Early Tuesday morning. John Morrison smiles slightly as he stares out over the ocean just visible from his apartment window, absorbs the sun pouring down across his skin. His birthday is the next day and he wonders vaguely who will remember it. He knows Mike will be on the road, probably too busy to do much of anything as they prepare for the Wednesday night debut of Main Event, but Alex, maybe. His own various projects keeping him busy, he hadn't talked to the two as much as he'd like to lately, but he figures they won't blame him too much- God knows they're always busy doing this or that or the other for WWE.
He's about to go outside and take a walk along the beach, determine if the waves are worth anything, when there's a loud knock on his front door. He blinks and looks at it, tilting his head. Who would come over at this hour? Shrugging, he gets to his feet and wanders over, peeking through the peep hole. When he recognizes who's in the hall, he chortles and hits his head lightly against the wood before pulling it open, staring back at his (sometimes) best friend. "What the hell, man?" he teases, taking in the blurry, red-rimmed gaze locked on him. "What are you doing here?"
Mike, grumpy, waves him off, obviously not in the mood for his theatrics. "Coffee," he groans out, stumbling past John into his apartment with the grace of a recently born calf. "Now."
John laughs slightly, following him inside and to the kitchen where he settles in at the floating counter, watching with a grimace as he wanders around idly, preparing the cup of coffee. "Sugar?" he asks teasingly, already knowing the answer to this. He fills a few spoonfuls, spilling it into the mug, adding in the creamer he'd started keeping around his place just for moments like these and stirring it until it's a smooth, chocolatey shade of brown. Once finished, he slides it down to Mike, who automatically grabs it and downs it like it's vital to his health. "Slow down there, tiger, or you'll be bouncing off of my walls. Again."
Squinting at him, the Intercontinental champion waves a hand dismissively at him before reaching out to nab John's untouched cup of black coffee resting nearby. "Hey!" he snaps, pulling it out of his reach. "Geez, man, why are you so zombie-like this early in the morning?"
"Red eye flight," he grumbles out, slumping down on the counter and looking woefully at the drink that had been denied him. "I didn't even get an hour."
John, reading between the lines expertly, begins to feel guilty. Sighing heavily, he scoots his mug back in Miz's reach and slides the sugar and creamer his way too, getting up to pour himself another mug of coffee. "Lemme guess, it was the only flight out to LA so you could spend time with the birthday boy, hmmm?" he deduces, holding his breath as Mike looks over his shoulder at him.
"Something like that," he mumbles, pouring another spoonful of sugar into his drink. "I think I'm getting too old for this."
Rejoining him at the island, he nudges his arm and swirls his coffee around, temporarily distracted by the wisps of steam billowing up from it. "So you're going to be on Main Event tomorrow, huh?"
Mike nods, pillowing his face in his arms as he leans over the sun-warmed wood. "Yeah," he mumbles. He's so glad to be back in LA, even for this brief period of time. Fall was taking over the rest of the States, bringing with it cooler temperatures and less sun, which leaves him perpetually chilled and cranky. Stepping off of the plane and into the balmy, blue skied weather of California had been enough to wake him up long enough to make it to John's apartment, but he had crashed quickly, barely able to keep his eyes open even with the warm coffee beginning to re-energize him. "Commentary I think."
John smiles slightly as he falls into a light doze next to him, knowing better than to disrupt his rest. Everyone knows Mike has one of the worst sleep schedules out of anyone in the WWE, had maintained it somehow for years now. He's amazed he hasn't dropped yet, especially with neither he or Alex to watch over him currently, so any sleep he can get is good. Even if it is had sprawled out across John's island. He even studiously ignores the drooling, making a note to scrub the wood clean once Mike is gone.
The sun's inching towards setting, the outside world glowing orange in preparation to ease into utter darkness, John now sitting on the couch within view of the kitchen, curiously watching a copy of CM Punk's new DVD that he'd found in Miz's bag- not that he was snooping for gifts or anything like that, no not at all- when the owner of said DVD finally stirs, grunting as he finds himself sitting on a chair, his face sticking to the island. "What the..." he groans, sitting up and grimacing along with John as his back cracks loudly in response to the movement after a long period of being in one position. "Damn."
"Morning, sunshine," John greets him with a grin as he pauses the DVD and goes to join his guest, to make sure he doesn't stumble off of the seat and crack his head open on the floor or something ridiculous like that.
Mike levels a glare on him as he slowly grows more aware, taking in the room around him. "How long did you let me sleep?"
"It's been a few hours, looked like you needed it." John shrugs, undisturbed by the glare leveled his way.
"That's my DVD... isn't it?" he mumbles, peering blurrily at the TV before catching sight of his bag yawning open at the edge of the couch. "Snoop," he huffs, slapping John on the arm. When his former tag partner laughs at him, he brushes past him and drops onto the couch. "Is it any good? I haven't had time to watch it all yet."
"Yeah, it's interesting. Maybe if we have time before you leave, I'll restart it from the beginning." When Mike sneers at him, he laughs and turns it off, placing the disc he was on back in its case. "There ya go, all safe and back in its proper place."
Rolling his eyes, the other man leans over and digs through his bag, finally finding what he's looking for. "Here ya go. This is from Alex too, he said to tell you sorry he couldn't come, he's not cleared for flights yet while he's recovering."
He raises an eyebrow at the shoe box that Miz presents him with, trying not to laugh as he considers Alex giving up one of his precious pairs of sneakers as a birthday gift for John. "Um."
"Just open them, it's probably not what you think," Mike rolls his eyes. He watches John's face closely as he finally shrugs and begins prying the box apart. When his eyes brighten in surprise, he grins. "I noticed yours were looking kinda worn down when I was here last. Alex used his contacts in the sneaker world to find the best of the best, I guess, so these should last you awhile."
John laughs, lifting up the brand new, sleek looking parkour shoes that make his old ones look ridiculously cheap. "Damn, you guys didn't have to do this."
"Yeah, we did. Gotta help keep you in fighting shape, right?" He blinks as soon as the words slip out, looking like he wants to punch himself for saying that. John stares at him oddly, visibly confused by his reaction to his own words. "Uh, anyway, to make up for me sleeping the day away, let me make it up to you. Let's go out and get some food or something."
Ignoring John's frazzled protests, he grabs his phone and tosses John's things to him before pushing him out of the apartment and to the car. "No arguments," he tells him. "Just walk." John huffs, still stuck on that strange moment back at his couch, but obliges. They end up spending the evening out, wandering around beach-side restaurants and shops, just hanging out and falling back into old patterns from the Dirt Sheet days, making fun of people as they go and not even bothered in the slightest by the glares they receive by those who are unlucky enough to overhear them.
By the time it's been dark out for a few hours, the area still well lit by all of the stores and everything else, and Miz has to start thinking about getting some sleep before traveling on to Main Event's debut episode, John pieces it together on his own and, stopping, nudges Miz. "Hey."
"Yeah?"
"You have a flight in a few hours and I'm kinda wiped out myself so what do you say we go back, get some sleep so you're not a cranky mess for the airport." He laughs when Mike glares at him before agreeing, the two of them slowly making their way back to the apartment, the other man's arm impulsively drifting across his shoulders in a lazy loop as they trudge through the sand. He can't speak for the other man but he's pretty certain that Miz is as reluctant as he is to return to reality- where they will have to go their own ways much too soon. With each passing day, he finds himself growing more settled into his life post-WWE, but there are more than a few things he misses about the business sometimes.
Getting to hang out with Mike and Alex without struggling to find time between their differing schedules is definitely one of them.
John hasn't watched a lot of WWE since being fired, hates the feeling of emptiness and dejectedness it brings up within him. He had kept his phone open, checking his emails regularly, after Laurinaitis' firing from a position of power. But it all was almost immediately dashed when no contact from the federation had come, his phone not ringing, no emails received. He hated himself for even considering such a thing as truly possible but he'd been unable to stop the brief glimmer of hope which died when more time passed with nothing coming of it.
But, wanting to see Mike's debut as commentator for an hour long show, he figures out what channel ION Network is on for his cable provider and turns it on that Wednesday night, settling down on the living room floor before the TV stand, shuffling through papers for various appearances he'd agreed to make over the winter. He only half watches, more focused on the commentary as Sheamus vs CM Punk commences, followed by a tag team match later on. He has birthday plans that night but had insisted that this hour had been left to him, no one really complaining over the prospects of enjoying LA in the dark ease of night despite it being a weekday.
He half-smirks listening to Mike, it's obvious that he's enjoying this, for once relaxing enough to let himself analyze the matches as not just a wrestler but a fan of the business as well. They had done it many a time in the past outside of the arena, especially when needing inspiration for the Dirt Sheet, but to see Mike actually be more himself in a professional setting makes John feel calm, more relaxed also.
During the tag team match, he forgets all about the paperwork he's still trying to sort out when he hears Mike mention their time as tag team champions, crediting the upswing in his career to that period of time, and he can just imagine that it's been the first time he's even been acknowledged on TV in any capacity in a long while. God, has it really been almost a year...? How time flies.
Once Main Event ends, he is already running a little late for his birthday dinner so he simply leaves a text to Mike. Hey, watched tonight. Good job, you sounded really natural out there. I'm kinda surprised they didn't cut you saying my name out of the broadcast, haha.
Almost twenty minutes later, he stops outside of the restuarant and pulls his phone out, smiling slightly when he sees 1 unread text.
Happy birthday, Jomo.
Monday afternoon. Morrison smirks, standing outside of the Sacramento arena. He doesn't feel comfortable going inside, imagines he'd probably be kicked out the instant he poked a toe through the door, so he waits outside, content to let the wind blow through his hair and sooth his nerves. He doesn't show it but yeah, standing outside of a WWE event and knowing that inside are dozens of his former colleages, well.
"So you're there now?" Alex asks from the phone which is resting on the dash of his car. "Haha, Mike's going to freak out." John laughs too, keeping a lazy eye on the street in front of the arena as they talk. "I'm not going to keep you, just wanted to see if you did go through with it."
"Of course I did, how often do I say I'm going to do something and not do it?" He chuckles. "But yeah, I don't want to miss Mike's big arrival. Gee, I wonder what AJ Lee is going to do to him on his birthday... maybe another Miz TV so his couches can get thrown around some more?" Or something worse, he thinks, though he doesn't vocalize this. "Anyway, talk later, A-Ri."
"Bye, John."
He cuts off the call and sits back, sighing as he looks around for Mike's car. With it being in state, he wasn't even going to bother with a rental, just taking his own personal vehicle back and forth, which makes this easy enough for John to pull off. Finally he sees the bright blue shade of Mike's fancy sports car driving towards the arena's back entrance for crew and rolls his eyes at it before picking his cell phone up.
Up for a visitor?
Mike's answer, to his credit, is very quick and only makes John laugh all the more. Ugh, where are you?
Across the street. What, you can drop in on me for my birthday but I can't do the same for you? Tsk.
Depends on what you plan on doing while you're here.
John honestly hadn't thought that through. He almost expected just to stay at a safe distance from the arena all night, wait for Mike to be free so he could give him his gift in person afterwards. Haven't decided yet.
There's a more lengthy pause here until finally a loud knock sounds on John's window and he jerks, looking up in surprise to find Mike standing next to the car, his arms crossed over his chest as he peers down at John. He opens the door and slips out, grinning almost sheepishly at his friend. "Well, you didn't have to come all the way over here to lecture me."
Mike's eyes glint in the sun before he turns on his heel and starts walking purposefully back towards the arena. John is frozen, watching in confusion, when the Awesome One turns back and glares at him, eyebrow raising. "Well? Are you going to stand there all night? Come on."
His jaw drops as he walks slowly after Mike, not sure what exactly he's got planned. "Um, Mike," he mumbles, trying to stop the Intercontinental champion as they near the arena, his well-hidden anxiety flaring up once more.
"Quiet. Here." He stops by his car and passes over one of his hats and a pair of sunglasses. "Put these on. You want to be so sneaky, we're gonna do this up right." To his credit, John catches on quickly despite his brain feeling like it's wading through thick molasses, quickly stuffing his ponytail under the hat and blocking his eyes from view with the glasses. "Let me do the talking."
He stews but follows along, watching, unsettled, as they enter the arena and techs and other staff barely look sideways at Mike, only temporarily curious at his presence until Miz glares back at them warningly, his blue eyes cold as ice until they turn their attention back to what they'd been doing originally. "Here," he snaps, opening the door to what ends up being a private locker room assigned to him in respect of his role as Intercontinental champion. "You can stay in here, no one'll bug you."
He bustles around, dropping his bag in the corner and surprising John when he tugs the hat and glasses from his face, allowing his hair to cascade free from its confines. It's beyond weird to be back in an arena, here, now. Leave it to Mike, John thinks in disbelief.
They sit down across from each other once he stops being a tidal wave of action, Mike staring blankly at him. "So what are you doing here?"
It seems silly now but Mike had flown back to LA just to spend a few hours with him on his birthday, so driving a few hours just to get here to do the same doesn't seem as ridiculous. "It's your birthday, Mike. What other reason do I need?"
Another strange look, similar to the one that had been present on John's birthday, flashes across Mike's face and he stares at his hands, looking unnaturally flushed. "None, I guess." He seems to be thinking through something, his fingers twitching against each other as he looks everywhere but at John.
"Mike, what's going on? You've been acting weird for awhile now." John makes a face when Miz's head shoots up, his eyes narrowing at him. "Don't look at me like that. You're just not yourself, man. You haven't been for weeks, since you returned to Raw after filming Marine: Homefront." No answer is provided and he sighs heavily. "Is there anything I can do to help you?"
He shakes his head slowly, taking deep, awkward breaths. "No, John, you can't," he finally mutters tiredly. "Look, I have things to look into about what I'm doing tonight. I'll come back in a little bit, alright? Try to stay out of trouble."
John nods, watching as he collects his title and a couple of other things, leaving the room. He's almost tempted to follow him, see if he can garner any kind of truth from what he witnesses, but he stays, not wanting to risk their friendship just because he's curious and a little worried. Alex had come to him awhile ago, worried about Mike's attitude, but he'd somehow just brushed it off not long after that, claiming that he'd just overreacted... which John highly doubts, overreactions were more Mike's style, sometimes even John's thing, but not Alex, not in the time that John had known the laidback younger man.
"Well, hopefully whatever it is, Mike won't get himself so far into it that he can't dig his way back out if he needs to," he sighs, closing his eyes and leaning against the wall to wait.
It's obvious early on that Mike is not thrilled with what he's provided with for the evening- an interview segment with Larry King. Even John is a little perplexed by the point of the segment, chuckling despite himself as Mike tries to force Larry and his wife to sing Happy Birthday to him, the three quickly arguing until Larry kicks Mike off of his show, calling out his real guest, Kofi Kingston.
John laughs, shaking his head as Mike antagonizes Larry's wife, being as skeevy and obnoxious as he can be until she throws a glass of water into his face. Wincing, Morrison watches on quietly as it devolves into a brawl between he and Kofi. He makes it to his feet as sounds of the fight become obvious all the way into the locker room, John somehow sensing by the noise levels alone as it nears the hallway, going to stand behind the door to wait.
As soon as he hears a loud bang on the doorframe, he forces the door open and reaches out, gripping ahold of Mike's suit jacket, dragging him into the room and forcing the door shut behind him before Kofi could regain his senses and go after him.
Mike leans against the door for a long moment, glaring at the ground, before he slams his fist viciously against the wood paneling. He's shaking, water still dripping down his face, and he barely even addresses John's presence as he grabs a towel from the adjoining bathroom and begins wiping down his face with brisk swipes of the terrycloth. "Dammit," he hisses, eyes squeezing shut as he tries to forget what just happened.
John would ordinarily be teasing him mercilessly but there's nothing more than silence, John now working on patting his suit jacket dry. He releases a tired breath before their eyes meet, blue clashing with brown as it had always done. "Do you want to go to Florida?" he suddenly blurts out, watching as Mike's face changes from annoyed and embarrassed to confused. "I booked flights for us both, red eyes. They leave in a couple of hours. It won't exactly be spending your birthday with Alex and I, but as close as I could get, considering. What do you say?"
"I say that sounds pretty damn perfect," he says on a heavy exhale. "Let's go."
John grins. "You've got it, birthday boy."