Jeff Hardy. 2017. Intercontinental Champion. The idea's laughable. About as laughable as Kurt Angle's illegitimate son getting moved over to Raw and immediately thinking he deserves a shot at Mike's title. Mike curls his fingers into a fist, then relaxes them. Then tenses them again, just to blink hard when little Sara's hand rests on his, her fingers uncoordinated and pudgey as she tries to mimic him, eyes wide and lips parted as she babbles cheerfully at him. He swallows. Stares at her with a small smile, hoisting her up and kissing her sweet face.
"Did you come over here to cheer Daddy up?" he wonders, nosing at her and laughing when she slaps her hands against his cheeks, eyes shining in the mid-afternoon sun. "Well if anyone could." He swoops her around, keeping her a few inches off of the ground as he makes soft airplane noises, causing her to squeal and clap her hands happily. He looks up after a few moments to find AJ watching them, a small smile on her face. "I think this one is going to be a highflyer wrestler some day, mom," he says.
"Oh boy," she murmurs softly, walking over to join them. "Part of me hopes not." They've had this discussion, or one similar. What they would want for their child when she's old enough to understand her own passions. Happiness, of course, is at the top of their lists. Safety, good health, love, understanding, acceptance. The usual things a person would want. But AJ better than anyone understands the stress placed on a woman in WWE, especially one determined to knock down all doors and possible restrictions due to gender or size or anything else. She eases the baby out of Mike's grip and kisses her cheeks, pressing her forehead against Sara's for a moment. "Whatever you choose, baby girl," she says softly, "I'll support you every step of the way."
Mike smiles at his girls. Realizes that he's not thought about the Intercontinental title for a whole five minutes. Shrugging it off, he exhales. Whatever comes, I'll handle it. For now... he leans in and starts tickling his daughter's feet, both AJ and Sara breaking down with laughter as she squirms and flails around, eyes wide.
Monday comes. Mike flies out from LA to the site of Raw. Ignores reports that he'll be expected to work on Christmas and New Years Day. Listens idly to Bo, Axel, Maryse and Heath talking quietly, lost in thought about the best way to defend against Jeff Hardy. Other than the fact that he's old and dated, and boring... and I am about to be the longest reigning Intercontinental champion ever... He scoffs at the thought of losing and, upon hitting the ring, proves why. Despite losing Bo, despite losing Axel, despite the distraction that Matt Hardy causes, he holds his own. Until Jeff has him sprawled out while climbing the turnbuckle, and even then all it takes is Maryse, brushing his skin, yelling at him, to revive him, cause him to move. He escapes Jeff's unfortunate landing and finishes the match up quickly from there, celebrating with Maryse on the apron before heading backstage.
I knew it, he thinks, holding the title close once they're back in his locker room, everything in his world perfect once more. "I am going to be the longest reigning Intercontinental champion of all time." It isn't quite the level he thinks he deserves, but it's still... pretty damn awesome. If Sara does come to WWE at some point in her life, it'll be with both of her parents holding titles for record-shattering amounts of time. Yes, AJ may have lost her 'longest ever' crown to Nikki Bella, but the fact remains. Her name is up towards the very best of the best. He smiles at the thought of it. It's quite the legacy for her to come in to. And, he thinks with a small smile, if anyone can handle the pressure of that like a champ, it'll be Sara.
He can't wait to see her grow up and take on her life head-on.