Tame

Chapter Six

"Do you know where Dean, Seth, and Roman are?" I ask a backstage crew director for the millionth time since the show ended, but again, I get another shake of the head.
I groan. "Munchkin, calm down," Punk tells me, wrapping his arms around me.
"How can I calm down?" I question. "Did we see the same thing that happened out there?"
He chuckles. "Yes," he answers. "But don't worry about them. As long as they're not hurting me, we should pay them no mind."
I sigh and relax into his body. "You're right," I agree. "They did help us anyway."
"Exactly," Punk agrees. "Now let's go out."

"Welcome to the Caroline," a waiter greets when we step through the restaurant.
"Thanks," Punk replies as he places his hand on the small of my back, the waiter leading us to a booth in the very back.
The restaurant has an intimate, romantic vibe in the air.
"When should Mr. Heyman be here?" I ask Punk as we sit down.
"He's not coming," Punk answers casually. "Just you and me."
"Oh, okay," I say as he plays with a flower attached to my headband. "Mr. Heyman did do a good job on planning your celebration," I credit. "It was nice."
"Yeah," Punk agrees distractedly as he wraps a strand of my hair around his finger. "Very nice."
"A bottle of our finest Chardonnay," the waiter says as he presents a wine bottle, placing it in the middle of the table along with two wineglasses. "We have some dishes that will compliment the wine very nicely. Maybe some pumpkin ravioli?"
Punk looks at the waiter with an amused expression. "Uh, yeah, sure, that'd be great."
"How long have you two been together?" the waiter asks as he writes the order for two dishes of pumpkin ravioli on his notepad.
My face is smoldering. I'm surprised it's not bursting into flames right now. "Oh, we're-"
"About six months now," Punk answers nonchalantly, winking at me.
"That's nice," the waiter comments. "I'll get your food right out to you. Enjoy the wine."
"What are we gonna do with this?" I ask Punk when the waiter walks away, twirling the wine bottle around. "Neither of us are gonna drink it."
"I know," Punk says, looking around. His gaze stops at a potted plant about a foot away. He grabs the bottle and pops the cork, pouring around half of the contents into the soil.
"What are you doing?!" I whisper-yell. "Do you know how much that stuff costs?!"
Punk shrugs, placing the midway filled bottle back on the table. "They'll get over it," he says.
It was silent for a moment.
"Why did you tell the waiter that?" I question.
"What?" Punk asks innocently.
I raise one of my eyebrows at him. "About us being together for six months," I explain. "That's not true."
"He doesn't have to know that," Punk says. "And if he thinks we look like a couple, maybe that's a sign."
My shoulders slump a little as I look at him. "Punk..."
"I know, I know," he replies harshly, leaning back in his seat with his arms folded across his chest.
"Don't be that way," I tell him. "We're supposed to be celebrating."
He doesn't say anything, not even when the waiter places the dishes in front of us and wishes us a happy anniversary. We eat in silence. So much for a celebration.

Someone is knocking on my door. It's two in the morning and the majority-if not all-of the hotel is sleeping. Punk groans at the sound of the door and turns over in his bed but doesn't wake up.
"I guess I'll get it," I mumble, snatching the covers away from me. I pad out of the bedroom, through the living room to the door. I look through the peephole to see who it is and almost choke on my spit.
"Dean?!" I whisper-yell as I swing the door open.
"Hey," he greets conversationally, kissing my forehead. "How ya doing? I missed you."
I roll my eyes. "What are you doing here?"
"I came to see you," Dean answers innocently. "What's wrong?"
"It's 2:00 in the morning," I tell him sleepily.
"Yeah, we can watch a late night movie."
He tries to step in, but I place a hand on his chest to stop him. "You can't go in here. Punk's sleeping."
"With you!" Dean says a little too loudly.
I cover his mouth with my hand. "Shh!" I scold.
"You're cheating on me?!" he whisper-yells. "How could you?"
"We're not sleeping in the same bed, idiot," I snap. "And we're not even together anyways. I don't know why you're freaking out."
He pouts. "I wanna spend time with you," he whines.
"No," I say firmly. "I'm going back to sleep."
"I'll put you to bed," he volunteers, hooking his hands under my arms, carrying me inside.
"Munchkin?" Punk calls out groggily. "Who's at the door?"
"Uh...no one," I reply as I struggle to free myself from Dean. "Get off me!"
He covers my mouth. "Shh!" he copies, taking me to the bedroom.
Punk's back is to us. Dean pulls the blankets away and gestures for me to climb in the bed. I do and he gets in with me, wrapping an arm around my waist.
"You need to get out," I whisper.
"In a little bit," Dean sighs happily. "Oh come on, you like that." I elbow him in the ribs. "Ow!"
"Oh come on, you like that."