Things feel weird now that Mike's won and lost the Universal Title. There's no whiplash sensation quite like it. Those eight days he'd been champion had gone by so quickly, he's not even sure how to explain the loss. He hadn't experienced it long enough to truly even enjoy it. AJ's attempts to console him, even the kids laughing and playing and trying to include him in their fun, can't really touch the strange emptiness inside of him, especially after losing the rematch against Lashley. It just sucks to be so close to Wrestlemania and to fail at main eventing yet another year, he's always been so desperate to reclaim that glory he'd felt all of those years ago.
He sits on the porch and pinches his nose, shaking his head. He grimaces and thinks about going for a drive, taking some time to himself, something, anything to try to clear these thoughts from his head, when something cold presses against his wrist and makes him leap nearly a foot in the air. "Gah!" He scrambles around to yell at who it is, just to stop short and stare. "Oh."
Morrison smirks at him and shrugs. "Nice leap, man. Here, I brought you something."
He realizes then that the cold thing he'd felt was a Wendy's frostee. He gingerly takes it from John, giving him a suspicious glance. "Let me guess. There are French fries in that bag?"
John smirks. "Damn straight, Mike." He tugs out a container of said fries and passes it over. "I know things haven't been going great for you lately, so I thought maybe this oldie but goody would help cheer you up at least a little."
Mike hums. Digs the fries around in the cold treat and sighs. "Yeah, couldn't hurt." He chews his way through the most of the fries, John helping himself to one or two here and there, and they sit quietly, watching the sun creep down past the line of sight, tinting the sky overhead pink and purple.
"I always forget how nice your view is here," John says after a few minutes, hands hanging between his knees as he leans against the side of the porch.
"Yours is better," Mike offers. "On the beach and all."
"Hm, yeah." John smiles faintly and grabs another fry. "So what do you think we'll be doing this coming week?"
"Good question," Mike sighs. "Hopefully anything other than having to listen to Bad Bunny and Damien Priest again."
"Totally," John agrees, turning his focus back onto the awe-inspiring sunset before them.
-x
"I think I jinxed us," Mike groans. His match against McIntyre that started the night off had not gone well- he'd ended up caught in the Hurt Lock, which cost him the match, McIntyre clearly out to prove a point to Lashley. Now they're backstage, face to face with Bad Bunny and Damien Priest and it goes about as poorly as one could imagine.
"Don't worry about it," John says. "We can get them back. Come on."
Mike follows him, careful not to look too closely at John's hair.
I wanna do something different with it, he'd said earlier in the day, surrounded by well-meaning hair designers and a ridiculous amount of hair spray and other products.
Well, he had absolutely done that in spades. Mike shakes his head, letting himself into his locker room. "Ok, what's the big plan?"
-x
They wait until after Priest's match, when the ring is empty enough, and there's no one really around to stop them. John makes his way down, taunting and making fun of Priest and Bad Bunny, keeping them distracted as Miz runs down, hits him from behind with Elias' guitar and then runs before Priest can shake off his shock enough to give chase.
"That was amazing," Mike laughs as he and John make their way backstage, eager to get out of the building before Priest can find them and make them pay for all of this. "You make the best plans, John."
John grins, then laughs. "The look on his face. Man."
"Yeah, at least something went perfectly tonight." Mike claps him on the back and then leads the way to the parking deck where their car is waiting. "C'mon, let's go find something to eat and go back to the hotel. I'm wiped out."
John nods. "Sounds good. All this hair spray is making me feel kinda lightheaded anyway, could really use a shower."
Mike casts a disbelieving look at the poofy mess John's hair has become over the duration of Raw and shakes his head. "Yeah, you really could," he laughs, ignoring the huff John lets out at this subtle dig at his hair.
Neither know exactly what their plans for Wrestlemania will be, or how they'll fall on the card, but they know they'll make it work, somehow, someway. They always do.