October 8th, 2011. His birthday. Mike sighs grimly, running his fingers across the hard wooden table looking out over the neighborhood. He's never not worked on his birthday, either media or house shows or something similar. For a man who enjoys being busy, he twitches, disgusted with sitting still for another day, especially this day. He's never felt like a failure in his life, even the last time he had been fired... but after being fined, fired, kicked out of the arena, arrested, and now stuck here on his birthday doing jack, he can't help the self-loathing building up within him.
John and Alex are both across the country, wrestling at a houseshow in Oklahoma, so whatever choices he might have had at a distraction are unavailable to him. His phone does ring after awhile, his breathing picking up slightly as he reaches for it, but all hope drains away from him when he reads "Truth" on the screen. Huffing in annoyance, he drops the device back down on the table and lets his face fall into his hands. "I'm so pathetic," he groans into his palms.
He's still sitting there when a knock sounds on his front door. He unfolds himself slightly and peers over at the barrier, blandly wondering who it possibly could be. As the knock sounds again, he trails his hand along the wall on his way to the door, peeking out the window for a second before he wrenches the door open. "Yeah?"
"Package for Mike Mizanin," the bored-looking delivery man says, holding out a clipboard at Mike's blank look. "Need your signature."
"Oh. Yeah. Sure." He signs quickly, barely a scribble, before taking the large box from the man. "Thanks," he mumbles, turning back towards his house with the item.
He's just gotten the box settled in on the table and is about to attack the wrapping when there's another knock on the door. "What the hell?" he mumbles, suspicious of what's going on. "Those two idiots," he sighs in exasperation. Balancing another box, he drops it onto the table next to the first and sits back, crossing his arms over his chest. Ok, which to open first... He tilts his head, examining the two. "Well, Alex will be disappointed if I keep his for last... but Morrison's is bigger." He hums thoughtfully. "Oh, whatever," he sighs, pulling the larger box to him. "If I tell Alex I saved the best for last, it should be fine."
Tearing through the stubborn tape with scissors, Mike leans over, putting the scissors on top of the other box before peeling apart the flaps to peer inside. His lips twitch as he reaches in and pulls out a large chocolate cake, settling it carefully onto the table's surface. A small note flutters off of the box and he slaps his hand onto it before it falls to the floor.
To make up for last Monday.
He shakes his head at Morrison's handwriting, finally letting himself smile.
"Dammit, you two ate both the chocolate cupcakes?" Mike grouses, peering down at the remaining vanilla and red velvet desserts that he had bought for Morrison's birthday.
"Sorry," both men chorus, not looking bothered in the slightest.
"Liars," he grumbles, poking at the red velvet cupcake.
Mike sighs and drifts a finger through some of the icing before sticking it in his mouth, his eyes closing briefly at his first taste of the rich rush of chocolate.
He sets the box on the floor, pushing the cake to a more safe position in the middle of the table, before grabbing for the second box, wondering what he'll say to the two if it's another cake. It's obvious early on that it's not, his eyes widening as he pulls a laptop free.
His old laptop had died over a month ago and he had decided ultimately to not replace it, his phone's mobile web holding him over with all of his time on the road and media events. Having a laptop when he was only home a day or two a week if he was lucky seemed worthless. Even though he'd been fired for a few weeks by now, he had had hope that his job would be reinstated so he still hadn't bothered.
A note falls off of the laptop and he rolls his eyes, skimming it. "Wait, what?" he mutters, returning to the start and rereading it. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me." He pulls the laptop open and turns it on. As he waits for it to boot up, he grabs a fork and digs into the cake. Once he's filled out some registration information and Windows has loaded, he clicks the start menu up and reads through the file names. "Well, here we go," he mumbles, clicking it.
As it sets up, he grabs some more cake, only glancing at the laptop between bites.
"Why am I not surprised?"
He jerks, looking up at the computer. He freezes, fork in his mouth, and flushes as he realizes the webcam program Alex's note had directed him to had loaded while he was distracted by the cake, a slightly grainy image of John and Alex peering at him from his new laptop's screen. "Dammit," he mumbles, quickly putting the fork down.
"Enjoying the cake?" Morrison asks, his smirk growing as Mike quickly swallows and wipes his mouth.
"Shut up," he groans, adjusting the volume on the computer so he can hear them easier. "What are you two doing?"
They exchange glances before facing the computer once more. "Well, we wanted to wish you a happy birthday while it is your birthday so here we are," Alex explains. "Sorry we couldn't sooner..."
He shrugs, waving the apology off. "Don't worry about it, I get it. I know how all the travel and everything else can be." He leans back in the chair and glances outside momentarily before looking back at his friends. "So how's touring without HHH going?" As the two men start explaining the latest that even isn't privy to, he runs a finger across the laptop case and listens. It's definitely not the same as being there, competing and doing what I love to do, but it's not half bad, he decides, relaxing as Alex and John quickly switch the topic to anything other than WWE.
Text from: John Laurinaitis
It has come to my attention that in lieu of the walkout last Monday, the board of directors are going over the best course of action to resolve the issues between Triple H and the Raw roster. I would advise you both to be in Oklahoma City this Monday.
The two men crowded around the cell phone glance at each other, smirking in victory. It had been a long, hard road, but finally things seemed like they were about to be corrected.
That Monday, Mike reads off where exactly they're supposed to go, hidden in some off-site parking garage that Laurinaitis had suggested for them. This had to be handled carefully- the EVP of Talent Relations had it on good authority that HHH was to be released from his duties and John himself was on the short list of people for the job- an idea that makes Mike want to roll his eyes but out of the two, Laurinaitis seems easier to manipulate.
Should the intel be false, however, the two need to be discreet, go where Laurinaitis tells them, do what he suggests. Thus, the parking blocks away and sneaking in a back exit to avoid the rally going on outside of the arena, along with hiding in a carefully selected locker room until just the right moment.
Truth paces back and forth as Miz taps his fingers anxiously against his thigh, biting his lip as the show trails by, HHH, Cena, Sheamus and Punk taking up the first half an hour talking about their loyalty and dedication despite being the only four men there and... He yawns slightly and presses a hand to his face. "God, I thought the HHH-and-Cena show was bad before. Now that it really is basically just that, it's worse than I even imagined," he grouses. "We really need to get our jobs back to rescue this crap."
Truth pauses and stares at him, before hissing something over his shoulder. "I KNOW!" he whispers loudly to thin air before turning his attention back to Mike. "Do you trust Laurinaitis? I don't have good luck with Jimmies... or Johnnies..."
Mike grimaces slightly, not willing to head down another discussion about Morrison with Truth. Not tonight, he's too tense and stressed to even consider acting his way through that particular conversation. Breathe, he reminds himself. "I think if anything he'll be fairer to us than HHH ever was. But I'm not entirely ready to get my hopes up- for now, HHH is still in control."
Truth mumbles a little before finally focusing and nodding at Mike. "Yeah. I hate waiting games."
"Me too," he sighs, shifting his weight on the uncomfortable plastic chair that he'd claimed as his own the moment Laurinaitis had left them alone to see the show through. The monitor is droning quietly across from him when the strains of Vince McMahon's theme music interrupts Sheamus vs Cena, attracting both men's attention. "Is this...?"
"I think so," Truth says, almost blocking Miz's view as he moves close to the TV. They both hold their breath as Vince talks, explaining that the board had decided to have a McMahon free show, naming Laurinaitis temporary GM and relieving HHH of his duties.
As Truth cheers and chatters excitedly, Mike watches the TV shrewdly. I guess our careers are secure once more, but I dunno... In the long run... Laurinaitis may prove worse than HHH in some ways. Guess I'll just have to wait and see. Truth is so busy celebrating to himself that he doesn't observe the look on Miz's face growing all the more brooding when Morrison is shown confronting Laurinaitis as the Raw and Smackdown rosters trickle slowly back into the building and gets put in an abrupt match against Christian for his trouble.
His heart sinks when he sees that Christian has brought along Swagger, Ziggler and Cody Rhodes with him. Morrison seems distracted, off of his game, and Christian takes advantage, somehow winning with, of all things, the weakest looking spear Miz has ever seen. Barely minutes later, the three all target Morrison, hitting him with one move after another. At the first impact of the ZigZag, Miz finds himself on his feet, hands curled into fists at his side.
Thankfully he's snapped out of his angry haze when a knock sounds on the locker room door and Truth, distracted by the workings of his own mind and not seeing Mike's response to the match result, turns to answer it.
"Hello," Laurinaitis greets them both like he hadn't just left them barely an hour earlier. "I have something here for you both."
Mike releases a deep breath as a clipboard is held out to him, "The Miz's WWE Contract" written across it in large, bolded print. Glancing over, he sees that Truth is being presented with one as well.
"First things first," Laurinaitis says grimly. "I cannot allow you to sign these contracts as long as the suit against WWE stands. Drop that and we will gladly welcome you back with open arms."
"Consider it done," Truth says eagerly, his eyes gleaming as he reaches out for the contract.
Mike quickly skims through the items, nodding slowly once he gets through the bulk of it. "That's fine," he decides, taking the pen from Laurinaitis. "All we wanted was our jobs back anyway." They sign at the same time, Miz's signature on the bottom of the page one of the best things he's seen lately.
"Congratulations and welcome back to WWE," Laurinaitis says with a smile as he holds his hand out to each man in turn to shake.
"Thank you," Mike mumbles as his phone begins vibrating in his pocket. He waits until Truth returns to mumbling to the nothingness around him and John's left to check it.
Text from: Alex
Mike, can you call John? He ran off after his match earlier and I don't know where to look for him. You might have better luck.
Mike fiddles with his phone and groans, glancing over at Truth. "Hey, I'm damn thirsty... gonna sneak out and get a soda before Laurinaitis decides what he wants to do with us. You want anything?"
Truth glances up, over, and then back before shaking his head. "Nah, man, I'm good. Don't get spotted."
"Yep." As soon as he's out of that room and away from Truth's crazy-fueled ramblings, he takes a deep breath. Stuffing his phone back in his pocket, he turns briskly and makes his way quietly to the exit.
Finding John is relatively easy, Mike spotting a park across from the arena. He wanders around in the darkness for a bit before locating his friend sitting on some swings, kicking sand back and forth as he pushes off slightly. Taking a deep breath, he walks slowly up to him, settling down in the next swing. He doesn't react as Morrison glances over at him, simply swinging back and forth slowly, mimicking John's own motion.
"What are you doing here, Mike?" John finally asks after a few minutes of listening to the crickets and other nighttime sounds around them.
"Hmm, well... don't tell anyone, it's supposed to be a surprise. I've been rehired." He smiles briefly before looking over, becoming solemn once more as he takes in the pinched look on John's face. "Truth too..."
John stops swinging abruptly and looks up through the bars overhead at the stars. "I see."
"Are you ok?"
There's a long, tense pause as John twists the swing in time with his body, peering at Mike through the gloom. "No. I'm not." They stare at each other for a long moment, Mike's eyes gleaming in the faint glow coming from nearby lightpoles. John's face is shadowed by his hair and Miz is alternatively glad and annoyed that he can't see the expression there better. "Do you ever..." His hands tighten around the chains of the swing, his jaw working as he thinks about how to ask what's on his mind. "Do you ever regret this job? Ever want... something different?"
It's Miz's turn to stop swinging as he stares at the other man, wide eyed as a sick feeling overwhelms him. "What are you thinking, John?"
He scrubs a hand along his unshaven face and sucks in a deep breath that sounds almost painful. "I... don't know. I... I'm just thinking. I'm honestly happy for you, that you have your job back. I know how badly you wanted it."
John's earlier words still echoing in his mind, he nods weakly. "Thanks, man. Unfortunately, it means you have to deal with Truth again." He's fishing a little, it's so obvious that he almost wants to slap himself, but John doesn't react.
"Yeah, I guess."
He's about to say something else when his phone goes off in his pocket again. Cursing, he fishes it out, the bright screen blinding him as he peers at the text message from R-Truth. "Dammit," he groans. "I have to go back to the arena. Are you coming?"
John tilts his head, resting his face on the chains as he peers at Mike. "Nah, go do what you need to do. I'll be back around soon enough."
"Bu-"
"Tell Alex not to worry, I'm fine. Just needed some air."
Mike hesitates even as he pulls himself up from the flexible seat, peering down at Morrison. "If you need anything..."
"I know."
He stalls a moment longer, watching his former tag partner, before turning roughly on his heel. I have a return to make, he thinks grimly, so many emotions and thoughts pingponging around in his skull that he's not even sure where to begin, what exactly to feel as he marches back to the arena.