“Hmm?” Punk looked up from the Belgian waffle which he was cutting with deliberate slowness.
“You ok?” Elijah repeated.
“I’m fine,” Punk answered automatically, looking back down at his plate to cut a strawberry slice in fourths.
Elijah studied his face, feeling a frisson of worry go through him. “You look kinda guilty,” he observed.
Punk’s head shot up, worry clear in his expression. “I - ” He laughed uncomfortably. “I just had a lousy dream,” he muttered, looking down once more.
“You’re this moody over a dream?” Elijah took a bite of his own waffle, watching his lover curiously.
Punk sighed deeply. “I don’t wanna talk about it. I just - I dream I wasn’t - ” He shook his head. “I wasn’t acting right to you,” he muttered softly.
“Baby.” Elijah reached across the table, setting a hand on Punk’s forearm. “It’s ok if you dreamed about another guy. ‘Member when I had that dream about Cena? It’s just a dream, it doesn’t mean you really wanna cheat.”
“It wasn’t that.” Punk looked deeply uncomfortable. “I really don’t wanna talk about it.”
It was silent for a moment, both men chewing their waffles broodily.
“Would it upset me?” Elijah asked after a moment.
Punk shrugged. “It might. I don’t know. I really don’t wanna talk about it, Lij.”
Elijah munched down a strawberry, chewing his lip for a moment after he swallowed. “You know you can tell me anything, baby,” he stated. “Anything at all. I really wanna be completely honest with you. I even told you when I accidentally touched Shelton’s ass.”
Punk chuckled, although even his laughed sounded nervous. “I’m really not comfortable talking about it.”
Elijah frowned. “What could be so bad that you can’t tell me? Did you kill me or something?”
“No!” Punk’s head shot up, the straight edger looking appalled at the very notion. “God, I hope I never have a dream like that!”
“Were we doing S&M?” Elijah gestured with a bit of strawberry covered waffle. “I told you listening to Tommy’s old ECW stories would give you nightmares.”
“Would you please stop guessing?” Punk swallowed hard, staring down at the remainder of his mean. “Just forget it.”
“Baby, I really wanna know. It’s just gonna bug me if you won’t tell.” Elijah took Punk’s hand in his, lacing their fingers together. “You’re not responsible for your dreams, they’re based on a bunch of crazy shit we don’t understand. So just tell me, and let’s be cool with it.”
Punk took a deep breath, looking down at their joined hands. He squeezed Elijah’s hand, not meeting his eyes as he explained. “We were having sex,” he said softly. “And I just - I called you something that I shouldn’t have.”
“Nigger?”
Punk looked startled, seeming almost stung by the word. He briefly met Elijah’s eyes, then lowered his gaze to their hands again. “Yeah,” he whispered.
“Was I upset?” Elijah pressed.
“No.” Punk sighed, his muscles tight with tension. “We were going at it pretty nasty.”
“And that’s it?”
Punk shrugged. “It kinda switched to another scene after that, where we were in a kitchen and I was spanking you with a spatula.” He smiled just a bit at Elijah’s laugh. “I know. I woulda woken up laughing if it was just that.”
“But that’s really it?” Elijah shook his head. He squeezed Punk’s hand reassuringly, using his other hand to tip Punk’s chin up, meeting his lover’s eyes. “You been all quiet and guilty this morning because you called me nigger in a dream?”
Punk frowned at the amusement in his lover’s eyes. “It’s not funny! I feel horrible.”
“Don’t sweat it, baby. You didn’t even do anything, you just dreamt it,” Elijah asserted.
Punk was quiet for a moment, his tongue playing agitatedly with his lip ring. “It upsets me,” he said at last.
“Why?” Elijah popped the last bite of waffle into his mouth, looking at Punk expectantly as he munched on it.
“Because I’m not racist! I don’t use any of those slurs that people make up to make each other feel shitty about who they are. And it pisses me off that some part of my brain condones that shit, and it pisses me off that it even matters!” Punk took a ragged breath, stabbing his fork angrily into his remaining waffle.
Elijah sighed, raising Punk’s hand to his lips and kissing his lover’s knuckles. “It’s always gonna suck that the world ain’t fair,” he murmured soothingly. “And yeah, it sucks when people see us holding hands, and their eyes narrow like we shouldn’t be doing what we’re doing. But it doesn’t happen often, and at least those people have to keep their damn mouths shut these days.” He kissed the inside of Punk’s wrist, a gesture that almost always brought a smile to his lover’s face. “You gotta forgive yourself your dreams, ok baby? I love you, I want my baby back this morning.”
Punk took a deep breath, his body finally starting to relax. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. He stood, walking around the table and pulling Elijah to his feet and into a hug. He pressed his face into Elijah’s shoulder, inhaling his lover’s scent deeply. Elijah held him tight, rubbing his back comfortingly. Punk drew back after several moments, still looking somewhat distressed, but more relaxed that before.
“Now, why don’t you tell me about this spatula dream?” Elijah suggested, grinning playfully as he wound his arms around Punk’s hips.
Punk actually blushed, biting his lip shyly. “It’s embarrassing, Lij!”
“So?” Elijah gave him a little kiss on the forehead, happy to see the creases fading from his brow. “What kinda spatula?”
“It was one of those white rubber ones.” Punk grinned, allowing himself to be distracted. “I’m not sure it’s actually called a spatula. You use them for scraping cake bowls, or something.”
“And what were you doing with it?” Elijah questioned.
Punk chuckled. “I bent you over the counter, and I pulled it out of the drawer. I told you to take it, and I smacked you with it.” He chuckled a bit louder. “Not like that would hurt. But you thought it was totally hot getting spanked with it.”
“Mmm, shame they don’t have a kitchenette here,” Elijah murmured, his arms running up Punk’s back and folding around his neck. “Sounds hot.” He leaned in for a kiss, relieved to feel his lover’s body relax in his arms. “I think we have one at home,” he whispered against Punk’s lips.
“Don’t even think it!” Punk shook his head, but he was grinning. “We’d never be able to look at one again without smirking.”
“A price I’d be willing to pay.” Elijah kissed him again, enjoying his lover’s soft and responsive lips against his. He wasn’t much in the mood for talking anymore, backing Punk up step by step toward the bed.
Punk broke away from their kisses when his calves hit the bed, looking earnestly into his lover’s eyes. “So you’re not upset about the dream?” he asked urgently.
“It’s just a dream,” Elijah whispered against his mouth. “I love you, baby.” With that, he lowered Punk down to the mattress, turning his lover’s attention to more salacious matters.