"That get together was fun," AJ says once everyone's left, curled up in bed next to her husband and daughter, eyes barely open.
Mike nods, brushing his fingers against her arm. "Yeah, it was. We should do it more often." He kisses the side of her head, runs his fingers through Sara's hair. "I never realize how much I miss everyone until we're all under one roof again."
AJ smiles. Kisses his chest. "Yeah," she mumbles. "I know what you mean." He shifts the baby so he can kiss AJ easier, tilting her face up to meet his. "We'll schedule these things more often. Maybe not Ricardo and Alicia every time, but ... you know, we'll figure it out."
He nods. "I love you," he whispers to her with a small smile.
She beams against his mouth. "I love you too, husband."
-x
Days, weeks, months of planning, of hoping, of wishing for the best possible outcome clicks in a rush for Mike that Sunday. Ambrose comes so close to getting himself disqualified, so damn close that Mike can taste it, but in the end it's Maryse who gets ejected from ringside... However, this works in Mike's favor as it's just enough distraction for him to get the win against Dean, laughing at how easy it all was in the end.
She returns once he's got the victory in the bag, holding onto him as he chortles and clings to the title belt. He's the person to hold the intercontinental title the second most amount of times, only a couple wins behind Chris Jericho! Considering how long Jericho's been in the business, this feels huge to him. He breathes in and out, thinking the air tastes differently now that he's champion again, the familiar weight of the belt in his arm welcome in its beauty and heftiness..
"I'm so happy for you!" she cries out once they're backstage and he's staring at the title with a dopey smile on his face. "Let's celebrate!" Heath and Rhyno are back at the hotel, since they hadn't been booked for the night, and he nods, sending them a text before following her out to the car.
The two are waiting for them at the hotel bar, Rhyno already eating his way through a bowl of peanuts, and Heath grins, greeting Maryse with a kiss and slapping Mike on the shoulder. "Congrats, man. Hey, who knows, maybe someday you'll give me a chance at the belt, huh?"
Mike shrugs. "Never know." He thinks it'd be interesting to wrestle the guy, Heath having impressed him a fair amount the last year, but for now he just has to keep Ambrose's grummy hands away from it, then maybe he could focus on fresh blood, new contenders. "Hey, bartender, a round for everyone on me!" he says, feeling free and loose for the first time in months.
"Big spender," Maryse teases him, already leaning off of Heath and making a happy kind of sound when a glass of wine is deposited in front of her. "Mm," she exhales, sipping from it and leaning more heavily into Heath as he laughs and kisses her, tasting the wine on her lips. "We won't stay for long," she promises him, wiping some of the stain off of his lips.
"I was hopin' you'd say that," he says, grinning at her with a raised eyebrow, Rhyno unbothered by it all as he downs his beer while chasing it with the salty snacks laid before him.
Mike laughs, shaking his head at his friend's ridiculousness. Knows he wouldn't change any of it for the world.
Whereas Sunday was Mike's example of the perfect day, however, Monday quickly goes off of the rails. Dean tries to force a rematch from Angle, who thankfully refuses him because Maryse had thought ahead and planned a celebration for Mike's big win... just for Dean to break back into the arena despite being given the night off and wreck the entire event, making Mike and Maryse both paranoid before legitimately showing his face after Mike's destroyed Maryse's gift to him, and beat up some random dude dressed in a bear outfit, and...
He stews as he heads backstage, the only thing keeping him from screaming being that he still has his title belt. Rhyno is settled in his locker room, looking about as unhappy as Mike feels, and they eye each other. "Have you seen Maryse?"
"Heath's with her," he rumbles. "She looked pretty upset over the clock, man."
Mike opts to let Heath comfort Maryse, settling down next to Rhyno and closing his eyes. "Shit. I had no idea that it was a legitimate gift. I thought about how Ambrose went after Rollins that one time, and... ugh. I'm an idiot." Rhyno doesn't say anything and Mike glances over at him. "So what's going on with you? You look about as pleased as I feel."
Rhyno exhales. Shrugs. "Guess I'm just kinda missing Smackdown right now. How things used to be. At least Heath and I were... kinda... alright there. We're floundering here and I don't know what to do about it. Cesaro and Sheamus, they chumped us big time tonight."
Mike grimaces. "Sorry about that, man. There are more people here, and it's hard to get a good footing. If it helps at all, I'm glad you guys are here. And Maryse is really glad you're both here."
Rhyno chuckles, staring down at his hands. "Yeah. At least you have someone to kind of talk to when those two are... busy, huh?"
Mike nods. "You know, you really are the best thing to happen to Heath, not counting Maryse herself. You kept him moving, and together, when he was at his lowest. We owe you for that, he was going through some bad crap last year, and I didn't help when I should've. So it means a lot that you've been there for him through it all."
Rhyno looks a little awkward at the praise. "Oh, well, you know, anyone would've done it..."
"Not really," Mike says, holding Rhyno's gaze until he thinks the man's accepting just how thoroughly Mike means what he's saying. He looks away when the door opens and Maryse and Heath walk in, Heath still patting Maryse's arm as she stares at her feet.
"We can get it fixed, Maryse, it's ok. Trust me, I know some guys who could do magic with big ol' clocks like that." He kisses her shoulder before spotting Mike, shooting him a puzzled kind of glare until he gets to his feet.
While Heath retreats to sit next to Rhyno, Mike joins Maryse, standing before her awkwardly, ringing his hands. "Maryse? Could you look at me, please?" When she finally does, he feels humiliated at the tear stains down her cheeks, how red her eyes are. "Aw, man, Maryse, I'm really sorry. I honestly thought Ambrose was hiding in that box. Will you forgive me, please? I didn't mean to wreck your lovely, thoughtful gift like that..."
He thinks he's rubbing it in a little thick but her face clears some, his over-exaggerations always working to sooth her. She nods. "Oui, I suppose. Just don't do it again." She slaps him, laughs a little, then hiccups, fresh tears pouring down her face. "I had it flown in from a lovely little clock shop in Montreal I used to love to wander around inside of when I was younger, just for you. As a thank you for everything you've helped me with the last year..." She wipes at her cheeks in frustrated, futile little motions. "I hope the clock maker wasn't watching."
"I'll send him a letter of thank you and commendation on his expert clock work," Mike promises, desperate to do anything to make her smile again. Which happens, her lips lifting at the corners just a little. "And Heath is right, it can be repaired. I promise you, I'll get that done. The next time you guys come to visit, it'll be regal and gorgeous in our living room." He lightly kisses her cheek, chanting success! when she finally smiles brightly against his face as she kisses him back.
"Fine, fine. I forgive you." She then settles in next to Heath and strokes his jaw, murmuring about his headache and various other things the trainer had told him after his match with Sheamus and Cesaro went so poorly. Rhyno listens in intently, but Mike sits down and focuses on Raw, his belt held loosely in hand as he allows his mind to wander.
Raw definitely isn't easy, he thinks, half-watching as Neville attacks TJ Perkins for the simple want of his promised title opportunity. But at least we have each other. He glances over at the others, laughing as Rhyno flicks at Heath's hair, Maryse giggling into her hand while he tries to justify holding onto this hairstyle for so long. It could definitely be worse.