"So do you have first match jitters?"
John Morrison scoffs, tugging on brand new elbow pads, crisp and snug against his tanned skin. "Oh, please. You act like I haven't been wrestling since I left. I'm not that out of practice."
Miz just shrugs, nonplussed by Morrison's reaction. "Hey, just making sure. This isn't a simple little match every few weeks or months. You're jumping right back into a permanent schedule after almost two years and it'd be unfortunate if you were injured early on."
"I'll be fine, Mike. You'll see."
His confident laced words come back to bite him in a big way when his opponent, Tyler Reks, throws him further than he expected and he can't catch his balance or brace himself, flying face first into the turnbuckle post. Unbelievable pain shoots up his jaw and cheek, leaving him reeling and it's just luck that he doesn't get counted out, rolling back into the ring on the nine count.
Warm, coppery liquid is filling his mouth and for a fleeting moment, he worries about what damage has been done to his mouth, but quickly shakes it off when Reks lunges back after him. Drop toe hold, a few solid heel strikes to the side of Tyler's face, sending his ridiculous dreads all over the place with each hit, and he goes for the top rope. Starship Pain clear across the midsection, his body quickly relearning the fluidity behind the move enough to hit it square on his ribs, and it's over.
He's just made it to the back, still holding his jaw, when a waiting Mike grabs him by the arm, staring at his mouth with a troubled grimace. "You're bleeding, John."
"I know," he grumbles, the worry from earlier returning full force. He had spent nearly eight years in the WWE with barely a mark on him, even during his time in ECW- the worst of his scars being the one on his neck from the surgery required to repair lingering nerve damage, and he had accepted that, waiting until it healed to start looking into plastic surgery or any other ways to make his skin flawless once more. Call him vain or whatever else you want, but his appearance is very important to him and the thought that, on his first night back, something else might've happened, well... "I think my tooth's loose," he grumbles reluctantly, feeling around his teeth with his tongue. Pressing a finger into his mouth, he pokes around until, yep, he finds the cause of his bleeding. "Dammit."
Mike leads him over to a trunk and sits him down. "Emergency dentist time, huh?"
"Looks like it." He grunts slightly as he opens his mouth too wide to talk, his jaw also still tender. "Crap. This sucks." He leans over, fretting over whether or not he can get it repaired before the next set of events. Just what I need, to be put on TV with a missing tooth... Despite being teased of how long his prematch rituals tend to be, he'd always been proud of going out with every hair immaculate, his teeth gleaming in the bright lights overhead and his skin perfectly bronzed to show off his equally impressive abs and muscles.
Miz sighs, shaking his head. "C'mon, man. Let's go see what we can do, huh?" John seems depressed still, stuck in his thoughts, but Mike's words do interest him so he stands and follows him. A quick change of clothes later and they leave for the hotel. Awhile after they arrive, he points at the laptop screen. "This one?"
John stares at the listing for a nearby dentist and sighs, "I don't know, what do the reviews say?"
Mike skims them before shaking his head, "Nope, guess not. Overpriced, work that falls apart in a few months... Ugh." They look for almost an hour longer, John on his phone and Mike on the laptop, when finally they simultaneously seem to give up, Mike slapping the laptop shut at the same time that John tosses his phone onto the nearby table. They stare at each other for a moment, having almost forgotten just how insync they'd always been, before Mike stands, rubbing at his eyes. "Hey, you stay here and relax for awhile," he tells him, noting how gingerly he rubs his jaw still. "I'm gonna go get some stuff. I'll be right back."
John looks confused but shrugs, nodding. "Alright. See you."
"See you." He's gone barely ten minutes, just stopping in at a 24/7 grocery store down the street, and returns with a small bag. Upon entering the hotel room, he finds his best friend stretched out across one of the beds, one arm thrown across his eyes and the other wrapped around his chest, TV droning lowly on about some news report. "Hey," he says, slapping his sock covered foot on his way to his own bed where he drops the bag.
"I'm awake," John mumbles, his voice proof enough that he wasn't, blinking blurrily at Mike. "What'd you get?"
Mike just hums, finally dropping down onto the edge of the bed to look at him. "First things first," he decides, pulling out a bag of frozen peas. John stares at it blankly before realizing, a barked laugh coming from his lips. He had left the ice pack the trainer had given him back at the arena, choosing instead to suffer through the jaw pain while they searched for an acceptable dentist. Tossing it to John, he goes in for something else and smirks, pulling out a box. "Orajel, just in case the pain gets worse through the night."
John blinks and catches it with his free hand, the frozen peas already stuck to the side of his face. "There's more?" he mumbles as his friend goes once more for the bag.
"Of course there's more. You think I'd go out for supplies and get nothing to eat? It hasn't been that long since we traveled together, has it?" He grins, pulling out a pint of coconut pineapple frozen yogurt.
John's eyes widen, his fingers slipping from the vegetables. "Holy crap," he laughs.
"And," he added. "I talked with the girl at the cash register. She gave me the number to her dentist, who accepts emergency clients with very little hassle. He'll at least be able to do whatever needed to keep your mouth together until you can get back to your dentist in LA." His face softens as John stares back at him, almost speechless over everything Mike had accomplished in the last ten minutes. "She says he's really good, she's gone to him for about ten years and highly recommends him."
"Geez, Mike. Thanks," he says sincerely. After a moments of comfortable silence, he cracks into the frozen yogurt and smirks. "Bet you didn't think of-"
"Spoons?" Mike digs once more into the bag and pulls out a box of plastic spoons, John rolling his eyes. "Move over," he orders, hopping off of the bed with a spoon in each hand to join John in attacking the pint. "We're splitting this sucker." He watches closely when John takes his first bite, relieved when the cool dessert doesn't seem to cause him any further pain, before taking his own bite. "Hey, this isn't half bad!" John just makes a face at him as he laughs, beginning a mock spoon fight with John over who gets the next bite. As he pulls back, letting John take it, he sighs, remembering how lonely the road'd been the last couple of years without John by his side. "Good to have you back, man."
Morrison looks up and blinks, surprised, before swallowing the yogurt so he can answer. "Good to be back... I think."
He presses a hand to his jaw once more, pouting a little, and Mike chuckles, patting him on the shoulder. "You'll be fine."
"I know." He looks up with a slight smile. "Come on, I'm going to eat all of this yogurt while you get all sappy and you're going to be mad." Mike shrugs but leans forward once more, digging up almost half of the pint of yogurt. "Hey!"
"Making up for lost time, JoMo," he teases, stuffing all of it into his mouth in one go. In more ways than one.