Mike blinks blurrily, staring up at the sky. it's quiet outside, the waves licking lazily at the sand, and he exhales slowly, watching the stars twinkling overhead. He doesn't really allow himself nights like these often- he's usually too busy to oblige John in his various ways, but they'd both had a couple days off, and he'd taken him up on the invite to sleepover on the beach outside of John and Taya's apartment.
"So you're working with Theory now," Morrison murmurs, voice slurring with exhaustion. They were both tired from their individually busy wrestling schedules, but neither were eager to doze off just yet, not having had the time or energy to really sit and talk a lot lately. "How do you feel about that?"
"I don't really think I feel like anything about it," Mike says. Muses over it for a few minutes, then shrugs. "He's kind of like me, especially when I was younger and hungrier, I guess. I can see why people make that comparison. I'm not thrilled with it, I would prefer being the only Miz, but you know. Shit happens."
"That's true," Morrison mumbles. "God knows I've been compared to some weird ass names over the years."
"Care to share?" Mike asks, amused and curious.
"Nah," John says, throwing an arm over his eyes and settling back deeper in the sand. "I'm not one to name names."
Mike huffs, tilting his head to look at him for a moment and, finding him not even shifting under the weight of his gaze, he huffs and collects a handful of sand. Counts to ten until John seems mostly relaxed, maybe even fast asleep, and hurls the clump right at him.
"HEY!" John cries out, jerking awake and fumbling around as sand rains down off of him. "dammit, Mike!" he cries out, lunging forward and all but tackling Mike into the sand.
He laughs and sputters, fighting back, even succeeding in pinning John into the grit before John tosses sand in Mike's face, sending him flailing backwards, struggling, John pushing him back down. "I give!" he cries finally, surprised to find just how close to the water they are, waves licking lazily at his hair when it rolls in, tide quickly approaching. "Please, John!"
John huffs and lets him up, even gripping his hand and tugging him out of the sand, away from the lapping water. "Idiot," he mumbles.
Mike scoffs and kneels in long enough to scoop water in his hands, quickly splashing the sand off of his face with it. "Yeah, sure," he tells him. "This beach-side sleepover was all your idea, buddy."
"I didn't expect a sand fight," he huffs.
"Would you prefer us make sand castles?" Mike asks with a smirk.
"Maybe I would," he says, crossing his arms over his chest petulantly.
"If it makes you feel any better, maybe next time we can have a sleepover in my backyard. I've been wanting to do that with the kids anyway, since they're older now and can remember it. A big ol' tent, and snacks, and maybe a projector for a movie marathon. We'll see. I'll let you know if I can find some time for it. Taya can come too, of course."
John smiles at him. "Of course," he says, plopping back down in the sand and pillowing his head with folded arms, once more staring back at the stars. "I am really glad we did this," he says quietly.
Mike joins him, sprawling out and also examining the stars with curious eyes. He doesn't get the opportunity to sit and really just take the world in like this often, after all. He decides to just enjoy every second of it while he can. "I am too," he whispers. "Thanks."
John looks over with a grin. "You're welcome, Mike."