A/N: Thank you for the reviews and Merry Christmas! :D
Miz finds himself backsliding to the same mindset he'd been in months ago, before he'd left to film Marine 3: Homefront. He has no match on the upcoming PPV and been delegated to doing little more than Miz TV segments almost every show. He'd almost think that AJ was still in charge and getting back at him for all but ignoring her when she'd started making eyes at Cena more regularly, but it's not that, she has no power anymore and doesn't even get along with Vickie Guerrero to the point that she could ask her for such a favor. He can't determine what it is, why the various GMs keep having issues with giving him regular competition, but it drives him up the wall.
He flexes his hands, scrubbing them through his hair. "This is just getting beyond stupid," he mumbles to himself, feeling exhausted and beyond annoyed. At least before he'd had Alex around to distract him but now, with the Florida native still preparing to return after his surgeries, he's all alone to drown in these self-doubts. After the AJ mess, they only become worse with each passing second.
He has commentary on Main Event, MizTV again on Smackdown, and unless something comes of that (which he doubts because it's Team Hell No), he has nothing concrete planned for TLC. But he swallows his misgivings and does his job that Wednesday, watching Del Rio compete against Ryback and lose; 3MB compete against Tyson Kidd and Justin Gabriel and win. He watches 3MB and shakes his head at their shenanigans, pondering.
When Smackdown comes, he smirks to himself as Team Hell No make their way to the ring under Kane's music. Since his little conversation with Kane, inspired by his own varied experiences with making a tag team work, the two men had come to work together under the realization that they pretty much needed to in order to survive if The Shield kept targetting them. He had expected something like that weeks ago, and finds himself almost relieved at the development. The tag team champions don't get to talk about Sunday that much, however, when The Shield appears in the crowd and makes their way to the ring.
Mike tenses up, somehow expecting this but also not sure what exactly to do. He'd had his own run-ins with The Shield, after that stupid lie detector test had gone sideways so horribly, and though revenge sounds nice right now, he also wants to be smart about this. He's pretty sure they're not here for him, they're here for the tag team champions, and he'd rather avoid another beat down this close to the PPV, just in case, so he quietly ducks out of the ring and lets Team Hell No deal with it as he slips up the ramp and leaves. He's just made it to the main hallway when he passes by Ryback obviously on his way to get a piece of The Shield members for himself, eyes slipping closed in relief. Ok, he'll deal with that. Good.
He almost smirks as he passes by Alberto Del Rio and Ricardo Rodriguez talking lowly in the hallway, preparing for ADR's match against Kofi Kingston later on. Similar to him, Del Rio's been all but overlooked for the upcoming PPV, but Miz can't feel too bad for him. At least he has had actual matches, even if none of them will seemingly result in anything for this Sunday. Entering the locker room, he slumps down on a bench and scrapes his fingers through his slicked back hair, making it stand up almost like how it used to, before the movie. Sometimes he misses those days, that look. But there are a lot of things he misses, that particular nostalgia is short on his list...
After a very slow, very glum weekend spent reflecting on things and wondering just what he'll do with his time on Sunday with nothing planned, and no one to hang out with, Mike arrives at TLC and almost walks past the board with the planned matches and segments written down on it- when, on a lark, he turns at the last minute and just looks at it. He's too far away to read much, though he already knows the matches inside and out, but there's an entry for a non-match about mid-way through the card, and... "Oh no," he grumbles, venturing closer. Sure enough, his eyes hadn't been playing tricks on him. MizTV hosted by the Miz, guests 3MB. He closes his eyes and tries not to lose it right then, right there. "What did I ever do to deserve this?"
They're so obnoxious that they make him look like the most respectful, quiet guy in the room. And now, lucky, lucky him, instead of proving himself in the ring like he's meant to do, he'll be stuck interviewing that wanna-be band, trying to sort out what the hell they're actually about. Most days he loves his job and wouldn't think at all about giving it up, even if it frustrates him beyond belief. Today definitely is not one of them, however.
When his time comes around, he can't even make it through their entrance before his aggravation starts to rise. They're just annoying, grates at his very essence, and he wants to mock them, wants to make them as annoyed as he is, wants to discredit this so-called band of theirs. So, he does. And they go off on a tangent, towards him, towards the fans, towards anything they can think of- before turning their attention to the Spanish announcers sitting at ringside, doing their jobs without causing anyone any harm. He watches, unimpressed, as they begin to bully the two non-competitors behind the desk when suddenly he blinks and Ricardo Rodriguez is out there, yelling at them in Spanish.
Their focus turns to him, their abuse beginning to rain down upon him and they've just thrown him into the ring when, of all people, Alberto Del Rio runs out and spares his ring announcer from any further harm. Ricardo is still flushed from how close he'd come to getting attacked- again-, sprawled out on the apron, and Mike's standing blase on the outside, just watching, as 3MB tosses Del Rio into the ring and begins outnumbering him with their assault. Cool blue eyes meet with frantic brown as Ricardo looks desperately from the ring to Mike and back, his hands twisting together anxiously at his sides. "Help him!" he finally yells at Miz and there's a wild moment where the former WWE champion considers repeating what he'd done with Team Hell No, leaving Del Rio to fend for himself against Slater, Mahal, and McIntyre, but something won't let him.
Maybe it's the look on Rodriguez's face, maybe the strangely sacrificial action it'd been when Del Rio had run down to assist his ring announcer, maybe it's just that he's tired of 3MB and all that they've been doing the past few weeks, maybe it's because he finally has a true target to take out all of his anger and aggravation stemming from everything that came of his failed attempt at whatever that was with AJ, but something snaps in Miz. And they come full circle as he pulls the save this time, rushing the ring and slinging out part of 3MB- he's so centered that afterwards he's not even sure which ones he gets rid of, just that his actions are enough to let Del Rio recover and throw the remaining member out of the ring- and Ricardo rejoins them, a pensive look on his face as he hovers behind his employer, all three of them peering down at the spitting angry 3MB.
This whole mess had been one thing, he's not even sure how to explain what comes over him next but one minute he's glancing from Del Rio to Rodriguez, back down to 3MB, and the next he's picking up a discarded microphone from the mat and leaning over the top rope to address the trio below, challenging them to a six man match later on. And dammit all if Slater doesn't accept, leaving them with no choice but to figure out their third partner with maybe an hour to think.
After 3MB storms off, Miz, Alberto and Ricardo leave the ring, heading back to the locker room to begin their brainstorming. Ricardo finds a chair for Alberto and pulls it out for him, standing obediently by his side until the Mexican aristocrat glances sideways at him and motions to a second chair. "Sit." Ricardo looks almost as surprised at this as Miz feels, and he senses his curiosity born from hosting MizTV the past few weeks welling to the surface once more.
"Can I ask you a question?" Del Rio shrugs, motioning at him to continue, and Mike licks his lips. "Alright." He shifts on the bench that he'd settled down in and raises an eyebrow at them. "What is this? Since when do you care enough to pull the save whenever he gets himself in trouble, and now you're being considerate enough to let him relax too?" He thinks there's a high chance he's probably trying his luck here, which isn't a good thing, especially since they're going to be tag teaming soon, but there's no going back now so he sits and waits for his answer while the two men exchange glances.
Del Rio looks down at his hands, his face twisted in disgust and discomfort as he formulates a response, Ricardo looking anxiously at his employer. "I have been thinking a lot lately," he admits lowly, his accent making the words even harder to decipher. "2012 was not a good year for me. For us." He glances over at Ricardo briefly before turning to face Miz once more. "What I was doing... was not working." He chuckles mirthlessly before scrubbing at his face. "I have lost I do not know how many times this year. My destiny... has failed me." Ricardo rests a comforting hand on his upper shoulder and Del Rio inclines his head in response, taking a breath. "I cannot guarantee victories, but I can at least try to make sure that I don't lose sight of what I have."
Miz shakes his head, still not completely understanding, but before he can say anything, Alberto continues to speak, his eyes lowered. It's the expression of a man beaten down by this company, perhaps finally broken, and Mike thinks he can understand, almost emphathize with him, despite their many disagreements.
"I have money, I have beautiful cars, an incredible mansion, but it all means very little when my family looks at me and sees nothing but a petulant child incapable of upholding his boastful claims and demanding to try again and again, just to fail harder and harder." He glances over at Ricardo and grimaces faintly. "It means even less when my unachievable goals leave my best friend to get hurt over and over again as I, how is said, beat my head repeatedly against the same brick wall."
"Best friend," Mike repeats lowly, almost unaware that he'd even spoken until both men look at him sharply, Ricardo looking somewhere between sheepish and pleased at Del Rio's vocal proclamation of this particular title for him outside of anything to do with his being injured.
"Si, mi mejor amigo," Del Rio reinforces, a sincere gleam in his dark eyes. "Unfortunately one of those things I tend to lose sight of when all I am thinking about is competition, and repetitively trying to gain the World or WWE titles."
Mike nods as they fall silent then, his mind wandering. Relationships in WWE are odd, you either have a best friend who you do everything with just for it all to fall apart eventually, or you have a tag team partner who you hate or hates you, and then sometimes you have something like this- an association that seems like little more than an unhealthy alliance, bred from money or what one can give the other, but truly hides what it really is behind the scenes, when there's not competition fueling everything. He's had all three of them in varying stages of his career, so he understands possibly better than most. For a brief moment, he wonders how exactly Del Rio and Ricardo co-exist outside of the arenas, and the hotels, and the airports.
Shaking his head slightly, and yet again missing both Morrison and Alex, he decides to drop this topic and focus on what's truly important right now. "Ok, what are we going to do about this third member of our team? Who should it be, any ideas?"
Ricardo sits forward, an eager look in his eyes. "El Patron, I can-"
"No," Alberto interrupts almost immediately, though not unkindly. "You have been through enough for one night, I want you to remain on the sidelines tonight. Alright?"
He looks disappointed but ultimately nods, staring down at his hands. "Si, El Patron. If you wish."
Mike misses Alberto's response to this, looking over his shoulder at someone he sees wandering past the open locker room door. "How about him?"
Del Rio and Ricardo both turn to look, exchanging glances. Alberto shrugs after a moment, seeming unimpressed but with no idea of who else to suggest... "Whatever."
"Perfect." Mike stands and rushes outside, catching up to the Brooklyn Brawler before he can get too far away. It really takes very little convincing for the man to join their match. "He agree-" he's in the middle of saying upon returning to the locker room, coming to a quick stop when he sees Del Rio and Ricardo talking lowly in Spanish, barely noticing anything around them. It hurts to watch, reminding him yet again of when he and Morrison, or he and Alex, would have similar, all-encompassing conversations. Swallowing, he turns and leaves. He's really never felt so alone in all of his life, and considering he's in a building full of loud, laughing people, looking forward to the upcoming holidays, that's just ridiculous.
Even so, the match goes swimmingly. It doesn't really last that long, Miz quickly dispatching Mahal with a Skullcrushing Finale and leaving him open to a Boston Crab from the Brawler, the Punjab quickly tapping out. Mike smiles and lifts his tag partner's hand up in victory, wondering briefly where Del Rio and Ricardo's gotten to but not that concerned.
His role in the ppv over with, Mike decides to drive from New York to Pennsylvania for Raw, get there before it's too late and grab some sleep. Despite the victory easing a little of his inner turmoil, he's still lonely and feeling a little blah. The last thing he needs is to hang around and witness whatever nonsense AJ will probably cause during Cena vs Dolph for the briefcase. By the time he arrives, he's exhausted and pretty much asleep on his feet as soon as he completes checking in at the hotel.
He's so tired that, on his way to the elevator waiting to take him to his own floor, he fails to notice an amused pair of eyes watching his every movement.
Raw starts with a recap of what he'd read about online this afternoon, merely rubbing it in like salt in a wound. AJ had come out during Cena and Dolph's match, yeah. And she had beat Vickie Guerrero up. And she'd... attacked Cena and ensured that Dolph would retain his briefcase. Miz isn't sure why he's surprised- she'd gone from guy to guy to guy almost every other month, so why not do it again. Cena had been off-put by her attitude, and he can almost understand it, though to some extent he understands her too, because he still thinks underneath all of the craziness and everything else that surrounds her, she's just a scared little girl desperate for some affection and attention.
He's watching with a blank look on his face when someone drops down heavily next to him and stares at the TV too. He bristles, not really thrilled with his space being hijacked like this, but then it only gets worse when a sweaty arm presses against the shoulder of his vest, resting there. No matter what he does to shake it off, it just keeps returning, its obtuse owner not taking the hint. Finally he turns to yell at whichever imbecile thinks they belong there. "Hey, I swear to God, if you don't move right the hell now-" His voice quickly dies when his vision catches up with his words, and his jaw drops. "Alex?!"
"Hello to you too," his former protege greets him with a wide grin.
"Son of bitch," he gasps, stepping back to get a good look at his best friend who he hadn't seen outside of webcam chats for weeks, since his surgery. "Wha- how... I don't..."
Alex laughs and reaches out to ground Mike, softly squeezing his shoulder. "I was cleared over the weekend and when I called in, Vickie urged me to come to the show." He smiles faintly. "If you'd looked to the right at all last night at the hotel, you would've seen me watching you when you were heading to the elevator. But you looked so wiped out, I decided just to go sleep in my room, and surprise you today."
"Well, damn did you do that," Mike gasps out, finally shaking off his shock enough to lunge forward and wrap Alex in a hug, his loneliness dissipating slowly as they pull away from each other, almost equal smirks on their faces. "God, it's good to see you." He then remembers just how sweaty Alex is, and raises an eyebrow at him. "Did you compete?"
"Yeah, against McGillicutty before the show started." He looks wounded, lip pouting out slightly. "Did you miss my first match back?" Mike struggles to figure out a proper apology, truly feeling horrible, when Alex's face smoothes out and he squeezes Mike's arm. "Don't worry about it, it's not a big deal. You'll catch the next one. You didn't even know I was here, much less that I'd be having a match."
"Hell yeah, I'll be watching the next one." Relieved that Alex had so easily dropped it, he walks alongside him to the locker room. "And lucky you, you get to watch my rematch with 3MB tonight." Still smarting from the loss the night before, they'd apparently requested it through Vickie Guerrero, and she'd agreed. Brawler wasn't there this evening, however, so Mike has no idea who their tag partner will be, just that Vickie said she'd handle it. Which isn't really comforting at all, but hey.
Alex chuckles. "You and Del Rio, huh? That's the oddest thing I've seen in awhile, and, well... I've seen some odd things, considering."
"I know, right?" He scratches at his scalp slightly and shrugs. "We talked some last night and who knew, underneath all of the ego and elitist crap, he's actually human sometimes."
"I guess everyone is, to some extent. Even you."
"Haha," Mike sneers, before turning to glance at Alex. "It really is good to have you back, man."
"It's good to be back." Alex's grin is wide, full of enthusiasm, and causes Mike to grin as well, his world slowly tilting back to normalcy. "Now tell me what all I've missed around here, huh?"
"That could take awhile," he admits. "But my match isn't until later in the card, so sure. Why not."
Although he has a fun time snarking with Alex over various backstage nonsense, and goes on to win alongside Del Rio and Tommy Dreamer against 3MB again, the night isn't completely perfect. Not even twenty minutes after their match, Dreamer gets attacked by The Shield for some indiscernible reason and Ricardo Rodriguez happens upon the scene, just to get bashed into a metal wall himself when he tries to intervene. Word spreads quickly, Mike and Alex exchanging uncomfortable glances when they overhear. "C'mon," he mumbles, leaving the locker room and heading in that direction. The Shield apparently had left the arena upon the referees' arrivals, leaving Dreamer and Ricardo to get looked at, so they feel confident enough to venture down that way, though they keep an eye out just in case. You can never be too careful in this business, and everyone seems to learn that early on.
Del Rio is already there, kneeling by Ricardo with an angry, dark look on his face as a referee carefully removes his tux jacket to examine where he'd impacted with the wall, the most of the trainers and staff around a still writhing Tommy. Miz and Alex go to him, Mike gingerly resting a hand on his arm in an attempt to calm him as he's looked at. "Relax, Tommy. Let them look at ya, huh?"
He groans but gives in, closing his eyes tightly and hitting his fist against the wall, which only raises the trainer's annoyance levels as he warns him not to move. "I'm too out of practice for this sort of thing," he tries to joke it away breathlessly, peering tiredly up at Mike.
"I know, man. I'm sorry." He wishes he'd been there to try to do something, help them both, his hands pressing into futile fists at his sides. The Shield really need taught a lesson, he thinks grimly while glancing over to Alberto and Ricardo, who are murmuring back and forth in Spanish as the ring announcer is poked and prodded, checked for any serious injuries.
Thankfully Tommy's injuries doesn't seem that severe, just some bruises and cuts, which will leave him sore for awhile but ultimately alright, and Tommy even leaves to go back home before Miz heads for Smackdown, since it's being held the next night in reverence for the holidays, to give them all a few days with their families before the next round of shows. For this reason, they're even placed on a bus, WWE corporate deciding not to make them drive again since they'd been going nonstop for the past few days. Which they're all used to, no lie, but it's a relief just to sit back and not have to focus on the road for once.
He'd been so busy keeping an eye on Tommy that he hadn't really found out how Ricardo's doing after all of the mess earlier so, after glancing over to find Alex dozing in the seat next to him, his eyes softening at the familiar sight, he carefully eases his way out into the aisle and ventures towards where Ricardo and Alberto are sitting. Another change for the Mexican aristocrat, he'd never really be agreeable to this sort of trip in the past, sticking his nose up at all of it before dragging Ricardo away and going to the next city in one of his fancy cars, but he now seems content sitting next to his ring announcer on this ridiculously pedestrian bus, watching the darkened towns pass them by.
Miz almost chuckles at the sight of Del Rio here, but chokes it down when he realizes that Ricardo is fast asleep, his head lolling against Del Rio's shoulder. Smiling slightly, he kneels by their seats, supporting himself with a hand on his armrest. "Hey."
Alberto's head whips around to peer at him and he blinks, surprised. "Oh. Hola."
"How is he?"
Del Rio's face tenses slightly as he looks over at his sleeping ring announcer, shaking his head slightly. "Just sore, I think. The trainer says he saw nothing seriously wrong with him, but... he recommended we keep an eye on things the next few days. Just in case." There's a deep tiredness in his gaze as he looks back at Miz. "What did you want?"
"Just to tell you both that Dreamer's doing ok. He's sore and more than a little bruised and battered too, but he should be fine in a few days. If Rodriguez here hadn't interrupted when he did, the news probably wouldn't be that good." Alberto nods slightly, glancing down at his ring announcer with a searching stare. He still looks fast asleep, but there's a small smile on his lips that hadn't been there before so Mike suspects that he'd overheard anyway.
"Gracias, Miz," Del Rio finally murmurs, looking back over at him.
"Anytime." With a small smile of his own, the most must-see superstar today gets up and returns to Alex's side, sitting back down with a soft sigh. He's not sure at all what Smackdown will bring, his time set aside for another edition of MizTV- with, of course, AJ and Dolph Ziggler as his guests- but all in all, he has to admit, glancing over at the still sleeping Alex, things aren't that bad.
"Are you ready for this?" Alex asks him the next night, watching as he paces back and forth.
"Yeah, of course. Why wouldn't I be?" he wonders, peering over at him with a confused look on his face before continuing his path left to right, left to right, on the already worn carpet of the locker room.
"You haven't sat still once since we got here. What's up?"
He finally stops, almost blushing when he realizes that Alex is right- he'd not stopped moving since they'd arrived here, and his legs are showing it, protesting already. He grimaces and takes a seat next to Alex, his shoulders slumping. "Um. AJ Lee and Dolph Ziggler are on MizTV tonight."
"Right."
"This is the first time I'll have really seen her for awhile. I don't know what to expect," he admits. "I mean, I normally don't, but this feels... different, you know?"
"Yeah." Alex is obviously unsure what to say, having missed the worse of the AJ drama while out with his injury, and finally he just rests a hand on Mike's shoulders, kneading the tense muscles beneath his fingers. "It'll be ok though."
"I hope so," he mumbles.
They sit there in silence for awhile longer before Alex looks over at him, knowing a way to distract him from this, even if for only a few minutes. "Hey, I have a rematch against McGillicutty coming up. Come watch it from gorilla, huh?"
Mike's face brightens. "Yeah, ok, that sounds good." Alex grins back and they leave together, Mike watching through the curtain as his former rookie makes his way to the ring, McGillicutty glowering around as he joins him. The match goes back and forth for awhile, before Alex gains the advantage and the win. He'd missed Alex's first match and victory, but this one- Mike is so happy for him, that he'd come back from injury on an early roll. As Alex makes his way back through the curtain, he slaps his chest, face glowing. "Congrats, man!"
"Thanks," he laughs, leaning against the wall for a moment as he catches his breath. "MizTV is starting the show, huh?" They peer back out of the curtain as, once McGillicutty leaves the ring, staff begins running around, setting up the furniture and other props Miz had selected for his segment.
"Yep. Guess I should get out there." He hesitates at the threshold and sighs. "Wish me luck."
"Every time, Mike. Now go. It'll be fine."
"God I hope so," he mumbles, quickly making his way out there before he could lose his nerve.
All too soon, AJ and Dolph and their little enforcer, Big E. Langston, are in the ring and he's trying to focus on interviewing them. All possibility of this goes by the wayside, however, when AJ is trying to explain herself and although it seems like she's describing how Cena broke her heart, strung her along, her eyes are locked on Mike the whole time, unwavering in her agony, and he's choked with some silent, unreadable emotion as he listens, unable to look away. Despite the fact that, in the end, she'd chosen Cena over him, she's the one who's looking like he hurt her, and dammit, it's eating him alive. He wants to comfort her, take it all away, make her happy again, but in the end, Dolph is lurking behind her, calling her pet names and talking about how hot their kiss the night before had been, and he sees red.
The next thing he knows, he's talking about how unstable AJ is, ruthlessly rubbing it in her face as she stares up at him warningly, and before he can even think of anything else, figure out what to say next, Big E Langston has him, and there's just blinding pain as he lands roughly on the mat, staring up at the lights. He's not sure how much time has passed before he gingerly makes it to his feet, heading to the back, but Alex is still there, waiting for him and he groans vaguely, squinting over at him. "I guess we all can't have great nights," he mumbles, relieved when his friend wraps an arm around him and supports him back to the locker room, where he tugs his bag closer. "Can we get out of here?"
"Of course, man. Let's go." Alex smiles sympathetically as he releases a relieved breath.
Somehow everything hurts just a little less with Alex back by his side.