Mike stands at the door, a frown on his face as he stares out at the yard beyond. He barely responds as AJ joins him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "What's up?" he murmurs to her.
"Feels like I should be asking you that," she hums, face buried between his shoulder blades. "You alright? You've been cranky since Monday."
He sighs, shrugging as he leans into her warmth. "Yeah, well," he mumbles. "I guess I just thought I deserved more time on Monday, and then I just get attacked. It's stupid." He huffs out a breath. "Leave me with not a lot of hope for the Rumble Saturday."
She sighs. "I'm sorry," she says, lightly stroking his sternum through the tank top he's wearing. "I know that was disappointing, but was it at all fun backstage for you?"
"A little, I guess," he responds after some thought. "I mean, once they got it out of their system after I left the ring."
"Makes sense," she says softly. "Well, maybe you'll fuel that annoyance into the Rumble and have a little better luck."
He sighs. "I'm almost not caring anymore. I have better luck with MizTV, at least I get a few minutes on that instead of just fifteen seconds before I get my ass kicked."
She clucks at him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. They're still standing there, watching Sara and George play, when the kids seem to grow tired of fresh air and sun and turn, running peltmelt back towards the house. AJ lets out a soft chuckle as Mike quickly pushes the door open and kneels down to scoop both kids up, one in each arm. AJ holds the door open as he stands, carrying them both inside.
"You guys tired of playing outside already?" he asks them, nuzzling both kids and smirking when they both begin protesting, George patting Mike's face.
"Daddy needs shave," he says, eyes wide as he pokes at Mike's cheek.
"Hey, now," AJ says, pulling George into her own arms and spinning him around, making him squeal. "Speak for yourself, little guy. Some of us like daddy with a bit of a beard."
"Scratchy," he mumbles, burying his face in her neck.
AJ laughs a bit, rocking him back and forth. "Seems someone needs a little nap," she tells Mike. "She good?"
Mike glances down at Sara, who's peering over at her little brother with wide eyes. "Yeah, I've got her," he says, bouncing her on his hip. "You wanna go get some lunch, sweetie?"
"Yes, Daddy," she says, digging her fingers into his shoulder as he walks her into the kitchen. "Mac and cheese?"
"Again?" he teases her, aware that it's been her dinner the night before, and lunch a couple days ago as well.
"Please?" she asks, batting her eyes at him.
He huffs, wondering where she's learned that trick at. "Will you eat apples with it if I slice them just the way you like them?"
She mulls this over a moment, then nods. "Yes, daddy."
"Alright," he sighs, pulling out a pan and filling it with water. He settles in with the apple corer and a couple of apples next to her, quirking an eyebrow at her as she plays quietly with her crayons. "How many times are you going to want mac and cheese this week?"
She shrugs, leaning her head over her coloring book and scribbling with her tongue sticking out between her teeth.
He chuckles and continues slicing, careful to get all of the seeds and core before slicing it into small slices that is the only way she'll eat the apples.
"Daddy?"
"Mm hmm?"
"Are you going to wrestle this weekend?"
"I am," he says after a moment. "Do you remember the royal rumble?"
She squints at him, frowning a little. "Is that... when everyone goes flying and Kofi stands on his hands?"
"It is," Mike says, amused that that was her takeaway from the matches. "Well, it's this weekend and as far as I know, I'm in it." He pauses for a moment, staring ahead blankly, apple juice dripping down his fingers. He hadn't really considered not being in the actual match, but it wouldn't be the first time, he thinks. Exhaling slowly, he turns his focus back onto preparing Sara's lunch, standing up long enough to check the pasta.
"It looks like fun," she says after a moment, kicking her feet back and forth. "I'd like to play in it one day."
"It's not play, sweetie," Mike tells her. "Usually takes lots of training to get good enough to safely be in a ring like daddy is. I wouldn't want you to get the wrong idea and hurt yourself."
She glances up at him, her blue eyes so similar to his that it still takes his breath away sometimes. "Alright, daddy. I guess I'll just have to start training then." She turns her attention back onto her coloring.
Mike watches her, biting back a chuckle as he wonders if she would want to be a second generation Mizanin in the world of wrestling, and how the landscape will look like once she's old enough.