"Dammit," Miz mutters, staring ahead blankly as the WWE makeup artist works on him. He had kind of enjoyed his personal makeup lady, but AJ hadn't, so... Speaking of whom, his wife leans against his shoulder and peers in the direction he's looking too, understanding immediately. She lightly kisses the top of his head and turns back to watching Ziggler and Truth purposely repeating each other's actions only feet away from where Mike is sitting, clearly just to get a rise out of the former Intercontinental champion. "Idiots," he breathes into her hair as she nuzzles closer to him.
He has a tag team match with Cesaro against Ziggler and Sheamus, and he walks into the match with high hopes, aware that the PPV will be his opportunity to regain what is rightfully his, but Truth proves more of a distraction than MizDow, pulling Miz's focus away from his opponents and leaving him open to a Brogue kick and pin. He rolls away in agony, gripping his face, and ignores Ziggler's annoying laughter, desperate to return the embarrassment and injury risk back to him this Sunday.
After they wait for her to finish commentating Nikki and Paige's match a little later, AJ tsks over him as he stares blandly ahead through the car ride back to the hotel, Sandow agreeing to drive for once. AJ had gotten knocked by Nikki as well as Paige, but it doesn't seem to be bothering her as much as Ziggler and Sheamus' getting the upper hand is bothering Mike. "It'll be ok," she tries to sooth him. "You'll see, come Sunday, it'll be like none of this happened at all."
He wants to believe her, so badly, but a part of him can't help but wonder if it's just a harbinger of what's to come...
-x
Mike is only just paying attention to the preshow panel, Alex, Booker and Big Show discussing the various matches, when AJ joins them and makes her intentions to regain the divas title clear. He smiles a little at the look on Alex's face as he stops her to ask her further about the evening, his former NXT rookie still a little hesitant around her, which is understandable. He presses down on his wedding ring and sighs grimly, staring over at Sandow as he too mimicks him despite the lack of a ring on his own finger. Mike rolls his eyes and turns back to looking his gear over, making sure he'll be ready for the match against Ziggler.
It's a mess, once it does happen. He's nervous and jittery, determined to see a pinfall victory in his favor, but Florida Georgia Line is at ringside, distracting the commentary and who knows how many other people from the clinic he and Ziggler puts on. He fights to remain focused, however, only distracted briefly when the band attacks MizDow for no good reason. It doesn't stop him, however, if anything it appears to affect Ziggler more, and opens him up for Miz to defeat him. He stares at the referee as he counts the much desired three count, time slowing for a few moment before he realizes- the Intercontinental title is in his hands, MizDow had recovered and is now slapping him joyously on the back, and he's done it. He's regained his title, and dammit all, tears are filling his eyes as he hugs the white belt close to him.
He's barely made it backstage when running footsteps greet him and he instinctively reaches out, unsurprised when AJ leaps into his arms, her legs tangling around his midsection as she grins down at him. "I knew you would do it, Mike," she whispers, pressing her forehead to his. "I never doubted it..."
"You had more confidence in me than I did," he confesses softly to her, his free hand warm on her back, holding her in place, while the other one grips his title belt. He looks from her to the belt, two of the most important things in his life, and grins. "I'm a damn lucky man." She giggles and nods, leaning in to kiss him, and he sighs, eyes fluttering. "Now when you win your baby back, things will be the way they always should've been... with us both champions again..."
She sighs, eyes shining as she pictures it. "Yeah... that's exactly right. I can't wait."
"Neither can I," he smiles at her. "Hey, we're going to have two locker rooms again."
She laughs. "Our typical embarrassment of riches, huh?" As they walk down the hallway, Mike unhindered by her wrapped around him, Sandow follows with a sour look on his face because he can't properly mimic that. But he grows more animated when AJ is gone, in the ring now, facing off with Paige and Nikki. Studies the TV as intently as Miz is currently, watching every move his wife makes, the ones that are made against her. When AJ successfully makes Paige tap, Mike grins and actually high fives Sandow, his eyes alit with pleasure at their being champions together once more. It's clear she skips all the way back to the locker rooms, because it takes forever, but finally she's back in his arms, their title belts held close together and she giggles against his mouth as he pulls her flush against him. "We really did it."
"Of course we did. Together, we're unstoppable," he murmurs, smiling down at her as she delicately lays her title down next to his and pulls him close, kissing him intensely. "I love you, sweetheart."
"I love you too." They walk hand in hand back to the locker rooms, eager to reacquaint themselves with both the Intercontinental champion's room, and the diva's champion's room, when they stop short, realizing. Ziggler's things are still scattered around every surface of his former locker room.
Mike grimaces, rolling his eyes, before turning as a tech walks by them. "Hey, you! Where's Ziggler at? He needs to get his things out of here so the proper champion can claim what's rightfully his." He ignores AJ's giggles at his pompous attitude, determined to see those items out of his room ASAP.
"Um, sorry, I saw him leaving about fifteen minutes ago," the man says with a shrug. "Guess you might be able to catch him at the hotel."
Miz stares after him as he returns to overseeing production of the on-going PPV, mouthing soundlessly as Sandow steps up next to him, also miming speech silently. "Dammit," Miz grumbles, his head slumping until his chin is pressed against his chest. Despite their multiple issues lately, Mike decides to be the bigger man for once, unable to be petty or bitter with the Intercontinental title once more where it belongs. "Fine, then. MizDow, go pack up his things and put them in the car. We'll return them to him later on." As his stunt double rushes off to do just that, he shrugs at AJ and smiles as she cups his face and kisses him yet again, the wait seeming inconsequential while she's with him.
-x
Everything goes to hell on Raw, however. Ziggler had requested and been granted his title rematch and what is achieved is taken away, Miz staring up at the lights overhead as Ziggler reverses his pin, using his trunks to hold him down... there's nothing he can do. As quickly as he had regained it, he had lost it, and all he can think is it's the second time, the second 24 hour title reign he's had in the last few years. Trudges up the ramp with MizDow by his side, silent and grim, all of his hopes and dreams shattered just like that. MizDow looks like he's about to say something but Mike holds his hand up, forestalling him. "Leave me alone." His voice is low, his eyes are dark, and whatever MizDow sees in his face, he doesn't like because he quietly acquiesces and turns to walk in the opposite direction.
Mike continues on down the hallway until he arrives at what he had hoped to make feel more his own in the days, weeks, months to come... stares at what had been his locker room for not even twenty four hours, gritting his teeth as pain and fury and disappointment well up within him. He wants to scream, he wants to cry, dammit, he wants to destroy everything in his way... Wet blue eyes abruptly rest on the bag leaning against the side wall, forgotten, and he swallows, walking towards it in a daze. That desperate, disgusting smell of the body spray that Ziggler wears immediately attacks his senses and he glares down at it so furiously that he wonders why it doesn't combust right then and there. But it doesn't so he all but collapses next to the bag and meticuously picks item by item out, laying it down on the floor almost tenderly. As soon as the bag is empty, he stares at the junk scattered around him.
Rage reddens everything as he suddenly lunges forward and slams his fists into the bag, tearing and ripping at it until his hands hurt, until the fabric has stretched beyond its breaking point, the seams tearing. He tosses it thoughtlessly over his shoulder and continues, finding Ziggler's body spray itself and throwing a couple of standup comedian books down, tearing the lid off and pouring the foul liquid all over the pages, laughing maddeningly to himself as the paper puckers, the letters fade under the chemicals. CDs and DVDs are thrown and he's more than a little pleased to see a Britney Spears disc is among them, ricocheting off of the walls like boomerangs.
He's just reached Ziggler's clothes that had been stuffed in the bottom of the bag, staring at them as he ponders just what to do with them, when there's a soft sound of a throat clearing behind him. He freezes, suddenly reminded of AJ sitting in the ring a year ago, devastated and broken for the entire world to see, tearing through Ziggler's things with scissors before screaming herself hoarse. He presses his hands into fists and bows his head. I guess we really are alike sometimes, huh? He doesn't move to look at her, not wanting her to see him like this, or having to see the worry and fear on her face. "Get out of here," he says lowly. "I'm fine. Just... go, AJ."
The room remains silent after that and he thinks, for a split second, that she's listened to him... but then warmth presses against his side and he closes his eyes, leaning into her as she cups his face, kissing him softly, slowly. "I'm so sorry, Mike," she whispers, her fingers stroking his jaw. "But I'm not going anywhere..." She pulls away and presses something into his hands, smiling faintly when he looks down to find the exact pair of scissors he had just been thinking about held between his finger and thumb. She has a pair of her own and he nods slowly, passing over half of the clothes to her.
Together, they begin stripping and slicing through fabric and thread, leaving the clothes in a pile of shredded destruction, going mindlessly from one item to the next until he glances over at her, realizing that she's holding a purple shirt, about to cut into it. He moves first, however, resting his hand atop hers and stalling her. "Wait, sweetheart," he mutters, pulling it from her and smirking down at it. "This is Zack's shirt. Well, hell, I'm friends with Zack too... I can wear this just as well as Ziggler can, so y'know what, we'll put it through the washer and scour all of the Ziggler germs out of it. Possession is 9/10ths of the law anyway, right?" If he can't have his title, well hell, he might as well have something to show for the weekend from hell.
She giggles and throws her arms around him, nuzzling closer to him. "Exactly," she whispers, kissing him. A few more shirts and pants get shredded and then they search the bag a little more, AJ content to skip over the detritus of Ziggler's crap all over the floor, destroying it under her sneakers even more, while Mike slices the bag down the middle, completely ruining it as one last act of rage. He then stands up and holds his hand out to his wife, smiling slightly when she curls her fingers against his palm, allowing him to lead her out of the room, away from the destruction they'd wrought, the only souvenir of this night being the purple shirt clutched in Mike's free hand.
After she competes and wins against Nikki, too distracted to really care about what Paige said on commentary, AJ drives, their luggage and her title belt out of sight in the trunk, and he idly kisses her palm while he thinks about how badly things have changed- again- in less than a day. When they arrive at the hotel, he's relieved to sit down on the edge of the bed and watch her brushing her teeth and changing into comfy PJ pants and a soft tank top. She rejoins him and pushes him to do the same, smiling softly as he obliges, despite having very little interest in doing anything but stare at the wall and try to figure out where he'd gone wrong. Once he returns to the bed, settling down against the pillows and staring hopelessly at the ceiling, she turns the lights out and lays on top of him, her hair spanning across his chest.
His fingers are warm against her scalp and she makes a soft little sound deep in her throat, leaning in to kiss his chest, when he whispers, "Maybe Stephanie McMahon was right... maybe I am only good as a utility player..."
AJ's ministrations freeze before she sits up, staring at him in horror. His eyes are half shut, and she's not sure he's even aware what he'd just said, but his words haunt her as sleep takes him over. Even in rest, he looks sad. It breaks her heart as she leans in and kisses him, her own eyes suspiciously wet. "Don't ever say that to me, Mike. You're so much more than just that... you're my movie star, right?" She nuzzles against him and sniffs. "My loving, loyal husband... you transcend any title belt, you are no mere utility player... and I love you for being exactly who you are, no matter what."
-x
Mike wakes up the next morning, alone and feeling glum, without really knowing why, when he looks around for his title belt. Then and only then does it all register with him and he sits up with a sigh. He's about to go look for AJ when the hotel door opens and the girl herself wanders in, pausing to stare at him with a loving, sad look that makes him feel oddly vulnerable, like he said or did something to put that look on her face without being aware. "AJ?"
She shakes her head and forces a smile before shutting the door behind her, walking over to him and gripping his jaw, kissing him warmly. "I brought breakfast... now don't tease me, but you said you weren't hungry last night after Raw, so I figured... we would make up for it now. And then a double workout later to make up for it, ok?" He looks confused until she rests the bag down and begins pulling out food items- cheeseburgers, milkshakes, French fries.
"Sweetheart," he says, having to laugh at this. It's a ridiculous breakfast, but it's clear what she's trying to do, and he loves her even more for it. "Come here." As she finishes with the food, he grips her hand and twirls her into his lap, where he wraps an arm around her waist and squeezes gently. "Don't worry about me, I'm going to be ok. I always bounce back, right?" He mouths her neck gently, rubbing circles in her warm flesh with his thumbs. "But thanks for breakfast... it's just what the doctor ordered..."
And he does bounce back after breakfast, and their work-out, and some time in the hotel pool, chasing her around until he catches her and presses her against the side, pinning her hands against the cool tile and kissing her until they're both flushed and breathless. He's refocused, somewhat, by Main Event, in time for Ambrose on MizTV, and although he gets taken out by the Lunatic Fringe, it doesn't do anything to ruin his resolve. I will make them pay, he decides, his eyes blazing as AJ searches his face, about to leave for her own time on commentary during Paige and Naomi's match. I will make them all pay... it's not just about the Moneymaker anymore...