A/N: Apologies for the lateness of this chapter, I was diagnosed with strep throat last Wednesday and decided to take a short break from writing until I felt less like sleeping all the time!
Seth as inaugural world champion. It's not really a surprise anymore. He seems to just collect world title belts like he would be useless without that claim to his name. It is a little surprising that Mike gets one of the first opportunities at a chance at Money in the Bank.
And less surprising when he loses it just as quickly. He breathes in and out roughly, digging his fingers into the strap of his luggage, gritting his teeth. He's so tired of losing, tired of being angry, tired of being tired. He just wants to feel like himself again and if that can't happen within the halls of WWE, then within the sets of a movie being filmed, something. Anything.
But as dominoes fall one after another and more and more unions involved in acting goes on strike, he knows that's even less likely to happen any time soon. He scrubs at his eyes and stares out listlessly as the sun sets. He barely registers when the backdoor opens and closes, soft feet padding his way. "What are you doing out here, George?" he asks, snagging his son around the waist and halfheartedly swooping him around.
"Mama's helping Sara," George manages around loud giggles and squeals as he's drawn up and down and all around his dad's body. "I missed you, daddy," he adds, taking the first opportunity when he's within range to throw his arms around Mike's neck.
Mike swallows, a little choked up. "I missed you too, buddy," he says, pressing a kiss to his son's cheek.
"Daddy, why are you sad?" George murmurs, and for a wild moment, Mike remembers when both he and Sara could barely put together a couple words, much less full sentences.
"Just thinking about some goals I have yet to reach, Georgie," Mike says. "Don't worry, I'm gonna be alright. See?" He drops the boy gently on the ground and begins blowing loud, enthusiastic raspberries over his stomach.
George screams and laughs, writhing around. "Daddy!"
Mike leans back and laughs at his son, scooping him up and holding him tightly. "Yeah," he sighs, kissing George on the side of the head. "Just fine."