So, yes, this is character based. And it is CM Punk/John Cena.

I adore CM Punk and have for years. By the way, do you guys notice how tiny, tiny his trunks are? I swear those things ride so low on his hips it's a wonder they stay up at all. Hot. The man is beautiful.

I read this really awesome Punk/Cena fic a while back and it made me want to try one of my own.

This fic starts at the end of CM Punk's commentary days and when he took over Nexus.

I don't own anyone mentioned here and this is my prologue

"You did it with him?" The incredulous, angry words came from the smaller of the two men as he pointed to the monitor, to where the world heavyweight championship match was taking place.

"I'm sorry…" John closed his eyes against the rage building in his boyfriend's dark green ones.

"You're sorry. Right." He brought one of his hands up, and it tangled in his long dark hair. His expression shifted after a moment.

"Phil…"

"Don't. You don't get to call me that. Ever again." Then he was out the door. John followed after him but stopped in the hallway, standing there for several minutes. He got back to the monitors in enough time to watch Punk bash Jeff Hardy over the head with his microphone.

It hadn't exactly been a spontaneous decision. He sat between Cole and Lawler as they both spouted off on how 'great' John Cena was and all he did was get more and more pissed off. By the end of John's match, he was pretty sure he wasn't thinking straight.

It all built up into too much and the next thing he knew, he was standing over John with a steel chair in his hands. He could see Cole and Lawler freaking out at the announce table but he was done. Done with sitting behind that desk and done being passive.

Xxxxxxxxx

For several minutes, John had no idea what had happened, who had taken him down. For a moment, while he lay in the ring while the agony in his back faded, he wondered if Ziggler had managed to get back to his feet for an attack.

Then he rolled over on his side, opened his eyes and saw the figure backing up the ramp. For that instant, he forgot all about the physical pain. His heart clenched as he stared at the man.

CM Punk turned his back on the ring and continued up the ramp. John lay there longer than he needed to as the truth of what had just happened settled in on him. He was used to seeing the hatred in Punk's eyes, was used to the feeling of guilt that settled low in his gut.

He got to his feet, pushing away the referees and stumbled into the ropes. Like he had a last year, a part of him wanted to run up the ramp after Punk. It hadn't worked out to well the last time he'd tried that, however.

The referees were urging him out of the ring and John pushed them away once again, the uncharacteristic show of anger from him causing them to take several steps back, arms raised. John ignored them and left the ring under his own power, the anger, guilt, and confusion making it easier to do so.

Punk certainly had waited a long time to take him out. Unless, of course, the bullshit he'd spouted off at the pay-per-view about him being sorry for Barrett was true, which John doubted. Punk may not have attacked him up until now but he certainly did seem to love to badmouth him at the announce table.

But the man hated him for a reason. What had happened had been entirely John's fault. He wondered what all of his critics who thought he was nothing more than a boy scout would think if they knew what he'd really done to cause such ire in CM Punk.

"You alright?"

John looked up to see Randy standing close by. Apparently he'd been waiting for him to get back there. Not such a surprise. Randy was one of the few people who did know why Punk would want to hit him with a chair.

"I'm fine," John answered, trying to stretch a little. He was going to be sore later. He could see the worry in Randy's eyes, which almost made John smile. He and Randy had become friends shortly after Wrestlemania that year. A friendship that had been strengthened after John had gotten himself fired for helping Randy retain the WWE title against Barrett.

"You going to do something about this?"

John shrugged and walked past Randy without answering. He had no idea what the answer was anyway. He was angry about the match, sure, but there was also a strong part of him that was guilty and that wanted nothing to do with hurting a man that he had really never stopped loving.

Xxxxxxxx

For the first time, Punk lied. When he was caught in the parking lot leaving and asked why he attacked John, he did lie. He went with the earlier bullshit he had been talking at the announce table, about feeling sorry for Barrett.

He didn't really give a shit about Barrett. This wasn't about Barrett. It was all about John, all about something that had been building for a while now.

He shook off the slight bit of guilt that had started as he'd walked up the ramp and left the arena.