Sorry I split it up, but it was getting kind of big.

I've been given advice by a very enthusiastic reviewer that loved my big Cena/Swagger fic. She said that the whole written-out matches were kinda boring. It's just the way I write, but I took it to heart in all my fics. So I'm trying to summarize the match as best I can, but some things need to be written because it was a very passionate match. I'm sorry if you get a little bored, so feel free to skim for the UST-goodness between the body slamming and rope-slinging.

Also, forgive random POV changes.

"This isn't working!" Miz shouted at his best friend, both pissed and tearful.

"Give it time" Morrison stated softly, trying not to rile the man up anymore than he already was.

"How much time?" Miz barked "You don't understand, Johnny. He's going to kill me before I ever even get a chance to tell him I love him!"

"Once he gets in the ring with you, he won't be able to resist."

John sounded so confident, so sure of himself…that Mike just had to deflate.

"Alright" the younger man stated "What…what do you think I should do now?"

"You're doing fine" John assured him "But turn it up a few more notches. Start taking people down in your matches, giving it more than a hundred percent. No mercy."

Miz nodded, lapping it up, "Ok, ok…I'll try."

+++JCxMIZ+++

And try he did.

Miz went kept the train going at full steam, shoving the proverbial coal into the furnace as fast as he could. He gave it all in his matches, mocking the losers, even wearing the Cenation gear more than once.

"Step up to the plate, Cena!"

The more Cena ignored him, the more determined he became. His matches left him completely exhausted, and every night he trudged back to his hotel room alone and disheartened. He spent his nights wondering if he was doing this the right way, his right hand his only company and even that was unappealing when he remembered the hate that he had seen in the man's eyes.

People started saying he was just trying to become a big hot by taking down a superstar, like he was trying to steal a piece of John Cena's spotlight for himself. Hell, he thought he had been doing good there for a while trying to carve out his own place away from Morrison, but obviously people thought this was a ruse. He didn't want to take down John! He just wanted to show him he cared, is that so horrible?

The more days went on, the more sleepless nights he had, the more he realized what a bad idea this was.

But it was it's own monster now, and he couldn't do a thing to slow it down.

So he shoveled that damn coal all the faster.

"Seven and o."

"You're always saying you want some, come get some! I want the whole thing!"

Those words were the closest to the truth that he'd get.

+++JCxMIZ+++

Two months, Cena finally decided enough was enough. He got out in the ring, and he called The Miz out this time. Mike was eager to accept, though he realized quickly the gear he wore wouldn't encourage a friendly encounter. All doubts about this plan were thrown out the window the moment John demanded he come out into the ring. So, even in his anti-Cena shirt, he went out there and got face-to-face with the man who he loved more and more everyday.

Too bad, Cena didn't look all that happy. They had a brief stare-off, eyes roaming over one another with different types of hunger.

"For two months now, you've come out every day runnin' your mouth, sayin' whatever the hell you want tryin' to get me rattled" Cena began, right in his face and passion in his voice "I put my life on the line in Hammerstein ballroom and came out in one piece. I was booed out of the hall of fame. I've had 85,000 people tell me I can't wrestle on the grandest stage of them all!"

John stepped a bit closer, cocking his head as he stared directly into ice blue eyes, "I don't get rattled."

That was proven a bit false when his eyes flickered to the younger man's mouth when he wet his lips.

Miz gathered himself, keeping his persona rather than falling to his knees and begging for forgiveness, "You wanna know what I have to say this week, Cena?"

Miz slowly leaned in, stopping when they were just a few inches from one another's faces, "You're. A. Cow-ard."

The moment the words left his lips, he realized it had been a mistake. The camera caught his expression perfectly, the God-smacked look of someone who had said the exact wrong thing. He crossed a line there, and they both knew it. The entire audience knew it.

John pulled away, plastering on a I can't believe you said that grin and shaking his head.

//Shit, John, I'm sorry.//

"Congratulations, you got your chance" Cena was charismatic again, back in his role. So The Miz came back, he grinned and nodded and looked overall smug for the fans.

"The good news is…" John pointed at him "The Miz will main event a pay-per-view event, where he has a match with me."

John was still smiling, "The bad news is…The Miz has a main event pay-per-view match-"

Cena's voice dropped to a low growl, getting a few inches from the younger man gain, "-with me."

Mike pouted, this wasn't what he wanted at all. He wanted to drop to his knees again, only this time to try and wrap his mind around how badly things were going. But he stayed strong, he was in front of the crowd and he was supposed to be an entertainer first. He had to do something, and he had to do it fast.

Mike's poor nerves got to him, and he threw his mic at John before he could really think it through. He followed it up with a punch, heart breaking as his knuckles met the man's face. But John bounced right back, turning on him with rage in his eyes.

The Miz dove out of the ring, running up the ramp to put as much distance between them as he could. When he managed to turn and look back at the ring, John was laughing at him and his patheticness.

Not ten minutes later, Mike was curled up in the corner of one of the lounge rooms with his cellphone to his ear. He desperately waited for Morrison to pick up the phone, tears ready to spill down his cheeks.

"J-John?" Miz whispered into the receiver when his friend picked up "I..I did something bad."

+++JCxMIZ+++

After that instance, Cena paid much more attention to him. Miz found himself the one that was mocked now, John doing his little brush-off move just to offend him. The insults got stronger, the hate more palpable now. It brought bile to Mike's mouth, but it had to be done.

"John Cena is a face of the past."

"The Real World Has Been canceled."

"This…is the money-maker of the present and future."

"You're not a reality show has-been…you're a WWE never-was."

They confronted each other more in the ring as the date of The Bash got closer. Mike let himself get lost in his persona, deciding that if John was going to hate him he was going to give him a reason for that hate. He was pulled into a downward spiral that was The Miz, and somehow he never saw how lost his cause was becoming. He returned nasty looks with even nastier ones, scowls with sneers, mocking laughter with mocking gestures. Standing over Cena's body and waving a hand over his face in a "You Can't See Me" way wasn't enough for him.

The closest thing he had to a moment of clarity was when he held the steel chair he had just beat Cena with over his head like a trophy, and even then all he could do was drop it like it burned him.

+++JCxMIZ+++

//What the hell am I doing?//

That was the only thought of The Miz as he made his way down the ramp, trying to keep on his game face as he presented himself. But the doubt, the worry, leaked through his eyes like runny paint. Despite his anti-Cena shirt, despite the mocking phrase his armbands read, he didn't want to be here. His pacing, his brushing off of Cena's name, his 'come get it' gesture when Cena's music came on…it all meant nothing.

//Maybe I can still fix this// Miz tried to psyche himself up, stripping off his shirt and watching John make his entrance //I'll give it my all, get in a few gropes, and he'll see that he wants me too. He'll see that I'm real competition, and like Shawn Michaels…I'll have him in my bed tonight. Then I can show him my heart, and he'll want it too.//

That was the plan at first…cold-cut, straight forward.

Play The Miz and get Cena.

Seduce John, and Mike gets what his heart longs for.

Miz wished the crowd would tone it down a bit, their roar for Cena was mixing with the pounding of his own heart and he was scared a migraine would overtake him again.

John locked eyes with him, refusing to look away as he stripped off his shirt. Miz's mouth went dry at this, but he tried to stay strong. He tried to put up a front, looking eager for a fight when all he could think of were those rippling muscles. Paler skin than you saw on most wrestlers, bulging biceps…god, he couldn't breath for a moment.

All he could feel was that muscled weight pressing him down into a mattress, that dimpled grin against his neck right before those pearly whites bit down into his vulnerable flesh, that thick waist settled between his own spread thighs…

Ok, stop that.

The crowd started chanting Cena's name, and Miz really couldn't blame them.

The first 30 seconds of the fight, Miz was slammed down on his back by the older man and he couldn't stop himself from thinking, //I like where this is going.//

The crowd was quick to boo him, so he summoned up some rage so he could attack the man he loved. Again, slammed on his back, knee attacked. John watched him, calm, memorizing him like a snake would an energetic bunny. A charge, and once more he was flipped down on his back, this time his left arm stomped on a little harder than necessary. It hurt, but he managed to shake it off.

Miz was losing his cool, his confidence, and he couldn't stop it.

John was just playing with him now.

When he tried to deliver a punch, he got flipped and snagged in a headlock.

//Fuck, I don't like where this going anymore!//

"Goddamnit" Miz muttered into John's thick arm, pressing up and raking at the man's eyes. This pulled a growl from the other, he was forced to let go by the ref. Cena dragged him to his feet, taking him into the ropes. Some moves were exchanged, mostly Miz was just played with, and it only ended up with him on his back again in a headlock.

An attempted pin, but he broke out of it.

Miz was tossed around like the proverbial sack of grain, tossed into the ropes. His attempted maneuvers were used against him, a takedown, a hip toss, and his body was aching. It was getting frustrating, so he eventually snagged the ropes and slowed down the momentum enough for him to make a move.

When Cena bent down to try a flip, Miz simply kicked him in the chin. His kick slapped off the man's thick pectoral instead, and John straightened up with a look of mild amusement on his face. He shook his head, indicating he barely even felt it.

Miz stared at the older man with wide eyes, "Fuck no."

He slid out of the ring, leading the older man in a chase to the other side of the ring. He hopped back in, using the distraction as a way to take back the match. He got in a few hits, even able to slingshot him off the ropes and slapped him into the canvas.

It hurt Mike's heart to concentrate on an area of John that had been injured so many times, but he kept telling himself that this would get him his man at the end of the day.

Yeah, he kept telling himself that as he pinned his opponent against the turnbuckles.

Mike's heart kicked up three notches when he felt John's hand lay over his shoulder blade, right as he rammed his shoulder into his gut. That damp hand trailed down his back in a firm caress, much more than a brush. It's intent wasn't hidden, the width of his palm slid all the way down to the low ride of his wrestling pants. It was fast enough to look real to the cameras, for this was a live event, but it made his blood run hot in his veins.

Two could play at that game.

Miz grabbed the ropes and played under the guise of a body slam. He fit his entire body against the older man's, grinding against him and letting his mouth brush against the older man's temple.

Miz's heart nearly burst in his chest when there was a low hiss of whore in his ears from the other.

But the fight had to go on. Miz managed to get a two-count after flying off the top rope to deliver a hit to the back of the man's head. But it was kicked out. He managed to keep a handle on the fight, giving back for being tossed around like an amateur earlier. A little more offense, two attempted pins, a focus on his neck…he even managed to kick him right out of the ring. But he got the man back in, and went for a pin.

Nothing.

In all the offense, Miz found himself looking down at Cena spread out at his feet. John's hand curled around his boot, and he couldn't stop himself from being a little more than turned on at the sight. He pulled him to his feet and punched him square in the jaw, but it still meant Cena was on his feet. Miz reached out and cupped the older man's chin, aiming another punch.

John took back the match in a few seconds. The crowd went wild, and he was beaten down by the much stronger man. Slammed again…and again…and again…until he was slammed down with all his strength, and that was it for him.

"I'm been waiting to do this for a long time!" John shouted at the crowd, they were going wild "Long time!"

There was a moment John almost did loose his cool. He went to set up the Five-Knuckle-Shuffle and happened to look down, pausing at the sight. Mike's face was scrunched up in pain, little whines of pain escaping his lips. He was squirming on the mat, and Cena couldn't stop but watch with hungry eyes as those powerful legs crooked and spread in an almost subconsciously seductive way.

But he gave the crowd what he wanted. He waved his hand over his face, set up the move, and landed it firmly, all while the fans screamed.

Miz jolted up onto his feet, clutching at his head blindly. This was wrong, this was wrong. Mike realized right then that everything he'd done was wrong, everything was horribly wrong and he had to change it. That cruel word still clung to him, he'd been called worse by better people…but to hear John call him a whore, it cut him deep. And now-

John easily scooped him up in an Attitude Adjustment, though he thrashed wildly.

"John, listen!" Miz begged in the man's ear, trying to grasp onto him so he wouldn't be thrown "I didn't mean it to be like this, I didn't want this!"

John gave him a look of disbelief, then heaved him in a slam.

John circled around him, grabbing the younger man's foot and rolling him onto his belly. He tucked and clamped, twisting The Miz into a STF-U. This little whore thought he could tease him like this? Fuck that, he'd make him tap.

Miz's face twisted up in pain again, the pressure on his head too much. His leg was gong to snap in half if he didn't do something soon.

"John" Mike choked out, knowing he had to say something "I mean it! This was a stupid mistake! I just wanted to-"

"Tap!" John barked, not wanting to hear it.

Miz nodded, tapping out on the mat. The bell chimed loudly in his ears, signaling his defeat.

John let him go, sitting beside him with a huff.

"I didn't mean it, I didn't mean a word of it" Miz confessed, in a lot of pain but knowing this was his last chance to speak out for himself "It was just a fucking show. I don't hate you, John, I-"

But Cena stood up, leaving him alone. He gave his little signs to the crowd, proud in his triumph over the villain of his this tale. He got up on the ropes, flexed, screamed, and they ate up every bit like caramel off an apple.

//M-maybe there's still a chance…?// Mike wondered pathetically, really hoping this wasn't the end. He felt broken and sore all over, he couldn't move from this spot. His knee was on fire, he must've twinged it again. Maybe John was just putting up face for the fans? Maybe later, they'd meet calmly, and he could just explain it all away.

Mike lifted his head enough to watch Cena pass him, and he tried one last time.

"J-John?" he rasped, looking up at the older man pleadingly.

If he'd just listen, then maybe-

John walked in front of him, pausing nearly right in front of his face. He wiped his feet, and his heart shattered into a thousand sharp pieces.

People laughed, they laughed at this horrible gesture. John wiped his feet off like he was trash, like he was nothing more than problem that had to be struck down. He watched John walk away, tears slowly blurring up his vision. He ducked his head, folding his hands over the back of his head and pressing his forehead into the mat.

That was it, it was over.

He listened to the playbacks of the match, listened to the comments and the crowd roar. They were all so happy, their champion had won and all was right with the world.

Miz lifted his head, looking up at John. The man was standing at the top of the ramp, grinning at him. John saluted him, grinning. Mike gave him a look that could've broken hearts by itself, the absolute disgust he felt with everything showing through. He rolled out of the ring, and Cena was long gone by the time he eased to the floor.

His knee was on fire, and he found himself limping. Miz looked around at the crowd, the way they booed him, the way some of them still chanted Cena like he was God. Even King and Cole were laughing at his misfortune, commenting about him being the thing the cat dragged in.

Miz scowled, tears ready to fall the moment he was alone.

What gave them the right to be so Goddamn happy?!