What Dreams May Come
"Man, you look like shit."
Mike didn't even bother pausing to give Kofi Kingston the withering glare he deserved. Instead he focused on the foam of second latte of the day, willing himself to remain upright. In his deprived state, Mike barely had the presence of mind to blow on his drink before sipping. A burnt tongue would do little to improve his mood.
"You try going three nights with only five hours of sleep and tell me how sparkly you feel."
The face that had greeted Mike in the mirror that morning had freaked him out more than the thought of Big Show doing amateur porn. Sickly complexion, bags under his eyes that made Mike look a decade older, and half a week's worth of stubble on his chin. Mike didn't have the energy to shave and, quite frankly, didn't trust himself with a razor.
He wondered how many days a human could go without sleep before they went insane. Mike felt awfully close to the brink. Which was why he had asked Kofi to meet up in the first place.
Despite their previous feud, Mike knew Kofi to be trustworthy and a man of his word. The man would surely keep Mike's secret to himself.
"What's the matter, Magic Mike?" Kofi seated himself opposite his sometimes opponent. They occupied a small table in the corner of the coffee shop. "Got a couple of sex addict neighbors keeping you up? I hear those noise canceling headphones work wonders."
Rather than being irritated by the ear-to-ear grin on Kofi's face, Mike didn't have the energy to care. Before the curse of his nightly affliction, he would've had a witty retort on the tip of his tongue. Now, he barely mustered a grunt and a grimace.
These truly were desperate times.
"If only things were that simple." Mike crumpled a napkin, flattened it out, then crumpled it up again. He repeated the process two more times before he even realized what he'd been doing. Shaking his head, he shoved the useless wad of paper aside. "Dude, I think I'm losing my marbles."
While it pained Mike to admit it, his problem was not going away. Quite the opposite. As time wore on, it only got worse. What at one point had only been a single nightly occurrence soon became multiple incidents from the moment his head hit the pillow to the second he dragged himself out of the bed in the morning. Again and again, very much against Mike's will.
At first, he chalked it up to lack of companionship. His mind reminding him that all work and no play made The Miz a dull boy. So Mike found himself a pretty face with a banging body and went about working out his frustrations. When that didn't work, he found himself another one night stand.
Three bedmates later, Mike's subconscious was still on the offensive. As soon as he drifted off into the loving arms of unconsciousness, it happened. Without fail and without Mike's approval.
Wrapping his hands around the warm cup, drawing strength from its heat, Mike made his confession. "I've… been having these… dreams lately."
Kofi ate his muffin like an alien from another planet. Tore off the top, set it aside, and took a bite out of the base. "I warned you about watching Adventure Time before bed. You know how that dog thing freaks you out."
"It defies the laws of physics!" snapped Mike, clearly at the end of his tether. "It spits in the eye of reality!"
"So did the Powerpuff Girls, yet you had no problem with them fighting crime and trying to save the world."
Mike was in hell. He saw no other explanation. He had died, possibly in his sleep, and this was his eternal damnation. Coffee with Kofi Kingston and sex dreams about Randy Orton. Had he truly lived such a horrible existence that he was now subjected to this? Did God truly hate him that much?
"Can we just have one conversation not about mutants? Let's focus on my problem."
Done with the base, Kofi started on the muffin top. "Man, even in a leap year we wouldn't be able to cover all of your problems. You're a multi-layered mess. A seven layer dip of fucked up. And if you didn't look so pitiful, I'd tell you how I really feel."
So this was Kofi being kind? It felt like being reamed by a cactus.
"I need your help, so are you going to be supportive or are you going to be a douche?"
Finished with his snack, Kofi folded his hands on the table and smiled. "Please, allow me to be the wind beneath your wings. The Obi-wan to your Luke Skywalker. The Ferb to your Phineas."
With help like this, Mike was fucked for sure.
He soldiered on. No turning back. "Like I said, I've been having these dreams lately. Every night for about two weeks now. Since a couple of nights ago, though, they've gotten more frequent… And more vivid."
Despite solidly staring Kofi in the eye, Mike couldn't fight the flush spreading across his cheeks. The higher Kofi raised his eyebrows, the redder Mike grew.
"Oh…" For the first time since entering the coffee shop, Kofi stopped smiling. "Okay… So… What you're saying is… You've been having dreams…"
"Yes."
"Of an adult nature…"
"Yes."
"That are, I am to assume, unwanted."
Mike let out a long breath. "Very much, oh my god, you have no idea…"
Kofi took a moment to process the information. "Why the hell are you telling me this? No offense, Mike, but you and I aren't even Facebook friends. It wasn't too long ago that you wouldn't have thought twice about busting my kneecaps with a sledgehammer. Maybe we should go back to that because your idea of bonding is starting to creep me out. Not healthy, man."
"I guess you would know a thing or two about mental instability, seeing as you spent months hanging out with R-Truth." Mike scrubbed his hands across his face. "Don't let this go to your head, but I really need someone to talk to and you're the first person that came to mind. Just hear me out, okay?"
Fingers drumming against the table, Kofi glared at Mike. "I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"
"Probably." If the shoe were on the other foot, Mike would have laughed in the other man's face, wished him good luck, and walked away. Showed how much he deserved this nocturnal torment.
Sighing in resignation, Kofi threw up his hands. "Damn it! In that case, I'm gonna need some coffee and a scone." Rising, he pointed a finger at Mike. "Does your perverted situation require a scone? Tell the truth."
Mike nodded sadly. "Better get two."
Two mocha lattes, one French roast coffee, two scones, and a slice of lemon loaf later, Mike laid it all on the table. He held nothing back, even at the destruction of his ego.
Leaning back in his chair, Kofi folded his arms across his chest. "I'm not sure which part I have a harder time wrapping my head around. Randy seducing you or Randy being romantic. Either way, I'm never looking at Orton the same way again."
He wasn't the only one scarred for life. Kofi only had secondhand knowledge of the dreams. Mike actually lived through them. Had them play out in his head night after night. To keep from sending Kofi running out of the coffee shop, Mike had spared him some of the more explicit details.
Like the imagined size of Randy's dick, which even during daylight hours sprang to mind.
Or that, upon waking, he had a physical reaction to the dream. Depending on its intensity, Mike either woke up hard or having come all over himself. At one point he had found himself stroking his own dick and once he'd started… Well, he had to go all the way.
Mike absolutely, positively refused to acknowledge of possibly moaning Randy's name while innocently jerking off in the shower that very morning.
"Now you know what I'm dealing with. I can't even remember when I last had a peaceful night's rest." Mike went back to his napkin crumpling. "I'm not going nuts, man. I just… I don't know how much more I can handle."
Sleep aids were a no-go. Mostly because Mike didn't have a problem falling asleep. If not for the caffeine thrumming through his veins, he would have dropped off right at the table. As a consequence of being tired right down to his bones, he was getting sloppy. A real danger in their line of work. He couldn't afford being so unfocused. The sooner he got Randy Orton out of his head, the better.
All Mike needed was a magic feather to keep all the dreams at bay.
"This might sound like a really dumb question," said Kofi, "but I'm gonna ask it anyway. Mike, do you like Randy?"
"You mean as a human being?"
"I mean, like you're Rapunzel and he's Flynn Rider and the two of you are gonna go off on an adventure together."
"Flynn's real name is Eugene."
"I don't care if he called himself Butternut Squash and wore a coconut bra. Are you secretly harboring adult-type feelings for a man who, at one point in his career, greatly enjoyed kicking people in the head?" Kofi threw one of the balled up napkins at Mike's head. "I only ask out of concern for your safety."
Despite the numerous and adventurous position he had envisioned himself and Randy in over the last few nights, Mike had not actually considered an actual relationship with his dream lover. Mainly because he spent an unhealthy portion of his time convincing himself that he didn't find Randy attractive. Even when his mind and body proclaimed otherwise.
Kofi pointed out, "Maybe your subconscious is trying to give you the satisfaction that you're not getting from reality. Could be that your dreams are telling you what you want when you're too scared to admit it?"
"You calling me chicken?"
"Man, who the hell wouldn't be scared to proposition Randy Orton?" Kofi pulled the remainder of the napkins out of Mike's reach. "Listen, if you were having recurring dreams of King Kong chasing you around the Empire State Building with you dressed as a banana, I'd tell you to seek professional help. This sex dream business sounds pretty damn straight forward. You can either keep suffering or you can grow a pair and get yourself some Viper booty."
Was it truly possible that Mike harbored repressed emotions for Randy? Granted, the version of Orton that starred in his fantasies – he had to admit to himself that was exactly what they were – held only physical resemblances to the real, live Randy. Dream Randy was the perfect lover. Passionate and giving. He had a tenderness that the everyday Orton lacked. He saw to Mike's needs, sometimes multiple times in one night. Despite the turmoil the dreams created once Mike woke up, he was more than willing to welcome the Apex Predator into his dream bed.
"I wonder what Randy kisses like."
"Don't say that kind of stuff out loud." Kofi rubbed his stomach. "I'm having a hard time keeping my scones down as it is."
The two tossed out their trash, including Mike's pile of crumpled napkins, and headed out of the coffee shop.
"You'll be with me, right?" Mike grabbed onto the sleeve of Kofi's jacket. Not in a desperate, clingy sort of way. The Miz was definitely not the desperate or clingy type. "When I talk to Orton?"
Kofi snatched his sleeve away. "What am I, your spirit animal? You can do this on your own."
"But this is your idea," said Mike. "Like it or not, you're involved."
Mike preyed on Kofi's weakness, the fact that he was a standup guy. A fault easily exploited.
"Fine." Kofi sulked as they continued down the sidewalk. "But don't start thinking I'm some kind of RKO shield. That man has put some folks in the hospital for lesser offenses than asking him out on a date."