Main Event. Miz sighs, his eyes narrowing slightly as Alberto Del Rio vs Cody Rhodes begins. It takes everything in him to remain professional, only slipping once and mentioning Ricardo during the match, but to his relief, the World Champion keeps his focus on his opponent and doesn't look out at the commentary table once. He's pretty sure this is the only reason that he manages to keep his composure as well as he does, keeping a running dialogue going with Josh Mathews until finally the match ends with Del Rio slipping away the victor once more.
But his night isn't over; after 3MB wrestles and loses to the Usos, Big E's match against Justin Gabriel is next and Mike watches as AJ skips out in front of the large enforcer, keeping a close eye on the girl as she watches the action from ringside. She also doesn't look over at him, which isn't a surprise to him, the two of them keeping their distance since MizTV on Smackdown the week prior. But whereas he'd bit his tongue to the point of it bleeding during Del Rio's match, he finds himself going on and on about her- how he's not scared of a 5'2'' woman, that she can't hear him anyway, just to be called out two seconds later by Josh when he asks what Mike thinks is running through her mind and he responds that he doesn't want to say the wrong thing in case she'd sneak up behind him and try something.
He's still trying to work his way out of that little web of confusion, move past it before Josh could mock him further, when Big E finally succeeds against Justin Gabriel, the Divas champion skipping between the table and ring purposely just to smirk over at Mike as she joins the enforcer, circling him in happiness a bit. Thankfully the show ends quickly after that, and she only looks over at him for a moment longer before leaving the ring side area. Shaking his head, Mike waves half-heartedly at Josh before returning to his car. It's a long drive back to LA but he has to go now, get some sleep so he's up early enough to help John and Alex prepare for the beach party. The four of them in John's apartment's a bit of a tight fit and they'd considered moving over to Mike's house for the next few days, but ultimately hadn't, content enough with where they're already at. The beach within walking distance had helped with the decision as well.
He makes it at some point after midnight, staggering exhaustedly up the stairs, pulling out his keys on the second floor landing so he doesn't bother any of his friends by knocking. Finding the key to John's apartment, he unlocks it after a couple of tries and stumbles inside, sighing in relief to be surrounded by familiarity. He can see Alex from here, fast asleep on the couch, and smiles before heading down the hall towards the bedrooms. John's room is dark, quiet, so he continues on, stopping outside of the guest room that usually houses himself and Alex, but recently has become Ricardo's and his room. He'd offered to share the second bed with Alex, but his former rookie had insisted that the couch was fine, and wouldn't be budged.
Quietly opening the door, he peeks inside and smiles sadly, finding the ring announcer nearly covered head to toe in the sheets and blankets. He seems to be sleeping peacefully so Mike doesn't bother him, dropping right into bed with a weary sigh. He's out almost as soon as he kicks his shoes off, thankful just to be able to lay down and stretch out, but alas it's not to last as something wakes him up a few hours later, the room still shadowy and dark only adding to his confusion until he realizes. Ricardo. He's up immediately and looking over at the other bed, just to find the younger man struggling against the sheets, crying softly.
"No, no," he breathes. "El Patron, por favor- por- por que... stop... lo siento, why...?"
Before his muffled, heartbreaking begging can continue, Miz is up and hovering over him, hands warm and steady on his shoulders. "Ricardo," he whispers. "Ricardo, you're ok. It's ok. Wake up, come on." He knows that sometimes it can be worse to wake someone up from a nightmare like this, but it's killing him to listen. "Please, come on." Finally Ricardo jerks awake under his fingers, his arms shooting up defensively, until he realizes it's just Mike. As he sags back against the pillows, sniffing, Miz follows him, leaning down next to him so they're eye to eye. "You're ok," he repeats, wrapping an arm around him.
"No I'm not," he suddenly sobs out, startling Mike as it clicks with him- through it all, the last ten days, the younger man hadn't really cried... not in front of him, John or Alex, anyway, to the best of his knowledge. He'd been quiet, he'd been tired and in pain, he hadn't shown many emotions at all.
Swallowing, Miz once more shifts, this time moving closer to him, until his face is buried in the crook of his neck. "You will be, though. I promise you." He brushes his fingers through Ricardo's dark hair, listening as the tears continue to come, sobbing pleads for answers from Alberto rattling through both of their bodies with a terrible amount of force. "John, Alex and I... we're here to make sure of that..." Finally Ricardo seems to sob himself out, hitching breaths against Mike's collar as he clings to the older man, still shaking. Mike holds onto him tighter, their breathing gradually syncing as Ricardo's slows, reaches a more normal rhythm. "Go back to sleep, man. Tomorrow's the beach party, right? I want you to have a good time at it."
He listens because when Miz looks down at him again, he's fast asleep, tears still drying against his flushed skin. Mike shakes his head and tries fruitlessly to wipe them away before wrapping his arm snuggly around him once more, only considering returning to his own bed for a split second. He wants to be nearby in case Ricardo has another nightmare or just simply needs someone close for comfort, reassurance.
But the rest of the night passes by peacefully; when Mike opens his eyes again, the sun's risen, filling the room with soft light and faint chirps from birds outside. He yawns and squirms a little before realizing that Ricardo's still snuggled up close to him, tear tracks visible on his cheeks. Mike sighs sadly and gets out of bed, somehow succeeding at not waking the younger man up. He makes his way quietly to the bathroom, hearing the TV buzzing from the living room, and smiles. Remembering how comforting it had been when John had done this for him when he'd broke down after his title loss months ago, he wets a wash cloth and fills a glass up with water and returns to Ricardo, resting both items on the bedside table before leaning over him. "Hey, Ricardo." The ring announcer wakes up slowly, his tear-and-sleep gritty eyes squinting as he tries to open them, and Mike smiles down at him. "You don't need to get up right this moment, John, Alex and I have some a few things to do before the beach party, but I brought a couple of things for you."
As Ricardo watches him in confusion, he picks up the wash cloth and quickly, carefully, runs it over Ricardo's face, cleaning away all traces of last night's breakdown, helping him to open his eyes the rest of the way. "There we go. That way when you do feel like getting up, you won't feel like complete crap." He pats his shoulder. "And there's a glass of water, if you're thirsty. Feel free to join us whenever, but I think you could probably get away with a couple more hours of sleep. Whatever you feel like, man." Ricardo nods and ultimately burrows deeper into the sheets, Mike smiling slightly as he heads for the door. "See you later then."
By the time he gets to the living room, John and Alex both are awake, idly watching some paid programming on TV. Mike joins them, the three of them sitting in silence for awhile. Finally, bored of watching way too hyper people blending fruit into juice smoothies, he claps his hands and turns to the other two. "Alright, boys, if we're going to put the final touches on this beach party, we'd better get moving. Alex, you're in charge of drinks."
"Of course. What am I getting?"
"The usual family friendly fare," Mike says, smirking when John groans softly at this. "And add diet coke to the list." As Alex nods and gets up to leave, Miz moves towards the kitchen, Morrison following him. "Don't worry, I won't mess up your stuff too severely," he says with a smirk as he begins digging around the cupboards. "Did you buy everything on that list I emailed you?"
"Of course I did. What, would I really risk the wrath of Miz if I forgot the mayonnaise?" John shakes his head, sitting down at the table. "I can help if you want-"
"No, I told you. You're letting us all stay here, bought and kept those illegal fireworks, and that's more than enough. Alex and I can handle the rest," he says, fiddling with the stove as he prepares the burners for cooking. "I just hope Ricardo has a good time today." Once the food is cooking and he has nothing to do but wait, he joins John at the table and sighs.
"I'm sure he will. Sun, surf, good food and friends, what more could a guy ask for, right?" But John can read it in Mike's eyes- both thinking along the same lines, that Ricardo could definitely ask for quite a few things... He sighs and claps his hand on the other's knee. "It's gonna be ok. As long as you don't burn the food."
Mike lurches to his feet, suddenly paranoid that he had, and checks both burners before returning to the table and slapping John solidly across the back of the head.
"Ow."
"Jerk."
Shortly after Alex returns, Ricardo, drawn back to reality by the sound of voices, wakes up and stretches out in the bed, his eyes glum as he glances around the empty, shadowy room. Sitting up, he finds the glass of water still waiting for him on the table. Drinking half of it down at once, he places it back down gingerly before slipping out of bed. Mussing his hands through his hair, he pads towards the voices, blinking tiredly as he finds the three men who'd been so accommodating and helpful since that horrible night sitting around the kitchen table, laughing at Mike who looks like a bottle of mayonnaise has exploded all over him. Dark eyes flickering around, he finds his voice. "What happened?"
Miz looks up, sheepish and flushing as he scrubs viciously at his hair, trying to get bits of the condiment out of there too. "I think Morrison boobytrapped the mayonnaise bottle as payback for my making him hold onto the fireworks for so long."
"I did not," John drawls. "I told you squeezing it while it still had the protective seal on it was a bad idea. He opened it and it just went whoosh, all over the place," he explains to the ring announcer as he hesitantly joins them, sitting between Alex and John.
"Yes, there's the great poetic stand up comedian, my friends. It went whoosh," Mike mocks him, tossing the mayonnaise stained towel at him. Unphased, the Shaman of Sexy snags it out of thin air and tosses it into the kitchen sink, smirking when Mike growls in anger. Still struggling to clean himself up, Miz looks at Ricardo. "Did you sleep well?" he asks, visibly trying to hold his temper in for Ricardo's sake.
"Fine," he says softly, staring down at the bowls scattered across the table. After a moment, he snags one and draws it closer, along with the abandoned mayonnaise, quietly stirring together the concoction after carefully mixing in what's left in the bottle. He notices Mike opening his mouth to protest until John and Alex stop him with sharp shakes of their heads, almost in concert, and he smiles slightly, relieved to have something to do, even if it's as simple as mixing together food for the beach party.
Mike stands and crosses over to the sink to finish washing the mayonnaise out of his hair and from his face, glancing over to find that Ricardo does look a bit better now that he has something to actually do. Eyes softening, he returns to the table with the second bottle of mayonnaise and begins work on the other bowl, watching Ricardo once he's sure that he himself won't be making any further messes. "How's it look, Ricardo?"
The ring announcer does smile for real this time, glancing up at his friend. "It looks great, Mike."
Miz grins back.
Laden down with the cooler, chairs and Morrison's various surfboards stacked gingerly on top of the large box of fireworks, the four men trudge out to the beach less than an hour later, tracing along the coast until they find the cove that they'd had the very first of these belated 4th of July celebrations at. Mike drops his chair and the cooler into the sand with a sigh, the water already calling to him. He can still feel the sticky afteraffects of the mayonnaise and it's honestly driving him nuts, leaving him with nothing but the desperate need to dive into the ocean and try to wash it off. He'd have taken a shower inside but it'd seemed silly to wash up when he was just going to get wet in less than half an hour anyway.
As the other three set up their chairs and lay the various things down, Miz makes a break for the water, John laughing as he peels his shirt off and immediately disappears into the crystal blue water. "He'll be back in a minute," he tells a surprised looking Ricardo. "I imagine that's his way of getting rid of the mess... now if only he'd brought my table, cleaned it up too."
Ricardo chuckles a bit before settling into his chair, watching the waves as Mike slips out of them and joins the other men back in their chairs, now dripping wet but looking much happier. "Now I don't feel that damn mayonnaise residue!" he says, dropping down in the chair next to Ricardo's. "So the party can begin officially now."
"Why do I think this is how Summerslam is going to kick off too?" Alex asks idly, grinning when Miz glares over at him. They sit in silence for awhile after this, all of them content to absorb the sun and soft sounds of waves crashing against the sand, enjoying that so very few people wander this way, the cove usually all but isolated, which makes it perfect for their endeavors once the sun sets later in the evening.
"Ok," John says. "Who wants to go surfing? Mike? Alex?" He hesitates a second, glancing at the ring announcer. "Ricardo?"
"Hell no," Mike mutters, propping sunglasses on his face and leaning back to rest. This is disrupted, however, when both of the other men answer positively. He sits back up and looks at them, lips parting in shock. "What?! Why?"
"Because," Alex says. "It sounds like fun, and I want to do something a little different than just tanning this time around. No offense, Mike."
His eyes turning to the ring announcer, he watches as Ricardo squirms a bit. "I just think it's time to try different things," he offers, staring at his hands. "This is a good start, si?"
Face softening, Mike pulls the sunglasses from his face. "Fine. We'll all go. But John, I swear, you owe me for this," he grumbles, already eyeing the rocks along the coast. When his former tag team partner grins widely, Mike rolls his eyes. "I should've known when you dragged four boards out..."
"The mayonnaise was a perfect diversion, what can I say?" John offers before taking off for the water, boards under his arms as Ricardo and Alex follow him, Miz freezing halfway up the beach to gape after him, speechless.
"I KNEW IT!" he yells after the long haired man, shaking his head as he rushes after him. "Dammit, John, get back here!"
All in all, though, they have fun. John of course seems half fish, riding almost every wave, big or small, to completion, and Ricardo catches on quickly under his patient tutelage. After about half an hour, he rides a wave through and promptly flops into the water, just to surface and cling to the board with the largest grin on his face, looking happier than he has since before the suspension. Mike grins too before attempting another wave just to immediately wipe out, crashing into the water for probably the millionth time since he agreed to this madness. Alex is somewhere between Mike and Ricardo, not able to ride a wave through really well, but also staying on his board at least half the time.
After a couple of hours of this, Mike, exhausted and unsure where his board ended up after that last crash and burn, swims tiredly over to John's board, clinging to it as his best friend lazily paddles, watching the other two try to survive another pair of waves. John laughs when he notices Mike, reaching out a hand to support him as he tries to hoists himself up higher onto the board to get his mouth out of the water. "You alright?"
"No," he grunts, eyes red from being underwater so often. "Can we do something else now?"
John smiles. "Hey, boys, time to go eat!" As soon as he says that, Alex looks back sharply just to tumble head over heels into the wake, Ricardo gaping as he just barely rides out the wave in time, the other surfboard spinning through the water until it comes to a stop harmlessly by the ring announcer, who grips it and waits until Alex surfaces, grabbing for it. John shakes his head and glances back down at Mike. "Alright, rookie, hang on then."
Miz sneers at him but listens as he paddles them back to shore, beyond relieved when his feet touch the bottom and he's able to bail, walk himself back slowly to the cove and their supplies. "Ow," he mumbles. "Remind me to never do that again."
"Until next time," John smirks, aware of how he refuses to do something over and over again... until he realizes it means being left out while everyone else does it. Mike rolls his eyes at him, plopping down in his chair with a pained pout. "Yeah, get comfortable, Miz. What do you want, then?"
Blue eyes meet brown. "What, you're going to be nice to me now?"
"Don't expect it every time. But what do you want?" John waits but Mike only raises his eyebrows at him and he rolls his eyes. "Fine, I don't need to ask, I know." He makes it over to the cooler and fishes out the supplies, stacking two sandwiches and a coconut water onto Mike's plate before repeating the actions for his own. "One chicken salad, one egg salad, and your drink," he says in a flourish, raising an eyebrow when Miz immediately looks happier.
After Ricardo and Alex get their own servings and sit down, they eat in silence for a minute before Alex speaks up. "You know what this doesn't help with?"
Mike looks over Morrison's head to see his former NXT rookie, shaking his head. "No, what?"
"Figuring out which came first, the chicken or the egg." He continues to eat, oblivious to the other three men staring at him in disbelief, until Mike tosses his empty coconut water bottle at the younger man, listening with barely restrained glee at the hollow sound of plastic bouncing off Alex's skull.
The next few hours are spent with them tracing the coast with Morrison, who still manages to equally worry and annoy Mike with how high he can go on the uneven rock formations that he seems to love, not seeming to mind how slick they are in the slightest. He stays on the sand, where it's safe, but Alex makes his way up a few of the rocks while Ricardo climbs up half of the pile, content to sit and watch the sun slowly set there, it turning blood red for awhile before pink and purple ease into the ocean, distracting them all as they remain where they're sitting or standing, only coming back to themselves as it eases towards pitch dark. "What do you say?" John asks, making his way down the rocks with the agility of a cat. "Let's shoot these damn fireworks off already!"
Mike waits at the bottom as his friends rejoin him, Ricardo hopping down just after Alex. "You having fun?" he asks the ring announcer, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as they walk side by side up the sand to where they'd left the box at.
"Si, muchas gracias for inviting me," he says softly. "It's been the best day I've had in a... a very long time." There's a flash of uncertainty, almost guilt crossing his face, and Miz thinks he can understand: No matter how angry or hurt he'd ever been with John, there had been many moments where he'd looked over at a tag partner of his that wasn't John and just couldn't help but ache for what had been, wishing that it was Morrison alongside him this whole time. It had been part of the reason he'd been so determined to get AJ to rehire him...
"I'm glad, man." He squeezes his arm, leading him to the box. As they drop to their knees in the sand, digging through the various fireworks, Mike whistles. "Damn, John, you've outdone yourself this year." He hadn't been joking when he'd called them dreadfully illegal, but Miz still can't wait, flicking a lighter as he finishes setting up one of the rockets in the sand between their chairs and the water, running for it as soon as he lights it. He turns just in time to watch it go off, the water reflecting red, white and blue sparks as it enters the night sky, the three others cheering at the start of their own little fireworks display.
They all take turns setting off the various colorful bombs, Mike watching Ricardo lost in the display of one of his, the lights flashing in his eyes as he grins hard, staring up at the sky joyfully. I guess it's a good thing Del Rio's action figures and things are still in his bag, untouched. Why ruin tonight with thoughts of... that asshole? He once more wraps an arm around the ring announcer's shoulders and hugs him, grinning too when Ricardo glances over at him. Even if it would be fun to blow them up... there's time for that later. When Ricardo's more emotionally stable, thinks of it himself...
After a night of too little sleep, Mike and Alex head off to the arena where Superstars and Smackdown will be held, Miz freezing as he watches the match board for Superstars getting replaced with the board for Smackdown. "Um, Alex," he calls out to his friend, who's just finished commentating for Superstars, everyone waiting while the ring is altered for Smackdown so the next event can begin. "Am I seeing things?"
Alex wanders over, fiddling with the sleeves of his suit, ignoring the annoyed huff Mike provides him when he notices despite all of the times he'd lectured him over it. "Eh, let's see... Damien vs Christian, Shield vs..." he mumbles a few more matches off until... "Holy hell. You have a match!"
"Of course, I think I can party it up last night with you guys, and then they go and assign me a match for the first time in weeks," he sighs. Against Jack Swagger, no less. The guy who, not even six months ago, had broken Ricardo's ankle and left Del Rio so hobbled, he couldn't defend himself when Ziggler had cashed in. Not to mention causing Ziggler's concussion as well, which had ultimately led to his losing the World Title also. "Fantastic."
But all in all, the match goes decently, he guesses. The main annoying part of the night is Zeb Colter's rambling blathering about how fake Mike and LA is, and that there should be a movie with Swagger in it, but he quickly tunes it out as he faces off with Swagger, Colter and Cesaro both doing all that they can to urge their "compatriot" to victory, which fails when the referee catches them at attempting to cheat, ejecting first Cesaro and then Colter, though neither go very far as Mike manages a victory against Swagger during the melee. He slips away as they complain loudly from the ring, a smug smirk on his face. Though he's glad to have embarrassed the other man, it's even better that he's walking into Summerslam with at least a recent victory under his belt.
Alex greets him with a grin before clapping him on the back. "C'mon, host. Let's go back to LA. Get some sleep before Axxess, yeah?"
He nods, brushing his fingers through his sweat soaked hair. "I'm in." He's not sure what exactly the next few days will bring, wondering when Ricardo will feel up to returning to the WWE, if ever, but time's slipping through their fingers. After Smackdown the following week, they'll all be leaving the California area and decisions will have to be made. However, there's still time to sit down and discuss with him what he's going to do, where he's going to go from here, so Mike decides to keep it to himself until, perhaps, after Raw, give the man a few more days to think, decide on a course of action.
It's really the least he can do for the ring announcer.
After spending a few hours at Axxess, Mike and Alex meet up with John at a bar not far from where the WWE superstars who don't live in the area are staying. "Did you invite Ricardo?" he asks, glancing around with a frown as he takes in the crowd.
"I was going to," John says, already nursing a light beer. "But he was fast asleep, so I just left him alone. Figured the rest would be good for him."
Mike's eyes have come to a stop on a nearby Alberto Del Rio, who seems captivated by the UFC fight on-going, and nods. "Just as well," he mumbles, Alex and John looking over at what he's glaring at as it dawns on them too. "Come on." They walk to the other side of the bar, relieved that it's a pretty big place, and gets lost in the crowd, searching out a booth to sit in. Finding them all taken, Mike groans. "Geez..."
"How about we play some pool while we wait for someone to leave?" Alex suggests, smiling as they all remember some of the dumb pool games they'd thought up over the years to pass time.
"Do you have quarters, kid?" Miz asks, digging around in his pockets. Between the three of them, they collect the amount needed to play, Mike turning to put them in the slot when he bumps into someone. "Hey, sorry-" he's starting to say, stopping sharply when he realizes just who had collided with him, his eyes narrowing. "Oh. Never mind, actually, I'm not," he scoffs, turning his back on Del Rio and focusing once more on putting the money in, trying not to let the man get to him.
John and Alex are tense across the table, watching as Del Rio glares at Mike, blinking a time or two. "Do you have a problem, Miz?" he sneers, taking an angry swig from his own beer before leaning forward. "Outside of having nothing better to do than playing some pointless gringo game, that is?"
Miz turns back to him, lips thinning, just to find Del Rio's eyes wandering from John to Alex and then around, as if he's looking for something- someone. This only fuels his anger, suspecting what exactly he's searching for, and he steps up into Del Rio's face, eyes icy as he forces his attention back onto him. "Looking for someone? Maybe Ricardo? You think I'd put him within your reach ever again, so you can finish what you started two weeks ago?" He laughs, watching as Del Rio's eyes darken with something- guilt? sadness?- before he spits out, "You've done enough damage to that man. He was always too good of a friend for the likes of you."
"Because you're the perfect friend, right, Mike?" Alberto snarls back, eyes flashing angrily. "Yes, of course, who wouldn't think so when you've stabbed every one of them in the back one way or another." He stares at Morrison, then Alex, for a moment before turning his focus back onto the blue eyes boring into his own brown irises. "Be it in the ring, or at a commentary desk. You have no right to judge me."
"He forgave me for what I did because I never EVER threw away everything he did for me by trying to kick his head off of his shoulders!" Miz snaps back, blood boiling as he glowers up at the Mexican aristocrat. People scattered around are starting to stare as their argument gets louder and louder, and Mike shakes his head, pushing his way past Del Rio to get away, needing some air.
Unfortunately he's followed, the door barely clicking behind him when Alberto slams his way out of the building too, pushing Miz. "You don't know what you're talking about, perro!" he snaps as Mike stumbles, struggling to regain his balance.
"Oh, yeah? Enlighten me then," he demands, turning back to watch as Alberto stares through him, breathing heavily. "I thought so," he mutters after a few minutes of strained silence, once more turning and walking away, barely taking two steps when Del Rio grabs his arm roughly, spinning him back. Beyond frustrated and thrumming with anger, Mike strikes out instinctively, punching Alberto so hard that he staggers and hits the brick wall, scraping down it front first and slumping there for a moment as he gingerly touches his face, gaping at Miz.
It's only then that they realize some patrons, including a few of their fellow competitors, had joined them outside of the bar, the members of 3MB quickly moving between Mike and Alberto, Drew's thick Scottish accent ordering them to break it up. John and Alex fight their way out of the group of people around the door finally, and grab Miz. "Come on," John orders tensely, squeezing his upper arm. "Let's get out of here. It's not worth it, Mike."
Miz's eyes are locked on Del Rio until Alex guides him around the building, John moving ahead of them to unlock the car. "Oh God, what'd I just do?" he mumbles, flexing his sore fist.
"What dozens of us have probably wanted to do for years," Alex says honestly, massaging the back of his neck as they join John. "Don't worry about it. Not the first time he's been hit, probably won't be the last."
But Mike doesn't really care about Del Rio in this situation. He glances from John to Alex, eyes worried even as the adrenaline continues to drain from his system, taking the anger with it and leaving him exhausted and a little shaky. "What will Ricardo say when he finds out?" He's the master of complicated friendships, or former ones, had spent a fair amount of time annoyed at those who'd hurt Morrison even after the draft, though he hadn't wanted to admit it to himself at the time, so he has no doubt that Ricardo won't exactly be thrilled that Mike had laid out his former best friend the night before a title defense, no less. "Dammit..."
When they arrive at John's apartment, it's dark and quiet, Ricardo still in the guest room, asleep. Mike tries to be as silent as he can in getting ready for bed but as he shrugs his shirt off, it grazes his still sensitive knuckles and he hisses faintly. Immediately, Ricardo's bed creaks and the younger man murmurs, "Miz? Are you ok?"
Tensing, Mike turns towards him in the darkness and smiles, forgoing changing his clothes as he walks over and sits on the edge of the bed, reaching out to brush some of the dark hair off of Ricardo's forehead. "Yeah, man. I'm good. Just a little sore."
"That match against Swagger yesterday?" he asks quietly. "That would do it, yeah."
Mike feels guilty at the assumption, nodding slowly after a moment. "Yeah it would," he whispers. "Why don't you go back to sleep, huh? You have autograph signings in the morning, right?"
"Si... and then I have to do something for Stars4Sandy," he murmurs through a yawn.
As he settles back into rest, Mike leans back and listens while he dozes off, feeling guilty for not telling him the truth right away. "Tomorrow, when things quiet down a bit, I will..."
"Are you sure this won't be frowned at?" John wonders, standing by Mike's car with his arms crossed over his chest, eyebrow lifted.
"I'm the host, I can do whatever I want," Mike says smugly, smirking at him. "Come on, man. This'll be fine, it's not like you're going to crash the party or anything. You're just going to visit with old friends, relax in my private locker room, and keep Alex and Ricardo company. What could go wrong?" He had been notified that if he wanted to invite friends, he could, as long as he takes responsibility for them, and his first thought had been Morrison. It is something of a comfort to him also to have someone else nearby to watch Ricardo, make sure that Del Rio doesn't try anything else with the younger man, it being the first event that he'll present for since that horrible Raw a couple of weeks ago.
"Alright," John finally sighs as Alex and Ricardo joins them, the ring announcer holding onto a bag of things he'll need for the Axxess events. "I just don't want to get you in trouble with anyone." Mike pauses, also thinking about the night before, but he ultimately shrugs and drops into the driver's seat, the other three taking their seats as well for the ride to the Staples Center.
As he drives, he glances at Ricardo through the rearview window, pondering how to explain to him about the altercation he'd had with his former employer the night before, try to smooth things over so that he's not too disturbed by Mike's actions, but in the end, it doesn't matter. When they arrive at the center, it's clear that everyone knows- but instead of the truth being told around backstage, the first whispers Mike catches is about how three guys in the bar had jumped Alberto, Drew interceding to help. His name isn't mentioned at all and he frowns, glancing over at John and Alex who look as confused as he feels. Ricardo, however, has frozen for a whole other reason, his hand tense against the straps of his bag as he stares at the gossiping group of superstars, eyes dark and distant.
"Hey," Miz whispers, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Ricardo-"
The ring announcer shakes his head, looking away with a shudder. "I-... I... do you think he's ok?" he asks faintly.
Mike's heart hurts about as much as his head as he yet again regrets his actions from the night before, hating himself for adding to Ricardo's stress. "Yeah, man. I'm sure he is. Come on, let's go find my locker room, get your stuff settled in there so you can get ready for your autograph signing." The four of them walk slowly down the hallways, looking for Mike's door, John stopping now and again to greet old friends he hadn't seen in awhile. When they do find the right room, however, all four of them stop and stare on in horror for a different reason. "Hell no," Mike grouses, glaring at the neighboring doors down this corridor. Next to his personal locker room is the door marked for the World Heavyweight Champion's, proving that, unless Christian should eak out a victory during the pay per view, his neighbor for the entire evening is no other than Alberto Del Rio himself.
"Are we sure someone in WWE doesn't hate you, Mike?" John asks, glancing over at a wide eyed Ricardo, who is backing away slowly.
"No, no," he mutters. "I can't- I..."
Mike snags his arm before he can get too far away, holding onto him. "It's ok. It's ok. I'm here, Alex is here, John's here. You're going to be fine. Look at me." Their eyes lock and he forces a smile. "He can't get to you, alright? We'll make sure of it, you're safe. I promise."
"I don't want to see him," he says miserably and Miz grimaces, pulling him into a hug. "Mike-"
"I know, I know you don't. But you still work for the same company and it sucks, a lot, but it's going to happen. And we'll all be here for you when it does, but I know you'll be ok. Because you're strong, right? And you've been through so much already, and always rebounded from it... You will from this too, I know it." John and Alex pats Ricardo on the back, confirming their belief in Mike's words quietly, and the younger man slowly pulls away from him. "Do you want to go inside now?"
"Si," he murmurs grimly, Mike leading him into the locker room. They all pause, glancing around at the generously sized area.
"Damn," Morrison says, whistling slightly. "This is actually decent." There's a couch, a monitor, even a table with some snacks and drinks on it, the arena and catering staff clearly going out of their way to please Mike and follow his requests to the last letter.
He smirks. "Well, boys, let's get this party started then."
Unfortunately hosting isn't what exactly Mike is expecting; he starts the show off with the Main Event announcements just for Fandango to interrupt, dancing around him with Summer Rae. Mike watches on in disbelief, demanding "Really? Really?!" every now and again, until finally giving up and welcoming people to Summerslam before clearing the stage so JoJo can sing after the opening video package.
He returns to his locker room, staring once more at Del Rio's sign with a grimace as he walks closer to it. John glances up with a smirk once he enters and Mike waves him off. "Don't say it. If the next words out of your mouth is anything about Fandangoing, well..." He cuts himself short when he flexes his fist, residual pain from the night before creeping up his knuckles. For the first time in perhaps ever, he's glad he doesn't have a match this evening, not sure what he'd do if the lingering anger from that moment would make itself known again.
He sits down and the four of them quietly watch through the show, Mike having nothing to do until he needs to interview Maria Menounos after the World Title match. Which is a relief to him, gives him a chance to stay with Ricardo as he watches his former employer compete, still visibly lost and uncertain over what he wants to do about the whole situation, his tweets only confirming this. Outside of a faint gasp when he sees the discoloration on the Mexican aristocrat's face for the first time, the younger man sits silently through the contest. When the match concludes and Del Rio is interviewed, Ricardo sits forward, the other three men falling perfectly silent as they watch him take in what his former friend is saying about this being a great night and his being the hero the Latino community has been looking for, his expression solemn.
After a moment, Mike leans forward. "Are you ok?" Ricardo nods, looking like he doesn't trust himself to speak. Miz sighs. "Sorry to run like this, but I have to interview Maria Menounos. I'll be back in a few minutes."
"He'll be ok," John promises as Mike hesitantly walks to the door. "See you later."
As soon as he's gone, Ricardo takes in a rough breath and stands. "I- I can't just... I have to get out of here," he mumbles, feeling like he can't breathe as he pushes his way out of the private locker room just to skid to a stop as he stares at the World Title plaque on the neighboring door, face falling. When Morrison follows him out into the hallway, he reaches up and traces the upraised letters with a trembling hand. "Does it ever get easier?"
John leans against the door, watching him as he continues to reverently graze the door with his fingers. "Yeah, with time, man. You just need to give yourself it. Things'll get better."
"I hope so," he mumbles, turning sharply. "Tell Mike if he comes back before I do, I just- I needed some air."
John nods and watches as he walks quickly down the hallway, the sound of the exit door slamming shut echoing through the halls a few moments later. He sighs.
Now staring up at the dark LA sky, Ricardo scrubs at his eyes and flinches, shaking his head. Del Rio's words, his deluded ramblings about being a hero, had made him want to do something, but he can't sort out what exactly. Has no idea where to begin, well aware of how vicious and cruel his former employer could be, still suffering headaches now and again from his kicking the steel steps to his skull a couple of weeks ago. He finds an abandoned trunk and sits on it, cradling his head in his hands as he tries to figure out yet again what he wants to do.
The first week, things had been so bad, his emotional and physical pain so all-encompassing, that he'd barely registered that Mike and Alex had been at the house, had pulled out all of his things with help from Sofia. He hadn't felt much better the next week, though he had forced himself to go to San Francisco, even if he had done nothing but rest at the hotel and try yet again to think. The time at John's apartment, and the beach party, however, had helped distract him, even made him smile a little bit again. He had felt more himself by Axxess, yes, enough to smile at fans and sign autographs, get through it without too much trauma as person after person had wished him well, talked disparagingly towards Del Rio, and everything in between.
But his emotions had been stirred back up while he watched that match, remembering all of the time he'd spent watching, cheering, hoping for his employer's victory and happiness. Now he's not sure what to feel, every moment that he watches him now leaving him ill and disgusted as he recalls the look in the older man's eyes before he'd kicked him in the skull, brutalized him further. He's so wrapped up in these thoughts, he barely notices as the arena door opens, soft footsteps wandering his way. He figures it may be Mike, Alex or John, so he doesn't worry until-
"Hey, man."
Eyes wide, he looks up to find RVD of all people staring at him through the shadows, immediately raising his hands in defense. Slipping off of the trunk, he tries to shy away from the highflyer. "I don't want a problem, si? I'm just- I just wanted some air..." RVD is turning slowly as he inches around him, trying to get in direct range of the door, when he shakes his head, smiling faintly.
"I don't want problems either, you know? I just came out for a breather now that the trainer's finally done looking at me after my match, and I saw you out here, so I thought I'd just come see how you're doing." When Ricardo stares at him, looking plumbstruck, he grins goodnaturedly. "I never had a problem with you, just your... well, I guess he's your former employer now, isn't he?" Humming to himself, he hops up on the trunk that Ricardo had just vacated, thudding his wrestling boots against the side for a few moments. "It was pretty lame what he did to you after our match a few weeks back, seeing you were just trying to help him and all." He watches quietly as Ricardo, growing a little more comfortable in his presence and easy going speech, hesitantly returns to the trunk, listening in some shock. "Glad to see you're up and about, back at it. I was wondering how you were doin', but wasn't sure who to ask."
"Eh, gracias," he murmurs, sitting down next to him. They sit quietly for a few minutes, Ricardo glancing over at him now and again.
"Have you figured out what you're going to do from here?"
The younger man licks his lips and thinks. Harder than he'd been able to since Del Rio had glared at him, kicking him in the skull with the force that he only saved for those he's most disgusted by. He had half-considered various avenues the past couple of days, either staying in California with his old friends and family or returning to Florida and finding an apartment of his own, continuing to struggle to make his way in the WWE, perhaps even going to Vickie for ideas since she'd actually seemed sympathetic towards him after Alberto's betrayal, but... he thinks he now has the answer right in front of him. Latino hero indeed, he thinks, the cobwebs finally clearing from his mind as he feels his old, calculating way of thinking hum back into being. "I believe I have, yes," he says, smirking a little.
Back inside, Mike just barely arrives at the interview set in time, smiling sheepishly at the waiting cameraman and Maria, greeting her in a rush. "Sorry, lots of fires to put out tonight. You ready?" When she nods, he motions to the cameraman and they begin, Mike asking her the standard opening questions when... Fandango's music begins again, two of the banes of Miz's life once more dancing into his segment. He watches them with a glower before holding a hand out to Maria, spinning her around a few times before leaving them in the dust as he dances off of the set with her. Once they're out of sight, he slows to a stop and laughs as she stares up at him, still a little floored. "Sorry about that, it was the only way I could think to shut them up and get away all at once."
She flushes and laughs, still clinging to his arms. "No, don't worry about it, it's fine." He gently pulls away from her, smiling softly.
Neither of them notice the dark eyes watching from the shadows...
The whole locker room is quiet and overwhelmed during Punk vs Brock, Mike sitting in his locker room between John and Alex with his face held in his hands, Ricardo watching with subdued awe as the two men battle it out, leaving nothing out there as the deeply personal competition leaves them looking like they want to kill the other, Punk eventually losing when he turns his attention to Paul Heyman, leaving himself vulnerable to Brock attacking him with a chair, which he is then F5'd on. Thankfully they have the mixed tag match to recover during, giving Mike time to recollect himself before he has to wrap up his hosting duties by announcing Daniel vs Cena up next. He watches as Dolph and Kaitlyn eventually secure the victory against Big E and AJ, flinching when AJ is yet again speared on the outside by her former best friend before she can ruin the pin.
"Well, that's my cue, time to wrap this show up. Try not to have too much fun while I'm gone," he tells them, clapping John on the shoulder and smiling over at Alex and Ricardo before ducking out of the room for the final time. This whole thing hadn't been what he'd expected, but he supposes things will return to normal the following night... or at least he hopes so. Of course, he's in the process of announcing the final match when Fandango interrupts again. This time, however, he doesn't even bother restraining himself. Careful not to feed into the same level of anger he'd felt the night before with Del Rio, he does however land a punch on Fandango that at least stops the damn dancing, sneering down at him before leaving to rejoin his friends, watch the conclusion of the event.
If Punk vs Brock had left the whole locker room quiet and on the edges of their seats, Daniel and Cena leaves them anxious and a little jittery as the minutes pass agonizingly slow. Though Miz isn't overly fond of either man, he hopes that Daniel wins, tired of being tired of seeing Cena as champion. In the end, knees to the face gives Mike what he wants, but it's horribly short lived as Orton comes out with his briefcase, teasing a cash in, before ultimately heading back up the ramp. They all breathe a little easier as Daniel continues to celebrate, until...
Orton turns slowly as HHH pedigrees the new WWE champion, the former members of Evolution staring at each other darkly until Orton enters and hands over the briefcase, cashing in and simply pinning the younger man, not needing to do anymore than that after the impact of the COO's finisher. The four men in the locker room gape on in disbelief, shaking their heads in shock, as Daniel lays in disgrace, HHH lifting Orton's hand in success. "Son of a bitch," Mike mumbles. Being a former briefcase holder himself, he'd expected Orton to pick his spot and cash in soon- but definitely not like that!
They're still subdued and solemn as they return to John's apartment, Mike pondering over the evening as a whole while dropping his bag on the floor, Ricardo's settling next to his. He turns to stare at his friends, shaking his head slowly. Orton champion, Del Rio retaining, every segment of his getting ruined by Fandango... the whole show had been more frustrating than he'd want to admit, but at least it's over and he's somewhere he can relax again, but... he closes his eyes and takes a breath. "I need to burn some energy," he finally mutters. "I'll be back in a little bit."
His feet take him across the path to the beach, not minding that it's so dark he can barely see, the place deserted and calm as he breathes in the salty air, wandering under the pier for awhile, kicking his shoes off and letting them hang from his fingers so he can feel the cool sand between his toes for a few minutes. He's just about to slip them back on and venture back to John's apartment when he hears soft humming, freezing immediately as he fears briefly that the Wyatt family had set up base here, or something equally as ridiculous. They had kidnapped Kane earlier, which meant that it'd been an all around bad evening for the now defunct Team Hell No. It takes a moment before he realizes that the humming is decidedly female, walking closer to it.
When he realizes who exactly it is, he almost feels like running back to the apartment and not even dealing with this now, on top of everything else, but he holds his own, curious why exactly she's sitting in the sand, all alone. "AJ?"
She freezes, her humming dying away slowly. "Mike," she says simply, still staring out at the ocean as it laps a few feet away from the edge of the pier. Standing, she turns to look at him and smiles bitterly. "Where's your little dance partner?"
He stares at her, shaking his head. "Maria? I don't know, probably at her hotel. I haven't seen her since that failed interview segment."
She makes a hmming noise before creeping closer to him, eyes gleaming even in the shadows. "You looked really comfortable, dancing with her pressed against you. Did you like it, Mike? Feeling her so close to you?" She leans against him for a moment, lips inches away from his before she pulls away and skips past him, pigtails flipping over her shoulders as she goes.
Collecting himself once more after that, he barks out an annoyed laugh. "And what about you? Did you like being in the ring again with Ziggler? Did you like having his attention, even for a short little while before Kaitlyn speared you once more?"
When she turns to glower at him, he stares back at her, hands stuffed in his pockets. "He's a weak little man," she says lowly. "Like most men seem to be... content to drop anyone without notice, as soon as they get bored of them... Kaitlyn's no better, they deserve each other." Tilting her head, she approaches him. "But you, I've never been anything to you, yet you keep coming back... finding ways to spend time with me... be it backstage, or during MizTV segments... It's like... you enjoy my constantly trashing you over and over again."
"I don't control who my guests are on MizTV most times," he says lowly, eyes locked on hers as she trails a finger down his dress shirt, teasing the buttons with her fingers. "But you're wrong about much more than that."
She smirks. "Oh? Such as?" Her fingers graze back up, curling around his neck, and he wonders if she's about to pull him down for a painful kiss, the darkness in her gaze promising bad things.
"You mean more to me than you'll probably ever realize," he confesses without thinking, watching as the fire fades from her expression, replaced by the vulnerability and an innate desperation that he's only really seen her show for other people, especially recently. Conflicted over whether he should leave or continue talking, he finally bridges the gap, leaning into her touch and pressing his lips to hers, trying to shut himself up. Beat away the thoughts rattling around in his skull, desperate to pour out of his lips. Her nails dig into his flesh and he groans against her, the growing heat in the kiss surprising them both as he pushes her gently until her back settles against a support pillar of the pier, the two of them lost in the sounds of the waves lapping to their right and the feel of each other so close for the first time in what feels like forever. Unlike two weeks before, when everything had been so painful and rushed, Mike needing to concentrate on Ricardo's ordeal, this is quiet and simple, all them. Nothing else matters...
At least, until AJ pulls away and slaps him, her breathing ragged as tears bead in her eyes once more. "What are you doing?" she all but shrieks at him, shaking as she forces her way past his frozen body, storming away before spinning back towards him, the tears now dripping down her flushed cheeks. "I have nothing for you! I don't have power anymore, I can't- I can't get your friend his job back, I can't do anything for you! Why do you keep doing this to me?!"
He stares at her, the words still there, still desperate to be freed. "I don't want anything from you," he whispers. "Not like that, anyway. Not anymore." He takes a half-step towards her and releases a soft breath, wanting so badly to touch her. "I know I don't deserve your trust, your belief... anything..."
She laughs bitterly. "Finally realizing that, huh, Mike?" Raising her arms, she motions at this whole situation she finds herself wrapped up in, tears splattering down her jaw and hitting the ground, staining the sand at their feet a few shades darker. "What is all of this then?"
He breathes in, shudders, and closes his eyes for a moment, a pained smile crossing his lips. When he opens his eyes once more, she's startled by the calm determination in them. "I love you. That's what this is."
She stares at him, shocked so thoroughly that the tears stop as quickly as they'd come, each and every breath out of her lips hitching. "No. You don't. No one ever loves me. They claim to, get what they want, and then leave. You don't-" Her voice dies as he walks up to her, brushing his fingers tenderly through her soft hair.
"Think about it, sweetheart," he whispers. "I've never said it to you before, even when I was trying to get you to get John his job back. I knew better than to cross that line, because it's not the kinda thing I would be comfortable lying about..." He leans closer to her. "As you noted, outside of being divas champion, you have about as much leverage as the next guy now, especially with the power game in the WWE so ridiculous at the moment. I've already screwed up by doing the using you for my agenda thing. And yet, here I am, standing before you, telling you anyway." Blue eyes boring into hers with a bizarre combination of pain and affection that had almost always underlined their relationship once it stopped being underlined by a lie, he stares down at her. "I am in love with you."
Her eyes widening more than they had when Big E had almost kissed her weeks ago, she stares at him mutedly, her chest heaving and she looks like she's about to head towards hyperventilating. He's just reached out for her, worried, when she shakes her head desperately and turns, racing away from him like he's poison.
He watches her go, finally slumping into the sand. He stares up at the underside of the pier until he begins to shake, his broken laughter shattering the silence of the beach a few moments later.
He's not sure what time it is exactly when he trudges back to John's apartment after sitting in the sand, thoughts tangled around in his head so thoroughly that he can't even grasp the majority of them, shuddering. He can't believe he'd confessed to her, the world skittering to a stop in the few seconds it'd taken to get those words out... just for her to run away from him into the night, as if... as if...
"As if this weekend wasn't bad enough," he groans softly, unlocking the door. Trying to be quiet once more, he tiptoes past the living room where Alex is sleeping just to come to a sudden stop: he's not alone in being awake at this ridiculous hour, Ricardo is leaning against the kitchen counter with a glass of water in his hand. They stare at each other for a minute before Mike joins him, getting a glass for himself. Ricardo silently leans over, tugging the container of unused egg salad mixture from the beach party out of the fridge and waving it at him. He nods, reaching in to collect the chicken salad, and the two of them both pull out spoons from Morrison's drawers, walking quietly over to the table to indulge in the leftovers.
Neither wanting to talk much and risk waking up John or Alex, they stare at each other. "To closure, huh?" Mike asks sarcastically, lips twitching as Ricardo nods, the two men clicking their spoons together before they begin to eat.
It feels weird to go to an event with only Alex and Ricardo, Mike finding that he's already used to having John at an arena after only one night. He grimaces and pulls his bags out as the other two follow suit, the three of them entering the building. Also they're all back to the regular locker room now, Ricardo seeming all the more intimidated as he glances around at the superstars surrounding him once more. He'd never been here without Alberto before, and even then, that had been rare, the two of them either using Del Rio's influence to get private locker rooms or his being champion granting them the privilege automatically.
The first few hours are peaceful enough, the three of them staying in the locker room and watching the show, interjecting their comments here and there. When the divas tag match starts, Mike swallows harshly, spotting some of the darkness from the night before still in AJ's eyes, turning from the screen as he tries to breathe normally, focus on anything but the match. Alex and Ricardo notice but merely exchange glances before letting their thoughts go, knowing that, if Mike wants to tell them, he will.
A little later, Del Rio's music hits and Ricardo abruptly stands, staring at the monitor as his hands tighten at his sides. Mike and Alex stare up at him, surprised as he squares his shoulders and walks out of the locker room door without any sort of explanation, looking like a man on a mission. They exchange glances but before they can do anything, go after him, Sin Cara dives out of the ring and onto Del Rio, immediately flopping over after calling for the referee to come, visibly injured again. "Oh boy," Mike mutters, the whole locker room used to Sin Cara's tendency for injuries by now. Del Rio too seems angry and impatient over the situation, kicking his opponent when he's down and being examined, which appears to infuriate the referee, the two men getting into an argument in the middle of the ring.
Finally things calm down, Sin Cara leaving with the doctor, and Del Rio motions for a microphone. It's then that Mike gets a good look at his face- he'd suffered a broken nose during the match against Christian on top of everything else, and he looks even rougher than he had Saturday night, the eye on the side of his face that Mike had punched looking like a blood vessel had burst since the night before. If he still wasn't anxious about the truth somehow coming out- and he's still not sure why there's so many fabricated tales going around, none of which include him, or why Del Rio hadn't tried to get any kind of revenge yet- he'd almost be amused by the mere sight of the usually vain champion, finding it to be karma for what he had done to Ricardo, but he's still a bit on edge.
Either way, Del Rio continues on in the same vein he had the night before- that he's the hero for the Latino community and yada yada, when a familiar voice cuts in. Mike and Alex gape as Ricardo interrupts his former employer, looking solemn and thoughtful as he explains that Del Rio is no hero to him, or the Latino community. His disposition begins to brighten, however, a wide smile taking over his face as he explains that he's happy to not represent Alberto any longer, admitting that he has a new person to do so for, a person who will truly stand up for people. Mike's jaw drops when he reveals RVD, Mr. Monday Night coming out to stand alongside Ricardo. As Alberto waits inside the ring, eyes dark with anger, RVD approaches the ring just to receive knees and punches from the World Heavyweight Champion, keeping him helpless on the mat. But RVD recovers quickly and kicks him in the face, Del Rio scrambling to safety as Ricardo enters the ring and the two of them do the thumb motions side by side, Alberto unable to do anything but watch from the ramp, stewing.
When the two men return to the locker room, Ricardo still grinning, Mike and Alex greet him. "Where did that come from?!"
The ring announcer smiles a little before glancing over at Rob. "Well, Rob and I talked for a bit last night, and the idea slowly dawned on me that... if Del Rio can so easily dismiss me, attack me so brutally, and think that he can still consider himself a hero to the Latino community, the least I could do is show him how wrong he is. If he feels he's outgrown my assistance and wants to be alone so badly, that's fine, but I don't feel that he deserves the World Heavyweight Title. With my knowledge of Alberto's ways, and RVD's in-ring ability, I believe we can accomplish this goal easily."
Mike blinks, surprised at how quickly that plan had come together, considering just twenty four hours earlier, Ricardo had still seemed pretty unfocused and sad. "Well, damn, man. Sounds like you've given this some thought. I doubt you'll need it, but you know. Good luck."
"Gracias."
Mike's match against Wade Barrett is just before Orton's coronation, and he wrestles as well as he can, considering how distracted he is with what a mess the last few days had been, but in the end it doesn't matter. Fandango interrupts, causing the match to end in a disqualification, and leaves him laying in the middle of the ring. The perfect ending to this Summerslam week, he thinks grimly as he slowly blinks back to awareness and rolls out of the ring, realizing that he needs to clear the ring before HHH gets pissy at him for risking stalling the beginning of the coronation. Annoyed, he heads back up the ramp, holding onto his midsection.
Alex pats him on the back and they all quietly collect their things, Ricardo only pausing long enough to say goodbye to RVD before they leave the arena, returning to Morrison's apartment to catch up on sleep and relax between Main Event and Smackdown, all of them needing it badly after the long, emotional past few days. None of them, except for Morrison, had really had much down time since the beach party on Thursday, and it shows.
Nonetheless, they all sit for awhile, watching TV together and trying to unwind, Morrison the first to head off to bed, having some OOYM fitness plans in the morning. Mike follows shortly thereafter, still annoyed at the Fandango nonsense, and Alex glances over at Ricardo, finding him staring at the TV with a thoughtful look on his face. "Hey," he says softly, turning the TV volume down so they can talk easier.
Ricardo turns to look at him, smiling half-heartedly. "Si?"
Alex clears his throat, tilting his head. "Well, um. As you know, our time in California is drawing to a close. There are houseshows this weekend, and you're with the group going to New Mexico before Raw, right?" At Ricardo's nod, he takes a breath, trying to sort out how best to bring up something he'd been weighing for a few days now. "Have you decided what you're going to do then? About where you're going? I know that RVD lives in LA, so it'd probably make some sense to stay here-"
But Ricardo shakes his head, smiling apologetically as he interrupts Alex. "No, I'm not staying in California. It'll always be home to me, si, but... so is Florida now, and I want to be close to the performance center. I'll be returning to Florida after this cycle of events ends." He stares at his hands, not thinking it through yet until this moment, so busy getting things with RVD squared away first. "I suppose I'll have to start apartment hunting..."
"What if I told you you didn't have to?" Alex says suddenly, staring at him. "I wasn't going to suggest anything until you had figured out what you wanted to do, because I didn't want to influence your decision. Especially if you just really wanted to get away from Florida and... everything that's there... but now that you've said this, well. I've been thinking for awhile about getting a roommate. I have a free bedroom, and um... you know, instead of going through Craigslist and having to interview who knows how many creeps on my days off, why not offer it to someone I actually know?" He grins. "Besides, I had fun helping you with the charity stuff last month, and I think we make a pretty good team."
Ricardo looks- and feels- about as shocked as he had the night before when RVD had approached him, but he quickly regains control of himself. "You- you mean it? You want me to live with you?"
"Sure, man!" He glances down the hallway leading to the bedrooms just visible from his position on the couch, taking a deep breath. "See, John and Mike- they spend as much time together as they can when they're in LA, and it's cool, I would never do or say anything to prevent that for them, after everything they've gone through just to be friends again, but sometimes I feel pretty isolated in Florida. And I know that probably sounds weird with so many guys from WWE who live there, and the various friends outside of the business I do have, but it's..."
"Just not quite the same," Ricardo offers after a moment, eyes distant and sad as he nods in understanding. "I know what you mean."
Alex nods back. "So, you move in with me, and hell, you'd probably be helping me more than I'd be helping you." He gives the younger man a few minutes to think about it, their eyes finally locking. "What do you say? Roomies?" he asks with a hopeful grin, holding his hand out towards him.
Ricardo's lips twitch. "Roomies," he agrees softly, meeting him halfway and solidly shaking his hand, both men laughing as they consider John and Mike's reaction to this news. First a new business association, and now... a new roommate, the ring announcer thinks, grinning as he looks forward to what other changes the future will bring.