A/N: Thanks to Eva and Angeles for reading and reviewing!
Smackdown begins with another edition of Miz TV. The gift from AJ Lee that just keeps on giving, long after her power had been taken away. He sighs as he introduces Sheamus, wondering what will be coming his way tonight- a Brogue Kick, or some other kind of humiliation...
But before that particular worry can become reality, Big Show's music interrupts, the much larger man making his way to the ring. By the end of it, he suffers another humiliating attack by Kofi and Sheamus, stumbling back towards Big Show on the ramp. None of them are that surprised when they're placed in a tag match against each other- it'd become kind of expected that any time an argument between four men erupts (especially on Smackdown) a tag match would be the end result.
He tries to make it work with Show, even suggests they be ShowMiz again, but Big Show easily dismisses this idea, reminding Miz callously that he's a champion while Mike is not. Even rubs it in by making Mike pick his title up and hand it over to him, only adding to the former WWE champion's humiliation. He doesn't want to tag with Show after that, but he puts his all into it anyway, relieved when Show actually helps by knocking Kofi out so Miz can pick up the pin... but he's no help once the bell rings, leaving Miz behind to eat a Brogue Kick that leaves him laying. He rolls over, body throbbing in time with his face, and watches through barely opened eyes as Show leaves, paying his former tag partner no mind whatsoever as their opponents regroup following the loss.
He groans and struggles, slowly making his way up the ramp. Moments like these, he really misses having Morrison or Alex waiting for him on the other side of the curtain. At least, he thinks while the trainer examines him, taking special care with the still healing wound along his brow, one of them will be back soon.
Even so, the more time he spends alone, the more he thinks. The more he thinks, the more unsatisfied he becomes with the situation he finds himself in- being a mere member of a team that's full of people he can't stand, who can't stand him, so by the end of the weekend, when it's time for another edition of Raw, he's made his mind up. Going to Paul Heyman, he makes his thoughts known, unsurprised by how easy it is to tell the conniving manager that he's quitting Punk's team. It's a relief as he walks away from the sputtering man, washing his hands of the whole ridiculous situation that he'd too quickly agreed to the week prior. Now he can focus on more important things.
Which happens to be Vickie Guerrero's evidence for the moment, Mike stewing quietly as he watches the woman reveal footage of AJ going down the hallway of a hotel that they'd stayed in the week prior, it looking almost like she'd been in Cena's room. He frowns at it and shakes his head, abruptly uncomfortable. "Hell," he mumbles, scraping his fingers through his hair. Not wanting to gain anyone's attention, he quickly distracts himself by beginning to prepare.
Turns his focus to surviving his match against Sheamus almost half an hour later, which lasts longer than he'd almost expected it to. Big Show is lurking outside, doing commentary, but except for a distraction here and there, he doesn't have much of an effect on the match... Miz loses despite fighting his hardest, and the walk to the back seems to be unending, his whole body throbbing with each step. Sheamus' repeated strikes to his chest and head, not to mention the Brogue Kick at the end, has to be some of the nastiest strikes he'd ever endured.
He's slumped down in the locker room, pressing his palms to his eyes and wondering how exactly he's going to handle the rest of the European tour, much less Smackdown the very next night, while he hurts this much, when his phone starts vibrating on the bench next to him. Blindly reaching out for it, he skims the text waiting for him and sighs, his headache pulsing anew.
AJ Lee:
I'm so sorry.
Miz:
It's not your fault. Don't worry about it.
They have a couple of drinks at the hotel bar, keeping a low profile while discussing the dramas they are dealing with separately at work. Once he starts feeling sleepy-tipsy, he gives up on staying there, smiling sheepishly at her. "Ready to go?" She nods, though looking reluctant, and he guides her from the bar with a hand hovering along the middle of her back.
An elevator ride later and they arrive on their floor, Mike noting that her room is only a few doors away from his. He smiles and says nothing about this little observation, leaving her there in the doorway as he half-walks, half-stumbles to his own door, eyes slipping closed as he opens his own door. Turning to find her still watching him, head tilted, he waves at her, chuckling slightly to himself as she waves back before ducking into the quiet, peaceful refuge of his room, sighing in relief at the bed waiting for him there.
He's only been asleep what feels like a few minutes when a soft knock at his door breaks into his subconscious, throwing him back into reality sharply. Coughing, he runs a hand through his matted down hair before making it to his door without killing himself or knocking anything over in the darkness. Opening it, it becomes his turn to tilt his head, staring out at a freaked out looking AJ on his doorstep.
"Can I come in?" she asks, her eyes wet and more than a little desperate. "Please?"
Still half-asleep, he can't wrap his head around what she's saying for a long moment. "Sure," he finally agrees, stepping aside to let her inside. It's only when she's in his room and he flicks the light on that he realizes she has a bathrobe on, clinging to it like she's cold. "Are you ok?"
She nods, then shakes her head, staring at the floor as she picks at the folds of her robe. "No," she whispers. "I'm not."
He frowns and leads her to the bed, urging her to sit. Once she's settled, he kneels down in front of her. "What's wrong?" She had been stressed out earlier at the bar, yeah, but nothing like this. Now she looks like she's about to lose it... again. "Talk to me."
"I had a nightmare," she admits, squeezing her eyes shut tightly. "I was ... I was jobless, and homeless again. I had nothing." Tears leaking down her cheeks suddenly, she sobs. "I don't ever want to go back to that." Fiercely wiping her face with her sleeve, she stares at him. "I... I... I can't."
He frowns, his heart beating loudly in his ears as he looks on, feeling so bad for the girl before him. He'd been fired in the past- though nowhere near homeless- and he knows slightly how she'd felt, to lose the opportunity of doing what one loves... and worry that it's permanent. He rests his hands on her knees, squeezing gently, and smiles when she looks at him. "It's ok. You're not homeless, and you have your job back. Everything's going to be ok."
Here she nods, sniffing slightly. "I know. You're right. It has to be. I just... I couldn't stay in my room alone after that dream. I'm sorry if I woke you up."
He shakes his head. "Don't worry about it, I don't need that much sleep." When she smiles slightly at him, he accepts it as a minor victory. "Alright then. Tell me one thing." He pauses, watching as she shifts anxiously on his bed. "Have you been having these dreams often?" He'd noted it earlier, she had looked tired and though he had tried to brush it off as jetlag, now he thinks it's something deeper.
"Yeah," she admits faintly. "Almost nightly since it... Since I lost my position as General Manager of Raw."
He winces, knowing that that's not good. If she's going to keep her wits about her and not lose it on Vickie, she needs proper sleep, he thinks. "Well, that's it then. You can sleep here tonight, I'll make sure the nightmares stay away."
Her eyes wide in surprise, she shakes her head. "I can't- I can't intrude, risk ruining your own sleep with my nonsense, Mike... that's not fair. Not after everything."
He waves her off. "Since Alex is injured, I have a second bed never getting used. Take it. Like I said, I'm used to not having a lot of sleep. It'll be fine, I promise. You won't be a bother." Ignoring her protests from here on, he drags her up and over to the other bed, standing by it with his arms crossed over his chest until she finally gives in and rolls over, burying herself in the sheets, asleep almost immediately. "Good night, AJ," he whispers, adjusting the sheets to cover her more fully.
He's not sure how Vickie got that footage, but he doesn't care. It doesn't matter, she'd obviously messed with it to make it look like AJ was at Cena's room, though that was far from the truth. He ends up with more important things on his mind anyway as Vickie stops him in the middle of the hallway, her wide grin unsettling him as he crosses his arms over his chest and stares down at her. She seems exceptionally happy since Team Punk had become Team Dolph- More power to him, he can have it, Miz thinks- and apparently seems willing to spread the love around a bit. "I've talked with Booker T," she tells him, a gleam in her eye.
"And?" he asks, unable to avoid the awkwardness with being this close to her, knowing that she has footage of AJ going into his hotel room and not even being aware of it, despite how innocent it'd been.
"He's agreed you should have a Intercontinental title rematch tomorrow on Super Smackdown," she tells him. "Good luck!"
As she walks away, her walk self-assured and pleased, he blinks. "Huh. Thanks... I think."
Unfortunately, no matter what Mike does the following night, Kofi rebounds. Again and again. He just won't stay down, Mike still hurting from the match against Sheamus, new pain blossoming from various hits suffered in this match. He finally just can't get up again, Kofi retaining the title that should rightfully be Mike's... He's tried time and time again, just to be bested by the South African, and sometimes even he has to admit. There may be people just a little luckier, or maybe, even, better than Mike in this business...
He gets to his feet slowly and stares at his rival, lips twisting unhappily as he counts in his head. Four losses, he mulls. The initial loss on Raw that had granted him this scar on his forehead, the title loss on Main Event, the rematch at Hell in a Cell, and now tonight. Maybe... He's breathless and hurting, exasperated and angry, but even he has to admit. The man before him is a hell of a competitor, maybe even deserving of the white title gleaming on his shoulder at this moment. His eyes are narrowed shrewdly as he ventures closer, holds his hand out to shake Kofi's hand. He doesn't find many deserving of his respect, but when he does, well, he tries to show as much in one way or another.
Except that Kofi spits in his face, attacking him yet again and taking him clear from the ring. He rolls quickly to his feet, angrily kicking the barricade wall as he storms back around the ring and to the ramp, disbelieving of what had just happened.
He'll pay for that, he thinks, teeth bared in anger as he peers back at Kingston, thoughts running through his mind a mile a minute at what he'd like to do to the man. He'll definitely regret all of this...