#ship mini fic

[miserablecreachur]

I know you've done a few DarPunk mini fics for this prompt list already but if you're up to one more - #15, things you said with too many miles between us?

Thank you so much for this ask anon! I love writing darpunk so I never mind a request for them :) I hope you like this one.

15. Things you said with too many miles between us - Darpunk

It was midnight, and Darby had been half-asleep in his own bed in Atlanta. For a moment, he didn't realize what had awoken him, but quickly enough he realized that the screen of his phone was glowing. It was dark again in his room by the time he sat up, but he quickly reached for his phone anyway, waking it up to see a text from Punk.

'April's asleep. I'm not ready to go yet. Can I call?'

Instead of texting back, Darby would settle against his pillows, opening his contacts and finding Punk's number. He picked up after the second ring, and Darby could feel a smile edging at his lips.

"Hey."

"Hi. I like it when you want to talk to me."

The smile had fallen into a full on grin, but Darby would be careful not to let that fall into his voice. Yet. "Yeah? Well I like talking to you."

"Yeah?" The grin was there in Punk's voice, however, and a part of him hated that he wasn't there to kiss it off of him.

"Yeah. So... What's up?"

"Nothing. Well... Nothing specific. Just wanted to hear your voice before I went to bed."

Somehow, it's that admission that really gets him, and he feels almost shy, one hand reaching out to trace over his bedspread. "Oh."

It's like Punk can always hear the vulnerability in his voice, and like a shark that's tasted blood in the water he doesn't hesitate to go in for the kill. "You mean a lot to me, Darbs. I like hearing from you. Being with you." Maybe the shark metaphor is unfair, because there's a certain level of vulnerability in the older man's voice as well. But as his heart flutters against his ribcage, it's hard to think about anything else then being laid out for the kill. "I want more of that. But... I told you in the beginning. I'm greedy with people I like."

"Yeah." His mouth is dry, and all at once Darby isn't sure how to handle everything swelling up inside him. "That's... It's okay. That you're greedy." I like it when you are.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." A deep breath, and his nerves settle. He can let himself smile again. It's like this, sometimes. When Punk says the thing he needs to hear but didn't know that he needed to. It's always too much, but how he can handle it comes in waves. It always churns him up inside, and then everything settles better than it was before. He gets the courage to say the silent part out loud. "I like it when you are."

"Fuck." There's something almost primally needy in Punk's tone, and the older man chuckles. "I love you, you know?"

That certainly hits harder than anything else Punk has ever said to him, and for a moment Darby is silent, processing this new bit of information. His ears are almost ringing, and his free hand has closed into a fist around the bedspread.

"Shit. I uh... I was saving that until next time we were face to face. So we could talk about it. Sorry. Um, you don't have to-"

"I love you too." The words come quieter than he meant to say them, and for a few seconds all Darby can hear is his own unsteady breathing. It was right; right to be truthful and to say how he felt... But also wrong. Wrong not to see Punk's face when he admitted to the emotion that he'd known was brewing inside him for a while.

"Darby-"

"I love you." It comes out a little louder then, and the relief pumping through his veins is kind of feels like when you realize nothing's broken after a good fall down the stairs. Punk is silent, and Darby can feel him actively trying to not just let his mouth run, which has him smiling. "You can say it."

"Okay. I wasn't expecting that. I didn't think... I wasn't sure that you... Hmm. Okay, you play things a little close to the chest, sometimes. I know you cared about me... You don't have to say it. If you're not ready to. I just wanted you to know I was."

He's nodding, and then feeling stupid after a moment when he realizes it's not like Punk can see him. "Yeah. But I wanted to say it back."

There's another silence, and Darby can't hold back a soft chuckle.

"You've got me speechless. April's never going to believe it."

"Nah, she knows you love me enough for me to get you like that." Punk snorts, and Darby's crooked smile goes wider. "Kind of wish you did save it, though. I wish I coulda seen your face."

"Yeah. Me too. Soon though."

"Okay. Go to sleep, old man. I love you."

"I love you too."

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[miserablecreachur]

darby allin/cm punk 10. things you said that made me feel like shit

thank you for this! I'm sorry it took me a while to get to it.

10. things you said that made me feel like shit - Darpunk

“Thought you trusted me enough to want to.”

Punk's words were reverberating in his skull, as they had been for a week. It was Wednesday, he was at the arena in the locker room listening to the others talk while he picked at his wrist tape. It wasn't exactly the note they'd left on - when Punk had said goodbye at the airport there was a sad hound-dog affinity around his eyes and Darby had hugged him tightly.

Still, the sentiment had been shared. There was a distinct feeling that he had some how let the older man down in a way he couldn't take back. It was odd, because he'd never seen their relationship as one where he was trying to win Punk's approval as he was sure he'd already earned his respect. Or perhaps that wasn't it at all, and he was simply over-thinking something solvable.

The solution, of course, being to talk to his boyfriend like they were adults. But that would involve him facing the messy and twisted black pit inside himself that made him want to be thrown down a flight of stairs. Exhaling sharply, Darby would pinch the bridge of his nose. That was something he just... Couldn't do.

Did that mean that he didn't trust Punk?

That was an idea that had been churning in the pit of his stomach for days. Darby could feel himself ping-ponging between both the concept of Punk looking at the more fucked up side of his psyche and the concept of himself telling Punk that he couldn't look at it... And feeling equally shitty over both.

Getting to his feet, Darby would head out of the locker room, turning right down the hall and letting his feet take him towards the room that had been set up as Punk's for the night. Even when he stood outside the older man's door, he still didn't know what he was going to say, or do, only that he felt like shit and his brain had taken him there.

Knocking on the door, Darby would wait with his hands jammed into his hoodie pockets, biting his lower lip to resist the urge to immediately step into Punk's space and seek comfort when he answered the door.

"Hey."

"Hey. Wanna talk?"

A nod, and the older man would step aside, allowing him into his space. Darby stood in the middle of the room, even as Punk sat back down on the couch that lined one wall, and he'd only move towards the other man when Punk gestured that he should sit down next to him. They were both quiet, Punk turned on the couch to face him, head resting on his hand with his elbow on the armrest and Darby almost curled up into himself.

Though he had been the one to say he wanted to talk, Punk was the one to break the silence, speaking after dragging a hand down his face. "I shouldn't keep pushing you to talk about it if you don't want to. I'm sorry I do that. But I care about you, and I can't be sorry about that. I can't turn that off. I can't stop wondering, or worrying that you're on a self-destructive path. Even if... Even if you want to end things over it. I don't work that way. I can shut up about it, but I'm not going to stop feeling it."

Exhaling, Darby would fidget in his seat as the older man spoke, nodding to himself. It was pretty much what he had expected to hear. "Yeah. Listen. I... I don't know. I don't know how to handle this." He wanted to look at Punk, but couldn't bring himself to do it.

What finally pulled his eyes to Punk was the fact that he reached out, and Darby would allow him to slide his fingers into his own, curling his hand around Punk's without thinking too much about it.

"Can we try working through it together?" There was a softness in the older man's voice that Darby didn't expect, and he would nod before speaking himself.

"Yeah."

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[miserablecreachur]

darpunk, 2?

yes thank you for this <3

2. things you said through your teeth - Darpunk

Rain hit the car windows like a patter of little drums, and Darby closed his eyes. The tip of his right thumb was jammed resolutely between his lips, teeth scraping against fingernail and nail polish alike. He was in Chicago, heading to the airport in the seat of Punk's beat up old sedan. They weren't looking at each other; the older man's attention was on the traffic, and his was focused on the cars they were passing. Or, at least, it was meant to look that way.

He felt Punk shift in his seat, and heard his fingers drum against the steering wheel. Say it, just say it, say it, say it, say it-

"You just don't have to take bumps like that every time you're in the ring. That's all. That's all I meant."

Darby's eyes squeezed shut, and his hand fell away from his mouth, hitting his lap with a soft sound. "I don't care about 'have to'. I want to." It was like someone else was talking for him. The words were coming out of his mouth, but the sounded really far away. Like he was listening in on a conversation about all his worst ideas.

"I know. No. Fuck it, I don't. I don't know if you're trying to prove something. I don't know if you're trying to out-do Jeff Hardy." Punk was gesturing with one hand, Darby could see it moving out of the corner of his eye when he opened them... Like the older man was pointing out sad little piles of possibilities. "I don't know if you're just chasing a high. I don't fucking get-"

"I'm not trying to prove anything." His teeth were gritted together. "It's my business. Just leave it alone, it doesn't matter."

"It matters, Darby. It fucking matters to me that you're out there working like you want to go out in a blaze of glory."

That stung, but he wasn't sure why. Crossing his arms, he'd let his head fall back against the headrest. "Just... It's fine. I'm fine. I don't want to talk about it."

"Yeah, I got that." Silence stretched out between them, suffocatingly thick. The rain got louder, or maybe that was just his imagination. "I just thought..." Punk trailed off, exhaling sharply through his nose, his final words coming out hard and angry. "Thought you trusted me enough to want to."

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[miserablecreachur]

kenny/hangman - 11. things you said when you were drunk

(is that too cliché)

not too cliche for me 😍

11. things you said when you were drunk - Kenny/Hanger

It was the smell of hard liquor that announced Adam's presence, and Kenny would set aside his phone with annoyance drumming in his ears. They had a big match coming up. He had waited for Adam to show up at gym so they could talk strategy for hours... But his tag partner hadn't shown up. He guessed this was why.

"You found the bar, but not the gym?" His tone was harsher then he'd meant for it to be, and as Kenny turned in his seat he would wince, and then wince at himself for wincing. Luckily, it was apparent that Adam was in no shape to notice his inner turmoil.

"Yeah." The cowboy was hovering in the doorway of the room, hands in jean pockets, blonde hair falling over his face in a way that almost hid his flushed cheeks. "Thought I was jus' gonna settle my nerves. But-"

He cut himself off, and Kenny would nod, hands folding in his lap as he watched the other man make his way into the room he'd been stewing in.

"Leva said you were over this way, and I thought I wouldn't find ya'. But look at me, I went and... Well," Adam held his arms open, as if he were proud of what he'd done... Even though his eyes seemed to remain stuck to Kenny's feet instead of his face. "Here you are. Partner."

"Right. Adam-"

But the cowboy hadn't finished.

"Waiting around, for me. 'Preciate it. Maybe we can catch... I was hopin', a ride back to the hotel together."

He was making his way towards Kenny, and he would watch the other man stagger over the carpet until they were face to face. Adam's boot caught on the flooring, and he would catch himself with his hands on Kenny's shoulders.

"Whoops. Sorry, ah, 'M sorry."

Adam's nails were digging into his shoulders, and Kenny would do his best to allow them to relax. There was no point in fighting with his tag team partner then, not when he was in this state. After what felt like an eon, Adam would raise his head, looking into Kenny's eyes. It was impossible not to notice that the smile on Adam's face wasn't crinkling the corner's of his eyes, and concern stabbed through Kenny's heart. Against his better judgement, of course.

"I'm always... Lettin' ya down, huh?" A soft chuckle came forth, and Adam would shake his head, letting go of Kenny's shoulder long enough to drag his hand down his face.

"Not... Not like him. But I guess if you cross an ocean for someone, then they feel like they have something to live up to."

The concern had been replaced by anger, and Kenny would snort, closing his eyes so it didn't all bubble to the surface. Adam's hands were moving, fingers tracing over his jaw, and Kenny would keep his eyes shut tight against the ghost of the name that was now pressing against him.

"I just... Wish I had known what it was like. To be someone you wanted to tag with. Dreamed about tagging with. Not the leftover scraps."

Kenny knew if he was a better man, that sentiment would have struck him, but at the moment all he could do was bite his own hurt back. Reaching up, he'd use his hands to lower Adam's, finally opening his eyes.

"Let's get you back to the hotel."

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[miserablecreachur]

Hi, for the ship mini fic meme may I ask for Darpunk and number 3? Thank you!

Hope you are doing well, Snow <3

hello!!! of course you may. I'm doing well, thank you, and I hope that you are too <3

3. things you said too quietly - Darpunk

Backstage, after a Dynamite match, Darby sat on a stacked pile of scaffolding listening to the crowd roar and chant for the main event. His forehead had been busted open the hard way on the stairs during the match, but the bleeding had mostly stopped, and Darby would wipe the back of his taped hand against the cut to test it. He should have gone back to medical, but the cut wasn't serious, and from his position he could see the ongoing match on one of the monitors.

There was a little fresh blood on the tape as he pulled his hand back, and he would frown at it. Hopefully it stopped bleeding before he went back to see the Doc.

A hand landed on his shoulder, and Darby would jump slightly, thoughts interrupted by the somewhat sudden presence of another man. The tattoos on the hand on his shoulder caught his eye immediately, and without thinking he'd raise his hand to give it a squeeze. Punk.

"Hey."

"Hey. You gonna get that looked at?"

Rolling his shoulder noncommittally, Darby would try to focus on the screen, his hand still on Punk's, as the older man leaned in to talk. "Yeah, eventually. Maybe when you go out."

The older man would clutch his chest with his free hand, shaking his head, a grin splitting his lips. "You wouldn't watch my match?"

"Nah, you're getting the win."

"Hmm."

They were talking over the crowd and the buzz of backstage activity, but Darby knew Punk well enough to hear the amusement in his voice, and see it on his face. Letting his hand slip down to his lap, Darby's focus would shift from the screen to the man in front of him as Punk moved in, taking up more space. For a moment, he would hold still, allowing Punk to cradle his jaw with his hands. His bright blue eyes traced the lines on the older man's face, trying to interpret if their configuration meant 'worry' as Punk swiped his right thumb under the cut on his forehead.

There was a ringing in his ears that always got louder, when they were that close, and too late he realized that the older man had said something and was now examining him for a response.

"What?"

"Don't worry about it."

The amusement was back on Punk's face, though there was something unintelligible hanging around his eyes. Darby watched him drop his hands, and his eyes caught the older man wiping the blood from his thumb on the side of his trunks. He thought about pressing the issue, but one of the backstage workers had already approached to tap Punk's shoulder, leaning in to speak to him.

"I gotta head out."

Nodding, Darby would watch him go. Maybe he'd wait to head back until after Punk's match after all.

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