"I forgot how it felt," Mike murmurs, hand warm against AJ's back. "All eyes on me, the WWE title in hand. Seeing how people in the airport react to It... it's amazing. I never realized how much I missed it until this morning, at the airport, watching it go through scans and people realizing just what exactly it was. Incredible."
She hums, blinking up at him lovingly, a smile on her face. "I'm so happy for you," she says, nuzzling closer, pressing soft kisses against his jaw, down his throat, along his shoulders. "You deserve all of it, and more."
He smiles and works his fingers under her jaw, lifting her face up until he can look her in the eye. "I wouldn't have made it this far without you," he confesses and she smiles back at him, sighing softly as he claims her mouth in a slow, heated kiss. "I love you so much."
"I love you too," she sighs, hand ghosting down his side as they cuddle closer, happy and warm, easing slowly into some well-needed rest.
-x
The joy, however, is short lived. Mike's match against Lashley looms, darkens the few days he gets at home with the kids and AJ, and even all of the encouragement from John, and AJ, and George and Sara doing a haphazard little cheer for him before he leaves that Monday isn't enough to entirely ease his anxiety. He feels sick throughout the weekend, acid reflux, he thinks, but it worsens throughout Monday, making the flight from California to Florida more than a little embarrassing as he struggles just to eat anything. They make it through the first segment at the start of the show well enough- Mike's dressed, he's composed, he's doing ok... then his main event match against Lashley is confirmed and it all goes downhill from there.
Mike can barely stand by the time they try to walk to the titantron at 8 PM, Morrison doing his best to sooth him, but Pearce and Shane are forcing the situation and he tries to explain how bad it all feels, he really does, his head spinning, nausea overwhelming him. Then Lashley finds him and attacks him, and all he can do is lay on the cold tile floor, struggling just to breathe as more cramps rock through his body. "Ah crap," he whimpers, Morrison still yelling for a towel to try to maintain some of his friend's dignity.
He's forced to drink some ginger ale, and eat some crackers, and somehow he feels moderately better by 10 PM. After managing to escape and garnering a countout loss that allows him to retain the belt, he'd hoped that'd be enough for one night, but nope. He finds himself waiting, watching, and losing even more hope when Pearce announces another match at the end of the night.
John pats his back, rubs his shoulder. "It's gonna be ok, man. I'll be out there, always have your back, y'know?"
This is a comfort to him, of course... until they're in the ring and Pearce announces it's to be a lumberjack match. Morrison is out there, as steadfast as ever, but it's one guy out of a couple dozen. Mike tries, he really, really does, but he's pale and sweaty and the bell hasn't even rung yet, and... by the time it does, he knows, deep inside, he's already lost. But he fights, with everything he has. What had given him the briefcase in the first place, what had eased his way to victory the week prior. Swallows down his growing trepidation, his nerves, everything, and... ends up hanging limply in Lashley's submission, the pain too much, leaving him unconscious and barely moving as Raw ends.
John waits, has no choice really, as Lashley poses over the prone body of his friend, title in hand. The lumberjacks are laughing, Shelton and Cedric happiest of them all, and John bites his lip until it's safe for him to scramble into the ring, grab Mike and drag him to the relative safety of the floor outside of the ring. Refs are wandering around, and a couple kneel to make sure Mike's fine, which he slowly begins regaining consciousness after a minute and John cradles the back of his neck, frowning down at him. "John?" he mumbles.
"Yeah, man. I'm here. It- it's going to be ok," he says with a sigh.
"My belt- John, where's my title-?" he asks, eyes wide and horrified. "John-"
"I'm sorry," John says quietly, shaking his head.
"I lost," Mike realizes, the simplicity of his words striking him deeply. "John, why- no," he pleads, eyes wet with unshed tears.
"I'm so sorry, Mike, if I could've done something, I would've." John helps him when Mike moves to sit up, rubbing slow circles against his back before Mike grits his teeth and throws his arms around John, burying his face in his neck as he hugs him. "it's gonna be ok."
Mike wants to believe him, but he can't figure out how right now, even as he grips John's jacket and tries not to completely fall apart when he realizes it's really, truly over- there will be no do-overs, no court cases that can return his title belt to him. Nothing. He's failed.