The Royal Rumble. Elimination Chamber. Wrestlemania. The email had just gone out earlier in the week to the Smackdown roster, Shane announcing that Smackdown would be having a PPV in February- six competitors getting a chance for the WWE title. The lucky six aren't named and Mike seethes at the thought that it won't be him, that Shane and Daniel would be dumb enough, ridiculous enough to not include him, their most must see superstar...
AJ leans over his shoulder and reads his phone, her lips parting as she realizes what that means, kissing him quickly on the back of the neck. "So... either you win the Rumble, or you win this thing," she tells him with the kind of confidence only a wife could have for her husband, no matter how badly the losses pile up, "but either way you're walking into Wrestlemania a champion."
He chuckles and grips the side of her face, drawing her in and kissing her warmly. "Thanks, sweetheart. I hope so." He skims the email one more time before shutting his phone off and turning to face her. "So."
"So."
"The baby's asleep."
"Yep."
"And I don't have to fly out until tomorrow..."
"Yep."
His fingers press warm circles on her legs and she sighs as he leans in and kisses her again. "How about we have an in-home date night... I'll throw together a pizza, and we'll drink the last of the New Years bubbly, and we'll... see where the night takes us..."
She smirks, rubbing her nose against his. "I think we know where the night usually takes us."
"Eh, yeah," he sighs, tilting her face so he can kiss her again, eyes gleaming in the dimming sunlight.
-x
They're talking about it on Smackdown. Shane McMahon, AJ Styles, Cena. On and on and on about Elimination Chamber. Like it's theirs to win, like AJ isn't certain Mike is going to be world champion come April. Gripping Maryse's hand, he interrupts. Makes his own intentions known and says he's going to be a dual champion after he gets his intercontinental title back. Cena is nagging and AJ is droning on in his awful southern accent, saying something suggestive about Maryse and his sex life, when Miz steps up to him, daring him to continue that line of thought, just for Shane to break them apart. Put them in a match next.
Why Cena stays, Mike isn't sure, his commentary isn't that great, but he does his best to ignore him, focusing on AJ... just for Maryse to try to get involved, help her 'husband', as she always does... and then the fight spills out onto the floor, AJ sending Miz into Cena, ending the match in a DQ and leaving Mike sore and grumpy with nothing to show for it but more wounded pride.
He stomps back into the locker room and foresees the room, scattered wrestlers doing this worthless thing and that meaningless activity- he'd lost his private locker room the moment the Intercontinental title had slipped through his fingers, thrown into Ambrose's grubby, thoughtless hands- and he hisses out a breath before storming up to where Rhyno and Heath are talking quietly, neither looking thrilled about being off of TV three weeks running now. "Let's get out of here," he grouses to them, Rhyno looking surprised but Heath nodding and following them outside.
It's quiet, the drive back to the hotel, and Maryse does her best to sooth Mike's temper. "I gotta idea," Heath says a bit later when they're sitting at the hotel bar, clinging to drinks and trying to think of a way to cheer up. "Let's go upstairs and watch Rhyno and I on Ride Along. Hey, Mike, Daniel's on it with Ellsworth, maybe you can find somethin' dumb about him to laugh about on there."
It's not a great idea, but it's better than sitting here getting drunk, so he huffs and nods, pushing himself up and away from the stool he'd claimed as his own. "Fine."
Heath is tall, it's part of the reason why he's awkward and sometimes clumsy- he's more gangly than graceful, and it shows in most of his movements, but it helps this time because he's able to get his arms around both Rhyno and Miz's shoulders, guiding them to the elevator with cheerful chatter that would ordinarily annoy Mike but this time gives him something to cling to- another accent, but one that's not belittling and smug. Maryse is following behind them, chuckling softly at Heath's ramblings, and Mike glances over his shoulder at her, unsurprised to find her dark eyes locked on Heath, warm with affection for the ridiculous, loud man.
Later that night, after they're alone and Heath and Rhyno have gone back to their room, Mike mutes the TV and looks over at Maryse as she shifts her phone between her fingers. "You love him, don't you?"
Maryse pauses and looks over at him, her face- now free of makeup and still impressively gorgeous- softening, telling him everything he needs to know.