07. Curve Ball

Rather than hanging out at the venue or going out for some drinks with the guys, or even his girlfriend, Mike uncharacteristically races back to his hotel room after Raw wraps up.

When the company is on the east coast, the superstar never makes it back to his hotel before midnight, it just doesn't happen. But when they perform on the west coast, like tonight in Seattle, the newly declared Captain of Team Raw is afforded a very rare opportunity that he can't pass up.

He flies through the door like he's the one to beat in a marathon. With only seconds to spare, he makes a mad dash to the bed, tossing his suit jacket across the king-sized mattress as he plants himself directly in front of the tv screen. He's glued to it the instant he turns it on.

Surprisingly, he's never been a huge fan of television - he'd much rather be on it than watch it - but over the years he's managed to collect a few favorites. Usually to stay caught up, he has to rely on his DVR and wait for a day off, but these days, with his responsibilities growing each week, those are far and few between. And that's why he's so excited right now. It has nothing to do with his big win over the company's poster boy, John Cena, earlier, and it doesn't matter that he'll be leading his team to victory at the upcoming Bragging Rights pay-per-view either. For once, his excitement doesn't stem from his job, but from something simple, something most people take for granted - he's finally able to watch an episode of one of his greatest guilty pleasures as it airs for the first time.

Only ten minutes in and he's engrossed; even the loud knock at the door can't fully tear him away. Not putting much thought into it, he figures Maryse must be back early and misplaced her keycard, so he gets up to let her in. Keeping most of his attention firmly on his show, he opens the door, almost failing to recognize he had assumed incorrectly. A double take is required. "Alex!"

"Hey, bud, want some company?"

"Sure," Mike says with a receptive smile, opening the door all the way for his protégé.

"You bolted out of the arena so fast, I wasn't sure if-"

"Shit," Mike curses under his breath, cutting Alex off. In his surprise, he had forgotten all about his show and since he originally thought Maryse was at the door, he didn't bother turning it off, but now that Alex is here…

He releases the doorknob and rushes back towards the bed.

Alex is taken aback by the sight and wonders what could have gotten into Mike all of a sudden. Letting himself in, he watches as the frantic man grabs the remote and clicks off the tv as fast as his clumsy hands will allow. Alex stands there, equal parts shocked and amused, a huge smile spreading across his face. "What were ya watchin'?"

"Nothing," Mike insists - a deer frozen in bright, white headlights. Unwittingly, he moves his hand behind his back, attempting to hide the remote like he's done something wrong. A feeling washes over him that's reminiscent of the time he was caught stealing money out of his mom's purse; except in his mind, this time feels more like he's robbed a federal bank. Needless to say, his suspicious behavior has not done him any favors and now Alex is certain his mentor's trying to hide something.

"C'mon, what was it?" Alex reaches for the remote but Mike successfully dodges his friend's attempt. Alex gasps, his jaw left gaping dramatically, feigning outrage. "It was porn!" he accuses with an accompanying point of his finger. "Not like other guys, my ass." He relishes Mike's expression for a long pause, enjoys seeing the guy sweat just a little and then he shrugs it off. "Who cares? Turn it on, I'll watch it with you."

Mike scoffs. "I'm not watching porn with you. Besides, it wasn't porn."

"Ah, but it is something you don't want me to see." Alex reaches behind Mike again, with both arms this time. Mike squirms, trying to wriggle out of the loose entanglement. Taking a step back, Alex holds his hand out, palm up, authoritatively demanding Mike hand over the captive clicker. He tries to suppress his smile, but he has a hard time staying in character - his tongue lodging in his cheek, fumbling the ruse. His snickering certainly doesn't help his cause either.

"No. Stop it!" Mike swats Alex's hand away and though he's serious about keeping the persistent man at bay, even he's unable to hide a smile at this point - his eyes totally giving him away.

With a half-hearted follow through, Alex lunges at Mike, intentionally trying to make him jump, but Mike overreacts and hurls the remote under the bed. He looks up to Alex, raising his chin arrogantly, contorting his mouth, impressed by his quick thinking; his insurmountable ingenuity.

"Really?" Alex asks in a patronizing tone, squinting his eyes. "Is this what we're doing?" He waits for a response, but Mike just nods defiantly. "Fine," he concedes, throwing his hands up in defeat. "You win." He huffs, turning away from Mike as if he doesn't have time for such childish nonsense, but with a single step, he keels over. "Ah, my leg!" He howls in agony, clutching his thigh.

Knowing that Cena had put Alex into a pretty intense submission hold earlier, Mike is instantly concerned for his friend. He's no longer thinking about the tv situation, only about Alex's well-being. "Are you alright, man?"

Quickly, Alex sprints to the desk - his diversion throwing Mike off just long enough so he's able to reach out to the flat screen mounted on the wall.

"Don't!" Mike bellows, charging towards Alex, closing the space between them, but he's too late.

With his football instincts going into overdrive, Alex holds Mike back as the picture flickers into focus and when it does, he's confused by what he sees. "What the hell is this?"

Mike sighs, dropping his forehead between Alex's shoulder blades, wondering why it couldn't have just been a commercial. He takes a deep breath and steps back, feeling the weight of true defeat. "It's just a show I like to watch sometimes."

"Oh." Alex walks over to the foot of the bed and sits on the edge. Pats the spot beside him and looks up to Mike, wanting him to take a seat. "What's it called?"

Mike looks at Alex with skepticism. Wonders if he's genuinely interested or just messing with him some more. Hesitantly, he sits down next to the guy, choosing to believe that he's being serious. "Gossip Girl," he answers meekly, watching Alex, waiting for him to laugh.

Alex furrows his brow, studying Mike's demeanor. "Are you embarrassed?"

Mike shrugs.

"I didn't think The Miz got embarrassed."

"He doesn't," Mike says adamantly. His eyes are steady and then he breaks the hold, lowering his gaze to his lap. "But sometimes Mike Mizanin does."

Alex nudges Mike with his shoulder and offers a friendly smile to let him know that he's in safe company.

Despite Alex's good intentions, Mike still feels a tinge of shame, of awkwardness, and is compelled to defend himself; to offer up an excuse of sorts. "A few years back, my girlfriend at the time would make me watch it with her. I guess it kinda grew on me."

"And now you love it."

Mike nods.

"Well, life will do that to you sometimes. Throw you a curve ball when you least expect it and something you never thought you'd like ends up being something you can't live without."

There's not one trace of sarcasm in Alex's voice and Mike can't believe how refreshing it is to not be judged for enjoying a show most guys wouldn't watch, much less admit to watching. He lets out a type of laugh that's meant to release tension. Playfully, he pushes Alex's shoulder, a calmness washing over him.

"So, what's it about?" Alex asks, gesturing to the screen.

Mike's eyes light up and throughout the commercial break and every commercial break, he runs down the list of all the characters and recaps their current storylines until Alex feels like he's already seen the show.

As the final scene is coming to a close, the background music becomes more and more prominent. Mike smiles. "I love this song."

"Oh!" Alex exclaims, slapping Mike's knee. "I meant to ask you about the concert."

Mike turns to face him, grinning from ear to ear. "It was incredible."

"Good," Alex says, smiling just as bright. "I'm glad you had fun."

"Thanks."

Alex waits a few extra seconds in case Mike wants to elaborate on anything in particular and when he doesn't, he's surprised he didn't express a greater appreciation for the tickets. But if he's honest with himself, he didn't want the guy to make a huge deal out of it anyway. Didn't want to risk getting into a discussion about why he couldn't go with him, not to mention how stupid he still feels for letting Edge's joke get to him the way it did. Nope, no use in rehashing something he can't change. He's just happy his friend enjoyed himself on his 30th birthday and got to have an experience he'll never forget. "You're welcome."

After a long stretch of silence between the two, Mike gets up to turn off the tv and then sits back down next to Alex. "This was nice. I liked being able to share this with you. I never get to talk about it with anyone."

"It's kind of weird you thought you had to hide it from me."

Mike chews on the inside of his bottom lip. Even though he's let a few tidbits slip here and there over the course of their friendship, he's really not used to talking about his personal life with anyone, he's always tried to keep that part of himself guarded. But Alex really has proven to be the most trustworthy person he's ever known. He wants to confide in him, so… "Maryse always gives me a hard time about it." Mike rolls his eyes, it all sounds so pathetic when he says it out loud. "I guess I thought you would, too."

"Not over a tv show," Alex winks. "Y'know, for someone who's always lecturing me about being myself, I'm surprised you care so much."

"Of what you think of me?"

Alex shrugs. "Not just me, but Maryse, too…or anyone for that matter."

Mike shifts his weight on the bed, suddenly feeling cornered and the signal his body language sends doesn't go unnoticed by Alex.

"Maybe it's just insecurities from high school or somethin'," Alex jests, trying to take the pressure off, to give Mike an easy out of the conversation if he wants it.

"Well, y'know, I was only president of the yearbook so I could make sure I was on every page."

"No way."

"True story." They both have a good laugh and Mike feels at ease again. "But I played sports, too, had tons of friends, but I dunno…I still always felt like I had to prove that I belonged."

"Why?"

Mike doesn't need a psychologist to tell him that his insecurities stem from his childhood. He was an only child and when his parents got divorced he was too young to understand that it wasn't his fault. And of course there was the relentless teasing from his classmates during that awkward stage he went through; he never thought he'd grow into his looks and it took him the whole of high school before he built up a decent amount of confidence - in large part due to his involvement in sports. All in all, the impact of those things has stayed with him and once in a while, usually when he's at his most vulnerable, it manages to seep through.

Not being used to revealing his innermost truths and now feeling self-conscious after only sharing a glimpse, Mike retreats, lending weight to the well-known adage - that old habits are hard to break. "It doesn't matter why, but it's a good thing, because basically, that mentality got me to where I am today and I wouldn't trade it for anything."

"I get that, but you put up with a lot of shit out there and from the way I see it, you should be able to watch whatever the hell you want without your girlfriend of all people, gettin' on your case about it."

Deep down, Mike agrees, but he doesn't feel comfortable having someone else come in and shine a spotlight on that aspect of his life. There's an urge in him to wrap a bubble around his relationship with Maryse, to protect it from outsiders, hold on tight. "I'm lucky to have her."

"You think you're the lucky one?"

"Of course," Mike snaps, not picking up on the underlying compliment. "Have you seen her? You know how many guys would give their left nut to be with a girl like that?"

"And apparently, some more than that."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just…" Alex shakes his head, instantly deciding to take another route. "Is that why you stay with her, because other guys like her?"

"That's ridiculous." Mike glares at Alex, trying to figure out his angle. "I stay with her because she's-"

"Part of your image."

"No!" Mike's outraged by such a low blow. "She has nothing to do with my image."

"But you have created one for yourself."

Mike finds himself a bit tongue tied. He's never been called out like this before; not in such a direct, completely exposed way. He wants to deny the accusation and do what he always does when confronted with a subject he'd rather not discuss. He wants to hurl snide remarks at his challenger; be offensive, insulting, degrading. He wants to be immature and irrational and talk so fast that Alex can't get a word in edgewise, dominate the dialogue until the topic at hand fades into obscurity. But that's exactly why he can't resort to his default setting – because it's Alex, and there's something in the way the man's looking at him that makes it impossible to treat him the way he would anyone else.

So, he concedes, still frustrated, but keeping his emotions in check. "You got me. I've put a certain image of myself out there for people to see. But that's because I want them to see that I'm successful. I want them to see that I made it, that I did what I set out to do. I'm not ashamed of that."

"I'm not saying you should be."

"Then what's the problem?" Mike jumps to his feet, his anger breaking free from its constraints.

Alex is frustrated, doesn't understand why Mike can't see how wrong Maryse is for him. "It's just…"

"It's just what?" Mike hovers over the instigator, trying to intimidate him. "Say it!"

Alex rises to his feet, feels more confident saying exactly what he's thinking with the extra two inches he has over Mike, not to mention, the extra twenty pounds. "I mean, from the outside you have everything, right? From the designer suits, to the stereotypical condo in L.A., that you never see, right down to the biggest cliché of them all. She's straight out of a twelve year old's wet dream for Christ's sake!"

Mike scowls. He's furious and confused at how an innocent conversation took such a nasty turn down a path rife with personal insults. He no longer considers it to be a challenge, but an attack on his integrity, his character.

"You're livin' the fuckin' dream, man!"

"And what's so goddamned wrong with that? I've worked my ass off for everything! I've earned everything! Don't I deserve nice things? Don't I deserve someone as beautiful as Maryse? Jesus." Mike shifts his weight to his right side as if he's going to turn away and then he snaps right back towards Alex. "I'll tell you what I don't deserve," he barks. "I sure as fuck don't deserve an ignorant punk like you, who doesn't even have a girlfriend, by the way! lecturing me on how I live my life!"

Alex takes a step backwards as if Mike has shoved him, but he hasn't, not physically. It's a step back out of courtesy, out of a sudden realization. He crossed a line he never meant to approach. "I'm sorry," he says, his eyes filled with a sincere emotion that expresses just how contrite he really is, and Mike recognizes it. "I honestly don't know why I went off on you like that."

Mike collapses onto the bed, hunches over feeling completely drained and somehow lighter, whereas Alex swims in an ocean of regret. He's disappointed in himself for emotionally pummeling someone who's been nothing but kind to him, who's put everything on the line for him.

"I'm such an asshole. I tell you I'm not gonna give you a hard time and then that's exactly what I do."

Mike looks up to Alex and cracks a sympathetic smile, his eyes still reflecting sadness though. "But not about a tv show," he chuckles weakly, irony in tow. He's not one to ever allow himself to come across as a push-over, but right now it's more important to him that the night doesn't end on a sour note, especially not with Alex. As much as he enjoys a good fight, whether it be physical or verbal, there's nothing he's hated more in his life than what just went down between him and his friend. Although he did nothing wrong, he feels filthy, from the inside out, in a way no shower could remedy.

Alex breathes a heavy sigh of relief. Seeing Mike smile at him after what he just put him through is tantamount to a time machine transporting him back through the disastrous layers of their blow out, to the way it was before he tried to swallow his feet. "Don't listen to me," he says. "Don't listen to anyone else for that matter. The world's full of assholes, like yours truly, and they'll convince themselves that they know what's best for you and judge you for who you choose to spend your life with, but in the end, it's up to you. If you're happy then to hell with everyone else."

Mike continues smiling at Alex, appreciates his sincerity.

"She makes you happy?" Alex nods his head, thinking that Mike will mirror his movement and that'll be that. They can move on and forget about the whole stupid argument, but Mike doesn't move, not even a twitch. He just sits there, looking up at Alex as if the concept is alien.

"Because, that's how you know it's right. Strip away everything on the surface - compatibility and attraction, success, status and everything else and what's left is the most basic thing anyone could hope for: to be happy. That's what I've always thought anyway, that the person you're with should make you happy."

Alex glances off to the side with a subdued smile, not thinking so much of a previous relationship, but to one he hopes to find one day.

"She cheers you up with the sound of her voice and makes you wanna get up in the morning, and then once you've started the day, you can't wait for it to be over because you know you're gonna get right back into bed with her. You can talk to her about anything, and she's the person you actually want to tell everything to and even if she doesn't understand, or can't relate, she'll listen to it all because it's coming from you, and she makes you feel as comfortable with her as you do with your own reflection, and maybe even more so."

Alex realizes that he managed to get lost in his idealistic words and when he looks back down at Mike, he sees that his friend is hanging onto every single one of them. It's hardly his intention to manipulate the guy, but he can't pass up the opportunity to give him something to think about as far as his relationship with Maryse is concerned, because ever since he handed that woman those concert tickets, he's had an uneasy feeling he can't shake.

"She'd never be critical of you because…" Alex leans in just a little and lowers his voice like he's divulging classified information. "In her eyes, there's nothing to criticize. You'd know that she makes you happy because all you'll want to do is make her as happy as she makes you."

Mike swallows thickly. He stunned. A numbness takes over his body. Maryse doesn't fulfill any of the requirements Alex listed off, and she should.

"I better go," Alex says, straightening his posture. "We're cool though?" He reaches down and grabs onto Mike's shoulder to make sure the guy is listening.

The numbness Mike was feeling vanishes. He looks up to Alex and nods, barely. He feels the heat of Alex's hand burning a hole through the fabric of his shirt and right down to his skin. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees him leaving and when the door clicks into place, he brings his hand up to his shoulder and holds it where it still burns. He sits there, running through the bullet points Alex recited and suddenly, he's hit with a debilitating pain in his stomach and a localized ache in his chest when he realizes that every she should have been a he.