Alex Riley stares at the calendar on his phone with a wistful smile, shaking his head. Two years ago. Two years ago Miz had won the WWE Money in the Bank, had started down the road that had led them all here. Who would've thought they all would've been better treated during the Anon GM's- Hornswoggle's? Ehhh...- time in control than now. At least in those days they would all get consecutive amounts of TV time, even if it was just to be tortured by the invisible person behind the laptop.
It had all changed when Punk won and left the company with the WWE title and Cena's job was in risk. The face of the company, they'd harped on, might be fired tonight by Mr. McMahon. What then, what then. What then indeed. HHH had stepped in, had salvaged things for Cena- ruining them for many others in the process. With the Anon GM's power cut out from under him unexpectedly, HHH being in control had changed a great many things. Alex and Morrison both had seen less and less TV time and Miz, well, Miz had been fired alongside R-Truth. It thankfully had been brief and Mike had been rehired by Laurinaitis but those had been some of the worst weeks of Alex's life. Until Laurinaitis refused to renew John's contract, just after one of the most hellacious matches John and Mike had ever had.
At least it had kept Morrison from falling into unused hell like he's currently in, lucky to see NXT or Superstars in a week if anything. Miz even hadn't been exempt, the weeks leading up to Marine: Homefront leaving him in the lurch as Laurinaitis refused to use him despite everything Mike had done for him. Mike had tried everything just to have something to do leading up to his leaving for the movie's filming, but had been ignored for weeks. When he had been given matches, it almost always ended up in a losing effort against someone like Brodus.
At least in his first week back, Miz had managed to be in both Money in the Bank and have a match on Raw- sure, he hadn't won either but it was more TV time than he had had for weeks before he'd left for Canada. Alex is glad for him, too used to the woeful state of his own career right now to even feel jealous or bitter. If anyone deserved notice, it was Mike. No one works harder, spends more time on media and other things to promote WWE than him.
He has a match against Cody Rhodes later that night on Superstars and Mike had offered to join him at the arena, not quite ready to go home to California yet. Raw 1000 is looming, breathing down all of their necks, and they're all pretty excited. It shows at the Superstars taping- where there's usually only a few people around, those who actually have matches, now there is almost a locker room full of people hanging around, talking with friends and mocking rivals. All preparing for the ridiculous times to be had in St. Louis, with many legendary wrestlers invited, to join in with the newer guys.
"It's going to be crazy," Mike comments, lips twitching as they listen to their co-competitors go on and on about who they want to meet this coming Monday, all of their inner passion for the business that most of them grew up with coming out. They glance at each other, smiling, before Mike straightens up. "Do you think...?"
He doesn't need to finish the sentence, Alex having been wondering the same thing for awhile now. Through all the rumors of who had been invited to the show, he's been keeping an ear out for Morrison's name, but no one has said anything about him. Not that that means anything, he knows, never say never in this business, after all, but hmmm. He shrugs half-heartedly, wrapping his wrists up snugly. "I haven't heard anything, Mike. But who knows, he might."
"It'd be good to see him at an event again," he says softly, Alex's gaze softening as he looks up at his mentor. It's been really obvious that Mike's been holding out some hope that, with Laurinaitis now gone, Morrison would get an offer to have his job back- though, Alex thinks, if he would even want it by this point in time. The Shaman of Sexy seems content doing wrestling events now and again, not weighed down by the constant traveling schedule and everything else the job entails. He knows better than to say it to Mike though, because if Alex could see that just from John's tweets alone then God knows his best friend would've guessed it as well.
"Yeah, it would." They sit in silence before a tech hand approaches Alex and lets him know his match is next. He finishes with his wrist tape before nudging Mike. "See ya later," he says, standing.
"Good luck, A-Ri."
"Thanks." As soon as his music cues up, he's out and ready for the match, unsurprised when a game Cody Rhodes joins him, the two eyeing each other distrustfully. Angered probably both by A: losing Money in the Bank to Dolph Ziggler and B: being delegated to Superstars this week, Rhodes is quick to gain the upperhand, and he keeps it most of the match, Alex just unable to keep his head above water during the volleys of offense from the other man. When he ends up on his back, staring at the lights with a dazed grimace, he's not that surprised. It's just another disappointment to add to the many others he'd had the past year.
Mike is waiting for him when he makes his way to the back, a sympathetic smile on his face. "Come on, kid, let's get out of here," he urges, wrapping an arm around his slumped shoulders.
"My stuff," he protests, turning towards the locker room, but Mike holds onto him, pushing him back towards the exit.
"I've got 'em," he says. "They're in the car already. Quick stop at the hotel and let's just go on to the next event, huh?" Alex nods, glancing over at his former NXT pro. He can guess why Miz is hurrying them out of there- with the locker room fuller than usual, he can just imagine all of the comments being made about yet another one of his losses. He can handle it, had heard quite a few comments in the weeks that Mike had been gone, but it's still nice to have someone around who cares enough to try to shield him from it.
"Thanks, Mike."
That Monday, they arrive early to find the place already bustling. Past and present superstars are milling around, and Alex notices even a suspended Randy Orton is there, talking lowly with Lita. Halfway to the locker room, they pass by a paranoid looking Heath Slater who keeps glancing from one legend to the next, trying and failing to look nonplussed by it all. Mike doesn't even try to hide his laughter, Heath turning to glare at him. "What, man!" he demands, his accent thickening with his anger.
He just smirks, shrugging. "Absolutely nothing, One Man Band. Try not to get killed tonight, huh?"
"Aw shut up," the West Virginian snaps before storming off.
Alex laughs. "You're horrible, Mike."
"Nah, he's horrible. I'm awesome."
There are so many legends that Alex grew up watching in the locker room that it floors him, stops him in his tracks. He just stands there for so long that Mike has to grab him by the arm and drag him inside just to get him moving again, most eyes on them as they walk in. When they realize who exactly it is, they all look back at what they're doing, leaving Mike and Alex to settle down on a bench and get ready for the show. Alex doesn't have a match again so he just sits and watches Mike, curious. "So do you know what you're doing tonight?"
"Ah, I have an idea," he smirks, running his hands through his hair. Alex is far from used to seeing him without the spiked hair, the change confusing him to the point that it still takes him a minute to recognize Mike from a distance. "But it's a suuuurprise," he finishes before Alex can ask, singsongy and utterly annoying.
"Aw, I hate when you do that."
He smirks, quickly getting into his wrestling gear. "So, what say you? Wanna go wander and see who all we find?"
Alex knows immediately what- or who- he's looking for, and although he's pretty sure John isn't there, they hadn't heard from him all weekend so similiarly to Mike holding his match information close to the vest, maybe John's doing the same thing, wanting to surprise them with his presence. It takes a good half an hour to go through the whole building and, although Alex sees a great many people who cause a nostalgia rush for the both of them, Mike even stopping a few times to greet people and introduce Alex to them, Morrison isn't among them.
Though he doesn't really seem surprised, Mike does look disappointed by the end of it. "C'mon, Mike, let's get some fresh air," he suggests, forcing a small smile when he looks over at him, eyes dull.
"Alright," he mumbles, following him to the exit. It's stifling warm outside, both men starting to sweat the instant they're out of the air conditioning, but Mike looks a little better as a breeze greets them. "I just... I wished he was here," he finally admits after a few minutes. "It's just not the same with him gone. No offense, Alex."
"None taken. You're right, it is...different." He leans against the building and looks up as misty clouds pass overhead, teasing but granting no rain to the drought-ravaged land. "They invited so many people, it's kind of pointless and cruel they didn't invite him too..."
Mike hums, nodding slightly. "But maybe they did and he didn't accept. I mean, that's what Shane Helms was tweeting about earlier, right? That he didn't accept the invite, though he could've?"
"Yeah, I heard about that too." Alex sighs. "Well... I guess we should go back in," he says after a few more minutes. "Wouldn't want you to miss your all important secret match."
Mike just grins, not raising to the bait. "So impatient, Alex. You'll know all soon." He laughs as the younger man huffs, following him inside. By the time they make it through the flood of people and settle in to a locker room to watch, the AJ and Daniel Bryan wedding has already begun, Miz's eyebrows raised.
"I don't need to get you a kleenex or a stiff drink after last week, do I?" Alex teases, glancing from his former pro to the girl on the TV that Mike had seemed close to mesmerized with merely seven days ago.
"No," he rolls his eyes, swatting Alex upside the head. "Is that Slick?" Sure enough, it is and first Daniel comes to the ring, followed shortly by his bride, who looks beautiful and bashful in her white wedding dress.
Alex glances over to find Mike still staring hard at the screen, his lips twitching. Oh boy, he thinks, wondering what exactly this girl does to get a hold on so many guys in the locker room. Glad I haven't come in contact with her... But, like most WWE weddings before it, it doesn't make it past the I Do's, Mike perking up a bit when AJ says she's saying yes to another man's proposal... The buzz in the locker room is ridiculous when Vince McMahon's music hits, but thankfully the CEO of the company refutes that it's that kind of proposal, explaining that he'd made AJ the offer to be their new Raw GM.
Alex thinks he can hear a collective popping sound as everyone's jaw drops, their new General Manager skipping circles around Daniel in her fancy dress before chanting yes all the way up the ramp. "Uh, well. I didn't see that coming," he mumbles, glancing over at Mike. "You don't seem that surprised." The only answer he receives is a smirk. "You knew?"
Mike shrugs. "Maybe, maybe not. Either way, my match is next so... I'll see you in a little bit, Alex."
"Wait!" he calls out, coming out of his stupor just before Miz shuts the door behind him. "Damn... not even one little hint? Ugh..." He crosses his arms over his chest, accepting that he'll just have to sit and watch. Through a commercial break and Daniel's complaints, Punk's interruption and... The Rock coming out to announce he'll have a title match at the Royal Rumble. Ooh yay. They're about to fade into another commercial when Cole mentions that Christian's Intercontinental title match is up next, Alex's eyes widening. "No way, this is it?" He grins. "Well, what do you know."
Once the commercial ends, he's not sure whether to laugh or hide his eyes- Bret Hart is announced as the guest ring announcer for the next match and oh boy that must eat at Mike, considering what a thorn in his side Bret had been while he was WWE champion. But it doesn't really effect the outcome of the match, Bret isn't even seen after announcing them. The most vitrol he throws Mike's way is announcing him in the dullest way possible, causing a few of the guys in the locker room to laugh.
Mike gains control early when Christian does a suicide dive to the outside and tweaks his knee, overcoming every bit of offense the Canadian wrestler attempts after that until finally, finally Mike hits Skullcrushing finale and pins him, winning the Intercontinental title for the first time ever.
Alex grins, leaving the room in time to meet him at the gorilla position. Mike's face is bright, his grin overwhelming, and the title just looks right in his hands. "You sneaky idiot," Riley tells him goodnaturedly. "Keeping this from me. Geez." He laughs when Mike just looks even more proud of himself. "Congrats, man. You deserve it."
"Thanks," he says, holding the title up so Alex can get a good look at it. "It's not the WWE or World title... but it'll do. Oh, it'll do." He laughs.
Alex thinks that, had their little trio hadn't been missing one, the moment truly would've been perfect. "Come on," he says, shaking this thought from his head. "Let's go celebrate, huh?"
"Yes." They pause at the same time, exchanging uncomfortable glances. That word had become a weird thing to use around the arenas, random bursts of YES! YES! YES! possible to happen at any time with little to no warning. "Eh. Let's go," he says awkwardly when everything remains calm.
They're half way to a club when Mike's phone dies, the battery worn out by all of the texts and tweets, congratulatory and otherwise, regarding his victory. He huffs and turns to look at Alex, who's currently driving. "Hey, mind stopping by the hotel room so I can get my charger? I'm enjoying the hate too much to let it remain dead." He shakes his phone at the younger man, who glances over with a weird look on his face.
"You're strange, Mike. But sure, why not."
"I can also put my title in a safe place so no one tries stealing it while we're partying."
"Good idea." Alex pulls in to the hotel parking lot and finds a spot close to the building. "I think I'll come in too, too damn hot to stay outside for too long."
"No kidding." The evening had turned even muggier, humidity taking over when the heat had started to ease off. As they walk to the elevators, Mike's ego grows by ten sizes just by the stares they receive in the lobby, the white title slung braggadociously over one shoulder catching everyone's eyes.
"That's never going to get old for you, is it?" Alex asks with a laugh once they're in the elevator and it begins to move up to their floor.
"How could it?" He chuckles. "When you get your first title, you'll understand." His mirth dies away as Alex freezes, a frown overtaking his face. "Aw, come on, A-Ri. You've hit a rough patch, we all do... But it won't last forever. I promise you. Things will turn around for you."
"Like it did for you, right?" he says, trying to sound unbothered by Miz's faux pas.
"Right, exactly like that. Just be patient, man."
Alex nods, not wanting to vocalize his true thoughts, ruin Mike's moment. When it comes down to it, though, a few months of being overlooked is nothing compared to a full year, and he knows his abysmal losing streak isn't helping matters any. Who really wants to see a guy who loses so much that it's just a foregone conclusion as soon as his music hits that he's not going to walk out the winner this time either?
Mike is looking worriedly back at him as he unlocks the door to their hotel room, trying to find a way to cheer his friend back up, when a gust of wind greets them. "What the...?" He peeks inside and blinks. "Alex, did you leave the balcony door open?"
Alex joins him and stares. "Of course not, Mike. I hadn't even looked out of it since we arrived, it was so hot."
"Strange," he mumbles. "Maybe the staff?"
"We left a Do Not Disturb sign out though," the former NXT rookie points out quietly. "Be careful." They walk hesitantly in together, Mike crossing over to the wide open balcony, peering outside. Alex quickly scans the room, making sure that nothing's been taken. His confusion grows when everything looks the same as they'd left it. "Mike, I-"
"Alex," Mike interrupts him, his voice low and strange sounding. "Come here a sec."
"What is it-" He stands behind Miz, staring out. For the second or third time that evening, his jaw drops as he takes in what has Mike so subdued. "What the hell? Morrison?" Sure enough, the Prince of Parkour is sitting lazily on the balcony ledge, looking as comfortable there as if he owned the place. He grins up at them both, a small squirrel chittering away in his hands. Alex's eyes goes straight to the creature, his skin turning almost grey as he tries and fails to back up, the balcony door holding him in place. "What- what are you doing with that thing?"
"Never mind that," Mike snaps. "What are you doing here?"
John rolls his eyes at them, ignoring both questions as he gently settles the squirrel back down on the ledge next to him. When it continues begging, paws outstretched towards him, he tsks at it. "Sorry, little guy, I don't have any more food for you. Forage around elsewhere, you'll probably find something." When he stands, the squirrel scrambles away (and no if you asked, Alex did not whimper in that moment or try even harder to get away. Not at all...) and leaps onto a neighboring balcony. "Well, I came to join the party," he says with a smirk as he walks towards Mike and Alex. He glances at the younger man and rolls his eyes. "You still have that squirrel phobia going on, A-Ri?"
Alex simply glares at him while Mike persists, not willing to give up. "How did you get in here though? We have both of the keys!" He turns to look at the still mostly frozen Alex, and mutters, "You do still have your key, right?"
"Of course!" he comes to enough to snap back, ducking back inside quickly just in case there are any other squirrels lurking around waiting to attack.
Mike grimaces as John pushes past him, taking his sunglasses off once they're all inside and the balcony's once more shut. "What can I say?" Morrison says, sprawling out on a chair. "The abs still have it."
"The abs still- Oh God, did you take your shirt off in front of the cleaning lady again?" Mike groans, covering his face. "I thought you stopped doing that a long time ago."
"Hey, desperate times call for desperate measures," the former WWE star says with a grin. "Did you expect me to lurk outside in the lobby for hours until you both returned? Nah... This seemed easier. And you have a really nice view of the city, too." He grins. "And besides, my being in here meant that I got to watch you win the Intercontinental title."
Mike's bitching stops at this, his lips slowly closing once more as he frowns. "You could've been there in person, seen it up close like A-Ri here did."
This sobers John up too and he leans forward, eyes dark and uncertain as he glances from Alex to Mike. "I would've loved to have been... but they didn't invite me."
"What?" Mike shakes his head, his ugliest suspicions confirmed. "What the hell, man? That's not right."
John holds a hand up, stopping his verbal rant once more. "I'm not telling you this to ruin your night, Mike. I just wanted you to know, if I could've been there, I would've been. It just wasn't up to me."
Mike huffs, standing and tangling his fingers in his hair as he takes a few steps away from them. "God, this company, man. I don't even..."
Alex watches as John stands too and joins him, dropping his hands onto his shoulders to stop his forward movement. "Hey, Mike, seriously. Don't let it bring you down. It's ok, I've accepted it... Things have changed from how they used to be and I'm not even close to being at the top of their list, I get it. I seriously don't want this to ruin your celebration." He all but shakes him, digging his fingers into his collar bone to get his attention. "I'm here, now, and that's the important thing." He looks over at Alex, smiling slightly. "There is going to be a celebration, right?"
"Hell yeah," Mike says, finally taking a deep breath and relaxing slightly under John's grip. "We just stopped here to get my phone charger... and I guess it's a good thing we did." He raises an eyebrow at Morrison and slowly frees himself, walking around him to get the small device from the table. "You ready to go then?"
"Just leave the squirrels here," Alex orders, sounding a little bitter as Mike and John both stare at him, dissolving into laughter after a few moments. "It's not funny!"
"Yeah, it is, a little. Hey, who was that that had people confront their fears?"
"That was Maury, wasn't it?" John asks, looking thoughtful. "The pickle lady and the Q-Tips..."
"Yeah, Alex, you're not as bad as those, I guess. At least your phobia moves and, like, has claws and stuff."
"I hate both of you," the tallest of the three grumbles as he reluctantly follows them out into the hallway, arms crossed over his chest.
Mike and John laugh a little before sandwiching him in an obnoxious kind of hug. "Yeah right," Mike tells him. "You wouldn't have spent the last two years with us if that was the case."
He shrugs them off and marches for the elevator, desperate to get to the club and have a change of topic to go with the change of scenery. He's just gotten inside, reluctantly holding the door open for the other two when he hears Morrison say, "Designated driver! Not it."
"Not it," Mike echoes before he can even think enough to say anything.
Alex pokes his head out of the elevator car in disbelief. "Seriously! Why's it always me!"
"Rookie's lament," Morrison suggests, grinning. "C'mon, it's not that bad man... look at it this way, if we make fools of ourselves, you'll always have blackmail material or whatever."
"Don't give him ideas," Mike warns.
"I hope this place has a karaoke machine." Alex sneers at them as they exchange uncomfortable glances.
"Do you think if a WWE superstar- or a former superstar-" he rectifies his sentence quickly at Morrison's bland expression, "would use a karaoke machine, they would summon Zack Ryder?"
"Or Heath Slater," John suggests. "What's up with that guy anyway?"
"Hell if I know," Mike shrugs. "He's a slow learner. Then again, he is from the south."
They spend the next few hours at a nearby bar, even catching almost all of the last hour of Raw 1000 on one of the many big screens. Between Heath getting beat by Lita, Jinder's little faction getting killed by Undertaker and Kane, and Cena vs Punk ending in two run-ins and what appears to be Punk turning heel, it's a really busy conclusion to what had already been a really eventful episode. Alex and John both can see the wheels turning in Mike's head, choosing to distract him from whatever he's thinking with another round of shots, Alex looking somewhat distastefully down at the club soda in his hands.
The bar has no karaoke machine but there are pool tables and dart boards and John eventually challenges A-Ri to a quick game, somehow- despite looking a little tipsy from the shots he'd already had- getting three in a row right in the middle of the target. "How did you do that?" Riley demands, looking in disbelief at the game. "And I swear, if you say the abs haven't lost it again-"
"Nah, that only works with women. The rest is just all of my own ability." He laughs while Mike groans, Alex rolling his eyes at him. Giving up on darts, they all go to a pool table, deciding to play a mock game, all three of them. "Chicken with the black ball?" Morrison suggests, grinning. "You have to aim at the black ball, the first two who send it into the side pockets lose."
"That sounds weird. I'm in," Mike smirks, setting the balls up. "Who goes first? Not me."
"Not me," John adds, both turning to look at a yet again too slow Alex Riley. "Go on, man. You're up."
He sighs, selecting a pool cue from the stand. "Fine," he mumbles, trying out a couple of angles before finally hitting the cue ball. It rolls hard into the group, scattering the majority of them, and sending two striped balls into various pockets. Mike takes the second turn, spinning the cue into the black with enough force that it skips into other balls and comes to an abrupt stop, knocking a solid into one of the side pockets as well.
John frowns at the impossible shot that's now left for him- all of the balls either scattered far away from the sides or still unfortunately close to the black ball. Trying to be a little flashy, he sets up a special shot, trying to leap over the black ball, just to misjudge something along the way and sending the cue on top of it instead, causing it to roll right towards one of the pockets. "No!" he grimaces, just barely catching his breath when it stops short of falling in. "Damn," he and Mike say at the same time, for different reasons.
Alex chuckles, aiming up another shot and sends the black ball away from the side pocket, bumping another solid into the nearest side pocket. "This game is going to suck when we're out of the other balls to protect the black," he comments.
"That's the point, I think," Mike says, hitting the black ball with so much force that it hits one side, spins side ways and- sinks right into the opposing middle pocket. "Aw hell!" Shrugging, he leans back as if to say Have at it, boys, and takes another drink while he watches. Alex and Morrison examine each other, Morrison taking his time as he tries to find the safest way to hit the black ball. Bouncing it into a group of balls clustered around one of the pockets, he sinks two more, leaving the black ball between two remaining solids and close to the pocket.
Alex grimaces, unable to do anything but hit the black ball from this angle. Not wanting to repeat Mike's mistake or Morrison's near slip, he taps the cue ball very lightly, holding his breath as it rolls and nudges the black ball, sending it right to the edge but stopping just before it falls in.
Morrison grimaces, unable to work out a way to reach the black ball without knocking it in. "Damn," he mumbles, trying to hit it at an angle. The other balls on either side of the black are hard to dodge, however, and he grazes one of them, sending the cue ball hard into the black ball, which sinks easily into the pocket. "Ugh!"
"Ha!" Alex pumps a hand into the air, grinning. "Redemption!"
As he celebrates, everyone around the bar looking over at him strangly, John mumbles to Mike, "He does realize it's just a made up pool game, right?"
Mike shrugs, nudging him. "Let him have this, he's had a crappy few months."
"True," Morrison concedes. "Alright."
Not long afterwards, Mike realizes there's only three hours left till his flight back to LA, where he has some media and things to do before the next event. "Hey guys, let's go back to the hotel. My flight's in a couple of hours, I gotta get my stuff together."
"We must be on the same flight," Morrison comments as they follow Alex out to the car. The younger man watches as they duck into the back seat, once more reminding him of the night that Morrison had had his last match and they'd sat in the exact same places, Morrison turned sideways despite the seat belt stretched across him- new belt laws and all- to look at Mike while they talk lowly, both this side of tipsy but not enough to risk keeping them off of the plane later.
When they arrive back at the hotel, John and Alex both settle on the two beds, watching as Mike wanders around, collecting his things. "Here," he tells John, tossing the Intercontinental belt at him. "Guard this thing with your life until I'm done."
"Yes, sir," he says, running a hand across the smooth plate. He hadn't held a belt for so long, he'd almost forgotten how heavy they were. "Hey, Alex, look at this thing." Alex laughs, moving to the bottom of the bed and holding his hand out for it. "Y'know, I held the old belt that Rhodes made such a big deal out of... claiming it was a disgrace and all. But this belt is pretty prestigious looking too," he muses, dark eyes following it around as Alex gets his first real good look at it.
"It damn well better," Mike comments, peeking back out of the bathroom. "It's going to be mine for a long time to come." Alex lays back against the bed, eyes quickly growing hard to keep open. He listens as Mike drops his bag at the foot of the bed and leans over, tugging at the title belt until he releases it. "You falling asleep?" his mentor asks, sitting down between John and Alex on the bed.
"I might as well," Alex nods tiredly. "My flight's later in the morning so I can."
"As long as you don't sleep through it," John warns him. "We won't be here to wake you up."
"Nah, I won't. I set my alarm already." He waves his phone at them both.
"Good. I taught you well." Mike grins when he squints up at him. "But seriously, John, if we're going to make it through TSA, we should probably go now."
"Aw yes, I love TSA, I've missed seeing them regularly so much," he deadpans in response, getting to his feet. "Hey, Alex, it was good seein' ya, man. Next time you're both in California, we should do this again."
"Yeah, good seeing you too, John, and we definitely should," he says, scraping together the last of his energy to stand and follow them to the door. "Just leave the squirrels behind next time." He grins while the other two laugh at him, feeling a lot more relaxed now. "See you this weekend, Mike."
"Yep, don't get in any trouble 'til then," Mike responds, smirking over at him. "Get some sleep. I'll call you later on."
"Ok." He follows them into the hallway, feeling the awkwardness just as much as they both seem to be. It had been hard enough when John's contract had run out last November, but this time... not knowing when they'd all be able to hang out together again, makes it even harder to walk away. "Well..." he mumbles, shifting uncertainly.
"Ugh, God, just get over here," Mike finally orders, and in another flashback of the night Morrison had been let go, Alex rejoins them and wraps his arms around him, squeezing his eyes shut as he realizes anew just how much he misses the three of them being able to hang out together whenever they wanted- like it had been only nine months ago.
"Hey," John says, squeezing him back. "Unless something comes up beforehand, I'll see you two during Summerslam weekend, right? That'll be cool. And Mike, we still have to do that cove thing."
"Oh yeah," he laughs. "We'll have to try to work that in."
"Cove thing?" Alex asks, pulling away to look at Mike curiously.
"Yeah, I didn't get to do 4th of July since I was in Canada so John suggested we get more fireworks and do what we did last year. Summerslam weekend would probably be a perfect time to do that."
Alex catches on and grins, nodding. "Yeah, I'm in."
"Great, well, there you have it. Now go get some sleep, we have to go or we'll really miss our flight."
"Alright, I will. Safe travels, guys."
"You too, A-Ri."
With a chorus of byes, the three finally split, John and Mike heading for the elevator as Alex returns to the empty hotel room, taking in how quiet and lifeless the room is now that he's alone again. It reminds him uncomfortably of when Mike had been in Canada. It's just for a few hours, he reminds himself, sinking into the bed and quickly giving in to sleep. It's fine.