Title: Be My Superman

Author: Candy_rko

Pairings: John/Mike

Summary: Mike hides behind the Miz. John wants to know the real Mike.

Words:

Disclaimers: All belongs to the WWE and McMahon

Author's Notes: Thanks for being patient and enjoy this chapter! Please and thank you. :- )

This also follows the storyline that's going on now so excuse that it's jumped ahead a few weeks. I'll probably write a different chapter each Monday so I can stick with what's going on.

Chapter 4

An alarm clock blaring and the smell of coffee was what ultimately woke Mike up. He blinked a couple of times, waiting for the pain of his migraine to lance through his head but thankfully nothing. He heard a few muttered curses before the annoying trill of music was shut off. Last night came back to him. Morrison being his usual drunk, horny, demanding self. And his knight. John Cena. John Cena, who should've been with some ring bunny, not being Mike's saving grace.

"Hey, how you feelin'?" John asked, coming to squat on the bed beside Mike, handing him a water bottle and Excedrin that he accepted gratefully. "You passed out as soon as we got back."

Mike looked around, realizing that he wasn't in his room.

It was John's.

John's bed. Mike's closed his eyes, inhaling the scent on the pillow. Gilette. Of course the man used what he promoted. He smiled wanly, face hidden. Thankful because it was probably red. "You didn't have to take care of me."

"And leave you to the wolves? I don't think so."

Mike sighed, sitting up in the bed, blushing a little when he noticed his clothes were off except for his boxer briefs. He didn't remember doing it so that meant John had been the good Samaritan. It was embarrassing. "You could've taken me to my own room. I didn't need a babysitter. I get migraines sometimes. I know how to deal with them."

"Yeah, not from where I was sittin'," John scowled. "Morrison was- You know what, I don't wanna talk about what he was about to do to you. You got history with him, I know, but you should press charges."

Mike laughed hollowly, "I used to let him fuck him. Why should I press charges?"

"…I…You were together?" John asked thickly.

"Yeah. It's a really long story. And I'm going back to my own room to take a nap in my own bed." Mike grabbed his clothes that were folded neatly on the end table by the bed, systematically putting them on. "But thanks."

John was right there in front of him. "You runnin' again?"

"I can't play games with you," Mike said softly, wanting desperately to have the man's arms around him, to press his face against John's chest, to…

"No games. You were the only one I saw last night. I didn't expect to see you there. But I was really happy. I thought, man, I'm finally seeing Mike. And then you left. Kinda hurt my ego, ya know?" John smiled wanly. "Are you that afraid that you're gonna keep runnin' from me every time I get too close? Because," John's breath was ghosting Mike's face and he could smell caramel and coffee and the faintest aroma of doughnuts, of all things, "Now's a good time."

"What-"

Soft lips were against Mike's and he found himself drowning in cobalt blue eyes, unable to respond, unable to do anything. But John felt so good against him, could feel the muscles pressing temptingly against him. A hesitant tongue flicked against Mike's, all tenseness fading from Mike's body as he melted into John's arms. It was slow and beautiful and everything that Mike had ever expected from the first kiss with John Cena that he'd fantasized about. A hard cock was rubbing insistently against Mike's thigh, their tongues dueling for dominance, and the moan Mike made couldn't have been stopped even if he'd wanted to because this was-

"No," Mike protested weakly, lips barely brushing John's, hating to see the disappointment in John's eyes. "We can't do this. We, I'm… John, I-"

"He really fucked you up, didn't he?" John shook his head, sighing, "Did he change the way you think about relationships? About love? What's goin' on in your head, Mike, because I gotta tell you, it's hard to read all these mixed signals. I don't know what you want from me."

"I don't know either," he laughed hollowly, "Patience, maybe? I don't except you to wait on me, John, because I know I wouldn't. I'm not worth it. Not with the shit that's happened in my past. And… really, there are others that would keep you happy. I don't want to drag you down into the insanity that's my life." This shouldn't have hurt. "It's not a nice place to be."

"I'll make that call," John's hand was caressing his face, Mike forcing himself to not lean into the touch, "Besides you have to be insane to be sane, right?"

Mike laughed, icy exterior melting underneath the soothing comfort of John Cena. "I guess so. What's scary is I know exactly what that means. Thanks, John."

"I wasn't lying. I said I'd wait on you and I will. I won't like seein' everyone all over you," John scowled, "But I'll live with it. And I'll probably get pissed when you get manhandled in the ring and maybe a little jealous of Paul-" Mike blanched at the images in his head- "But I'll be there. To put you back together, to play nurse when you get a migraine, a shoulder to lean on when you're havin' a rough day, anything that you want me to be."

What terrified Mike was that he believed every word that John spoke. John Cena wasn't a man to make weak promises. He lived by his own unique code that Mike would probably never fully grasp, never fully appreciate. Mike's flight or fight instincts made him wary about John. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to give you me," the Miz said, stepping back from the hold, the warmth fading fast. "I should get to the gym. I'll see you later?"

John nodded, his lips pursed, brim of his cap shadowing his eyes.

Mike briefly wondered if John had slept with his ex; few could resist the charms of John Morrison. The list was long. Friendships had been ruined because everyone wanted a piece of the Shaman of Sexy. Mike could vividly remember the men and women that he walked in on with Morrison. Some were nameless faces, anonymous fucks that Morrison had picked up in local bars and clubs, some were ring bunnies, others stage hands. The ones that really burned were the other wrestlers. Because they'd known that Morrison was with Mike and yet they still fucked his boyfriend. The betrayal had been torture for him.

"I didn't."

"What?"

John smiled wanly, "Have sex with Morrison. When you're not hiding, you're pretty easy to read. And when you're thinking about Morrison, your eyes are so far away, like you're lost in the memories."

"You're poetic this morning," Mike retorted, "I'm not ready to get into that bastard and what he did. I mean, there are times that my heart's too dark to care, you know? If I'm alone… There's no chance of anyone being hurt. Johnny was my light. I was- I have to go. I'm sorry. I'm not ready."

"It's fine. I told you. I'm not going anywhere. Sorry, baby, but you're stuck with me."

Mike ignored how his cheeks flared at John's open honesty. He was torn between leaving and staying. He wanted to let John know, wanted to tell him all of his past… He wanted to have John hold him and tell him that he wasn't some dirty whore, that Morrison was wrong about him. He wanted John to love him because of not only his appearance but his brain too. Something that Morrison hadn't done. And he was fucking terrified that John would hate him too once he actually got to know him. Because it had been imbedded in his mind by Morrison, by other exes, that he was nothing more than a sex toy. That he couldn't offer anything substantial. That no one would ever love him. And he'd believed it, day in and day out, that it was true.

He glanced at John as he grabbed his effects from the table near the door, "Meet you for lunch later?" Because maybe, just maybe, John Cena could be the one to prove them wrong.

The kilowatt smile that John shot him made his heart skip several beats, "Alright. Call me when you get done?"

"Sure. Definitely."

Mike closed the door softly behind him, taking out his phone to call Evan for a ride to 24 Hour Fitness. "Hey, man, you busy?" he asked, heading towards the elevator.

"Never busy for you, Mikey! What's up? You ok? And you know what, you mother fucker, you left without telling me. I was worried. And I saw Morrison with this huge shiner and-"

"Evan… Please? I'll tell you later."

"Yeah, ok. You better."

"You want to work out for a while? Bring Jake too."

"We'll be down in five minutes. Just have to get dressed."

Mike could faintly hear Jake protesting in the back ground and he silently congratulated them as he hung up. As the doors opened, he looked back at John's room, smiling.

Maybe John Cena could be his Superman.

JC&MM

"So, you gonna tell us are you keeping it to yourself? You've always been such a bitch," Evan scowled, finishing up his set of bicep curls, "What happened last night between you and the Shaman of Whores?"

Mike laid a towel across the back of his neck, both Evan and Jake patiently waiting for him to continue. He chuckled, noticing the Heavyweight Belt was resting almost reverently on top of Jake's duffel bag, the gold catching the light in the sun filtering through the windows. "Did you fuck him with it on?"

"Yeah, my jizz ith all over it," Jake winked cheerfully at Evan.

"What's it like, having that around your waist?" Mike's own belts were in a suitcase in his room. But this was a big deal for Jake. He hadn't held many titles since he'd being with the WWE and even though it was part of the story and that he would ultimately be losing his belt, he was proud of his friend.

"You're avoiding the question, Michael," Evan said, dark eyes narrowed in exasperation.

"I know."

"Not gonna work, buddy," Jake sank down on one of the benches, waiting for Mike to continue, Evan flopping down on Jake's lap. The Children of the Corn looks were unnerving.

"I've been… I'm…" God, it was hard to even talk to his best friends about it. They knew him better than anyone and had never judged him. If it hadn't been for them… Suicide had been promising back then. "I love John Cena."

"So, that's why you left? Because you wanted to make sure he was okay? You chose the most unattainable man in the business!"

"He said he'd wait on me," Mike said softly, still able to feel John's body pressed against him, the taste of him, his lips, his- "I trust him."

Evan sighed, "Are you sure you love him? That it isn't just let's fuck kinda thing?"

"It's love."

"Are you sure? Because Glitter Butt screwed you up."

"Gee, thanks, Ev," Mike frowned, "I appreciate being told I'm a basket case. Never mind. I'm sorry I even opened my mouth. I figured out of everyone that you'd accept this. That you'd be happy that I'm finally moving on."

"I am!" Evan protested, rising to stand in front of Mike, "But I don't want you setting yourself up for something that-"

"Am I not worthy of John Cena? That it, Evan? No, don't fucking touch me!" Mike snapped, "Fuck you!"

"Mike!" Jake hissed, "He's being your friend. Trying to look out for you."

Mike's ire simmered, gazing at Evan's frown. "I'm sorry, Evan. I'm being a jerk. You're just being my friend. Something I'm failing at right now. Forgive me?"

"I always do, asshole," Evan rolled his eyes, wrapping his arms around Mike's neck, "But if this is what you want then I say go for it. I don't really know John but if he makes you happy, makes you forget about stupid Glitter Butt then I think you should show John just how amazing Mike Mizanin is."

"You think he'll, you know, still want me?"

"You're…stupid."

Mike shrugged, grabbing his Ipod and heading towards the treadmill.

He'd just gotten the support of his closest friends, the two that had been with him since ECW, had come to RAW with him. To Mike, that was a confidence boost to his low self esteem.

And honestly, he was eagerly anticipating lunch with John.

Because that would make or break it for their 'relationship.'

About how John accepted him.