AN: I wrote this the week of Christmas. Thus, the ending. Haha.
From: [UNKNOWN]
To:
Suggest to Teddy Long that if anything off happens during Miz's match against Rey Mysterio on Friday Night Smackdown, he should create another match involving Miz. I'll leave the actual details of the match up to him.
Cole scrubs his face after reading the latest email sent to him by the anonymous GM, cringing sympathetically for Miz before going to do his commentary duties. It doesn't avoid his notice that Orton's matches are much easier (or nonexistent) compared to Miz's. As much as he enjoys the prestige being associated with the GM has given him, he doesn't relish railroading the new WWE champion.
John Morrison watches quietly as Miz enters the locker room the night of TLC, Alex Riley following behind as always. He looks tired and a bit annoyed- four matches in a week and a crapload of media events would do that to someone, John imagines. He wonders briefly if this is the Anonymous GM's big plan to exhaust Miz with match after match the week leading up to his first title defense, while Orton barely had to enter the ring. He wisely says nothing, not wanting to get Miz started on that subject again. He probably already suspects that anyway, he thinks, the tension in the room growing as he returns to sorting through his bag.
Tonight's a big night for both of them- overlooking Miz's match for a minute, John has a chance at getting his first opportunity at a #1 contendership for the WWE title. The kind of thing a lot of guys strive to get their whole careers, some never coming close for this reason or that. The timing is suspect, definitely, but he wants this chance, can almost taste it. He glances out of the corner of his eye at the title belt hanging over Miz's leg and imagines for a moment what it'd be like to wrestle for it- and win.
He looks away when Alex Riley steps between him and Miz, blocking his view of the title, and resumes getting ready for his match against Sheamus. One step at a time, he reminds himself.
His knee- of course the bad one, it's always the bad knee- is killing him after the ladder match, each step against the hard tile of the arena's hallway fresh torture, but he's feeling great for the first time since losing the King of the Ring. The trainer is unable to do anything, pushing pain killers on him and urging more ice, suggesting he take it easy and return for another examination before he does anything tomorrow night on Raw and he agrees, mostly just to get out of there.
He's curious about the end result of Orton vs Miz so he walks as quickly as he can towards the locker room, taking in how quiet and sparse the hallways are. A quick glance of the first monitor he passes that's actually on shows that Cena is taking on Wade, which explains a lot, but he has more important things to focus on right now so he continues on his way. He's sweating, his knee stiff and hot, itchy beneath his restrictive pantleg when he finally gets to his destination, relieved as he pushes through the door. His eyes lock on the nearest bench as he hobbles quickly over to it, settling down gingerly and stretching his bad leg out with a grimace. Damn.
As his leg's throbbing finally dies down slightly, he relaxes and brushes some of the sweat out of his eyes before looking around. "So you managed it," he says as his eyes come to a stop on Miz sitting in the corner, his WWE title gleaming slightly in the muted light.
"That I did," he nods, glancing up. They stare at each other for a moment before he sighs, shifting forward. "We need to talk later, about what this means."
John stares back impassively, shrugging after a few strained moments. "Fine." When Miz looks away, he frowns. Great, here we go, he thinks, dread dulling the happiness that he's still feeling after the match with Sheamus. Hopefully he won't go down the cliche'd attack while I'm not prepared route... been there, done that. He picks at his boots bitterly, before taking a deep breath. No point in worrying, I'll find out soon enough what he's going to do now that I'm #1 contender.
Miz disappears a little later, doing whatever it is he needs to do after the ppv so Morrison goes to sit in the rental car, desperate to get the trek through the parking lot over with for the sake of his knee, which throbs anew with each step. He sighs and slumps into the passenger seat, sitting sideways as he waits, leg stretched out in front of him across the driver's seat once more as he rests his head back. Texas is warm, compared to some of the midwestern states they've been at the last few weeks, they're parked in a shadowed part of the lot and he feels almost comfortable despite his leg and the lingering worry about what it is that Miz wants to talk about, his eyes fluttering shut slowly.
He jerks awake, breathing heavily as he looks around in confusion at where he's at, what woke him up, what time it is and why exactly he was asleep in the first place, to find Miz leaning into the car, looking down at him with a smirk. "Morning, Sleeping Beauty. Mind moving your leg so I can get us the hell out of here?"
He nods groggily, his heart rate slowly easing back to normal as he awkwardly lifts his leg and settles it in the passenger's side so Miz can sit down in the driver's seat.
"You awake?" Miz asks after a few minutes into the drive, glancing over at John before returning his gaze to the road ahead.
"Yeah," he says, clearing his throat as he sits up straighter. "What did you want to talk about?" Well, I guess he's not going to attack me right now... it'd be hard to pull off a Skullcrushing finale or something in the car.
"Well, it's old news that the anon GM is after me for whatever reason," Miz says slowly, worrying his lower lip as Morrison nods. "I'd like to know why but until we know who, it's kind of impossible to figure anything else out, you know?" He sighs, his knuckles tightening around the wheel as they continue through to the hotel selected by WWE. "In the meantime, with you being #1 contender and all, we can't keep doing this."
"Doing what?" John asks, though he thinks he has a good idea where Mike is going with this conversation. This is oddly mature, we're actually talking it out instead of Miz doing something abrupt. He shakes his head slightly, relieved for the darkness as he smirks. Guess we're all growing up somewhat.
"Traveling together, sharing a locker room. Things like that." Miz turns to look at him as they stop at a red light. "We're not tag champs anymore, and the Anon GM was probably already thinking of ways to use you against me the instant he made the #1 contendership match a week ago. Before you say you'd not do anything against me on the GM's orders, well... he managed to get you to team with me by threatening your career so it's not that hard to believe. This is just smart, John. It's nothing personal."
"Green," Morrison says distantly, relieved for the distraction as Miz faces front once more and resumes driving. Although he's irrationally annoyed at Miz's assumption, he can't blame him either- it is, after all, his first title reign and he wants it to go as well as it possibly can while he learns what exactly it means to be champion... and he does have some valid reasons to be paranoid. "Fine, I see your point," he concedes after a few minutes of silence. "As long as we're not hanging out, the GM will lose some leverage against you."
"Yep." Miz glances over at him before easing the car into the hotel parking lot. They both sit in silence as the car engine slowly quiets upon the removal of the keys from the ignition, considering what will happen from here on out. "So I guess this is it."
"Guess so." He tries to force some levity into his tone as he cracks, "Well, it's a good deal better than the last time."
Mike huffs a laugh, shaking his head as he remembers the night of the draft that's had such a ripple effect on everything since then. "Yeah, I'd say so." He glances over with a slight smirk and shrugs. "Your knee good?"
"It's fine," Morrison brushes off the implied offer of help and pushes his door open, minimalizing his grimace as he steps down on the cement. They meet at the trunk to collect their bags and he stops, glancing over at Mike before hoisting his bag onto his shoulder, uncertain what to say, how to handle this. "I'll see ya around."
"Yep, see ya," he replies quietly.
The walk to the hotel is slow and almost torturous as John's knee and thoughts both conspire against him. He comes to a stop at the doorway, met by Alex Riley, who is staring at him curiously. He's tempted to ask how exactly Alex arrived at the hotel but he changes his mind upon opening his mouth. "He's still at the rental," he offers instead, unsurprised as the apprentice immediately brushes past him and goes to join Mike.
He nods at the hotel staff who catch his eye as he continues towards the elevators, relieved to get away from prying eyes a few minutes later as he settles against the furthest wall and drops his bag. Could've been worse, I guess, he thinks. At least I'm #1 contender. It surprises him how empty that feels suddenly.
Raw drags. Except for the short segment at the start of Raw and their six man match at the end, he doesn't see Mike at all, which doesn't surprise him. Really. He sighs, picking at the tape clinging to his wrists. He's almost forgotten how loud and obnoxious the main locker room can be, accustomed to the solitude and quiet- well, usually- of Miz's personal locker room that he was awarded upon winning the WWE title.
Going back to the hotel room later on is a relief and he sits for a minute on the edge of the bed, taking in the silence like it's much needed oxygen, breathing deeply in and out as he clears his mind. He's still sitting there, focusing on anything but his knee which is still aching furiously, when there's a knock on his door. He groans, peeking over at the door. Watch it be the trainer, he thinks, knowing how insistent the man could be whenever he thinks one of the superstars aren't following his suggestions. He slowly gets up and makes his way to the door, peeking out of the peephole.
There's no one there.
He frowns and turns to make his way back to the bed, shrugging it off as a person accidentally knocking on the wrong door, when he steps on something hard and crinkly. He stops immediately and looks down, taking a step back when he sees something white under his shoe. "What the?" He picks up the keycard- still in its envelope- and gapes at the numbers scribbled on the paper. Why does that handwriting look familiar?
He shrugs and puts it down on his bedside table. Guess someone lost their card... I'll go to the front desk and return it in the morning.
Alex leans back anxiously as Miz enters the hotel bathroom to get ready for bed. Now's my chance, he thinks, sliding both hotel room keycards off of the table. "Hey, I'm going to get some ice," he calls, cursing himself for the lame excuse as he ducks out of the room. Who goes for ice at midnight? he chastises himself, before dashing for the elevator. Gotta hurry...
It wasn't hard to get the girl at the front desk to give him some info with a bit of charm- and a $50, but who's counting that?- earlier, so he knows exactly where he's going as he directs the elevator to the 5th floor. "Room 29," he mumbles, wandering down one hallway and another. "God, what is this, a maze?" he frets before finally seeing "Room 30". "Aha," he mutters, turning down the hallway and finding room 29.
He slides one of the keys under the door and knocks loudly before dashing to hide behind the corner he'd turned just moments earlier. This would've been more impressive if he didn't have a knee injury making him walk like an old man, he thinks, peeking back down the hallway. Crap, he's not even going to come out so I know if he heard me knocking? I can't wait around all night, I have to get back before Miz gets suspicious. Please don't let all this be for nothing, he thinks before walking quickly back in the direction of the elevators.
"Where've you been?" Miz asks when he finally arrives back at the room, sweaty and looking a little mortified. "Did you get lost?"
"Yeah, something like that," he mumbles, thinking about the maze of hallways he'd gone through just to find the elevators back to his and Miz's room. I'd never live it down... "So," he says, trying to sound cheerful. "Anything happen while I was gone?" Please say no...
"No, why? Should there have been?" Mike looks at him suspiciously.
"Of course not," he laughs awkwardly, realizing that with all of his planning he's not figured out how to explain away the lost keycard as he puts down the remaining card.
Sure enough, Miz notices right away. "Uh, where's the other keycard?"
Crap crap crap. He's about to stammer out some weak explanation when there's a knock on the door. Miz stares at him suspiciously for a moment longer before turning to the door. As soon as he's not facing Alex, his apprentice lets loose a knowing smirk. He just manages to school his face back into curiosity when the door opens to reveal Morrison standing there, leaning against the doorframe while tapping the "missing" keycard against his palm.
"John," Mike says bemusedly, glancing over his shoulder at Alex, who shrugs innocently. Mike rolls his eyes before turning back to him. "That ours?" he asks, motioning to the card.
"I believe so," he nods, gaze flickering over to Alex. "Imagine my surprise when I found it under my door."
"Ok, what was the point of this, Alex?" Miz demands, turning to face his protege. "Why'd you trick him into coming over here?"
He flounders for a minute, overcome by both of them glaring at him, but finally finds the words as he raises his hands defensively. "It's just- well, I mean. It's Christmas!" They roll their eyes and start to speak but he interrupts them. "No, no, listen! I know you're trying to avoid each other because of the GM and everything going on with the WWE title but we're not at the arena right now so what would it hurt? Just... for awhile?"
The former tag team champions exchange a glance as Morrison sighs, shifting on his bad knee a little, the awkward silence seemingly unending. After a few moments, Miz groans and steps aside, giving in. "Fine, just come in already." He follows John's slow, pained gait into the room until finally he slumps down on the couch. On the way past, he slaps Alex over the head for putting them both through this drama just for a holiday that is still days away. Despite that, he can't stop his lips twitching upwards as he settles down near Morrison.
"Great," Alex says, clapping his hands briskly. "I'll be right back."
They watch, equally unimpressed, as he heads for the minifridge in the corner of the room. "What are the chances that this'll be an unmitigated disaster?" John asks quietly, shifting slightly in an attempt to get his knee in a more comfortable position.
"90%?"
"Is that all? Huh," John mumbles as Alex returns.
"Eggnog!" he says happily, dropping two cartons on the desk not far from the couch.
"Oh God," Miz groans, slumping down in horror.
"And cookies," he continues, a container of sugar cookies joining the eggnog. "Now decorations!"
Morrison chuckles at Mike, who looks like he's trying to bury himself under the couch cushions.
Within minutes, the place is covered in decorations, Miz and Morrison both wide eyed as they take in the various items that've seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Green and red garland covers the desk around the cookies and eggnog, Santa and snowmen poking out here and there. A small green tree is sitting on the entertainment center in front of the couch, white lights blinking now and again.
"Oh my God," Mike mumbles.
"Please tell me he didn't buy mistletoe too," John deadpans, casting a suspicious glance around the ceiling just in case.
Ignoring them, Alex grabs his laptop from its bag and situates it on the entertainment stand between the TV and tree. "Now... Christmas specials!" he exclaims with all the glee of a four year old waiting for Santa. "Put these on!" He thrusts Christmas hats into Miz and Morrison's hands before pulling on a Santa hat of his own.
Miz and Morrison exchange glances, John humored and Miz exasperated, as Alex clicks a file once they reluctantly pull on the hats too. "Wait, wait, what are you going to make us watch?" Miz demands, making a face as he thinks about some of the sappy crap out there when it comes to holiday movies.
"You'll see," A-Ri says in a sing-song before joining them, quickly grabbing a carton of eggnog and pouring large glasses for both of them. "Drink up!" he urges before attending to his own glass.
John stifles his laughter as Miz glares at his glass as if it's offended him just by touching his hand. He blinks at the computer as familiar music echoes through the hotel room. "Uh, The Grinch Who Stole Christmas...?" he asks with a barely concealed snicker as he looks over at Miz, who looks like he wants to bash himself in the skull with Alex's briefcase.
"A classic!" Alex exclaims, unaware or uncaring of the look on either man's face.
They watch for a few minutes in silence before Morrison starts laughing, shaking his head when Miz looks over at him in annoyance. "What's so funny?" he demands as his former tag partner tries to hold back his chuckles.
"Damn," he breathes. "I was just thinking the Grinch was kind of familiar..." He smirks at Miz, who glowers back. "I've always wondered where Suess got the idea for him from."
"Oh, haha," Miz grouses, flicking a piece of cookie at him. Ten minutes in, Miz leans back so he can see John around Alex's enraptured form and pokes him in the shoulder, before pointing at the monitor. "If I'm the Grinch, you're definitely Cindy Lou. Goody two-shoes with annoying hair."
John makes a face. "You're really comparing me to a little girl? And, seriously, jealous much?" He runs his fingers through his hair and smirks as Miz rolls his eyes. Before their bickering can continue, Alex shushes them, not even looking away from the screen. "Ugh, he's not going to cheer at the end, when all the Hoos in Hooville get their happy ending, is he?" he whispers. Miz shrugs before they both resume watching.
It's only a few minutes later that Miz realizes something that brings a smirk to his face but Alex looks like he wants to press his face against the computer monitor just to get the full effect of the last five minutes of the cartoon so he reluctantly keeps his mouth shut, counting the seconds till the thing ends. Morrison is getting jittery too, shifting whenever Miz glances at him out of the corner of his eye. We both suck at being quiet during these things, he thinks with a sigh as finally the Grinch succeeds in returning all the pilferred Christmas decorations and celebrated Christmas with the Hoos.
The instant the last piece of dialogue is uttered, Miz and Morrison turns to face each other. "Alex is the Grinch's dog!" They both freeze momentarilly before cracking up.
"Oh, haha," Alex mumbles.
Once they stop laughing, John settles back against the couch and grins, eyeing Alex as he plays around with the laptop. "Now what?"
"Let's watch The Christmas Story!" Miz suggests, already reaching for the remote on top of the entertainment center.
Morrison groans. "You have got to be joking me... you still watch that damn thing?"
"Of course. That's the real classic," he says, glaring warningly over at John.
"What's wrong with the Christmas Story?" Alex asks, feeling left out of the loop as he looks between the two men.
"Well, you know how they air twenty-four hour marathons of it every year?" Morrison asks, shifting to look over at Alex without moving his leg too much. "A few years ago, Miz here recorded it and had it playing on a loop over and over and over again because he wasn't able to watch any of the actual marathon. I still can't get the dialogue out of my head."
"Oh, yikes," Alex mumbles faintly, carefully not meeting any of their eyes.
Miz immediately catches on to his uncomfortableness, smirking. "Ok, what, Alex? You record something that you watch over and over like that?"
He coughs and returns to the fridge, putting the eggnog up so it wouldn't go bad. "The Yule Log," he offers while his back is turned to them.
The silence is almost complete until he turns to look at them, taking in the astonishment on their faces. "Repeat that again," John says after a few moments.
"The Yule Log."
"Isn't that... that fireplace that burns for hours with Christmas music playing over it?" Miz asks, jaw slacked as he stares at his apprentice. "Why would you record that?"
"Because they never air it at a good time and I like the music," he says, attempting to keep his dignity as the two superstars share another glance before snickering.
"Do you have it on your computer too?" Miz asks mockingly, reaching out for the abandoned laptop.
"N-no! Of course not. How weird do you think I am?" Alex stammers, his eyes widening as Miz rolls his eyes and leaves the laptop alone.
"Best not to answer that," he mumbles so only John can hear it.
"I'll be right back," Alex says and dashes out of the room, leaving the two stupefied former tag champions to fully take the room in.
"Geez," Morrison sighs, not believing that this is how his first full night as #1 contender ended up.
"Give me that," Miz orders, grabbing the undrank eggnog from John's hand before marching determinedly to the fridge. Once he grabs both cartons, he walks over to the balcony that's looking out over the late December night. As John watches, he pushes the doors open and resolutely places both glasses and cartons outside before returning to the couch.
"What're you going to tell Riley?" he asks, amused.
"What I told him when WWE wanted their red briefcase back."
"Which was?"
"Squirrels took it."
"He does have bad luck with squirrels, doesn't he?" Morrison chuckles.
"Yep."
They fall silent once more as John looks around. "Where do you think he went anyway?"
"Good question," Miz leans his head back against the couch and sighs. They're still sitting there, watching as the lights gleam against various surfaces in the room, when a knock sounds on the door. "Of course," Miz groans, slowly getting up. "He left his keycard behind." Instead of Alex standing on the other side of the door, however, Mike comes face to face with a group of people dressed festively, wide smiles on their faces. "Oh, hell no," he mumbles.
John almost falls over the back of the couch in his haste to look over as the carolers begin singing, apparently oblivious to the hour or fact that they're in a hotel.
As Miz stands there, stupefied, Alex slips back into the room, a gleeful look on his face. "Isn't this great?" he asks, barely noticing as Morrison finally untangles himself from the couch and joins them at the door, also gaping at the carolers.
Finally they regain control of themselves enough to both turn and swat Alex upside the head. "Are you trying to get us kicked out of the hotel?" Miz demands in a loud whisper.
"Or arrested... again," Morrison interjects, unfazed when both men ignore him.
"It's almost 1 AM! People're trying to sleep." He tries not to think about what the dirt sheets will possibly have to say about this in the morning. "Make them leave."
"Damn, you're right, I forget sometimes- especially when it has to do with Christmas..." He reluctantly turns to the carolers and interrupts before they can begin another song. "Hey, I'm sorry guys, but you can't sing here after all. It sounded great though!" Before they can say or do anything else, he quickly shuts the door on them.
"God," Miz mumbles as he heads back to the couch.
Alex rebounds quickly, however, and goes straight for the fridge. "Hey," he says, rustling around inside. "Where'd the eggnog go?"
"Squirrels," Miz and Morrison say together.
"Dammit! What'd I ever do to them?" he grumbles.
