AN: Slash, Strong Language, Adult scenes.
What the fuck did he expect? He could barely move because of the knife in his back. Had Dana made the right call? Fuck no, but there was nothing he could do about it. Fighting all he'd ever done and he just wasn't cutting it for one reason on another. Not in the octagon anyway. He wanted to be given one more shot, one more chance to prove to the fans he still had the edge, that drive that commitment and skill to pick apart the divison but Dana wasn't having it.
The "Backstage incident" that wasn't an incident had the crew gossiping, and it was only a matter of time before Dana got on his ass about it. He'd went to the bar, the place where all the guys could get drinks after their fights, the waitress wouldn't even look at him, let alone serve him, it pissed him off and he stormed off alone.
After he showered and changed, Miller was still getting approached by fans, saying that he had a good fight, but he wasn't stupid, everyone had read what Dana had put on twitter about Miller's mess of a fight. "That Sucked!" Now if the president of the octagon doesn't like your performance then who does? Apart from your family your friends and your diehard fans.
This was two fights he'd gassed out of, two fights that should have made him kick ass, two fights in the UFC he could have won. He now had the opportunity to fight in one of the most well known, most promoted and one of the most popular organisations in the world and he might have blown it.
C.B Dollarway was supposed to be an easier fight. Miller honestly thought he could pummel him. The same way he thought he'd "Smash" Bisping. Believe it or not, Miller actually wanted a Bisping rematch one day, even if it wasn't in the octagon. For mainly two reasons. One: to prove the haters wrong and two, because Bisping was an ass that needed to get his ass kicked. C.B Dollarway was going to be a stepping stone, not his final fight.
His friends, other fighters, his coaches his training camp told Miller not to worry about it, that he'd come back better than ever. If Dana and company didn't want him, he'd go somewhere else, smaller events that were low profile and had a good price tag on it. That were most importantly took Miller seriously as a fighter.
Miller and a few friends and his coaches went out and had a few drinks paid for a served with a smile. "She's definately checking you out" one of Miller's coaches said looking at the waitress. "Yeah? Is she into fighters that lose?" Miller asked and the table went silent. It was only two losses they kept on telling him, some guys in the UFC had five fights before they got told to fuck off.
"If Lesnar hadn't of retired, Dana would have tied him to his fucking desk" Miller's friend Ryan said and they all spluttered in laughter, spitting out beer on the table. Miller wanted to keep those bar images in his head for as long as possible, the times when he actually thought Dana would keep him on would stop making him feel so guilty.
Miller had thought he'd let everyone down and told Mark so when they got out of the car. "I'm here if you need anything" Mark said as Miller tapped himself on the face and shut the car door. "Yeah, check to see I don't gas out on the journey to my door" Miller said sarcastically. "I'll call you later" Mark said as he left. Miller got in his apartment and wondered whether he should even think about drinking.
He was an athlete, so by law he had no alcohol, no soda, no fast food, no donuts or a sprinkle of sugar in the house, no processed foods and water had become his best friend. But Miller was feeling low and needed anything to take his mind off his loss. He turned on the TV and his laptop, to see what the friendly wholesome pages of the internet had to say about his fight.
"What's next for Miller? Is Miller cut? Miller the prankster, Dana Ditches Miller, Mayhem gone Mad?" "I don't have a clue" Said Miller looking over reviews from MMA reports and comments from fans about the match. The Miller haters were always going to be out in full force with the same old crap, the knee injury gets mentioned quite a bit and his fans wanna know how it happened, if he's OK, and the top question if he can still compete. Dana's comment wasn't exactly of vote of confidence. Miller scanned down the screen as the "Miller fired" headlines were already making the rounds and confusing fans.
At this point Miller didn't know how to deal with it, he'd leave it to management with a statement or something. Maybe he'd write it himself, about how he was going to comeback bigger and better than ever, making Bisping shit in his British flag briefs. Worried about his career but too full of pride to call anyone he decided that he was gonna go to the local store and get a beer or two...fuck it he'd get a six pack and drink himself to sleep.
If it was just up to Dana he wouldn't have any fights to prepare for anymore. Taking the car would just cost him gas, so Miller put a cap and jacket on dug his hand in his pockets and crawled out into the night in shame. If Miller saw any of his training camp, he'd just lie and say he was going to get some fresh air.
He opened the door crept out to the store without being noticed and brought the cheapest Six pack he could find, he turned the TV on quite loud and was rubbing his fingers on the first can when he heard sharp knocks on the door. With can still in hand Miller opened the door and was so confused he honestly thought he was drunk already. "Turning to burglary? Smooth" Miller said looking at Nick Diaz on his doorstep.
He didn't even know Diaz was in town or knew where he lived, seeing as the last time himself and Nick were this close to one another Nick's groupies had started war, Miller wasn't sure if he was alone. "What are you doing here?" Miller asked annoyed that Nick was looking at the car beeping, then a radio playing on the other side of the road. "Look you don't know me, I don't really know you" Nick said. "No shit" Miller said about to shut the door. "Wait...I saw your fight tonight" Nick said putting his hand on the door and pushed it back open.
"It was pretty fucking shit" Nick said looking back into the night. "Well thank you Mike Goldberg, now if you'll excuse me" Miller was ready to shut the good for good when Nick asked him the obvious question. "Are you just gonna quit or what?" He asked.
"I don't think Dana's gonna give me a choice" Miller said leaving the door open. Nick followed him in and shut the door. "You got any ciggerates?" Nick shouted out and Miller went back to his laptop. "I've just had a fight, in the UFC, why would I have smokes on me?" Miller asked in frustration. "Uhhhh...because you've got drink on you" Nick said in a condescending tone.
Miller put the can on the table and Nick shuffled himself into Miller's living room and stood there looking at the TV. "Can I sit down?" Nick asked. "Well seeing as it's just a friendly visit, yeah..." Miller said tapping on his keyboard. "Where's your posse? Sorry training camp" Miller asked. "Dunno...asleep" Nick said reaching for the remote. Miller's cellphone rang and he could see Nick turn around as it vibrated on the table. Miller picked up his phone and answered it in his room, he closed the door before pressing the green button. "Jase I've been calling" Mark said anxiously. "Mark go to sleep seriously I'm fine" Miller told him.
"That thing at the bar, Ryan called me...Dana knows" Mark told him. "Shit" Miller said under his breath. "Does it look bad?" Miller asked. "Jase I don't know I only..." Mark began. "Mark come on is it?" Miller asked. "I think so" Mark said glumly. "Thanks" Miller said before ending the call. "Shit, shit...shit" Miller got up off the bed and opened the door. Nick was there, his hoddie nearly covering his eyes. "Listening to my calls now?" Miller asked. "No, you got anything to eat in here?" Nick asked. "Raid my fridge Nick, watch my TV, you may as well take my phone, it won't be ringing off the hook" Miller said throwing the phone on the bed and pushing past Nick.
To Miller's surprise Nick actually didn't wait and looked in the cupboards. "You've got like nothing...nothing I'd be bothered to eat" Nick said as he sat down on the sofa with a thud. They ended up ordering fast food instead. Miller ordered a meat feast with coke, ice-cream and a chicken wrap, and Nick ordered a veggie pizza with a diet coke. "Sure Nick, even though I've lost my second fight and feel like shit, I'll pay for you, no problem" Miller said as he paid the delivery guy. "Are you Mayhem Miller?" The delivery guy asked, trying to take his helmet off. "Ummm...me no speak no Inigishe...Ciao " Miller said putting his best foreign accent as he quickly shut the door.
"You know the UFC isn't the be all and end you know" Nick said. "You can fight somewhere else I mean, Strikeforce could take you back" "The contract expired" Miller told him biting a chunk out of his pizza. "But you could get them to make you an offer, get a new contract or you know, do your own thing" Nick said tearing the crust off his pizza and breaking into bits.
"Do my own thing?" Miller repeated. "Nick not every fighter's like you. I can't just stick two fingers up at my fans and get sponsor's coming out of my ass" Miller said. " Fans? I only do it to guys that deserve it" "Yeah, cripples in hospital...the class of the Diaz brothers" Nick put his pizza box down and stared at him, then looked down and picked up his pizza box.
"Don't bring my brother into this, they came at us started that shit ...and nothing really happened so you might wanna check your shit..." Nick said as he noticed Miller laughing and sat back in a strop eating his pizza. "Whatever you say about me, I've proved myself, you know, not just in the octagon, but everywhere, I've beaten tough guys you know, the judges screwed me with that Condit fight and everyone knows it and can't do anything. I can still fight, do jiu-jitsu or whatever...I don't gas out" Nick said turning over the TV. "God...has anyone ever told you that you can be a complete dick sometimes?" Miller asked. Nick shrugged his shoulders and stopped on a sport channel. The channel was showing clips from Miller's fight. Miller groaned.
"Nick give the remote" "No" Nick said simply putting his box down after stuffing himself with more than enough Pizza. "Come on hand it over, it's my apartment" Miller said putting his wrap in the box and the ice-cream in his freezer. "If you're gonna pull any stunts like that" Nick said pointing to Miller's television where on the screen Miller was struggling with a takedown and getting punched in the face. "Then it's not like I can't lose can I?" Nick asked.
Miller was determined to prove he could win one fight at least. Nick swung the remote out of Miller's reach until Miller grabbed his arm and twisted it, it just pissed Nick off and Miller had to pay respect to Diaz's poker face as Nick grabbed Miller's head and quickly kneed him in the face. Miller fell to the floor and Diaz pinned one of Miller's shoulder's down and used his weight to put pressure on Miller's bad knee.
"Miller VS Diaz, not the outcome I was expecting" Miller groaned through bloody teeth, that knee had nearly made him need denchers. "I've wanted to fight you fucker I've called you out so many fucking times and you've been such a little bitch, hiding behind this guy and that guy, bitching about me behind my back asshole. If it wasn't for the little yes men bitching security I would have fucking finished you in Strikeforce" Nick said slapping Miller's face hard. "Get off my knee Homie" Miller said trying to move but Nick wouldn't let him. "Fucking cheapshot, taking lessons from Paul Daley now?" Miller asked, as Nick got off Miller's knee, but still had Miller mounted.
"Come on then, show me that you're still good enough for the UFC you whiny piece of shit" Diaz said. "Why do I need to prove anything to a retard like you?" Miller asked. "Nick the dick, you take offers for granted OK? I don't fight to tell Twitter, I don't fight to get in magazines or get laid, get on TV or award or any of that bullshit. fighting is my life asshole" Miller said as Nick's palm touched his shoulder.
Miller put his hand over his face as tears filled his eyes. Great. He was being mounted by a skinny obnoxious trash-talking sore loser who was now watching him cry. Miller had to suck this up. "Get off me" Miller said trying to turn to his side to make a hip escape but Diaz flipped him back over like a McDonald's hamburger and Miller was back on his back.
"Why the fuck are you crying?" Diaz asked. "Why the fuck do you care?" Miller asked. "I don't... I'm just fucking asking" Diaz said. "Stop crying for fuck...Jas, don't cry" Miller was too depressed to push Nick off as Diaz started to kiss his neck. Was this the only UFC attention he was gonna get these days?
He laid still as Diaz hiked up his shirt and started to kiss his chest. "Hey Nick how much have you smoked today?" Miler asked confused. "None, you want me to stop?" Diaz asked leaning over on Miller's stomach and twisting his belt. "Fuck no, just making conversation" Miller said as he pushed Nick's hand away and undid his own belt.
Miller kind of guessed that Nick hadn't been the academic type at school and Diaz wasn't gonna give "The eggheads" a run for their money, but he had to give it him, the kid knew how to give a good blow job. It was better than Miller assumed it was going to be just before Diaz's mouth closed around his dick. Miller stroked the back of Diaz's head as he moved back and forth.
He stopped just before Miller came and Miller had to use a pizza serviette to wipe away the "accident" on his stomach. Like a cowboy getting back on his favourite horse Diaz mounted Miller again and began to push him back on the floor. "You didn't take up jiu-jitsu just for the belts did you?" Miller teased sliding his hand up Nick's heavy hoodie.
"Shut up, don't touch me" Nick said as his kisses got rougher. He turned Miller over and slowly kissed Miller's spine before digging his hands in Miller's pants. Diaz unzipped Miller's jeans and pulled them down kissing Miller's lower back before trying to take Miller's boxers off as well. "Wait, are we gonna fuck right here?" Miller asked. "Nah" Diaz said in annoyance. "I'm gonna drag you out to your neighbour's door and fuck you in front of them" Nick said.
Diaz tried to yank Miller's jean's down again but Miller wasn't going to let that happen. He'd had two embarrassing losses in the UFC and Nick was still part of the UFC. Diaz had had good fights, a good match up record and he was still getting Dana's checks in the mail. Nick was still UFC property and Miller couldn't do it, he couldn't get fucked over by the UFC a third time, even if it was indirectly.
"Nick get off" "Stop playing with me, you know you want it...stop fucking around" Diaz said, his clammy breath like a hot fan in Miller's ear. "No...I'll do it to you" Miller said leaning up. "Fuck you, do I look like I take that shit?" Nick asked. "When you say "take that shit" I assume you mean dick right? Not weed?" Miller asked. "Fuck this" Nick said as he did his trousers up.
He got his pizza box, stuffed his diet coke in his jean pocket and decided to leave. Miller zipped up his jeans and wrapped his T-shirt around his neck like a scarf. "Nick wait, it's important" Miller said as Nick stopped in Miller's hallway but refused to turn around. "I need your number, we need to arrange our first date. I was thinking is "Tucker's All you can eat buffet" good enough for you Diaz?" Miller asked as he laughed.
Diaz gave him the finger without looking back, and opened the door. Diaz put his pizza on the doorstep and slammed Miller's door as hard as he could before running to the nearest subway.