November brings with it cooler weather and an extended European tour for both the Raw and Smackdown crew. Mike sighs, finding even the worn couch in the hotel lobby deliriously comfortable after spending so much time on the bus to Liverpool. He hadn't seen Morrison yet, busy with interviews and autograph signings, but had finally gotten a minute to breathe and check out Superstars. Alex is by his side, trying and probably failing to get a good look at the small mobile Youtube screen on his phone. Mike sighs and angles it slightly before his former NXT rookie could get beyond opening his mouth to complain, smirking as Riley's lips immediately press shut. They both cringe at the screen as John's leg slams into the ringpost after a missed kick, his shoulder already visibly aching after some of McIntyre's more vicious shenanigans sends him into the steel girders supporting the ring apron. "Damn," Miz mumbles.
"He can't catch a break, can he?" Alex asks, the two frowning even more as Morrison loses.
"Probably explains why I haven't seen him for a few days," he comments lowly. "He doesn't want me to bitch at him if I catch him limping." Alex coughs something that sounds suspiciously like 'Mother hen' and Mike raises an eyebrow at him, tapping his fingers against his cell screen warningly. "What was that?"
"What was what?" the younger man volleys back, trying to seem utterly innocent.
Mike rolls his eyes, dropping his head against the edge of the couch. "A, I know you too well for the innocent act to work on me and B, ..." His train of thought is squashed almost immediately as he notices movement near the elevators. "HEY! Morrison!" Everyone ceases what they're doing for a moment, staring at both Mike and Alex, who tugs at Mike's sleeve, a bit mortified at how loudly he had just spoke at such a late hour. So late, in fact, that even R-Truth had collapsed in exhaustion as soon as they had dropped their bags into the hotel room assigned to them, allowing him to find Alex's hotel room and tug him out of his own half-asleep stupor, just to bring him down to the hotel lobby even though it was well after midnight at their arrival.
John freezes, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. "Uhh, Mike?" He blinks as his former tag partner hastily joins him, Alex following in a more sane fashion. "What are you doing down here?"
"Watching Superstars," he announces with a dangerous smirk. "How's the leg?"
"It's fine, hasn't fallen off yet." He glances back at the elevator, obviously hoping to make a quick escape from this conversation, but Mike doesn't seem willing to drop it just yet.
"Interesting article on . Were you just repeating what I've said a million times in the past or do you honestly believe it finally?"
John sighs, catching Alex's eye. "He's not going to drop this, is he?"
"Nope." They smile awkwardly as Mike crosses his arms angrily over his chest, glowering at the two biggest banes of his career and closest friends.
"Idiots."
That Monday, Cena is out running his mouth as always and it's funny to watch as the man tries to cover for the lack of The Rock by talking up another tag partner of his. Even Truth is exasperated by the circumstances, itching to get out there and do something, put the focus back where it belongs, on them. Finally Mike nods and they head out, distracting Cena by arguing about this and that as they head for the ring, ready to get payback for the previous week. They've surrounded him in the ring, fully expecting his tag partner ramblings to be just that, empty words, when Ryder rushes down and they're quickly taken out of the ring, leaving the two men inside to work the crowd. "Ugh, dammit," Miz mumbles, recollecting himself in time to stumble back up the ramp with Truth.
"That sucked," his tag partner grumbles. They're still wandering around the hallways, not in the mood to return to the locker room and face their fellow competitors when Mike catches sight of Morrison wrestling Dolph Ziggler on one of the many monitors scattered around. He distracts Truth into one of his barely sensible rampages by asking him inanely about what they should do in the main event, leaning against the wall just so so it appears he's concentrating fully on Truth's words. In reality, his focus is on the monitor just visible over the other man's shoulder, watching as John and Ziggler go back and forth.
He knows quite well that it only takes one win to turn things around sometimes, so he holds his breath at every pin attempt, not even completely caring if Truth notes the tension ebbing and flowing through him. It takes everything in him to not react vocally when Morrison finally gains that win, his head still jerking at the three count, eyes gleaming with relief and pleasure. Hopefully this'll get John on a better track... I have enough to worry about.
"What?" Truth demands, cutting himself off mid-sentence at Mike's random movement. "Did you see something?"
"Oh, I thought I saw a spider on that wall behind you," he lies smoothly. "It was just lint though."
"Are you sure?" the dark skinned man asks, his eyes flashing warningly as he looks around. "I wouldn't mind if there was a spider around to get got about now."
"No, the shadow's gone now." Mike grimaces, wondering not for the first time what he's gotten himself into, as they're still standing there a few moments later, Truth's unending diatribe about this conspiracy and that dragging on and on, when Alex and Morrison head down the hallway, John looking more relaxed than he has in awhile. Miz wants to push Truth away and go to them, congratulate his former tag partner on his victory, but he knows better, taking in the sincere smile on John's face only matched by the rookie's, as they talk quietly on their way past.
Alex looks up finally and spots Miz, nudging John. As they stare at each other, Truth thankfully oblivious while completely overwhelmed by his train of logic, Mike nods subtly to them. 'Bout time. Good job.
John nods back, eyes twinkling in the overhead lights. Thanks.
When Truth finally stops talking, Mike's completely off somewhere else, thinking about what those two would find to do in England to celebrate Morrison's victory, and how he could possibly brush Truth off long enough to be involved somehow. Finally realizing that all he's hearing is the buzzing in his own head, he looks up to find Truth staring at him oddly. "Yeah, you're right. So I guess it's about time to get ready for our match. Come on, man." He claps him on the back as he finally brushes past him and heads for the locker room, rolling his eyes. That took way too long. I think he likes the sound of his own voice more than Chris Jericho ever did.
Even so, Mike's good mood is too much to be overwhelmed by Truth's long speech, and only grows when they work together to pin Cena, making it so the other man can't kick out and Ryder isn't available to break up the pin. Wins all around, he thinks smugly, raising his arm in victory by Truth's side. Bring it on, Survivor Series.
To his surprise, it's not hard to find Alex and Morrison later on- the two are sitting at the hotel bar, just visible from the lobby as John downs a shot glass full of amber liquid, A-Ri talking loudly over the other patrons and music. Truth doesn't seem interested in doing anything tonight, still feeling a bit jetlagged from all of the traveling they've done the last few days. "You go do something, man," he urges, settling down on the edge of his bed. "I'm just gonna catch up on sleep before we have to head out again. Celebrate for the both of us, huh?"
Mike's nod is thoughtful and relieved. "Sounds good. I'll probably just be at the bar for awhile. Think you'll want anything? Food or..."
"Nah, thanks. I just want sleep."
"Alright, see you around." He waits for a moment outside of the door, listening as Truth clicks the lamp off and rolls over, the bed creaking with his movement. Sometimes, he isn't that bad. I guess I could've had a worse tag partner... He hums slightly as he heads for the elevator, hoping that Morrison and A-Ri are still downstairs.
Sure enough, they're still there, drinking and chuckling to themselves when he drops down on the empty stool between them, raising an eyebrow when they jerk at his sudden appearance. "Hello, boys."
"What the hell, Mike? Little warning next time?" John asks, coughing at the burn of alcohol swallowed wrong trailing a path down his throat clear to his stomach.
"What fun's that?" Smirking, he claps John briskly between the shoulderblades, the coughing dying away as he gets a full breath of air. "Congrats on the win. Took you long enough."
Morrison and Alex both roll their eyes, turning their attentions back to their drinks. "Another and one for this goof next to me," John urges the bartender, who quickly refill their glasses, getting another for Mike. "So... victory against Cena." Morrison raises his eyebrows. "Think you'll be able to do it again at Survivor Series?"
"You really have to ask that?" Mike shrugs and raises his shotglass. "Here's to JoMo getting his mojo back," he says, only half teasingly as John shakes his head, clicking his glass with Miz's. Alex quickly follows suit a few moments later before they all drink. "So how soon before you start making things go awry again?" he wonders, turning to his former protege.
Alex colors, the glass clacking uncoordinatedly against the hard wood as his misjudges the distance to the bar. "Uh, well."
"Yeah, what's up with that? I may have been going through a losing streak but you've purely just not be on TV- or Superstars- for weeks now, man." John raises his eyebrows at the younger man, leaning around Mike to see him clearer.
"I... uh." He coughs slightly and leans back, obviously avoiding their stares.
John and Mike exchange glances before focusing totally on him. "Spit it out, Riley. And don't bother even trying to keep anything from us, we'll just get you drunk and make you spill. You know how talkative you get."
He flushes even harder at this and sighs. "I had a minor... hip thing during the Mexican tour, it wasn't anything worrisome but they wanted to give me some time to get over it before throwing me back in the ring."
"Wait, what?" John and Mike demand at the same time, peering at him in shock. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"Minor hip thing," Mike says after a strained moment, glaring at his former rookie. "What the hell, Alex?"
"I had an MRI a couple weeks ago, they cleared me. Now I'm just waiting for Laurinaitis to actually do something," he explains with a shrug. "As for why I didn't say anything, well. At the time, you both were going through your own stuff, Morrison was in and out of the ER and Mike, you were busy with the whole Punk and HHH thing, and keeping Truth in line. There just wasn't a good time."
"Wasn't a good time," John repeats, floored.
"Idiot! We would've made time," Mike mumbles, his eyes turning an icy shade of blue as he peers up at Alex. "I could smack you." They sit in silence for awhile, trying to not blow up at each other, when Mike finally sits up straighter. "You know, there's been one major problem the whole time since we've been thrown back together." He points at John and Alex in turn before pressing a thumb to his own chest. "And I don't just mean trust issues. We all aren't honest enough with each other. We hide things, keep things from each other, for what we think is the best, but it always backfires. We end up detesting each other and it's not great, you know?"
John and Alex glance at each other, surprised, before facing him. "You're serious."
"Of course I'm serious. We've been going back and forth for over a year, barely holding on through injuries, firings and too many arguments to count. Now look at us, Alex is hiding injuries because he thinks we're too busy to deal, I'm stuck in a tag team with Truth, and I'm not even sure where to begin with you, John. Through it all, we've sort of been there for each other, but probably not like we should be. Even when I get away from Truth for more than five minutes, we don't talk about anything serious for very long, brush it all under the rug and act like none of this is there. This business is hard enough when we're working together, but when we're all separated, it just falls apart."
The other two nod slowly, thinking it all over. "Yeah," Alex finally mumbles. John motions to the bartender for another drink as they ponder his words, if such a thing is even possible after everything they've been through separately and together.