There isn't a lot of time after Raw to do much of anything, with the tour of Japan looming. Despite Morrison's visible exhaustion following the match he'd had with Mike and the end of his career, he stays up with them, the three not sure what to talk about or do but unwilling to fall asleep or go their separate ways before arriving at the airport and having no choice.
John's flight is a couple hours after theirs but he heads to the airport with them anyway at the ridiculous hour of 4 AM, a bit buzzed from the coffee Alex had bought them all when it was obvious none of them were going to get any rest that night. "You're gonna crash on the plane, aren't you?" the younger man asks with a sympathetic smile while walking in pace with the limping man, who nods vaguely. Mike leaves them to go to the front desk, tapping his fingers against the counter until someone pays attention to him.
When the dark haired woman behind the computer finally does look up, he glances over his shoulder at John and Alex, who are now sitting down on chairs to wait, their various bags scattered around their feet, before focusing on her name tag- Gia- and speaking up. "The LA flight at 7 AM, can I talk to a flight attendant that's going to be on that plane?" When she frowns uncertainly, he tries to look less bone weary and more patient. "A friend of mine's gonna be on that flight, and he has a concussion. He'd kill me if he knew I was talking to anyone about it so I just want to keep it on the downlow, but I need someone to keep an eye on him for me. Alright?"
Her face clears and she nods, looking over his shoulder to the other two men. "Alright, let's see if anyone's currently around," she agrees, typing quickly. After a moment, she reaches for the phone and speaks into it clearly. "Danielle to information desk, please. Danielle to information desk." He half-listens as her voice echoes across the intercom, spreading through the whole airport. "She'll be here shortly," she tells him, setting the phone back in its cradle with a smile.
"Thanks." He scrubs a hand across his face and through his hair before stepping back to wait and let others do their thing. He's unsurprised when Alex joins him a few minutes later, a curious look on his face. "I'm trying to get someone on the flight to keep an eye on John," he explains quietly before his former protege can even speak. "Keep him distracted, huh?"
"How?"
"I dunno, think of something. I don't want to start an argument with him right now, especially about this."
"Alright, I'll see what I can do," he sighs.
"Just be glad Zack's not around, they'd end up having another dance off in the middle of the airport again."
Alex pauses, a horrified look on his face as he recalls coming across that little show of second-hand embarrassment. "Thanks, Mike, I almost had managed to get that visual out of my head."
Mike chuckles before turning back to mindlessly gazing at the various pamplets and advertisements spread across the desk. He feels as the seconds tick past, Morrison's impatience and curiosity almost palpable from here. Finally Danielle arrives, a disturbingly cheerful looking blonde considering the time of the morning. "How may I help you, sir?" she asks, smoothly heading behind the desk at Gia's subtle urging, to Miz's relief. He thinks- hopes- it looks less suspicious this way.
He quickly explains the circumstances to her and she nods thoughtfully, peering over at Morrison just long enough to recognize him for later. "He's been alright the last few hours, but can't be too careful with concussions, and I figure he'll sleep on the plane. I'd just feel better if someone was watching him," he tells her.
She nods. "Of course. I can do this. Everything will be fine, sir."
His face clears as he relaxes. "Thank you." Some of the weight off of his shoulders, he returns to the other two and carefully walks around the sea of luggage before slumping down in the seat next to Alex.
"What was that about?" John asks, leaning over to look around A-Ri.
"I was checking to make sure the amount of carry-ons Alex and I have are alright," he says on the fly, scrubbing at his face.
"And?" Alex asks after a moment of silence.
"Everything's good."
"Great." They sit there in silent exhaustion for awhile longer, all three startled when boarding for the connecting flight that'll lead Alex and Mike on their way to Japan is called. "Crap," Mike hisses, taking a deep breath. They exchange awkward glances before standing. "I guess it's time."
"Yeah." Alex swallows, his eyes lowered before finally giving John one more hug. "Bye, man," he mutters, his voice strained.
"See you around, Alex," John replies, awkwardly trying not to trip over the bags as he returns the hug. Alex finally sighs and lets go quickly, leaning over to collect his luggage before leaving, obviously setting out to give the former Dirt Sheet hosts a little time.
Mike sighs, shifting anxiously. "I can't believe this is happening," he mumbles, running a hand through his hair.
"Tell me about it," John agrees, poking at his luggage with the toe of his shoe.
"Such a bad timing for this Japanese tour."
"Hey. Don't worry about it, I can take care of myself, Mike. It's just a tweaked ankle and minor concussion. Nothing worse than what we both have dealt with individually in the past." He sighs as Mike blinks slowly, his eyes dark and exhausted. "You look wiped, man."
"Yeah, because you look so much better," he snips, rolling his eyes.
"You're gonna sleep on the flight, right?" they ask at the same time, John smiling slightly as Mike huffs. "You'd think we would stop doing that eventually."
"I think by this point that's impossible." Mike grimaces, dropping his hands onto Morrison's shoulders. "Call or text or something when you hit LA, or I'll kill you, I swear."
"You're such a good friend," he snarks. Mike pulls a face at him, the uncertain gleam in his eyes sobering him up. "Really, you are. Today would've been a lot harder without you there to make it easier. You know?"
"Yeah, I guess." Time is ticking away again, the awareness that the line for his flight is getting shorter and shorter, departure time almost there, so finally he shifts his arms, wrapping them snugly around Morrison. "I'll see you the next time I'm in LA, huh?"
"Sure. Enjoy Japan," he murmurs, clinging about as tightly to his former tag partner. Everything feels stilted and awkward and Mike thinks if they weren't all running on empty, this would've been more of a repeat of last night. For once, he's glad to be this exhausted, especially since they're out in public.
"Oh yeah, for the whole two days I'm actually there," he chuckles, stalling for a few more moments before pulling away. "Call whenever, John. I mean it. Day or night, you know I don't really have time to sleep anyway."
He looks uncomfortable but nods anyway, his teeth worrying his lip as he looks over at Alex nearly through security, waving over at them to get their attention, only a few stragglers left to go through before the door closes. "Alright. But you better go," he urges. "Alex is looking worried."
"Of course." He stares at John for a moment, finding it nearly impossible and surreal just to walk away, leave his best friend behind in the middle of the airport like this. "Dammit. I have to go, don't I?"
"Yeah. I'm gonna be fine, Mike, but you won't be if you miss this flight." He pushes him towards the gate, his gaze distant and a bit pained as he steps back to the chairs to wait for his own trip back home.
He huffs a shaky sigh and finally moves towards the line, walking backwards with his eyes still locked on John for a bit longer. "Bye," he mumbles, turning at the last second to hand his ticket over to the woman waiting impatiently to get him onto the flight.
"You ok?" Alex asks as he sits huffily down next to him, adjusting his seat with sharp, jerky movements.
"Peachy."
The flight is long, the time in Japan goes by in a blink of an eye, and they're on their way back to America before any of the superstars can really take a breath, the jetlag screwing with them all viciously. It's just enough time for Mike to think about the following week, and Morrison's own words leading into their final match together. He had let things like R-Truth and this stupid conspiracy crap distract him from what he had always wanted, mainly his regaining the WWE title, and with John now sacrificing his final night on Raw just to give Miz the chance to get noticed again and maybe worm his way into another title opportunity, he's not about to waste this. By the time Raw rolls around, he's forced his disillusionment and sadness following John's release as far down as he can, focus locked on his renewed goal. Week one.
It's all about timing, though, and he waits grimly in the back, watching as John Cena yet again starts the show off by making his interest known in regaining the WWE title. Of course. Get at the back of the line, there are many who deserve it more than you, Mike thinks with a painful glower at the TV. While he watches, he tugs his phone out and accesses the text message screen, needing to get something cleared away before he actually hits the ring.
Text from: Mike
You're going to be ok if I talk up what happened last week, right? It's just an act, you know I took no pleasure from it.
A few minutes pass and he groans, wishing he had had the time to handle this sooner, but with media events, and interviews, and many other things to handle, there just hadn't been time. When Alberto Del Rio and then Dolph joins the party, he can't sit still much longer, text message or not. He needs to get his intentions known, and this is the best time to do so. Thankfully, his phone goes off then, almost vibrating out of his hand as he jerks, quickly composing himself enough to read it.
Text from: John
Do what you have to, I don't plan on watching it anyway. Good luck tonight.
That's the only answer he needs as he stands resolutely and makes his way quickly to the gorilla position. As soon as he hits the ring, he explains that he deserves a shot much more than any of the men currently in the ring after the past few weeks he's had, the statements he's made.
Laurainitis interrupts before a full on brawl can break out, Mike's aggravation only growing as he looks at the man who had so ruthlessly made John's release public the following day after their match. He had been unable to stomach watching the video, but had seen and heard enough to know that the interim GM was enjoying himself greatly as he'd made the announcement. He barely pays attention to Laurainitis' decision, only catching the important parts- like, he would have a match against Orton next and if he won he'd face Punk at TLC for the title. Of course, it'd have to be Orton.
The match goes back and forth and at one point, he thinks he's about to lose but something distracts Orton enough that the Viper goes surging out of the ring and up the ramp. Mike looks through the ropes to find Barrett running up the ramp, away from the angered man, but it's enough as the referee's half through the ten count and Orton loses via count out before he can make it back to the ring. He tries to go after Miz after the loss is made official but Wade returns, taking him out just in time. Mike releases a deep breath of relief, his body sinking lazily against the top ropes as he takes it all in, how quickly it had all happened. There, John. I did it. I have my title shot... He can't help but feel bittersweet, even when returning to the back and being greeted by Alex's congratulations.
There are still two matches to go to determine how exactly the TLC main event will pan out, and Del Rio advances after defeating Daniel Bryan. Miz doesn't worry, until a third is added when Laurinaitis begins messing with both Cena and Ryder, pitting them against each other with the added pressure that if Cena loses, Ryder gets a US title shot and if Ryder loses, Cena gets put in the match at TLC. Mike snorts as he watches, unsurprised when John wins. "Of course," he mutters, scrubbing a hand over his face.
Two opponents turning into three, with Ziggler's match still pending, messes with Mike's confidence but it's amazingly brief as Cena begins arguing with Laurinaitis for Ryder's US title opportunity a few minutes later, finally goaded into giving up his title opportunity for Zack to have another opportunity at a shot for the US title. "You have GOT to be kidding me!" Mike laughs in disbelief. "What an idiot!" It's such a Cena thing to do that it disgusts him. He blinks, even further amused when Mark Henry is shown as Zack's opponent. "Aw, poor Cena. Gives up his title shot for this." But Zack comes out on top with some help from Cena himself, and Miz rolls his eyes. "Oh, for God's sake..."
Even so, when Dolph loses in the following match against Sheamus, Mike can't help but wonder how much of the young man's distraction can be blamed on Zack actually getting another title shot. Either way, it's a relief to him. Two opponents are enough, the last thing he needs is four guys to strategize for and somehow keep an eye on.
The contract signing starts off normally, like most do, he, ADR and Ricardo Rodriguez standing around waiting as Laurinaitis joins them, Punk getting a special introduction because he's the champion. Miz scoffs, unsurprised as Punk immediately starts trying to cause trouble. His annoyance only grows when he once more begins bragging, gaze distant and words focused as he tries just to get through this part, about taking Truth and Morrison out the past few weeks, just for Punk to make it all into a big joke. His lips thin as Punk suggests he'd taken them out on a date, his eyes blazing warningly. To Twilight, no less, mocking his clothes and hair further. He's beyond relieved that Morrison isn't watching, because he knows he'd never hear the end of it otherwise. Even so, he shakes it off, doesn't let it get to him, quickly going on about what he would do to enemies if he could do that to friends, and they move on, the focus less on him as Alberto and Punk talk, eventually all signing the required documents.
It's far from over, however, as Punk finally gets the 6 Pier Brawl he had been all but begging for. It all goes by in a blur until Punk gets his hands on Ricardo, ADR surprisingly moving quickly to save his ring announcer. He gets sent through a table for his trouble and Mike moves into position just to receive a GTS on top of Alberto and the busted table, his eyes fluttering dazedly as he peers up at the blinding, hot lights overhead.
He's just rolled off of Alberto, shaking his head slowly and trying to ignore the chatter of frenzied Spanish behind him as Ricardo checks on his El Patron, when he looks up, pale blue eyes blazing. I don't care what happens, or what else is said... I'm gonna be world champion. I deserve it, and John's sacrifice last week won't be in vain. I won't allow it to be.