Mike gets a couple days at home before he has to fly out for Wrestlemania weekend. Gets to play with Sara and watch Heath bond with his newborn daughter, their eyes locked on each other as Monroe grips his fingers and makes soft baby noises. "What if I do somethin' wrong?" he frets wearily, leaning closer to the baby. "I'd die if I did somethin' to harm you, lil Monroe," he says softly, brushing his nose against hers.
"You're fine," AJ tells him with a soft smile, running her hand up and down his spine briskly. "You were always great with Sara when she was little, you're gonna be a perfect father." Maryse is upstairs, sleeping until the baby needs fed again, and AJ smiles as Sara tilts closer to the bundled, looking up at Heath curiously. "Carefully, sweetie. That's a baby," she murmurs. "Your future best friend, Monroe Slater."
Sara just looks confused at this and leans back into Mike, her thumb easing into her mouth. He kisses the top of her head and lightly tickles her until she giggles, wiggling and squirming in his lap as he hoists her up and walks away to let Heath have uninterrupted time with his daughter, setting Sara down on his and AJ's bed and blowing raspberries against her stomach, causing her to squeal even more. "Don't worry about the baby and uncle Heath," he tells her, curling her little hand in his. "No matter what, you'll always be my baby girl." He nuzzles into her and smiles. "You're gonna watch Wrestlemania, right? Cheer on your old man?"
She blinks a few times. "Wa... wr... sla, ma," she says with a frown, face crunched up in concentration.
He chuckles and kisses her fingers. "Close enough for a two year old," he murmurs, picking her up and flying her over his prone body. "You're getting so big, before long I'll be chasing off boys with a stick, sweetie." She waves her hands and feet over him and he laughs, laying her back down against his chest and running his fingers through her hair. "I love you, baby girl. No matter what town or country, I am at, or what I'm doing. You're the reason I open my eyes in the morning, and the last thing I think about at night." When he looks down at her, she's fast asleep again and he smiles softly, kissing her nose. "Rest well, sweetie."
Wrestlemania weekend is a long, tiring, mess. Axxess, media, visiting sick children in hospitals and trying not to think about what he'd do if it was Sara in one of these beds. It's almost a relief when it's time for Wrestlemania itself. He stares at the large arena, full of empty chairs, and tilts his head to smirk at Heath, who's sitting next to him, doing the same. "Hard to believe the two of us are almost old hands at these things by now, huh?"
Heath nods, nudges him. "Yep! This is, like, my seventh. That's insane."
Mike's lips twitch. "It's my eleventh, pretty much. That's... almost inconceivable. I feel so old." He laughs and Heath nudges him, eyes gleaming with mirth.
"You are, brother," Heath chuckles, only laughing harder when Mike pushes him, sending him toppling back against the chair next to him. They smirk at each other and settle down, both lost in thought about their upcoming matches. "You nervous?"
"Not really," Mike sighs. "No real need to be. I go in, I wrestle, I hope for the best, I win, I leave." At least he hopes it'll be that easy. He's so close. So close to being the longest running Intercontinental champion of all time. Losing tonight would be a big blow and delay it by who knows how long. "How about you?"
Heath shrugs, lips twitching. "No point here either. Just gonna go in and do the best I can; prolly won't win either way, but least I'd know I'd given it my absolute best. Just like I did the last six."
Mike nods. "That's one thing I like most about ya, Heath. No matter what, you never let much get you down." He slaps him on the shoulder and then checks the clock. "Damn, we should go. Doors'll be opening in about half an hour."
Heath mumbles a curse before standing. "Yep, let's get outta here, I gotta get into my gear soon anyway."
Mike is still adjusting his, standing still while his glasses and head gear and everything else is set to perfect, when Heath gets eliminated from the Battle Royal during the preshow. He cringes and tries to look on the bright side- Heath had still lasted a pretty long time, it could've been a lot worse for the guy. Finally they get his clothes sorted out so he looks a lot more put together and, after some tense waiting, it's time and he heads out for the ring, their match first on the main card. Seth's entrance had been ripped from Game of Thrones, ice blue contacts and all, and Finn's had just been to advertise his new shirt and the charity it's aimed for.
Mike pauses at the entrance ramp and starts arguing with Bo, who decidedly does not want his only showing at Wrestlemania to be a loss at the battle royal earlier, but he finally convinces him to go back. Axel is a bit of an easier sell, understanding what Mike's thinking before he even fully suggests it, so it's a solo Mike who goes down to face off with his opponents. He fights, he claws, he scratches, he does all that he realistically can to keep his title back around his own waist and away from those other two, but in the end, they're just too much. He feels it slipping through his fingers with the first curb stomp to Balor that leaves Mike dazed, the second curb stomp ends all rational thought and Mike lays there, listening from what feels like a lifetime away, when the referee counts to three and announces Seth new intercontinental champion.
Twenty two days, he thinks, abruptly feeling as cold as Seth's entrance had looked. He had been so... so, so, soooo close...
He gives himself one hour to ignore everyone, to mope in his private locker room with the door shut, letting his thoughts run in circles about all of the things he could've done differently during the match. Then he pulls his clothes on, he unlocks the door and shoots a text to Heath, to the Miztourage. They look relieved when they see him again, none of them sure exactly what to say to him in the face of his loss, but none of them eager to do anything to piss him off considering the mood he's in, so it's a quiet, uncomfortable ride back to the hotel.
Once there, Mike looks at the three men closest to him, Rhyno lurking behind Heath with a watchful look on his face. "I'm going to be fine," he tells them. "You do not need to walk on eggshells around me. I've rebound from worse losses. This is nothing."
This breaks the ice, a little, and Heath claps him on the shoulder with a faint smile before grabbing his bag and heading inside, Rhyno behind him. Bo and Axel are still quiet, worried, but they begin arguing under their breaths before they'd even reached the elevator and Mike smirks a little at that at least never really changing.
Raw itself comes up much too soon. Mike doesn't feel like he's gotten any sleep, his eyes still gritty, his thoughts still that side of maudelin. But he forces himself to face the new Intercontinental champion anyway- scowls at Seth carrying his title, what he had made so prestigeous over the last few months. He mentions his rematch clause, but backtracks when Seth suggests he use it tonight, all too aware he is not in the proper headspace for that kind of a match right now. Jeff Hardy interrupting to help when he, Bo and Axel start beating Finn and Seth down is so stupid and unnecessary that Mike has to fight not to scream in frustration right there.
The rest of the show drones on and Angle places them in a six man match, the three of them against Seth, Finn, and Jeff. Of course. Mike figures the general managers wouldn't be able to make a single match on his own without the wrestlers themselves doing the majority of the hard work in deciding who should be booked in what matches on their own. Heath and Rhyno getting targetted by new roster members, Authors of Pain, makes Mike cringe even more, and Heath looks tired when he comes backstage, tired of losing, tired of their accolades being ignored. Mike feels bad for him, and empathizes more than he thinks he should.
The six man. Yeah, it is what it is. Another curb stomp for Mike, another loss. Yada, yada, yada. HIs ears are ringing and he's glad that Rhyno is driving when they leave the arena later. "I just wanna lay down and stare at my baby girl's picture til I fall asleep," Heath says from somewhere to Mike's right.
"Me too," he mumbles, eyes blinking heavily as he dozes right then and there.
So he does, the only thing holding him together in the darkest hour being that within the next twelve hours, he'll be home holding Sara and listening to AJ gush about all of the things their daughter's learned over the weekend.