Title: Crash

Author: Candy_rko aka Lucky's Cannon ;)

Pairings: John Morrison/The Miz

Rating: R

Warnings: Semi-graphic sex

Disclaimer: Not mine

Summary: It's hard to stay away from the one you love…

Notes: Completely inspired by a House Show I went to the other night. Ms_Marvel on photobucket. Picture 44.

Chapter 1/1

John had always known that coming to RAW would mean having to finally confront his ex about their split. It had been easy being on different brands and rarely seeing one another. Now? Every day, John was forced to be around Mike and it killed him. How was he supposed to let bygones be bygones when his heart still ached for Mike? When he woke in cold sweats, cock throbbing hard, with the memories that assaulted him in his dreams?

Those beautiful, crystalline blue eyes only looked at him in betrayal and anger these days. That sinful mouth only spoke snide, hateful words. John could vividly remember how Mike sounded in ecstasy, little whimpers and moans, head thrown back as he rode him. It was torture to be in the ring with him, to have that body so close to him, touching him. John had gotten accustomed to masturbating before any matches that involved Mike. Mike was fucking with him and didn't even know it.

Ron, Cena, and Randy didn't understand his fascination or his love for Mike Mizanin. To them, Mike was nothing more than a loud mouthed pretty boy that thought he was better than everyone else. But John knew it was a façade, a barrier that Mike had erected to keep himself being hurt. The Mike he loved was fun, easy going, loved pranks, and yet had the most sensitive, compassionate soul that John had ever seen. John wondered how much of Mike's current character was influenced by John himself.

"Quit sighing, John," Cena shot him a scowl from the front seat of the Navigator, "You're soundin' like a damn woman."

"Someone woke up grumpy," Randy laughed, taking his eyes off the road long enough to smirk at Cena. "What's up your ass, Super Cena?"

John had to fight the grin, listening to the two fight like an old married couple. Cena groaned, "I'm never getting away from that."

"Technically, if he was Super Cena, wouldn't he have just throw the rookies off instead of getting his ass handed to him?" John piped up.

"No one asked you to comment! At least I'm not pinin' for a prissy Ken doll."

Ouch… John rested his head against the seat behind him, covering his eyes with his sunglasses, knowing that Randy was watching him through the rearview mirror. Out of everyone, Randy knew him the best, knew what made him tick, what made him hurt. He could faintly hear Randy and John speaking in whispered tones. About him. About Mike.

Goddamn it was hard to be so close yet so far from the one he loved.

"Hey baby," John grins, wrapping his arms around Mike's waist, resting his head on Mike's shoulder. "You were awesome out there. Hot. Sexy. My demon of desire," he whispers, breath tickling Mike's ear. A shiver makes Mike's body vibrate. "I'm proud of you."

Mike smiles at him, ice blue eyes reflecting how much those words mean to him, "You think so?" He's an open book for John to read. And those eyes of his truly are the windows of his soul. "I just don't ever want to disappoint you. I don't want you to think that I'm not good enough for you."

John rolls his eyes, stroking the back of Mike's head, loving how the dark locks and faux hawk makes his eyes pop, "That's not possible. You never have to change yourself or prove yourself to me. Or anyone else. You're perfect the way you are."

"If I'm so perfect, why doesn't anyone take me seriously?" Mike sighs, standing, hands on his hips. "Vince doesn't. The fans don't. Hell, even the other superstars don't. I don't know what else I can do to make them see that I'm more than a reality TV show reject."

John's on his feet, loathing the amount of self-deprecation twisting Mike's beautiful face. "Fuck them, baby. If they can't see how special you are then they're not worth your time. Worry about yourself and your future. Don't let some jealous assholes bring you down. Ok?" He caresses the side of Mike's face, heart warming when Mike leans into the touch, like a kitten begging to petted.

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, John. If I lost you… I don't know what I'd do."

"You can't lose what already belongs to you. You've had my heart since day one," John knows it's corny and ridiculously romantic but the smile that curls Mike's lips is so stunning, so radiant, that he doesn't care how stupid he sounds to his own ears. Anything to keep Mike happy. "No one else can claim that."

"I love you."

A sharp elbow to his ribs snaps John from his day dream, meeting Randy's worried cobalt eyes, "I'm fine. Just… I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I think I'm going senile," he laughed humorlessly, "I can't stop thinking about him, Randy. I don't know what to do."

"Have you tried talking to him?"

"How can I talk to someone that wishes I was dead?" God knew it was true. John blamed Vince. Blamed the Draft which John still believed was rigged so they would be separated. He blamed everyone. Even Mike. But most especially himself. If he'd tried harder, made more of an effort to make their long distance relationship work… If he'd been there for Mike when Mike needed him, when Mike was thrust into a situation that was against him… When Mike left tearful voice mails because he was hated by most of the RAW locker room… When Mike called him in the early morning hours and John was partying with his Smackdown friends and John refused to answer because he didn't want their relationship known to his new teammates… Eventually the calls stopped. The voice mails became distant, became a few words instead of several messages that usually were filled with so many I love yous that John would blush.

He'd lost Mike and never really known it. Let him slip through his fingers.

"You should try. Maybe he's scared. Maybe you just need to push him a little. Make him see that you still love him because I'm pretty sure he still loves you," Randy smiled wanly, "He watches you. And sometimes, it's there. Love and hope."

"Since when did you become Oprah?"

Randy shrugged, lacing his boots, the pain still etching that chiseled face, his movements slow. "I know about wanting something that you can't have. About being away from the one you care about. I never told him how I feel."

John furrowed his brows, gazing at Randy in realization, "Randy, I-"

"I don't want to talk about it. Alright? You have Mike back in your life and while I'll never understand what you see in him, this is a chance that you shouldn't let pass you by. You can fix this. Just believe in it and believe in Mike. Don't become me, ok?"

"But Randy, I don't-"

"I'll be fine. I'll find someone else. They won't be like him. They won't make me smile like he does or tell me the stupidest jokes so I can laugh. I miss listening to him rant about his video games and how Zelda is most assuredly not Sheik. Or how he has every comic book practically memorized and feels the need to tell me about them even though I don't care about comics. I miss everything, John," Randy finished lacing his boot with a violent tug, "And I didn't even know what I had until it was gone."

"Did Cody know?"

Randy shook his head, "What was I supposed to say? I have a wife and a daughter. Yeah, I know Cody was interested in me. I think he might have even loved me but I couldn't. You know my past, John. I couldn't… I didn't want Cody getting involved in it. People would have made it Hell for him. And with the rumors I've been hearing about Cody and Jason… My chance at happiness is gone. And you've been given a second wind."

John grabbed his ring glasses off one of the tables, "If I can make this with Mike work, then I know that you and Cody have a shot."

"Maybe."

The ten minute call came from outside the door of Randy's private locker room. "You didn't have to tell me about Mike. I know you aren't his biggest fan. You never have been but thanks. I needed to hear that."

"If he breaks your heart again, I'll break his face. Dislocated shoulder be damned." Teasing smile meant Randy wasn't serious about his threat.

This was his Randy. The one before Adam had sank his claws in. After Copeland had fucked with Randy's head and body, dumping him like he was a whore… Well, John had been doubtful that Randy would ever heal. But he did. And maybe it was owed all to a kid with big blue eyes and a dimpled grin that put Cena's to shame.

He slipped into his stage coat, heart thundering in his chest, nerves fraying at the seams. He could hear Mike's music playing throughout the coliseum. Could hear the crowd booing as he approached backstage. Ron was looking at him with concern but all John could see was Mike. His blonde in those racy spankies, gorgeous, leanly muscled body on display for the world to see; John hated it. Hated that people were ogling Mike, that Mike was practically naked out there. His dark hair went blonde, he lost his pants for something more revealing. Maybe he'd done it to send a message to John.

His hands are gripping Mike's hips roughly, leaving behind dark imprints that matched his fingers. He's possessive, he knows. He doesn't care and Mike doesn't complain. Not when he's moaning and grunting and writhing like a cock hungry slut. John slows his motions, wanting nothing more than to keep this bottled up in a memory, to remember this for the rest of his life.

Mike's beautiful. Each muscle and tendon is bulging as he twists on the bed, hands tangling in the satin sheets beneath them. Sweat's beading on his skin. Lavender strands are plastered to his forehead. He's rocking against John, body pleading for more. Prussian blues open shudder open slowly, the color nearly blown black with lust. "John, please. I need you to fuck me."

"This is me making love to you," John whispers, "Fucking is what one night stands are."

A devilish, sweet grin curls Mike's lips, "I want it rough. I want you to make me cum so hard that I pass out."

John groans, cock swelling harder inside Mike, "Goddamn, Demon, you're killing me!"

Mike pushes against John. "Show me."

John swallowed the lump in his throat, going onto the ramp and doing his signature pose. He saw Ron cast him a concerned look. He knew his attempt at a reassuring smile was shaky. How was he supposed to back up Ron-his tag team partner-when the man he loved was in the ring too? He couldn't watch Ron man handle Mike. It'd broken his heart each and every time that Mike lost; it was kayfabe, it was scripted, but when Mike lost his United States Belt and his Tag Team gold… John had been devastated.

He prowled the ring, watching Ron slam Mike into the turnbuckle. He kept his face neutral, cheering on R-Truth when it was expected of him, jeered the Miz when the crowd booed, ignoring how he yearned to take Mike in his arms right there. In the middle of the ring. In front of his fans. He'd lose them if they knew how he felt towards the Miz. Because he was in love with another man and that other man happened to be one of the most hated Heels of the WWE.

Mike's back hit the mat with a resounding echo. John's hands tightened into fists at his sides. He didn't image the wince.

Hands were in his hair, running the strands through fingers that were deft, nimble, and so talented. He would have been purring if he was a cat. "Baby, you're making me tired. I have to get to the arena in thirty minutes," he groans, nuzzling the thigh he was resting against, "And you're making me horny. Asshole."

"Tired and horny? Johnny, sweetheart, that's kind of an oxymoron."

"You're the moron," John retorts, flipping over onto back, gazing up at Mike's face, "What's wrong?" he asks, frowning. "Mikey?"

"The Draft. I'm… I keep thinking that you're going to end up on RAW and I'll be on Smackdown. I'm scared that we aren't going to make it if we have to do the long distance thing."

John sighs, straddling Mike's thighs, wrapping his arms around the other man's neck, "You're worrying about nothing. It'll have to take an act of Congress to keep me away from you. Besides, why would they split up Be Jealous? The fans love us. McMahon can't afford to split us up."

Mike shook his head, "I think McMahon knows about us. He's… John, he's been acting really strange around me. And I've noticed that Jackson's been following me around. Almost like he's trying to catch me with you."

"He doesn't know. We've kept this from everyone but Randy and John. And I know they won't run their mouths. Stop worrying, Mike. I love you."

That had been the last time they were able to be together before the infamous Draft where Be Jealous was separated and the lesser of the two went to the main show. There was speculation that envy had caused the rift in their solid 'friendship.' Only a handful of people knew the exact cause of the bitter hatred that was between them. And now…

The bell was ringing, Savannah announcing that R-Truth had won and kept his belt.

Mike rolled out of the ring, holding his stomach.

For a brief second, their eyes met. Time stood still. John didn't hear the screams from the crowds, didn't hear Ron calling his name. All he saw was Mike. All he'd ever seen. He numbly felt Ron's hand on his elbow, guiding him towards the ramp. He supposed he was making a spectacle of himself. Mike had looked so confused, so lost, that made John optimistic about his dismal future with Mike. Because there would never be another for him.

"I need to borrow Ronny," Cena said, grinning that stupid dimpled grin of his, Randy right there beside him. "We'll return him by Monday night. Unscathed."

"You're an idiot," John rolled his eyes, knowing what his friends were attempting to do. They wanted to be gone before Mike came back, to give them alone time.

"You looked good out there, Mikey," John said softly when the blond came around the corner, his abdomen sporting several boot marks, "Really good."

"Yeah, thanks," Mike said sarcastically, not looking directly at John but instead at the floor.

"I'm sorry. If that means anything to you at all."

"I think it's a little late for apologies. Just, go back to Orton. Or Cena. Or whoever you're fucking right now," he spat nastily.

"Don't do this," John pursed his lips, glancing around to see if anyone was eavesdropping. "Come with me. If we're going to fight, I want to do this in private."

"Fine." John figured it was a good sign that Mike was even speaking to him, let alone going with him to a more secure location.

The door was locked behind them. "I never cheated on you. Not once did I even think about it," John said, his fancy coat draped across the back of one of the chairs. "I still love you, Mike. Just because we've been apart doesn't mean that I love you any less. I think it's true. Absence makes the heart grow fonder."

Mike's jaw muscles were clenching. "You were ashamed of me, John. You didn't want anyone knowing that you were fucking the reality show has been."

"I was making love to you."

Mike's harsh features softened, "You always felt it was necessary to correct me. But… you treated me like a whore. Your dirty little secret. And then when we got separated in the Draft… John, you acted like you didn't want me anymore."

"Never!"

"Then why weren't you there for me when I needed you the most?" Mike asked softly, blue eyes wide with emotion.

John approached Mike hesitantly. "Mike, I know that words are cheap. That you're not going to believe anything that I say. But I love you. So, unless you've thrown the keys to my heart away, it's still yours."

"You're so corny," Mike chuckled nervously, cheeks coloring pink, "I must be stupid for even reconsidering giving you another chance."

"You are?"

"Yeah. Because… I haven't been able to move on. It's been a year. And I can't replace you. I've tried."

John didn't like that. Didn't like the idea of someone else's hands on Mike's body, sharing Mike's bed, sharing Mike's sex… The jealousy was overwhelming as he gazed at Mike in dismay, "You dated? Mike, I've had my hand for company the last year!"

"The Shaman of Sexy had to resort to masturbating?" Mike faked mock horror. "That's beneath you!"

"Well, the man I love broke my heart!" John snapped.

"Hey, you did a pretty bang up job yourself, asshole."

John laughed, "Mike, we've been stupid and I know that it's going to take some time before we forgive each other for our idiocy but… I got you babe."

"Dumbass."

"Is it working?"

Mike nodded, "A little bit. Do you, you know, wanna grab a beer and some greasy hotdogs?"

"Yeah. I'd like that. A lot."

"I'll meet you out front."

John watched Mike leave, grinning brilliantly, unable to restrain himself.

Because this was the beginning of the rest of their lives.

"So, who are you, Blondie?" John asks, head tilting to the side as he gazed at a sculpted, pert ass framed deliciously by tight jeans. He's been admiring the blond for the past ten minutes, the other man completely oblivious to John's lecherous ogling.

"Blondie? Gee, that's original," he laughs, "I'm Mike."

John doesn't miss how Mike's gorgeous, cerulean blue eyes scrutinizes John's own body; the blush mantling Mike's cheeks is proof that that he likes what he sees. "John," he extends his hand, body reacting to the touch of skin against skin. Apparently Mike was just as affected because the flush spread across the entirety of Mike's face and neck. "It's a pleasure to meet you," John purrs, voice raspy with a desire that surprises him.

"I think the pleasure's all mine," Mike says, voice a little shaky.

"You busy? I mean, do you have plans after the show?"

Mike shakes his head, "Nope."

"Beer and greasy hot dogs?"

"I'd love to."

I hope you guys enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I hope we see a revival of JoMiz stories.

And this was very tame considering what I usually write.