Miz wakes AJ up the next morning with faint kisses, brushing his fingers through her hair as she stirs and moans, rolling away from the bright California sun shining through the window. As he smiles down at her affectionately, she nuzzles into his warmth and sighs when he mouths against her shoulder, nipping at her skin. "Up for going to Lucha Underground tonight, sweetheart?" he whispers.
She sighs but nods, tracing a finger down his face as he crawls up until they're eye to eye, smiling down at her. "Alright, husband, but we're spending most of the day right here, yes?"
"If that's what you want," he agrees. As she nods and draws him back down to her, he releases a soft sigh.
Hours later, they enter the temple, hand in hand. AJ stares around at the crowd, already loud and eager for action, as they find their seat towards the back, in the shadows and away from the cameras. "Is Morrison competing tonight?" she wonders idly, squeezing Mike's fingers as he stares up at the band playing above the crowd and holds up the line of people trying to get to their seats.
He blinks back to reality and continues walking, leading AJ to her seat before settling in next to her. "He said he was, yeah. I guess he just needed a couple of weeks to get his head back on straight after losing that title opportunity to Puma." AJ hums, saying nothing else as she lays her head on his chest and waits for the show to begin. He obliges a couple of people who actually look into the corner enough to recognize him and ask for autographs, pictures, whatever else, while she watches with a faint smile, her long hair and the shadows working in her favor as no one bothers her.
Once the show starts, she sits up and watches the matches, the crowd hot for a lot of it. The first few matches are good but Mike can't help feeling uncomfortable. John's opponent is huge, spoke about in awe and some fear by commentators and the crowd; had demolished Puma himself not that long ago before tearing the Lucha Underground heavyweight title in two. He keeps his worries to himself, however, enjoying the show as best as he can. It all comes to an end, however, when Cage vs Morrison starts, the two men fighting hard until Cage gets the advantage, begins to dismantle him after slamming his knee into the turnbuckle post. It's hard to watch without running into the ring and defending his former tag partner, Miz biting a knuckle as AJ squeezes his other hand.
It's a constant mantra in his mind that this isn't his show to appear on, that to do so would be to get in trouble with The Authority, but even so by the time the show ends and John is left sprawled out in the ring, motionless, Mike's on his feet, watching as Cage lumbers his way back up the stairs towards the exit. Thankfully they're close enough to the exit that it doesn't take much to quietly follow the referees dragging a barely responsive Morrison up the stairs, none of the fans noticing as they whisper and gossip amongst themselves, the buzz still pretty high after the show.
Mike is close enough to hear a familiar, heavily accented voice as he turns the corner to find the referees stopped in the hall, Morrison hanging between them, as Alberto Del Rio confronts them. "I see you have met the man I look forward to defeating for disrespecting this place's title belt, mi amigo," he says simply, cupping John's chin and lifting his face to look him in the eye. "Aye... John, I will make him pay for all of it." Ducking under John's arm, he relieves one of the referees of his burden, seeming unsurprised as Mike steps forward and takes the other side, their eyes locking over John's bowed head. "Mike."
"Alberto. When did you sign here?"
"A couple weeks ago." He smirks at him. "When did you?"
"Haha," Mike intones, peering down at John worriedly. "I didn't, you know that. I was in the crowd and when I saw what happened to John..." He tightens his grip on Morrison, relieved when he starts to stir, moaning a little. He looks up and stares at Alberto. "I'm glad you're here. You'll help him, right? With guys like Cage?"
Alberto stares back at Mike, remembering when it was Ricardo who needed help, when Mike waded in with no questions asked and assisted him through all of the pain and uncertainty after Alberto had abandoned him. "Of course," he says simply. "It's the least I can do."
"Thank you," he sighs, settling John down on the cot in the trainer's office and staring his best friend in the eye. "You with us?"
"Mike," he mumbles, reaching out and gripping Mike's arm.
"Yeah, man. I'm here, so is Alberto and AJ. You're gonna be ok." But Mike's claims do nothing to comfort himself, the Most Must See Superstar pacing in the halls of the temple as the trainer examines John, kicking them out so he'd have room to do so. When the trainer calls them back in, confirming that Mike was right, though John's leg will be sore and tender for awhile, he breathes a little easier. Since John can barely walk, they bring him back to Mike's house and set him up on the couch so he'll be close to both kitchen and a bathroom, away from stairs. Pillows under his head and leg, he looks sleepy as soon as he's laying down and Mike pats him on the shoulder. "I can't stay for long, man, I have to fly out to Smackdown in the morning, but AJ will be around if you need anything. Ok?"
He nods blurrily. "Thanks, Mike. For everything." Dark eyes peering behind Mike's shoulder, he smirks a little. "You too, Del Rio. Welcome to Lucha Underground."
"Ha, si, gracias," Alberto responds, stepping forward to talk to his colleague as Miz steps back, curling an arm around AJ's shoulders.
"You ok?" she whispers to him, tracing her fingers along his abdomen.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he responds. "I wish I could do more but at least John isn't alone anymore."
She nods and presses a kiss to his arm before tugging his hand, dragging him towards their room. "You need sleep, husband. You have to deal with Mizdow tomorrow, after all." As he groans, she giggles sympathetically. "Good night, John, Alberto," she calls over her shoulder.
"See you both in the morning," Mike agrees, following her to their room. As soon as he settles into the sheets and blankets, AJ hovering over him as she tucks him in and lightly kisses him, his eyes flutter shut and he gives in to his body's exhaustion. "Love you, sweetheart," he murmurs against her lips as she smiles.
-x
Smackdown is as frustrating as he'd feared. MizTV quickly falls apart and Roman punches Miz out of the ring, leaving him sprawled out on the ramp as Mizdow gets up from where Mike had directed him to sit and kneels down by him, a strange look on his face as Mike gingerly examines his moneymaker with shaking fingers. He's dizzy, his jaw throbbing up to his temples, so he's almost relieved when Mizdow grips him under the arm and drags him up to his feet, pulling his arm over his shoulders so he can assist him backstage. He'd never admit it though, his fingers digging into Damien's side as they walk side by side up the ramp.
He breathes heavily once Mizdow settles him down on a bench and hands him a bottle of water, feeling a little guilty for how he's been treating the other man when he squints up at him, sipping it slowly. Sometimes, he's not so bad, he concedes, digging his fingers into his throbbing face. But his concession quickly fades, replaced by anger towards Roman Reigns. He leaves Mizdow behind, ordering him to stay behind, organize his things, when he storms out of the locker room and finds Renee Young, challenging Roman to a match to prove that Roman doesn't deserve a Wrestlemania main event match.
He's not surprised when Roman accepts, his pride taking enough hits this week, and he puts up as much of a fight as he can, even though his face is still aching, and everything just sucks right now. The crowd is chanting for Mizdow, which only angers him further and perhaps makes him sloppy as he loses whatever advantage he'd gained, Roman defeating him a few minutes later. He stares up at the ceiling, again struggling to breathe normally. This time, when Mizdow tries to help him, he pushes him away and walks painfully up the ramp on his own, not wanting to look at the other man, much less be touched by him. He's barely in the locker room five minutes, only long enough to change out of his wrestling gear before he grabs his bag and leaves, barely paying attention to Mizdow rushing to follow after him.
His most peaceful times come when Mizdow is not with him and he misses the days before he had thought a stunt double was a good idea. What the hell was I thinking?
It's almost funny to Miz to walk into Raw to find that Mizdow vs Sin Cara is listed on the match board. He can see how the match will go already, knowing that Mizdow's ego will get the best of him, and he will try to be Miz. But there's only man good enough to do such things, and Miz takes a certain kind of glee during the match to yell him down, getting out of his directors chair- far from as nice as the one AJ had given him for Christmas, but decent enough, considering- to add to the impact of it all. Mizdow is growing more and more flustered, even the support of the crowd not enough to get him back on track, and Mike has to bite his lip not to laugh out loud as Sin Cara wins.
It's clear that Mizdow is far from happy when they walk back up the ramp, the loser trudging behind Mike, as lowly personal assistants deserve, but as soon as they're out of sight of the crowd, Mike turns sharply around and grips Mizdow by the collar, glaring at him. "You listen to me. You are not The Most Must See Superstar. Understand me? You aren't even a stunt double anymore, you are a personal assistant. Google it, look up tutorials on Youtube, I don't care what you have to do, but learn what that means and abide by it and be thankful that I'm allowing you to remain in my orbit at all."
Releasing him roughly, Mike turns and begins to storm back down the hall. "What did I ever do to you?" Mizdow's voice, low and defeated, stops him short and he gnaws at his cheek before squaring his shoulders and entering the locker room, leaving the question unanswered, hanging impotently in the air between them.