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Three WWE One-shots


murphy dee

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Long post will be loooooong.

These were meant to only be drabbles...a couple paragraphs maybe, but they kind of...got away from me. Especially the last two. Anyway, I hope I've written these in a way that even folks who don't watch wrestling and don't know who these people are can still understand and appreciate the stories (which is also why I added the visual aides, though that was also just because it was fun to do...lol, I'm a nerd).

But please let me know if anything needs clarifying and I'll be happy to do so.

Anyway...enjoy!

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"THE BETTER MAN"

Starring:

cena.pngcm.png

“No sleep again?” asked John Cena, looking over at CM Punk from underneath the brim of his purple cap. A playful grin widened across his broad, clean-shaven face.

CM Punk upended some of the contents of a bottle of water onto his head and slicked back his short, dark brown hair. He then turned to Cena and made an effort to stand erect with his pointed nose in the air. “I slept just fine, thank you,” he said. The heavy bags under his eyes stood out like terrible bruises, and his dripping wet beard stubble only served to make him look even less put together.

“Scared I’m going to beat you tonight in the Elimination Chamber match? Is that what’s keeping you up at night?”

Punk glared daggers into Cena and then his head snapped back as he burst into a wild fit of laughter. He pressed a hand to his chest and cackled, “You? Beat me? You haven’t won a single match all year! No, Cena, this is my night, and soon everyone will realize that I am, in fact, the better man.”

Cena was already pulling his purple t-shirt over his head, revealing swollen biceps and taut abs. “Why don’t we settle this right now, then? Right here, backstage. No refs, no rules.” He bent a little at the knees and motioned for Punk to come at him. “I’ll show you who the better man is.”

Punk seemed to consider Cena’s proposition for a moment, but a dazed sort of expression began to pass over his face. His lips parted as he sucked in a swift breath. His nostrils twitched and then his eyes clamped shut. “AH’SCHOO!”

Tattooed arms had raced to contain the sneeze, but it came over him too quickly to be helped. Droplets of bottled water sprayed into the air. Punk sniffled and rubbed his reddening nose against the bandages he always taped over his hands and wrists. A muffled groan escaped him.

Cena dropped his aggressive stance. “Man, you really aren’t well, are you?”

“I’m fine,” said Punk, but there was a tremor in his voice. “Just leave me…ah, ahhh…hah’CHOO!…a-alone until the match. Haa…HEH’CHHOO!” This time his hands did manage to cup around his face each time he sneezed, but the force of the final one unbalanced him and sent him staggering forward. Cena caught the smaller man by the shoulders and clucked his tongue affectionately.

“Come on, we should get some medicine and hot tea into you if I’m going to be able to beat you fair and square tonight.”

“You’re a…you’re a jerk,” said Punk, though he didn’t sound convincing.

Cena patted the man’s head. He felt unusually warm to the touch. “I know, buddy, I know.”

Punk sniffled and allowed himself to be led away.

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"MISERY LOVES COMPANY"

Starring:

heath.pngjustin.png

“Tag team champs, tag team champs!”

Heath Slater, clad only in a pair of boxer briefs, an undershirt, and his mop of ginger hair, bounded back and forth between the two twin hotel beds. His tag team partner and friend, Justin Gabriel, watched from the sofa and nursed bruised ribs.

“Those are gonna break,” said Justin in his South African drawl.

“No way,” Heath panted, finally flopping down onto one of the mattresses. “Hotel beds have to be made to take a beating. I mean, just think of all the people who’ve had sex on these things.”

“I’d rather not.” Justin adjusted himself on the couch, wincing ever-so slightly and holding the side of his chest. “Ow, I’m never doing the 450 splash again.”

Heath only laughed and rubbed at his straight little nose as if something were tickling him. “You say that every time, Jus. Besides, it’s your best move. Hardly anyone else can do it like you do.”

Justin grumbled and pushed back his black bangs.

“Hey, don’t be a grump,” said Heath, then sniffled. “You want me to get you something from the vending machine? A little chocolate’ll make you feel better.”

“No thanks.” Justin eyed the bottle of aspirin sitting out next to the television. “Could you bring me that, though?” he asked, pointing. His ribs ached even when he raised his arm. Heath leapt from the bed and brought him the little white bottle along with a container of sparkling water from the mini-fridge.

After guzzling the pills and thanking his friend, Justin sunk back on the couch and closed his eyes. The fact that they were now tag team champions hadn’t quite settled in, but he had a feeling he’d come around to it the next time they walked into the ring wearing their matching championship belts. He pictured the scene in his head, complete with a riotous audience cheering and chanting their names.

The daydream was lulling him to sleep in spite of the pain radiating from his chest. His limbs relaxed and his breathing slowed to a peaceful sort of rhythm.

“Egh’kchew!”

Startled, Justin snapped awake and moaned, “Mmm?”

“Sorry Jus, were you falling asleep?” Heath Slater sat cross-legged on his bed. His usually pale skin was flushed bright pink across his cheeks and nose, and he was sniffling like mad.

“I was. What on earth was that just now?”

Heath opened his mouth to answer, but was instead seized by a powerful fit. “Eih’tchew! Eht’cheww! Eah’ktchew! EhEHH’KTCHEW!”

“You’re sneezing?” asked Justin, now a little alarmed. “Why are you sneezing?”

“These beds,” said Heath. His voice was thick and congested. “I think they’ve got goose down comforters. Ehh…eht’CHXYEW!”

“Oh no, your allergy,” Justin said sympathetically. “I told you not to jump on them.”

Heath was already gathering up the comforters and shoving them into the closet. He slid the door shut and rested his stuffy head against the cool mirrored surface. A sudden sneeze tore out of him—“HEH’KCHHHEW!”—spraying the glass in a fine mist. He wiped it away with the palm of his hand and turned to Justin, sniffling. “Tag team champs,” he groaned.

Justin groaned back, “Tag team champs.”

------------------

"FLAWLESS VICTORY"

Starring:

nb.png

Natalya brushed out her long pink and blonde hair in the lady’s locker room backstage. She forced through every tangle, grunting with growing frustration at each snag. Her mood had nothing to do with her hair, however. Her mind was in another place.

She had lost the Diva’s Championship to Eve Torres only days prior. It was a fair match, but the defeat stung nonetheless. If there was one thing Natalya hated most, it was losing.

Layla and Michelle McCool were surely laughing their pretty little heads off at this recent development. Natalya had never been certain what she had done to earn their teasing and ridicule, but she did know one thing: once those two girls had a target in sight, they never wavered. She would have to watch her back during the match with them later tonight.

A knock sounded at the locker room door. “Come in, I’m decent,” Natalya called. A young man in a white baseball cap popped inside. He carried a beautiful glass vase full of brightly-colored flowers of all kinds.

“Delivery for you,” he said, and handed them off to Natalya.

“Ohh,” she cooed, “they’re lovely. Thank you.”

The delivery boy tipped his hat and exited the way he came. Natalya smiled as she fussed over her flowers, admiring each one and caressing the petals with her fingertips. She inhaled long and deep, filling her nose with the heady, perfumed scents.

After setting the vase down on a bench, she plucked the sealed card from within the stems and slit it open with her thumbnail. “Tyson, you shouldn’t have,” she sighed happily. But as her eyes drifted over the words, a grim realization sunk into her. These flowers were not from her boyfriend.

The card was signed: Flawlessly yours, Layla and Michelle.

Natalya peered suspiciously into the center of the bouquet, beneath the other flowers.

“Daisies,” she gasped. “Oh no.” But the damage had been done. She was already beginning to feel that familiar tickle in the back of her nose. How could Layla and Michelle have possibly known which flower she was allergic to?

The breath caught in Natalya’s throat. Her chest rose and fell dramatically as she tried to maintain her composure. She fanned her hands in front of her face, desperately struggling to ward off the impending sneezes. Pink lips parting and eyes scrunching, she lost the battle.

“Hih…hiishhhew!” Natalya sniffled and flared her delicate nostrils as she searched through her duffel bag for a packet of tissues. She blew her nose as best she could, but the action only coaxed out another sneeze. “Eiiichhhew! Oh my…”

With a full-on allergy attack coming soon, there would be no way for her to compete in her match against Layla and Michelle tonight. She knew this must have been their plan all along. What cowards! What slime! Natalya itched for revenge.

But revenge would have to wait. The daisies were working their awful magic. “Heiichhew! Heh…eiiiichew! Aiischhew! ‘Kcheww! Hiiischhheww!” Natalya wiped her watering eyes and blew her nose second time. Already she was feeling hazy and heavy-headed.

“Nattie? You in here?”

Beth Phoenix, the Glamazon herself, stood in the doorway. “Over here,” said Natalya from the benches, dabbing at her nostrils with another tissue.

“Just as I thought,” said Beth, taking in the scene before her. She pitched the flowers into the garbage and tied off the bag.

“How did you…how did…eiiiichhew!”

“Layla and Michelle never could keep their mouths shut. I heard them laughing about their plan to Maryse,” said Beth, coming to sit by poor sniffling Natalya. “And don’t worry about your match tonight. I already cleared it with Teddy Long—I’m going to take your place.”

Natalya’s rosy face drew up in a smile. “Kick their asses for me, Beth. Hiihchhew!”

END.

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Aww, I like the first one :rollfast:

" Punk sniffled and allowed himself to be led away. "

Hihi, I can totally imagine, first he's being stubborn, but eventually he gives in.

I'd love to know what happens next, could you imagine to continue this even though it's a one-shot?

I'd be very happy :)

Thanks for writing anyway!

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It's possible I might keep going! Cena's a sweet guy, I could see him doing everything in his power to nurse Punk back to health before the match. :)

Thanks for reading!!

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  • 5 months later...

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