkin, I would never lie to you."
"You are so busted!" AJ says, walking up from behind me. "Wait until Vince hears about this."
"I didn't do anything," Punk insists. "I didn't know they were coming."
"Bullshit!" AJ shouts. "Can you believe this guy, Ad?"
I look at Punk. He looks so innocent and vulnerable, clutching my hands like that. "Actually, I can," I confess.
"What?" AJ asks.
I turn to face her. "I don't think Punk had anything to do with those three showing up tonight," I explain. "He's just as clueless about it as I am."
"You're serious?" she asks making me nod. "Wow," she scoffs before looking up at Punk. "Thanks for brainwashing my friend, asshole." She marches off, giving Punk the finger.
I spin around and see relief flooding Punk's face as he gazes at me. "Thanks for believing me, Munchkin."
I nod. "You're welcome," I reply. "Congratulations, champ."
He grins as he picks me up and spins me around. He kisses my forehead. "I couldn't have done it without your support."

"Hey," I greet after I sit on Punk's lap in the lobby lounge area the next morning and he takes his headphones off.
"Hey, Munchkin," he replies tiredly as he rubs sleep out of his eyes.
I can relate to his fatigue, but even though I'm not a morning person, I can't help but have so much energy at this time of day.
All the superstars and divas are crowding the lobby waiting for our bus to arrive to take us back to Ohio in Columbus for Raw. As soon as AJ and I emerged from the elevators 20 minutes ago, she ditched me.
After I came back to the hotel last night from a celebratory dinner Punk took me to at a Brazilian steakhouse off Washington Street, AJ was already in bed and by the tense muscles showing in her back, she wasn't in the mood for conversation.
"Sittin with AJ on the bus?" Punk asks. 
I shake my head. "Nope," I sigh.
"She's still mad about last night?" I nod sadly. "Don't worry, she'll come around."
"What if she doesn't, though?" I wonder. "What if she stays mad at me forever?"
"I doubt that," Punk says. "You're the only person on the roster that's giving her the time of day. She'll come crawling back."
"Doubt that," I mumble as a loud hiss sounds from outside.
"Bus is here!" someone shouts making the superstars and divas break through the entrance doors.
I stand up and grab my suitcase, duffel bag, and purple JanSport book bag while Punk gets up and jams his phone into his hoodie. Once Punk and I place our suitcases and duffels under the bus, we get on and head straight for the back, passing AJ who mumbles, "Asshole," on the way. The seats in the very back are the only ones available which is a good thing since it's the most peaceful spot on the vehicle.
"Have you talked to the guys since last night?" I ask Punk once we're seated and I dig around my book bag for a snack and my He-Man comic book.
He shakes his head. "Nope."
"I can't believe they did that," I state as I zip up my gray jumper while the engine and AC kicks on. The bus starts boiling if it isn't on. "Some friends."
He shrugs as I hand him a stick of Starbursts. "At least they didn't do any real damage."
"Yes they did," I point out. "To Mr. Cena and Mr. Ryback's prides."
"I meant to me," Punk says. "And why do you call the majority of the roster Mr. and Ms.?"
I shrug. "Everyone's older than me so it just seems right," I clarify.
"Well, you're making them sound old," Punk replies.
"Oh," I say. "I didn't quite think about that." I rip open a king size bag of Hershey's Drops and crack open my comic.
Punk picks up my legs and places them across his lap as he put his headphones back on and relaxes into the seat, popping in a Starburst.