Mike breathes in deep, slow. He'd been having an ok day, but then an interview had gone south out of nowhere- an innocuous question asked at the wrong time had scraped over his nerves and left him like this, sprawled out in bed, with Sara held tightly in his arms as he tries to move past the swirling thoughts overwhelming him. "Daddy's ok," he murmurs to her, feeling oddly flushed but cold at the same time.
Well, the question in hindsight is far from innocent. Had been what the commentary in WWE seemed to have been going on about since Wrestlemania. That there's issues between he and John. And there isn't, not really. Mike doesn't blame him for his injuries, or the losses, or anything else that's been going on. It's just how things go, sometimes, and he can accept some of the blame for their failures too. Some. After all, John had nothing to do with Mike losing the WWE title. Had even swallowed the blame enough to help him get the briefcase back after he'd lost it the first time.
So no, there isn't a problem between them. But he knows how wrestling works, once people start speculating and whispering, it leads to things. Burrows into people's thoughts and one thing leads to another, and... Yeah. He sighs, smoothing his hand down Sara's shirt. "Uncle John and I are just fine," he tells the snoozing little girl.
She hums. Buries her face deeper into his chest and falls into a deeper sleep. He smiles down at her and soothes her hair back, marveling at the innocence on her face. "I love you," he whispers to her.
-x
Raw feels like a repeat. "Again?" Mike asks when he sees Morrison vs Priest on the match card.
John shrugs. "Guess so," he says, when someone clears their throat loudly behind them. Both turn to look and blink at finding Adam Pearce waiting behind them, arms crossed behind his back, a solemn look on his face. "What do you want?"
"Just a little clarification," he says, nodding at the paper they're staring at. "It's not just another ordinary match. Whoever wins that match gets to pick the stipulation for Miz vs Priest at Wrestlemania Backlash."
Mike's jaw drops. "What? I don't have a match at-"
"Well, you do now," Pearce informs him coolly bfore turning to walk back to his office.
Mike gapes after him, shaking his head in disbelief. "John-"
"Don't worry about it," John tells him. "I'll win this, you'll get to choose the match type. And we'll get him out of our hair. Easy."
And ordinarily, Mike thinks, it would be, but they're stressed and they're snakebit and part of Mike is still worried because John seems injured more than he seems cleared now a days and... and yeah, he sits on the barricade and he cheers John on as enthusiastically as he can, but it doesn't matter. It changes nothing. John loses and Mike waits anxiously until finally Priest announces he wants a Lumberjack match.
At this, Mike breathes in, deeply, then exhales slowly. Feels better than he has in awhile. He can handle a lumberjack match. No big deal. Things will be fine. They have to be, he decides, watching as John fills a fresh ice pack and settles it on his aching shoulders, trying to ease the after effects of getting spiked twice in such a short amount of time.