Title: You Always Fall in Love with Your Best Friend.
Rating: M for Mature.
Pairing: The Miz/John Morrison.
Warnings: Gay sex, cursing, breaks kayfabe.
Disclaimer: I own no one in this story!
A/N: Okay, so this was a story request by ItalianBoy. I'm totally used to writing Centon & Punkena, but since Elia is so amazing, I decided to do this request anyway. Well, I apologize in advance. This story was really hard for me to type. I just couldn't seem to capture their characters, but you all can be the judge of that. I really, really do hope you enjoy, though!
"We wish you the best, John. We really do hope to see you back in the company soon." Paul Levesque tells me as he hands me my terminated contract I asked for. "Oh, I'm sure you will. I just really need some serious time off right now to deal with injuries and things. I just really need to let my body heal for now." I explain, and he nods in agreement, "You do. You're totally right for asking for your release. You're welcome back anytime, don't hesitate to call." He says, and I smile, "Thanks, Paul. Thanks. I'm going to go get ready for my final match." I explain, turning to head out the door. "Hey, Hennigan?" He calls out. "Yeah?" I turn back. "Sorry you've got to go out like this. You know how Vince is though." Paul sighs, and I shrug, "No, it's okay. I totally understand. I just…I wish it wasn't with Michael, y'know?" I mumble, upset that out of all the people that could take me out, Vince would choose Mike. "Yeah, I hate it too. I'm sorry, man. Go ahead, though. Go get ready." He says, and I nod and leave the office.
Leaving the business will be good for me. I really do need time to rest my bones! That is one of the reasons, I swear! I just…I can't be here anymore. With Melina being fired, she needs someone there for her. She doesn't do well on her own, and I want to be there to take care of her and Charlie Bear. That and…and Mike. He's here, he's doing well, and he's really, really comfortable with Maryse. In fact, he's told me that he's just looking for the right time to propose to her! I can't be around that. I just need to focus on my own relationship. Then maybe these crazy thoughts I have about Michael will leave my head forever.
I exit the locker room, and head to the gorilla where I see Michael. "Hey, man!" He says once he sees me. "Hey, what's up?" I ask, pulling my jacket on, tighter around my body. "Look, I'm really sorry about how this all turned out. I really don't want to do this. You know I tried using every single excuse to get out of it!" He explains, and I nod and shrug, "Yeah, well, it's just how things turned out. I understand, man, don't even worry. Let's just go out there, and put on a great show." I say, wishing my music would just hit, so I can get away from him for a quick second. "Okay. Just know I'm sorry about this, and I love you, dude. I really hate that you're leaving. Who else am I going to have here to hang with?" He asks, chuckling a bit as tears form in his eyes. "Mike, stop. Stop. You're gonna spill your tears everywhere. We can't let the crowd see that. We'll talk after the match, okay?" I say, wiping away un-fallen tears. He nods and takes deep breaths till my music hits.
"The following is a Falls Count Anywhere match, set for one fall!" Justin Roberts announces, and my music hits. I hype myself up for a second, then walk around the corner to the ramp. "Introducing first, from Los Angeles, California, weighing 200—" Justin gets cut off when Miz runs out right after me, and immediately attacks me with a pipe, per script. The blows are barely connecting, but I try to sell the fight as best I can. Every so often I hear him whisper the words 'I'm sorry'.
Dammit, Michael, how am I supposed to get through this match in a calm and professional way, if you can't even connect the damn blows!
I sigh, thankful when the referees and EMT's rush out to aid me, and get Miz away from me. I do my best to sell my leg injuries for the camera, but more worried about how Miz is doing as he walks to the ring. As Miz asks for a microphone, I take my queue to turn myself around, and head to the ring for the match, doing my best to limp.
As I stare into Miz's eyes, I can see all the sorrow and pain that he's trying to mask with his character's rage and anger. I hope this is at least coming off believable to the audience and TV viewer's eyes, because it's not coming off the least bit believable to me.
The match starts and we do our best to keep with the spots planned out earlier this morning. It's going fairly well. However, after every crush and blow, the next seems to come later and later. He keeps having to take a second out to make sure he keeps his composure. Soon enough, the kendo stick is brought into play.
We perform our spots, and soon enough, we're making it up the ramp, getting ready for our big finish. Miz plays opossum, hiding out by the W logo and, per script, I go on the attack, only to get reversed and thrown into the sign. He eventually hits the skull crushing finale, and I take the few minutes I have left to try and breathe and relax, preparing to be stretchered out of the WWE for the last time, until I choose to come back.
As I lay there, I watch as Miz is deemed winner and his hand is raised. There are tears in his eyes again, and all I want is to be able to reach up and wipe them away again, just like before the match. I can't though, because I'm supposed to be hurt. That and we're not supposed to be friends right now.
God, Miz, please stay in character. Michael, please don't cry. If you cry, I'm going to cry. Mike, please don't do this.
As the replay airs on the titan, EMTs come out once again to fix me up, and get me put on the stretcher, while Miz goes to the back, and takes a breather, trying to compose himself. He comes back with a microphone and gives me his last once over before heading to the ring, while I'm being put on the stretcher. Michael heads to the ring as I head out of the arena.
I cringe, and my heart breaks as I listen over the monitors back stage as he speaks. His voice is cracking and you can tell he's crying on the inside. Anyone with a brain and a good set of ears can tell he's hurting on the inside. Once securely backstage and away from any cameras, they un-strap me, and I quickly run to the nearest monitor to see how he's doing. He's doing bad. Worse than bad. His eyes are red, puffy, and watery, and it doesn't even look like it's The Miz that I know and love out there. It's some dead, mechanical, zombie version out there at this point. He does his best at running through his promo, then quickly makes it back to the backstage area where I meet up with him.
"Hey, man, I'm so, so, so, so, so sorry! Are you okay? Did I hurt you? God, John, you're leaving me! You're fucking leaving me! Why are you leaving me, John?" He breaks down into my hug and cries copious amounts of tears all over me. "Mike, buddy, hey, come on. Stop, please? Please stop. I'm going to come back, man. I'm not leaving you permanently. You're still going to be my best friend, you know that. This isn't going to change anything between us, man. Please calm down." I try to console him but it doesn't help.
The only thing that gets him to stop is when Natalya, Cena, Anthony, Brianna and Stephanie, Ron, and Orton, along with various other Superstars, all come over to say their goodbyes to me. As they all give me their goodbyes, I notice Michael has walked off and left. I quickly finish up my goodbyes with everyone, and make a b-line for Michael's dressing room.
"Hey. Why'd you run off?" I ask, already knowing the answer. I can see that Michael's been crying. "Just needed a moment to myself." Michael replies. "You still driving me to the airport?" I ask. "You're leaving already?" Michael's eyes go wide. "Mike, I already told you when my flight leaves. I can't miss it." I explain. "Yes, you can! You can miss it and stay here with me!" He yells, and I sigh. "Mike, there's a reason I told you about me leaving waaay before I told anyone else. I knew you'd take this really hard, and I wanted to give you time to get over it. What have you spent all that time doing?" I ask, taking a seat next to him. "Praying that you'll change your mind and stay." He mumbles, and I smile out of heartbreak.
Both our hearts are breaking right now. Of course mine is for a completely different reason.
"It's not going to be that bad, Michael." I assure him. "Who am I gonna hang out with now?" He asks, and I sigh. Apart from me, only Cena and occasionally Alex, are the only ones to associate themselves with Michael. Everyone else just doesn't understand him like I do. "A-Ry?" I ask. "Nah, he's pretty comfortable with his little jobber buddies. Not gonna make him uncomfortable." He shrugs. "Cena?" I ask. "Yeah, because he's going to take time from his butt buddy, Orton, to hang out with me," He groans in irritation, "Ya know, I'm still trying to get used to John and Randy being…gay together. I mean, I know they came out to all of us a year ago, but it's still just weird to me." He mumbles, and I bite my lip in irritation. "You don't like gay people?" I ask curiously. "I have nothing against gay people! I'm around them a lot. It seems every guy friend that Maryse has is a freaking fag," I cringe at his word use, "so I have no problem with them. Never did. They're nice people. It's just…John and Randy? Maybe it's true what they say." He shrugs. "What do they say?" I ask. "That your best friend makes the best lover." He looks at me and smiles, and I quickly smile back, "Yeah, that is true." I reply, a gleam of hope in my heart. He quickly pulls out his phone, and I look over and see that he's texting Maryse.
'Hey, baby. Just checking in on you. I miss and love you! Love, Michael; a.k.a your best friend, boyfriend, and lover :)'
Well there goes my gleam of hope, tumbling into the black abyss of pain and hurt. "That was sweet." I mumble, and he looks over and smiles, "Thanks. I try." He chuckles. "Come on, I've got to make my plane." I stand and grab my bag, anxious to get outta there and away from that conversation as fast as possible.
Three Weeks Later
Los Angeles, California; John Hennigan's Condo:
RING RING! Great. He's calling. Again. For the I-don't-even-know how many'th time. I can't avoid him forever I guess.
"Hello?" I answer after picking up the phone off the floor. "Hey, man! Where've you been?" He asks, concern in his voice. "My bed mostly. Occasionally the kitchen and bathroom." I answer. "You sick or something?" He asks. "Sick? Yeah, something like that." I mumble. "Well I've got something that'll cheer you up!" He yells. "What?" I ask, thoroughly un-interested. "I'm almost in your driveway! Come unlock the door!" He replies, then I hear him hang-up. I groan out loudly in irritation. This is the last thing I need. Especially after all the shit I've been through lately.
Starting day one of my life after the WWE, Michael called at least two times a day; three when he could actually spare a moment. That lasted two weeks, till I couldn't keep up my act anymore, and just stopped answering his calls. It wasn't because of him. Well, not mostly at least. I've just had a lot happen to me in the past three weeks. Seeing his face and not being able to touch it, is not going to help my cause. I promise you this, God must have it out for me. This shit's getting ridiculous.
By time I gather myself out of the bed, pull on some clothes, and make it down to the door, he's already banging on it and yelling. Dude, stop fucking yelling. You're going to get me kicked out sooner than later.
"Calm down!" I yell after answering the door. "JOHN!" He screams, and pulls me into his arms; our groins touch, and I have to hold back a groan of pleasure. "Hi, Mizzy." I reply, hugging him back. "What the hell is up with your place? Melina stop cleaning?" He chuckles, pulling himself, and his luggage, into my condominum. "Uhm, sorry, I'll clear you a spot." I mumble, throwing stuff from one couch to another, so that we can sit. "Where's Mel? I wanna say hi. I'm sure she's out shopping though. Didn't see her car out there." He chuckles. "She's God-knows-where." I sigh, collapsing on the couch next to him. "What do you mean?" He asks. "A lot has happened since I quit. It's not been all ponies and rainbows like I thought." I reply. "What are you talking about, dude? Just say it. Something happen between you two or something?" He asks.
"Uhm, yeah, we broke up. She took getting fired as a good excuse to see other people. She was pissed that I quit for her. She asked the condo owner to terminate our contract because she was moving. The guy won't let me re-sign it with just my name, because he also is pissed that I quit, and is now holding it over my head. I have two weeks to be outta here. My stand-up career has been officially ruined. The people I were going to go on tour with has dropped me as an act. And Foley can only fit me in, in certain shows of his, so that's not much money. The wrestling company I was going to sign with dropped me for fucking Matt fucking Hardy and fucking Reby, since Melina and I are no longer together. My Mother and I got into it over some shit, and now we're not speaking. It's…it's just bad." I explain, close to breaking down.
"Jomo, why didn't you tell me any of this in the first place?" He asks. "I didn't want to downcast any of my sadness onto you and Maryse's happy lives." I answer. "Dude, my life isn't all too great either. I would have told you, but you wouldn't answer my damn calls!" He yells. "I'm sorry, Mikey, I am. What's wrong in your life?" What could possibly be wrong in your life?
"Well for one, Maryse turned down my proposal. She said she's not ready for marriage right now, so ask later in the future," Big deal. She's still with you, "We're not house hunting anymore because she doesn't want to give me the wrong idea about our relationship. She wants to start taking things slower," Big deal. At least she didn't sell your condo, "And they're stopping my title hunt push because I'm going to start filming soon," What the fuck ever. You still have a job. In fact, now you have two jobs, "So you're not the only one going through it, man." He finishes.
"Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry you're going through it, Mike." I mumble, honestly not caring what he has to say or what he's going through. "Besides, I'm here for you man." He smiles, and wraps his arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer to him. "Hey, Michael, can I tell you something?" I ask. "Sure." He replies. "Uhm…" I honestly don't know how to tell him. I want to, but I just can't find the words…fuck. Instead, I take a leap of faith and reach up and kiss him. He doesn't pull away, but he doesn't kiss back. He just sits there, tensed. I pull away after a few seconds and look at him.
"W-What the hell was that?" He asks with a soft voice. "Everything else is going bad in my life. I decided I might as well add you to the list. Mike, I like you a lot. I have for a while. When we were in your locker room before I left, you said that it's always the best of friends that fall for each other. That gave me hope. When you texted Maryse what you did, you killed the last bit of hope I'll ever get. You don't like men, you don't like me, and you never will. I get that. But I wanted to tell you. Now that I just ruined this friendship, officially every single thing in my life has turned to crap. I'm going to just fucking move far, far away and start the fuck over." I say, then stand up, preparing to go to my room.
"Wait, wait, wait." He says, grabbing my arm, and stopping me from leaving. "What?" I ask, groaning in irritation. "Who are you to say that you just ruined our friendship?" He asks. "Because I did. You don't like me and I just kissed you. Michael, I don't want your pity just because I'm going through shit. You didn't want me to kiss you and I know it. Just please don't give me pity friendship, okay?" I explain, then try to pull away again, but he yanks me back again. "John, you didn't ruin our friendship. Would you please quit acting like such a chick?" He asks, getting pissed. "Is that a gay insult?" I ask, scrunching my eyebrows together. "No! Ohmigod, John, I'm going to kill you. Would you just talk to me?" He begs. "I don't want to talk. I don't want to hear you turn me down, okay? Just leave." I say, then go to my room as I hear him shuffle around downstairs.
I lay down on the bed, throw my arm over my eyes, and just breathe. I'm definitely moving out of California for my big start over, but to where? Maybe like Colorado or something. Nah, I'm not too much of an outdoors guy. Maybe to New York! I don't really want to go to the big city. What about Atlanta? Atlanta sounds pretty go— "Hey." I hear Michael's voice in the room. Atlanta sounds pretty good. I'm going to try— "Hey!" He yells out again. I'm going to try to start there. "HEY!"
And suddenly he pounces on the bed, hovering over my body. I freeze. If I move my arm from my face, his face is going to be right there. How am I supposed to handle it? I can't just force him to love me. I can't just— And suddenly his lips are on mine. I, again, freeze. "Can you move your arm now?" He asks, and I slowly move my arm to see him hovering above me, a small smile on his lips. "Thank you." He says, and then kisses me again.
I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss back. I don't know why he's doing it, but I'm not going to question it. And as much as I bitched to him and myself that I don't want his pity, right now, pity sex sounds pretty great. His lips trail across my lips, and I open so that our tongues can collide. God, he tastes amazing. After we thoroughly taste each other, he pulls away and smiles at me a bit. I go to speak, but he leans down and pecks my lips again.
"Take off your shirt, and don't say a word." I smirk a bit at his demanding demeanor, but follow his orders and quickly remove my shirt, as he removes his as well. He stares down at me for a moment with a bitten lip, thinking heavily, "Your pants too. Now." He says, rolling off me, and busying himself with removing his pants. I quickly pull off my shorts, leaving me completely in the nude, then look over in just enough time to see him pull off his boxers.
"Oh wow…" I mumble, seeing his cock. I've seen it before, obviously, and I've even stared a few times. But seeing it so close to me, in my bed, it makes my mouth water. I look at his face to see him about to speak. Scared that he's about to end this all, I quickly roll over on top of him, and lay my lips back on his, our cocks rubbing together which makes us both moan out. "Finally you come to life." He chuckles as we pull away. "Michael. Just. Fuck. Me." I growl, leaning down and biting at his ear. "Gladly." He replies, reversing us again so that I'm on my back against the pillows.
He sucks his fingers, then trails them down to my entrace. "Mike, no, forget that. Just do it already." I beg, needing to feel him inside me. "I don't wanna hurt you, Jomo." He whispers. "It won't hurt, I promise. Please just—" I try to get him to forget it, but he won't, "Why not?" He asks. "Because I've done it before. Just please, Mi—" He refuses to let this go, "You…you've been with a man before?" He asks, pulling away from me. "Uhm…yeah. I'm bi-sexual, Michael." I explain, adverting my eyes from him, shy now. "Wh-Why didn't you tell me this?" He asks. "Because, Mike! I didn't think you'd accept it! I was scared of what you'd say. Especially after Cena and Orton came out. You just seemed so freaked out, and weired out. I knew I'd made the right decision in not telling you." I explain. "You should have told me." He states, staring at me with hurt eyes. "I'm sorry." I mumble. "That's not important anymore." He sighs, then leans back over me.
My eyes go wide as he grabs his length, and lines it up at my entrance. Oh God, this is really gonna happen. He slowly pushes inside, and immediately groans out, "Fuck, John, you're so tight!" He growls. "More, God, more!" I yell out, not wanting to go with this slow shit, "Faster. Faster, please!" I beg. He grabs my waist, and quickly pushes all the way in. "God, yes!" I scream as I grab at the sheets around me. He sets a nice, hard, fast pace, making me scream out his name, and making my toes curl. I reach up and grab his neck, bringing him close so I can kiss him again. His hips still for a moment, just grinding inside me, and I moan out into the kiss. "You feel so damn good, baby." Michael whispers, pulling away from my lips, and going back to pouding me.
This is everything I've wanted for the longest time. My imagination has done him absolutely no justice. I just can't believe it's really happening. But…but what if this is just pity? What if this is just a one-time thing? What if—
"Oh, fuck! Right there! Yes! Omfg!" I scream out, Michael having found my spot. I reach my arms up, clawing at his back, as he hits my spot over and over again. I reach down and begin stroking myself, close to my end, and soon enough an orgasm washes over me. "Yeah, baby, cum for me." Mike purrs, as I cum all over my chest, moaning out his name as I do. He smirks, then pulls from me.
"Get on your knees." He says, and I quickly do as he says. Once, squatted on my knees, he stands in front of me, holding his length to my face, "Suck the cum out." He demands, and I obey without any words. I have wanted to taste him so bad. I stick my lips to the head of his length, then slowly push down more, and more, and more, till I'm swallowing all of him. He fists my hair and groans out. "That's it, baby." He whispers. Using my hair to guide me, he sets a pace for me and I quickly beging sucking him off. I make sure to use my tongue to his advantage, swirling my tongue along the underside of it whenever I can. Then suddenly he pushes my head balls deep, almost making me gag. And then he's cumming. I do my best to swallow all of it, choking a bit when he pulls away.
"Fuck that was amazing." He groans as he plops down onto the bed. I wipe off my face and chest with my shirt, then lay down as well, and for a moment, there's silence.
"Why did that just happen?" I ask, still a bit breathless. "What do you mean?" He asks. "Why'd you just fuck me, Michael? Why did you do it?" I ask after a few seconds, just waiting for him to tell me he felt bad about what I'm going through, and wanted to make me feel better. Just waiting to hear the rejection from him. "Because I like you, John. Maybe you should have stayed downstairs with me, and you would have found that out." He explains. "Y-You like me? Me?" I ask, rolling my head to face him. "Yeah, just at random times throughout our friendship. I'd always tried to get myself to stop, because I thought it was weird. Then when Cena and Orton came out, I figured maybe it's not so weird. I didn't think you'd too much like that idea though. When I said that thing about best friends in my locker room, I was talking about you, Johnny—" I cut in, "Then why'd you send—" I try to ask, but he stops me, "After I said it, I looked at you. You had this smile on that, to me, seemed like you were creeped out, and was trying to keep calm. So I had to cover it up. I knew for sure you didn't like me then, so I just…I pretended it never happened." He explains. "Why didn't you tell me?" I ask. "I could ask you the same thing." He chuckles, and I smile shyly, "Yeah, sorry." I mumble. "Whatever. All that matters is that we both know now." He smiles. "Yeah." I reply. "Come here, come over here and let's go to sleep. We've got a lot to talk about tomorrow when it comes to us. Melina's gone, and I'm starting to think Maryse maybe just isn't the one for me." He says, and I quickly look up at him with a wide smile, then roll over closer to him, my ray of hope back in my heart and brighter than ever.
A/N: Ahh! The End! I really hope you guys enjoyed it; especially Elia! The sex could have been better, but I gave it my best. Please review! & Feel free to leave criticism, just don't be too hard. Again, it was really hard for me to write these characters. Thanks for reading :)