Thanksgiving passes by all too quickly. It's much smaller than usual, just Mike, AJ, the kids, Taya and John celebrating, but it's still fun. Sara is wide eyed and excited, enjoying watching pies bake while Taya and AJ laugh and chatter in the kitchen, George sleeps nestled in John's arms and Mike teases him about spoiling his son, to which John shrugs and beams down at the little boy. After they all have had their fill of turkey, stuffing, and other fixings, they begin video calling people- his parents, AJ's family, Ricardo and Alicia, even Heath and Maryse for a short while. It's a whirlwind of struggling to get devices to work correctly, and loud laughter whenever they manage it, and Mike watches it all with a small smile on his face.
Money in the Bank is something constantly weighing in the back of his mind, and sometimes, he's glad for reprieves like these, just to muffle his doubts and uncertainties when even John can't quite manage it all on his own.
Because, God, John does definitely try. Always hyping Mike up, barely blinking an eye when people try to use their friendship against them, always trying to drive a wedge between John and Mike, which ha. The only person who ever succeeded in doing that was Mike himself, so good luck to them for even trying.
It's just, between Roman on one side, and Drew on the other, Mike isn't sure. His chances are slim, he knows this. John helps, he really does, and Mike thinks he might have a chance on Monday, but Drew fights back again, takes them all out, leaving AJ behind just to get rescued at the last minute by his massively tall bodyguard.
It replays over and over again in Mike's mind, how close he came to yet again losing everything. If he had cashed in a second earlier, Drew would've just fought back, knocked him out with either his headbutt or the boot, and everything would've been lost. He lays in bed and blinks up at the ceiling, and struggles just to breathe normally.
"Mike," John mumbles, sounding half-asleep but worried, and Mike snaps.
"Do you think I really have a chance here, John?" he asks. "To cash in and actually defeat Drew McIntyre? Huh? Do you?"
It's a slew of rapidfire questions, and it's unfair, Mike knows, but once he gets going, he can't really stop himself, and when John sits up and examines him in the shadows from the window, Mike buries his hands into the sheets and tries to hide how hard he's trembling. "Yeah," John finally says, sounding more awake than a moment before. "I do. You know why?" Mike shakes his head and John grins, his teeth flashing in the muffled moonlight. "Because you're The Miz, and you've been awesome for well over a decade by now. And I'm your best friend, and I'm gonna see you through to victory. Like I did before. So no worries, alright? We've got this."
He gets out of bed, leaving Mike to mull over his words, and when he returns, he pauses by Mike's bed and drops his hand on top of Mike's head, lightly smoothing his hair down. "Try to get some sleep, huh? Tonight didn't go great, but we'll have other opportunities. Come on, Mike."
Mike huffs, annoyed but feeling oddly warm at John's touch. "Yeah, alright," he grumbles, rolling over and closing his eyes. John remains close, massaging his scalp, until the tension drains from his tight shoulders and he slumps more thoroughly into his pillow.
"There you go," John whispers, watching and listening to how his breathing steadies and, before too long, he slips into sleep. "Night, Mike."
Padding back to bed, John hums and watches his best friend's back for a few moments longer before tangling himself up in the sheets to stave off the December chill, and immediately falls back asleep as well.