10. Nerves

A glistening layer of sweat coats Alex's body. He's out of breath, adrenaline pumping hard, and when he notices Mike walking towards him, he's grateful he can blame his appearance on an early morning workout and not on the effect his friend has on him.

In an instant, Alex finds himself being pulled towards Mike with an added spring in each step. His toes cling to the floor for just a fraction of a second longer than they should while his body pushes him forward. His movement falls just short of actual skipping and he has to literally tell himself to fucking relax. It's a hard command for his body to learn around Mike though, especially when they're alone.

"Hey, bud," Mike greets with a charming smile. "You going back to your room?"

"Yeah, I gotta shower."

"Good, you stink."

Alex had never felt nervous or self-conscious around Mike before, but since his incarcerated epiphany a few days earlier, almost every time he talks to him, he feels his cheeks heat up with the embers of a thousand fires; it doesn't even matter what they're talking about or if they're even talking at all. It's Mike's presence, his aura. It's in his voice. The way he carries himself; the way he cares. It's an energy that rushes towards him with the growing force of a raging tsunami. There's no escaping it. It's terrifying, exhilarating. It leaves him standing in awe and he's surprised he's able to stand at all.

"Come to my room when you're done?"

"Sure," Alex agrees, doing his best to ignore the want he imagines in Mike's voice…and in his eyes.

Silently, the pair share an elevator ride together and Alex can hardly believe the amount of tension building between him and his friend. It's almost too painful to look at him. Almost. He manages to steal a few glances at the guy and he wonders why it's taken him so long to see how unbelievably good-looking Mike is; how beautiful he is. A smile nudges at the corner of his mouth as he thinks about the way Mike saved him and at how amazing he is, at just how everything he is.

The ding of each new floor seems to come in intervals of minutes rather than seconds. Time slowing down enabling Alex to take it all in. He doesn't realize he's studying a set of rosy lips, but he is. Intently. Like he has some big exam coming up and the focus of his attention is the topic of every delicious question. Before this moment, he'd never given them much thought, but now he takes note of how the center of the guy's upper lip is a bit higher on the left side than it is on the right, how the lower is plumper than its counterpart and he wants to know what they taste like. Surely that will be on the test. And just so he's fully prepared, he wants to know how Mike would use them and what he'd do with his tongue and oh fuck. He's so close to coming undone when the ground beneath him jitters to a bumpy halt, a final ding prompting the door to slide open. The one place he wishes he could stay is the same place he can't get out of fast enough.

Cool air hits Alex's face as he steps into the hall and the relief he feels is comparable to his overwhelming curiosity of what could have happened if they had conveniently gotten trapped between floors. He'd be sure to set the curve then! "See ya in a bit," he sputters while turning in the opposite direction of Mike's room. Once he's in the clear, a silly grin finally breaks free.

xxxx

It's a simple task, routinely uncomplicated and completed after only two steps. A quick wash of his hair and a lathering of his body. The last of the soapy suds slip off soaking skin and make their way to the swirling drain. This is the point when Alex would normally reach for the knob to turn off the water because he's done, but this time is different. Sparks have ignited a fuse inside of him that he can't ignore. It's not something that's become a habit over the years, although it definitely wouldn't be the first time. But in a way, it is.

His thoughts are permitted to shift and he's in the elevator again, the ground beneath him pushing his body upwards. It's a subtle pressure at the soles of his feet as he stands in the enclosed space, and as he stands in the shower, another pressure. A pressure down past his bellybutton, at the center of his hips, away from his body. It's the grasping of his hand causing the pressure, creating an enclosure even tighter than the walls of the elevator.

He's staring at Mike's mouth again. His whole body shudders when he sees succulent red daring to reveal itself between parted lips, moving across them - to moisten, to tease. This time Mike looks up to Alex. First his eyes, and then a raising of his chin in a most enticing way, inviting Alex to make a move. Words flow between them without a sound. An entire conversation with a blink of an eye; a stroke of the hand. Alex slaps the button pad to his right. It doesn't matter if his aim was on point or not, because it is, because he wants it to be. The elevator comes to a full stop between floors. If there's an alarm ringing, he can't hear it, so it's not there. He pushes himself off the wall, lunging himself into a kiss.

He can feel Mike's hands on him. Over his shirt. No, they're under his shirt and better yet, he's pulling his shirt over his head. They travel down his naked back, collecting beads of sweat with his fingertips. Alex braces himself against the shower wall, Mike squeezing his ass with a fierce wanting, and when the guy moves his hands around the curves of Alex's hips, he can feel him through his mesh shorts. "Ahhh," Mike breathes, clearly impressed by what Alex has to offer.

Alex moans as Mike palms him through thin fabric. And he moans due to the violent rhythm of his own hand, doing his best to restrain himself. Wouldn't want his echoes heard ricocheting off tile walls. Mike moves his hand to the elastic band around Alex's waist, his fingers slipping down inside and with firm determination, he grabs hold of him. Flesh meets hard, sweaty flesh as Alex's forehead meets his forearm. It's dynamite, gunpowder alight.

He stands there for a minute, breathing heavily, the water still hitting his back. Concentrates only on the peace he feels from his release. But soon that peace melts away and he's left with the reality of what he just did, the tension returning. Unfortunately, it feels more like guilt this time. A guilt laced with shame.

Alex runs his fingers through his hair. "What are you doing?" he whispers. "He's your friend…He has a girlfriend."

xxxx

Mike opens the door and as Alex enters his hotel room, he's hit with an intoxicating scent that wafts over him, and through him. "You smell…" He sighs absent-mindedly, overtaken by Alex's body wash, or is it his cologne? Pinpointing the origin of such an airborne aphrodisiac is of no consequence. It's just Alex. Just as it was Alex when they were in the hall earlier, just as it was Alex when they were in the elevator together, and what undoubtedly would have been described as the musky, masculine odor of a spent man to anyone else, was deemed the least bit offensive by Mike. The complete opposite, in fact. His senses were captivated by the affected air around him - the air he was breathing in so deeply - his body held hostage, unable to move but fully alert. There's just an extra layer now, an added layer of complexity for Mike to more than happily navigate through. But before he travels too far down the path of his secret longings, he abruptly slams on the screeching brakes. "Clean."

Alex squints with annoyance, wonders why in the hell his mind would play such cruel tricks on him. "Thanks," he responds, fearful that if he did not acknowledge such an innocent compliment from his friend, his awkwardness would surely be on display.

Mike knows he should clear his mind, but clears his throat instead. "So, I talked to Orton this morning. That's where I'd just come from when I ran into you in the hall."

"About your match tomorrow night?"

Mike gets giddy with excitement, with anticipation. "Yeah."

"He must be pissed."

"Not really. He actually seemed cool with it. We went over the whole thing from when I come out and cash in the contract all the way through to the end. Basically, right when it looks like I'm done for, he's gonna go for the RKO and I'm gonna counter with the Skull Crushing Finale. He's gonna try to grab my neck," Mike says, acting out Orton's move, "and then-"

"And then you're gonna reach up behind him," Alex interjects enthusiastically, rushing behind Mike and locking his arms under his friend's arms, raising them above his head. "And bam!" He swings his leg in front of Mike's and pulls back slightly, tripping him with his own finisher. They lose their balance, stumbling forward and Alex quickly wraps his arms around Mike, clutching the man's belly to keep them from crashing to the floor. Mike grabs onto Alex's hands and neither man can stop laughing. Alex straightens his posture, bringing Mike with him so they're both standing upright again.

Alex can't manage to stop giggling. If he did, however, he would realize that Mike's laughter has already subsided. But even then, it would never occur to him that it's because the man has lost himself in the moment; melted into the protective warmth that surrounds him - appreciating that, aside from their on-screen hugs, this is the closest they've ever been to each other. It would never even cross his mind that his breath on Mike's skin is making the guy's heart beat faster by the nanosecond and that Mike's eyes are drifting shut as he wonders why this should feel so goddamned right.

As Alex settles down, he turns his face into Mike, his lips daring to brush against a blushing cheek as he momentarily confuses the very real moment with involuntary reverie. Suddenly, as if a spotlight shone down upon him, he becomes blindingly aware of what he's doing. "I, uh, I just remembered…" His voice projects into the room with a sharpness that slices through the intimate silence. Pulling away from Mike leaves such a vivid imprint in Alex's mind that it's all he can think about as he staggers to the door, nervously looking back towards his friend and trying not to trip over his own feet at the same time. He's so wrapped up with what he can't have that he couldn't feel the way Mike held him back. "I told Cody I would grab a bite to eat with him, so I'll just see you at the show tonight."

"But wait!" Mike calls out desperately, as if there isn't enough time to get his question out and he's right because Alex is already stepping into the hall. "Do you want to drive over with me?"

"Nah, don't worry about it. I'll just get a ride with someone else. After all, Maryse will be with you."

"Maryse?" But it's too late and Alex is already gone.

xxxx

Alex knocks on Mike's door. He was surprised when his friend called him from the hotel because even though they didn't drive to the show together, he still intended to drive back with him. That's what they've been doing for a solid month, so this is out of the ordinary.

The second Mike opens the door, Alex realizes something's wrong. Mike is usually full of energy, even after a match, and he never gets sick, but right now he seems very weak.

"Good, you got a ride," Mike slurs.

"Yeah, Cody gave me a lift." Alex follows Mike into the room, donning a look of concern and then one of panic sets in as Mike loses his balance. "Shit!" Alex instinctively reaches out to catch the collapsing man and he's certainly not going to do what he did earlier in the day. He's been stressing about how careless he had been and how he must have freaked Mike out by holding him too long, and too close. But now there really isn't much time for him to dwell on it, not in the shape Mike's in.

Alex drapes Mike's arm over his shoulder and helps him to the bed. Mike lies down, leaving enough room for Alex to sit beside him.

"What happened, bud? You seemed fine earlier." Alex sits on the edge of the bed, his knee bent so he can face Mike.

"I don't know," Mike mumbles sluggishly. "I just don't feel good."

Now that Alex can get a better look at Mike, he sees that the man is clammy and pale; peaked. "When's the last time you ate?"

"Uh…Lunch," Mike answers, but he's not very convincing.

Alex leans in and places his hand against Mike's forehead. He's sweaty but not hot like he had assumed. "You don't feel like you have a fever, but uh, let me get you something."

Alex disappears into the bathroom and emerges a few seconds later with a dampened washcloth. "Here." He places the cool compress on Mike's forehead. "How's that feel?"

Mike melts into the soothing effects. "It feels good."

"I'm gonna get you somethin' to eat." Alex reaches out to pat Mike on the hand, but when he does, he feels rough material under his fingertips.

His concern for Mike had been so great that he hadn't even noticed that the guy's still wearing protective tape around his wrists. A knot forms in the pit of his stomach when he thinks about what could have happened tonight. It sickens him to think about Mike getting behind the wheel when he didn't even have enough energy to fully change out of his ring attire - and this so soon after his own driving incident. It's incredibly out of character for Mike to have been so reckless.

Alex forces himself to stop thinking about all the terrible what-if scenarios and just be thankful that Mike made it back safely. He reaches out and grabs Mike's wrist, pulling his hand towards him and placing it palm up on his knee. He runs his index finger and thumb over the surface, feeling for the cut off mark. When he finds it, he starts peeling it back.

"You can't take it off!" Mike says frantically, his free hand landing with a hard smack on top of Alex's hand, startling the man.

"Why not?"

"Because," Mike whimpers, "it keeps my heart safe."

Alex furrows his brow. "What?" There's a hint of laughter sprinkled in his question. He feels somewhat guilty for mocking Mike when he's obviously disoriented, but it's just so random.

"Underneath, it's beating and I have to keep it safe."

Alex tries his best to interpret Mike's meaning, if there even is one. "You mean your pulse?"

"No," Mike whines, looking up to Alex with sad eyes. "It's my heart."

Alex smiles widely, he doesn't even think Mike would say something half as strange if he were hammered, but he plays along anyway. "Okay," he says sympathetically. "I'm not going to hurt your heart. I'm just going to take this off because it'll help you cool down."

Mike doesn't fight Alex any further on the subject. Either he doesn't have the physical strength to push Alex away and argue against it, or most likely, it's that he just doesn't even realize that he'd been arguing in the first place. His protesting hand falls to the bed and Alex continues unwrapping Mike's wrist.

"Where's Maryse?" he asks shyly. Part of him is genuinely curious and another part needs to see if Mike's fallen asleep. Unraveling layer upon layer, Alex waits for the guy to process the question.

"I think she was going out with Kelly."

An abrupt scoff on Alex's end.

"What's that for?"

Alex shakes his head. "Nothing."

Mike smiles lazily. "Ah, I get it. You wanted to go out with Kelly," he says lethargically.

Alex's eyes dart to Mike. "No, I didn't," he assures, adamant in his denial, his upper lip curling in disgust at the mere mention of Kelly's name. He crumples up the long piece of black tape and hurls it across the room into the garbage can. Moves on to Mike's other wrist.

"There's someone else then," Mike teases.

Alex looks to Mike again, wishing inside that he could just tell him exactly how he feels. But there are so many reasons why he can't, the biggest one currently being that he can't even tell if Mike's wholly conscious or not. Once again, he's prompted to think about how often Maryse neglects her boyfriend - and Mike deserves so much more, he deserves the best - and before he has the good sense to censor himself, Alex is opening his mouth and thoughts he doesn't mean to verbalize tumble out. "I just think you deserve better, that's all." The tone of his voice is dripping with sadness and honesty. He drops his gaze back down to Mike's wrist. He sure hopes his friend doesn't think he's trying to instigate another fight regarding his relationship with Maryse; he really doesn't mean to rock the boat.

Upon hearing Alex's response, Mike raises his eyebrows without opening his eyes. It lasts for but a split second – Alex completely missing the micro-expression. "Someone like you?" the weak man asks softly, unaware that his fingers are caressing the inside of his caregiver's forearm.

Alex snaps his attention to Mike again, this time becoming very nervous. He bites his bottom lip and he knows he's only able to look at the guy because his eyes are closed, but then Mike slowly opens them, tilting his head upwards, his eyes shimmering with a certain vulnerability Alex has never seen before, in anyone. The moment becomes overbearingly intense for him, even more so than the elevator ride and when he was alone with Mike earlier, combined.

"Someone who'll take care of me instead of going to the clubs," Mike says weakly and his voice is already starting to trail off. "Instead of hooking up with all the pretty girls who think…you're the most…" He doesn't get to finish his sentence, his voice giving out on him and his eyelids growing heavy again.

"Mike?" No response. Alex pulls the final layer of tape from the guy's skin and then sits for a moment, just staring at Mike, holding his wrist in his hand, wondering if there's an iota of truth to what he was saying or if it was all just the nonsensical ramblings of a malnourished man in the process of passing out.

Alex sighs. Everything he wants in the whole world is lying on the bed beside him and if he could, he'd be perfectly content just sitting next to Mike as he sleeps, but he knows his friend needs sustenance. He needs to build up his strength if he's going to be ready for his big night.

Alex grabs Mike's keycard so the guy won't have to get up to answer the door when he returns, and when he does come back, he sits down next to him again. "Mike," he whispers, nudging the sleeping man's arm gently. "Mike…"

"Alex."

Alex knows he must be blushing in response to the way Mike drew out his name on his breath, but there's nothing he can do about that. "Yeah, it's me. I have something for you. I found a deli down the street that was still open and I got you some chicken noodle soup."

Mike smiles gratefully. He musters what strength he does have and sits up against the headboard. Holds out his hands and Alex gives him the styrofoam container of soup. "Thank you."

Alex can hardly believe the way Mike's looking at him and he wants to let himself go - live the rest of his life lost in those bright blue eyes, found in those bright blue eyes. "You're welcome," he responds. When Mike looks down to his soup, it's as if Alex is released from some kind of trance. "I also got you a sandwich and some Gatorade and water." Alex proudly points to the items on the nightstand and then looks back to Mike with a goofy smile. He watches as Mike eats a spoonful of his soup. "I hope it's good."

Mike sighs, instantly feeling its healing properties taking effect.

"If we were at my place, I would've made you the best soup you ever had."

Mike looks up to Alex, surprised. "I didn't know you could cook."

"I used to cook all the time. I got pretty good at it too, but as you know, there's not much time for that these days."

Mike looks back down to his food; stirring the colorful contents with his plastic spoon, circling around his next words. "I didn't eat at all today," he confides timidly, feeling ashamed.

Alex forces himself not to show his surprise or disappointment, just shows concern instead. "How come?"

"I guess I started thinking about everything and it felt like it was all crashing in on me."

Alex swallows thickly. He's familiar with that kind of heaviness, he feels it even now. "I shouldn't have left you this morning. I should have invited you out to lunch with me and Cody."

"Hey," Mike says, reaching out and placing his hand on top of Alex's. "It's not your fault-" He stops short. Decides it's best to keep the other half of the answer to himself: how seeing Alex walk away from him earlier in the morning was crippling, worse than the worst pain he's ever felt. It was like someone was literally ripping out his insides - the parts that help him stay alive. It made him feel so sick that it spoiled the mere thought of food and almost made him consider canceling his latest match. Just because he doesn't tell Alex those particular details doesn't make the part he already admitted any less true, so he leaves it at that.

He takes another bite. Sure, the soup is doing its part, but he knows it's more than just the soup. It makes him feel that much better just seeing that Alex cares about him, and that he's with him. "You're such a good friend to me," he says. "My best friend."

There's a quiver in Alex's breath that he tries to hide, but the emotion has a way of transferring to his eyes instead. "You're my best friend, too."

It's only a few words, it's only a few seconds, but it's profound and both men feel it.

"Shit, I must look really stupid." Mike laughs nervously, rolling his eyes and scrunching his faux hawk in his fist.

Alex shakes his head in complete disagreement and then he notices Mike becoming sad again.

"What if I fail, Alex?"

"You won't."

"But what if I do?"

Alex takes a deep breath. "Then you fail and I'll still be here, proud to call you my friend and the best person I know. But this is your moment and I know you. This is what you've busted your ass for. So, you grab hold of it and squeeze it for everything it's worth, have the time of your life. This is your moment to shine, to show them what you're really made of. This wasn't handed to you, you earned it and you deserve this."

Mike can't help but smile, he can't help but feel motivated. He's so grateful that Alex believes in him and supports him. He wonders if he'd be able to do any of this if Alex wasn't in his life and then he wonders how he even made it this far without him.

"Now eat up, champ. You're gonna need your energy for tomorrow night."