Title:Promise to never wear scarlet…
Pairing: Miz / A-Ri
Disclaimer: The boys do not belong to me.
Author's Notes: Okay, uhm, this is my first Miz/A-Ri fiction and I hope you guys like it
In the past people watched Pro-Wrestling and believed what happened. Today everyone knew that it was all planned. Kayfabe. A storyline. Those men who acted like they hate each other were friends, or in some cases best friends backstage. It wasn't a secret anymore. People knew that and it was okay, they still liked Pro-Wrestling.
Most of them knew that a Randy Orton wasn't as insane as he acted in the ring and an Undertaker wasn't really the Deadman. Still some of them took the show for real. Then there were those few people that not only took the show for real, but also felt the urge to set things right. And then there was this one human being, that not only felt the urge to set things right, but also decides to act on it.
Well… there was one thing with those people outside the ring. They knew that it was a storyline. Every once in a while there would be a someone digging through the crowd to escape from his match or to get to the ring unseen to interfere. The crowd saw it and just watched what would happen next in the storyline.
That was probably the reason why it happened. Why this guy could crawl into the ring just like that.
It was a tag-team match – John Cena and Randy Orton versus Miz and A-Ri. The match was still on and John an Alex were crawling back into their own corners to tag and Mike was already darting for Randy, when he saw him freeze. He followed the icy stare and saw a guy, standing in a free corner.
Seconds. It happened so damn fast. Mike watched as this guy drew a gun, pointing it at Randy. A blink later a shot rang out. The whole arena fell silent as Randy looked down at his shoulder, staring at the blood that poured out of a small hole, as he looked up, locking eyes with John who stood there, frozen in pure horror. And then he collapsed onto to canvas.
It was then that the silence morphed to screaming panic as the people tried to flee out of the arena. The security never had a chance to reach the ring, swept away by the panicked mass.
Mike saw the guy point his gun at Randy again, but John, being all superhero, jumped between the gun and Randy, shielding him bodily. Either John was sure that this man wouldn't shoot WWE's Golden Boy – what would have been pretty naïve - or he simply set his life on the line to make sure Randy had a chance to survive. And not for the first time Mike thought that there was more than just friendship between the two of them. The look in John eyes when he saw the blood on Randys shoulder. The way now knelt there, one hand held up in a appeasing manner, the other reaching back to make contact with Randy.
It seemed to work, because the next thing Mike knew was that he stared at the gun that suddenly pointed at him. He couldn't move. He simply was too scared. And instead of thinking of a way to get out of this alive, he thought that he should talk to Vince to give him a face-turn if he survived this and if he wouldn't come out of this alive, who would be Alex' Pro. His eyes closed on their own accord and a small voice told him to pray that it would be a fast end.
Then another shot ripped through the arena and Mike fell, hitting the canvas hard. The funny thing was that it didn't hurt. The only thing he felt was a heavy weight on his chest that made it hard to breathe, but there was no pain. Being shot was supposed to hurt, wasn't it?
Suddenly there were loud voices, screams and another shot, that, by the sound of it, ricocheted somewhere into the room. More shouts and screams and he felt the ring shake. This was strange…
Mike opened his eyes and the pain came. It wasn't from being shot. The bullet had never reached him. But he wished it would have. The pain came nevertheless, a screaming, paralysing pain, as he saw that it was Alex lying on top of him, unconscious, bleeding. His heart stopped.
"Alex?" Mike whispered.
There was no reaction.
"Kevin? You hear me? Kevin?" he croaked, using his friends given name in the hope to cause a reaction.
But the body on top of him remained still. Alex' face was pale and Mike realized that he wasn't breathing. No, this couldn't be... He placed his hands against his friend and pushed, rolling Alex to the side. Mike sat up and his eyes fell on the heavily bleeding wound in Alex' chest, already forming a puddle around his upper body. The blood was leaving grotesque lines on his unnaturally pale skin and it looked like he was wearing a tasteless work of art painted in bright scarlet.
"Kevin? Please, wake up… Kev?" he whispered, taking hold of Alex' lifeless hand that felt deadly cold.
He knew that he should not panic, because if there was one constant in this universe, it was that Alex would always be at his side. But the way Alex was lying there now, limp and cold and hollow, drowned all rationality left in his mind in a way he never thought possible. A tortured cry tore from his throat and he sunk forward, resting his head on the bloodied chest of his friend and holding on the cold hand painfully tight.
Choked sobs escaped through his clenched teeth while he willed the younger man to wake up. There were voices, telling him to let go and move aside, but he couldn't leave Alex alone, didn't want to let go of the hand.
"No!" he pressed out, the word something between a growl and a pained cry.
A pair of strong arms were wrapped around his chest, pulling him away from the unmoving body to give way for the paramedics, who started to work on Alex frantically. Mike screamed and kicked, trying to free himself of the restraining arms, but he felt them only tighten even more. He heard John speak to him reassuringly, but he didn't want to hear it. Then he found himself on the other side of the ring, still held tightly by John.
His eyes found Randy, who was sitting upright, with his back leaning against the ropes. He was covered with his own blood and his shoulder was wrapped up in a bandage, but he was alive and now looking up to Mike and John. His features were a grimace of pain, but his eyes spoke of sadness when his gaze fell on Mike.
Mike looked back at Alex and his resistance subsided. Alex still wasn't moving. He wasn't moving. He wasn't… Mike tried to breathe, tried to tell himself that everything would be okay. Alex was strong. He would make it. He wouldn't dare die on Mike just like that.
Then Mike saw the paramedics shake their heads and sit back. And he screamed, screamed at them to bring Alex back, screamed because of this unbearable pain that exploded in his chest and filled his whole body and mind. Screamed his friends name, begging him to come back. He kicked, fought against the restraining arms without success. Finally he broke down, crying desperately.
And then his name was whispered, urgently, reassuringly, questioningly…
"Mike? Come on, wake up! Mike!"
This was Alex' voice. His mind was playing cruel jokes on him, this couldn't be Alex' voice. Alex was dead. He was dead.
"Mike? Breathe, dammit!"
A sharp, stinging pain exploded in his face and made his eyes fly open wide. He covered his burning cheek unconsciously with his hand, drew a deep breath and found himself sitting upright… in a bed, in a brightly lit room. For a few panic stricken seconds he tried to figure out what was happening, when he felt a warm hand brush his nape. He flinched and turned around.
"Kevin?" he whispered, his voice breaking.
His friends eyes were filled with worry as they roamed Mikes face. Mike seldom used his given name.
"Mike… Mikey," Alex whispered back. "Everything's okay. Just a bad dream."
Mikes hand sank back onto the sheets and he looked around bewildered, before he asked quietly: "What… why…?"
"I heard you scream and came over to check on you. You were trashing around and you screamed my name. I tried to wake you."
Alex reached out and cupped Mikes hurting cheek gently.
"Sorry for hitting you, but you stopped breathing. You scared the hell outa me, Mike…"
Slowly his mind accepted that he obviously was in a hotel room, that it all had been a dream and Alex was here, right beside him. Still he suddenly felt the overwhelming need to feel that Alex was real. Mike reached out and grabbed the collar of his friends shirt, pulling it down and Alex closer in the process, peeking under the shirt. There was no blood, no wound. He let go of the shirt and put his hand on the spot where it had been in his dream and felt a strong heartbeat under his hand.
"Mike?" Alex asked, a confused expression showing up on his handsome face.
"I'm sorry, I just… uh… I just needed to… make sure you're real and okay," Mike apologized, though he didn't pull his hand back. "I dreamt that you were shot."
"Oh. Okay. You wanna tell me what happened?"
Mike wondered if he should tell Alex what had happened in his dream, since the thought of telling his friend that he died because he wanted to save Mikes life felt somehow embarrassing. On the other hand… it had only been a dream. No one can control dreams, right?
"Uhm… we were in a match with Cena and Orton. There was suddenly a man with a gun and he wanted to shoot me but you… took the bullet for me," Mike explained slowly, willing himself not too look away. "You died."
Silence fell as he watched his friends reaction. But there was nothing than a tender expression in those well-known eyes… and a growing, goofy smile.
"Hey, that makes me Mike 'The Miz' Mizanins personal hero, I guess," Alex chuckled.
"I dreamt that you're dead. That's not funny, dumbass," Mike snapped half-heartedly, trying to suppress an oh so small smile that dreaded to show up despite the situation.
He realized that Alex' hand still rested on his cheek, his thumb softly caressing his abused skin and he felt a blush creep up his face.
"No, you're right. It's not funny. Lets hope that a situation like that won't happen," his friend whispered, voice suddenly serious. "Because I would do it. I would take the bullet for you."
The blush on Mikes face deepened as he stared wide-eyed at his friend and a small voice in his head told him that he must've misheard Alex. Opening his mouth he wanted to say something, but no words came over his lips. Then the gentle hand on his cheek vanished and Alex cleared his throat.
"I, uhm, I think I should go back to my room and let you sleep," he muttered and got up to leave the room.
Before he knew what he was doing, Mikes hand shot forward to grab Alex' shirt and hold him back, not wanting him to go. Less than ever after what Alex had said just a minute ago. His friend turned around and looked down on him, uncertainness written all over his face. Alex obviously thought that he'd gone a step too far, that he'd said more than he'd wanted too.
Has he? Mike wondered, not sure about his own feelings.
He remembered how he'd felt in his dream, knowing that Alex was dead. It had only been a dream, but… what if there was more? Why would he dream of such a thing and feel like he had felt if there wasn't more. He looked at his own hand that held the shirt so tightly that his knuckles went white. The thought of letting Alex go now hurt.
Yeah, when? The question dug its way up through his still slightly confused mind, making itself known. When had this man slipped through his well-built defences? When had this become more than friendship?
No… he didn't want Alex to go.
The voice was questioning, insecure… hoping?
"Stay," Mike whispered.
A small frown appeared on Alex' face while he searched Mikes eyes. One of his hands tried to peel Mikes hand off his shirt, without success. Mike held the shirt in a death grip.
"Look… I don't think that it would be a good idea if I stay, Mike," Alex sighed.
"Please," Mike urged, not reacting any further on Alex' concern, "please, stay, Kevin."
There it was again. Mike had used his given name and was now looking up at him like a scared puppy.
"Mike…" Again a sigh, heavy, defeated. "Okay, just let me get my blanket and pillow and I'll crash on the armchair…"
"No. You don't need to sleep on the armchair, the bed's big enough and much more comfortable. Just… stay. Please."
For a moment Alex was rendered speechless. And Mike 'The Miz' Mizanin tried to wrap his mind around the fact that he was begging. But…no, he realized for himself…. this wasn't his alter ego, this wasn't The Miz. This was simply Mike. Mike, who was asking his friend not to leave him alone, who was shaken to the core because of a dream in which Alex had died.
Alex still showed no reaction and Mike tugged at the shirt hesitantly, pulling him closer to the bed until he sat on its edge again. Only then Mike let go of him to scoot over to make room..
Mike watched his friend hesitate a moment longer, before Alex switched off the lights, slipped under the blanket to settle beside him. Mike turned to face him. It was almost completely dark, but the little light that fell through the half closed blinds was enough for Mike to make out Alex' features and he could tell that his friend felt awkward. Tentatively he moved a little closer, smiling as he noticed the inviting warmth that radiated from the body beside him. It made him feel comfortable. Alex' head snapped in his direction at the movement, but he didn't move otherwise.
"Did you mean it? Would you really risk your life… for me?"
After another moment of hesitation, Alex gave the tiniest of nods. Mikes breath hitched and he felt his heart speed up. To know Alex would risk his life for Mikes sake… Wrapped up in darkness and lulled by the warmth, he allowed himself to let his defences crumble.
"Kevin?" he whispered, moving even closer to the warmth until their bodies were almost touching.
"Kev?" Mike whispered again, sounding much more desperate than he wanted to.
He leaned up, bringing his face close to his friends who watched him with tender eyes, and felt his heart begin to almost painfully in his chest, as Alex reached up to brush gently down the side of his face and back to his nape to settle there. And then Alex closed the last gap and placed a sweet, hesitant kiss on his lips. His free arm wrapped around Mike, pulling him in until rested half on top of him and he felt Mike respond by moulding their bodies together and burying a hand in his short hair.
It was an innocent kiss that lasted only a few moments and when it ended, Mike felt himself being held safely. He sunk back down, resting his head on Alex' shoulder, his hand searching the spot above his friends heart to feel it, beating as fast as his own.
"Is this real?" he asked, wondering that he hadn't noticed earlier that there was more, wondering that all this had suddenly been so easy.
"Only if you want it to be."
And there it was again. The hope in his friends voice that made him know Alex wanted this, him.
"Yeah. I want it to be real. Just let us take this slow, okay?"
"As slow as you need it to be," Alex murmured, planting a soft kiss on his hair. "Everything you want, Mikey. Everything you want."
Mikes eyes searched his hand, still resting above Alex' heart and he felt a sting in his chest as he remembered his dream. The image of the bright red blood on pooling around his friends lifeless body and the blood on his hands…
"Promise that you never gonna wear scarlet," he whispered.
It was out before he could stop himself. He didn't see the small frown on Alex' face as he tried to figure out what Mike meant.
Probably Alex felt that this wasn't the moment to ask further questions, because he simply answered: "Promise."
It was a silly request and no one could promise what Mike asked for, he knew that, still it felt good to hear it. Another kiss was placed on his hair and he felt Alex' hand brush tender little circles on his back.
"Where does this leave us?" he asked quietly.
Alex chuckled lightly.
"I think it's commonly called 'lovers', Mikey."
"Lovers," Mike repeated. "Sounds… don't know."
"How about: sounds good?"
Mike looked up and found himself greeted by a loving smile. He knew that smile. He'd seen it a hundred times before without seeing what it really meant. It was beautiful and it was only meant for him. It was a smile he wanted to see every damn single day from now on.
"Never heard anything sound better."
Alex brushed softly over the side on Mikes face and held him even closer, if possible, before he tucked his lovers head under his chin and pulled the blanket up.
"No more bad dreams, Mikey. Sleep now."
Closing his eyes, Mike concentrated on the sound of Alex' steady breathing, on the warmth and on the arms that held him close and safe. It took only a few moments until he drifted into the velvet darkness of a fitful sleep.
He didn't hear those three little words Alex whispered and it was okay. Alex knew that it was too soon for Mike to hear them. They had enough time. More than enough.
~ Fin ~