After spending Tuesday in Florida to celebrate Ricardo's birthday- which is a lowkey event, but still fun, although Ricardo seems a little glum since Alberto is still on vacation- Mike returns home, slipping behind his wife where she's sitting in the backyard, sipping iced tea, and hugs her close. "Hello, sweetheart," he whispers into her hair. She grins and leans into him, tilting her head back against his shoulder to stare into his eyes. "I missed you."
"I missed you too. How was Florida? Did Ricardo's birthday go alright?"
"Yeah, it was fine. I think he was a little sad Del Rio couldn't be there, but you know." He strokes her stomach idly and shrugs. "Hopefully he'll do something for him after he gets home."
"Knowing Del Rio, he'll have a bunch of souvenirs for him," she murmurs, grinning when Mike kisses her, her fingers brushing down his jaw. They stay outside, enjoying the quiet of night, each other's company, as the sun slowly sets and the air grows cooler. His hands are warm on her stomach, lazily stroking, and she knows what's on his mind. What's been on her own since that dream. Squeezing his wrists, she curls her fingers around his and sighs. "So, the baby."
"Yeah," he murmurs, tilting his head and kissing her. "The baby."
"I know I keep going back and forth on this. Sometimes I feel like I want it, then other times I don't want to close the door on getting back my divas title." She purses her lips. "I know it's asking for a lot of patience from you, when I don't even know when I might want to dedicate myself to this, but right now... I don't want to make any big moves until I'm done rehabing my neck. As soon as I am 100% again, and have considered everything, then I'll be able to tell you for sure what my next move will be. You won't be mad at me, will you?"
He presses his face into the back of her head, shaking his head. "Of course not, sweetheart. This baby is ours to agree on, and if you want to wait, I'm ok with it. We have all of the time in the world to decide for certain when we'll want her and if that's not now, I'm ok with it. I want you healthy and comfortable in the decision too. Your happiness and the happiness of our future children is all that matters to me."
She twists around and wraps her arms around his neck, beaming at him. "You're the sweetest husband," she murmurs before kissing him hard, nipping at his lips as he sighs into her mouth. When she pushes him down onto the grass, he gasps and laughs, hands coming to rest on her hips as she straddles him and brushes her hair away, eyes flashing with a challenge when she leans over and unbuttons his shirt lazily, smirking.
"And you're devilish," he responds huskily, eyes glinting as she examines him.
"Yep," she says simply, flashing a grin at him before nuzzling back down, pressing warm kisses along his tanned flesh.
After barely twenty four hours with his wife, Mike's back at the airport, boarding yet another flight. He sighs and taps his fingers against the plane's armrests, ignoring Mizdow as he tells the flight attendant their drink orders.
He has a match against Daniel Bryan to start the show off, impressing upon Mizdow how he had made Daniel relevant back in NXT, as he had made Mizdow. Wondering why no one can just accept that he's damn good at what he does, when Mizdow again tries to take all of the attention for himself, Mike orders him backstage to get him a towel. Daniel takes over, attacking him from behind, and Mike struggles to get control of the match but he's working from behind now, and Daniel keeps his offense going until trapping Miz up in the Yes! Lock. Mike struggles but his entire body is protesting the submission hold, so he taps, disgust welling up within him as he rolls out of the ring.
He stumbles up the ramp, angry and humiliated, and by the time he makes it backstage, Mizdow is waiting with the towel he'd asked for, moving towards him like he's about to pat him down. "Get away from me!" he screams at the assistant. "Why is it every time I need to fix your mistakes, I end up losing? Why does your failure always rub off on me!?"
He's breathless, he's so angry he can barely see straight, and everyone backs away as he storms through the halls back to the locker room. He slumps down on the bench, burying his face in his hands as he tries to recollect himself. Mizdow is hovering, he can sense him, but neither say anything to the other as time passes and Miz's anger fades away into a buzz of distance from everything that matters to him. Wrestlemania is soon, and he's never felt this directionless in a long time. No match at Fast Lane, just a MizTV segment with Paul Heyman on the preshow, and...
His shoulders tense when Mizdow finally approaches him and begins to pat his arms and back down with the towel, the motion strangely soothing. He and Mizdow may not be friends any longer, barely work associates even, but it makes him feel less alone, so he allows it.
That Sunday, he does what he can with MizTV, determined to keep the fans' attention where it belongs- on himself and the advocate of Brock Lesnar- so he places Mizdow in the corner, but the segment doesn't last long, especially after Paul Heyman notes that Mizdow is eyeing him. After lashing out at his personal assistant, he makes him sit with his back to the two of them but their time is running low so he barely gets to ask one more question before he has to wrap it up. As soon as the man leaves the ring, Miz grabs Mizdow under the arms and tugs him up, staring at him darkly. "What the hell were you thinking? Disrespecting Paul Heyman like that? Really? Really?"
"I wasn't!" he insists. "I had sunglasses on, how could he tell-"
"Don't," he grits. "Just don't. When will you accept that this is not your show? My wife gave me this show, it is mine. You are a personal assistant. It means you stay back and make sure that the true stars are comfortable. Do you understand me?" He can't help but feel some satisfaction as the light leaves Mizdow's eyes.
"Fine," he mumbles, following Mike backstage, bowed in supplication.
They have nothing else to do for the rest of the evening so Mike sends Mizdow out, with their bags, into the cool winter weather to get the car, so they can finish the drive to the city Raw will be held in early. After checking his appearance in the mirror, he walks out to the exit and taps his foot impatiently until he sees the car through the window in the door. "Took you long enough," he grouses, immediately busying himself with texts and phone calls as Mizdow drives on through the darkness. Not a word is spoken between the two men.
The trip ultimately proves to be pointless as Mike isn't booked in a match, and The Authority claims to have no time on the card for Mizdow either... Mike stands backstage and grouses over this all, especially when he gets a good look at his ring gear. There's no reason to put it on, except to prove a point... so he does. Stands in the hallway, playing what he wants to say to the annoying man over and over again in his mind until Mizdow arrives, Mike immediately laying into him for packing his gear improperly, waving a lint roller at him.
Mizdow apologizes, then explains that he wants to thank Mike. Thank him for opening doors for him, helping him to gain the attention of agents and other important people. What he's saying is meaningless to Miz, what does matter is that again he's taking all of the focus off of Mike and Marine 4, which the cover art and release date had finally been announced for this morning.
It's when Mizdow says that he's been booked for a commercial that Mike sees red. He glares holes through Mizdow as he holds the lint roller out towards him, ordering him to clean off his clothes. As Mizdow complies, Mike glares off at nothing. It's stupid, he knows, Mizdow is not Naomi, but the paranoia is still there. She had claimed that he'd gotten her in with an agent just to reveal that she'd been doing all of it to cost him the tag titles. He doesn't have a lot in the business to lose- being a utility player and all- but outside of it... The thought of Mizdow getting movie deals, and who knows what else, makes it hard to breathe. He wouldn't make a good marine, he tries to console himself. He just wouldn't... they wouldn't do that to me, would they?
This still weighing on him, he's glad to leave Raw early and head back to the hotel for some sleep. In the morning, he flies out for California and greets his wife with a hug and kiss, leaving Mizdow behind to get his luggage. "Hey, sweetheart," he greets her, hands snug around her waist.
"Hello, husband," she murmurs. "Long few days, huh?" He nods and massages her neck with warm fingers before leaning down to kiss her. "I suppose I can wait a little bit to talk to you about your movie's description then." He groans, his chin pressing against his chest as she laughs. "You're going to be safe guarding a beautiful whistle blower, huh?"
Lifting his face to lock eyes with her, he smiles charmingly before pulling her closer, stroking her hair out of her eyes as he leans in, hovering inches away from her lips. "There's only one high-value package I wanna protect," he whispers, grinning when she stares back at him, flushing hotly under her tan.
"Well, hell, when you put it that way," she muses. "MIZDOW! Hurry it up!"
Mike laughs as she grips his hand and leads him out of the airport as quickly as they dare with all of the security around.
Later that night, they're laying in bed, enjoying fresh fruit and some coconut water that John had dropped off earlier in the day, AJ scanning her phone with an intense look on her face. Before he can ask what's on her mind, his phone flashes with a few alerts and he scrolls through them, eyes widening as he looks back at her. She stares at him with a no-nonsense expression on her face as he leans up and cups her jaw, kissing her softly. "So, your return..."
She examines him for a minute before sighing. "Yeah, about that..."