John, I'm Only Dancing
Summary: After seeing Mike dancing with Maryse, John finds out that "Be Jealous" isn't just a catchphrase. JoMiz one-shot inspired by the David Bowie song. Rated T for themes and language. First slash, be gentle.
Disclaimer: I own jack squat. All WWE people belong to World Wrestling Entertainment. Maryse and John Morrison are no longer with the company so they belong to themselves. All songs belong to David Bowie.
A/N: Been trying to crank some slash out forever now, but it keeps getting away from me… becoming longer or weirder than I intended, or I start feeling guilty for writing smut, or I just get caught up in fantasizing about the Miz and forget what I was doing… but this time I think I've got something. Constructive criticism is accepted. Destructive criticism will be shined up, turned sideways and… well, you know the rest. XO Marissa
Mike swallowed hard as he walked down the corridor. He wished the hotel room he shared with his former tag partner was further from the lobby, so he could have more time to think of what he was going to say. He'd been thinking the whole time on his way back from the club, but he still didn't know what would make John stop being angry.
Why did he freak out on him like that? John knew the situation. As badly as he and Mike wanted to proclaim their love to the world, the world wasn't ready for it yet. Homophobia wasn't as prevalent an attitude as it was a few decades ago, but in a business that, perhaps without meaning to, had done more to reinforce gender stereotypes than to fight them, it still wasn't safe for a gay couple to come out, especially when one of them was a former WWE Champion and one of the top heels in the company. The shitstorm would be never-ending. Tabloids flying off the shelves, angry parents calling in, church bonfires fueled by copies of WWE Magazine, ratings plummeting, and it would be the unemployment line for both of them. The Billy and Chuck angle had been one thing, but a real-life romance between two males was ground the WWE feared to tread, especially in the age of the PG rating. So when fans had started to interpret the friendship between the Miz and the drop-dead gorgeous Diva, Maryse, as more than a friendship, they'd just rolled with the idea. It kept their secret a secret, after all.
But it had all gone wrong at the club tonight. Mike wasn't attracted to Maryse that way—he thought she was beautiful, but in the sense that one finds a work of art beautiful: something to look at, not to touch. But he couldn't be standoffish with her in public, or people would talk. So they'd danced the night away together. Mike had made one big mistake, though. In order to make dancing with a girl less awkward for him, he'd imagined that it was John dancing with him, that instead of the leggy, buxom blonde, it was his toned, tanned, gorgeous brunet lover grinding against him… and Mike's imagination was just as strong as his body. He really got into the dance, to the point that Maryse had shot him a quick, questioning look. "Just putting on a show," he'd whispered, which had settled her worries. Then, for the benefit of the celebrity stalkers he knew were watching, he'd given her a peck on the lips. That was when he'd noticed movement from the staircase that led to the restrooms, and immediately regretted the entire night.
John had been watching the whole time. And he was heading towards Mike and Maryse, with the look of someone who had lost his dog, his grandma and his best friend in the same day.
"John… you OK?" Mike had said. Stupid question. Of course he wasn't.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired. I think I'm gonna head back to the hotel," John said. "Can I have the keys?" They'd shared a rental car.
"I'll come back with you," Mike said.
"No, I just want to be alone right now. Why don't you give him a ride back, Maryse? He's practically been riding you all night." Maryse's mouth dropped open. John had never been rude to her like that. "Keys," John said, his jaw set… but his face was screwed up to keep tears in.
"Johnny, baby, don't do this," Mike said. He never called him Johnny or baby in public. "People were watching. We were just dancing."
"Give me the keys, Michael," John said. "Please. I just want to go."
Reluctantly, Mike handed him the keys. John took off.
"John, what's the matter?" Cody Rhodes asked him innocently.
"Nothing. Leave me alone," John snapped, tearing up. He kept walking towards the parking lot. A moment later, Mike came by the same place.
"What did you do to him, Mike?" Cody said.
"I don't know. Maryse and I were just dancing. He knows that."
"Uh-oh. Sounds like Mr. 'Be Jealous' is taking his own advice."
"Oh, shut up, Cody," Mike said, walking out to the parking lot. He was too late. John had already gone. Dejectedly, he trudged back into the club. Cody was still standing there, looking like a hurt puppy—that was the second time tonight one of his friends had snapped at him. "Sorry, Codes. Didn't mean to snap. I'm just freaking out. And I don't know how I'm gonna get back to the hotel—he has the car."
"Teddy and I can take you back," Cody offered. "We were about to head out anyway."
"Thanks."
Now Mike stood before the door of his own hotel room, where he knew John was doing one of three things: crying, sulking or sleeping. He still had no idea what he was going to say, but he figured he'd just improvise, and swiped his keycard. John lay on the bed, eyes closed but clearly awake, tear stains on his cheeks. His Affliction T-shirt was thrown on the floor, and he lay on his side in just his low-riding blue jeans, his tight six-pack on full display. If Mike didn't know Johnny was pissed, he would have jumped him right then… he looked positively delicious. "Johnny?" Mike said cautiously.
"What?" John said in a low, sullen voice.
"Johnny, look at me."
"No. I already saw."
"Johnny… we were just dancing," Mike sighed. Johnny just sniffled. This wasn't going to work. "Scoot over," Mike said, climbing into bed beside him. John scooted as far as he could, facing away from Mike. When Mike put his hand on Johnny's shoulder, he slapped it away. "Johnny, don't be like this."
"Dancing, Mike? That's what you call that, huh?" Johnny said in a stuffy voice—his nose was completely blocked. He must have really been sobbing hard. "I saw you. You looked like she was the only thing on earth that mattered. And I know that look, Michael. It's the one you usually give me."
"Johnny…"
"No. I'm talking. It was bad enough you were practically fucking her on the dance floor, but you KISSED her! On the lips! Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about, I saw the whole thing. She was totally turning you on. For God's sake, Mike, you didn't even tell me you liked women."
"I don't! Johnny, stop being irrational! You know the deal we have. You know if I didn't look like I was in love with her—or at least in lust—rumors would start flying. Not just about me and her, but about you and me. We're together all the time, Johnny. People think Maryse and I are a couple, and you and I are friends. If they found out it was the other way around, you know exactly what would happen. We'd be wished the best of luck in our future endeavors before we could blink."
There was a pause. Finally Johnny broke the silence with a sigh. "I know," he said. "I'm sorry, Mike. I know. It's just… it pisses me off to no end that it couldn't be me out there with you. Thanks to what some backwards-ass people in society think is right and wrong, I don't even get to dance with my own boyfriend in the club." He started to cry.
"Oh, Johnny… so that's what's bothering you," Mike said softly. He put his arms around John, glad that he finally let him. "Baby, I know it's rough. People are assholes, and for now, we've got to deal with that. Maybe someday everyone will understand that love is love no matter what equipment you've got downstairs. It pisses me off as much as it does you, but there's nothing we can really do about it, short of quitting our jobs. And you know if I had to choose between the man I love and the career I love, I'd choose you in a heartbeat."
"I'd never do that to you, Mikey," John said. "You've got such a wonderful career ahead of you. I wouldn't let you leave if you wanted to. I'd be an idiot to do that."
It was Mike's turn to get a little choked up. "So what does that make me? I know you've been thinking of leaving when your contract runs out, and I haven't tried to dissuade you."
"That's because you know as well as I do it's not working for me. I'm just not happy with this, Mike. I know some people are OK with being stuck in the midcard, but I just feel—unfulfilled. It's like there's something else I'm supposed to be doing with my life. But remember, I'm leaving the WWE, not you. I'll still be living in LA, you can see me every time you're at home."
"Yeah, all two months spread out over a year," Mike said bitterly.
"We'll find more time, somehow. You'll get time off… maybe they'll 'fire' you again, or they can say you're injured. Everyone needs a break once in a while, they'll understand. If anything, I'll fly out to see you on the road once in a while."
"I've always wanted groupies," Mike confessed. That made Johnny laugh. Mike nuzzled him.
"Mikey?"
"Hmm?"
"Will you dance with me?"
"What?"
"Dance with me. Like you were dancing with her. Just here in the room. I gotta admit, it was pretty hot… you looked like you were in heaven."
"You wanna know why?" Mike said.
"I'm dying to."
"I was imagining she was you the entire time. From the moment we got out there on the floor, I wasn't dancing with Maryse. I was dancing with you. She kind of got freaked out too."
"Aw, that reminds me, that was really bitchy what I said. I gotta apologize to her."
"She'll understand. I understand too. If I'd seen you dancing like that with Melina…"
"Ah, forget about girls, Mikey. Let's dance."
Mike put his iPhone in his portable speaker dock, and turned on his David Bowie album, thinking that Bowie had really summed up their night: John, I'm only dancing… she turns me on, but I'm only dancing…But that wasn't the song that played—it was one they both loved, romantic and with the perfect beat that matched the synchronized beat of their hearts.
Let's dance
Put on your red shoes and dance the blues
Let's dance
To the song they're playing on the radio…
And if you say run, I'll run with you
And if you say hide, we'll hide
Because my love for you
Would break my heart in two
If you should fall
Into my arms
And tremble like a flower…