The days leading up to Money in the Bank are a whirlwind. Most of their time is spent in Florida, Mike watching as John limbers up before the match, doing as many parkour drills as he can, mixed in with sporadic workouts in the gym. He seems tireless, with a constant grin on his face as he trains as hard as he can. Taya is with them, as well, cheering her husband on, giving him as much support as she can when she's not busy with her own business in NXT.
Mike tilts his head as they watch NXT together, one of the few breaks they're allowing themselves to take before Sunday, and glances over at Morrison. "What do you think about this Robert Stone goofball?"
John shrugs, lifts a bottle of coconut water to his lips, and gulps almost half of it down in one go. "Eh," he finally says. "Guy's ridiculous, with absolutely no drip. She likes Kamiya, I think. He seems harmless. I've only met him in passing though, so I dunno."
Mike makes a noncommittal sort of noise and they go back to watching quietly, pleased when Taya pulls off another win.
"See, Presley, mama's doing good," Johnny croons to their little dog who's been gaping at the TV since he realized Taya was on there- without him, no less!
The next day, they're back at it with hard work, Mike doing some media over the phone while John races around the rocks surrounding a beach they'd found where people were sparse enough to barely blink at John's activities. The next few days are much the same, media and work outs, until finally. Sunday arrives.
"You good?" Mike asks once they arrive at the arena.
John blinks a couple times, then nods. "Yeah, you know, I think I am. Kinda nervous, not gonna lie, but I... I think I'm gonna be ok." He grins and adjusts his sunglasses. "You gonna be alright?"
Mike hesitates, not entirely looking forward to getting in the crossfire of eight men with ladders and distract Johnny from everything going on around him. "Yeah, man," he says. "I'll be fine. Just looking forward to watching you take this thing. Hey, both of us holding the briefcase in a calendar year, that'd be pretty fantastic, huh?"
John's grin is bright and quick. "That's the plan, brother. That is the plan."
They go out and something shifts, slightly, in John. Mike and he shoot off drip sticks, and the next thing Mike knows, John gently grips his wheelchair and pushes it back. "I've gotta do this on my own!" he tells him, such a look of quiet determination on his face that Mike doesn't even argue. "Can you-?"
"Yeah man," Mike calls out loudly, trying to be heard over the crowd. "I'll cheer you on from back there. I know you're gonna kill it, Johnny." He takes ahold of the wheels and pushes himself in the direction John had put him, glancing back only once as John power walks to the ring. He breathes in and out deeply before taking his leave.
And god, Johnny does fight. He has mixed feelings on John working together with Seth, considering they're both well-aware of how much of a snake the man is, and sure enough, he betrays John within minutes, as soon as it serves him. Ultimately, John doesn't win, but still. He'd done his best, and Mike waits for the opportunity to tell him as such. He doesn't have to wait long, John trudging back to him, clearly sore, as he grips his wheelchair handles and starts to push him back in the way of the locker room.
"Hey," Mike says, stopping him by reaching back and putting a hand on his forearm, tilting his head back to look up at him. "I'm proud of you. That match isn't easy. But next time? Never trust Seth Rollins."
John laughs humorlessly and shrugs. "Yeah, guess I had to learn that lesson the hard way, huh?"
Mike taps his sweaty wrist, then faces forward again. "C'mon, you go shower, we'll get some food, then go relax back at the hotel."
"Sounds great," John sighs, pushing him with a little more energy to do just that.
-x
Raw is... well, Raw just is. Mike's still in his wheelchair, trying to support Morrison in six man action with AJ and Omos, and Riddle steals his dripstick. Mike yells at him, but it's too late- Riddle douses Omos with it, and Mike can do nothing but look horrified as Omos looks back to find him with the damn thing in hand once more. He scrambles back, but he can't push himself back up the ramp in his chair, and then Morrison is there, trying to defend him, but Omos isn't listening, barely even registering AJ's words, then he all but tosses John back into the ring and Mike clocks immediately as John begins walking gingerly on his knee, dread trailing up his spine at the thought of both of them injured.
The match is lost, of course it is, and Mike looks up at John as he limps up to him. "Hey, are you ok?"
"Yeah," he grumbles, wiping some of the sweat out of his eyes. "What happened with Omos?"
"Riddle happened," he says darkly. "Hey, maybe a referee could-" he starts to suggest as John grips his wheelchair and starts to turn it.
"I've got this," he huffs, and he does, despite the uneven gait he has all the way back up to the top of the ramp.
All Mike can do is sit and wait and fret as a trainer pokes around, examining Morrison, taking especial care with his knee.
Please, he thinks, white knuckling the wheels of his chair. Not him too.