Come Out With Me

Mike sat in a chair in the makeshift room for Creative in whatever arena in whatever city they were in. Lately, things just blurred together. Every city, arena, state just didn't compute in his head. And the fans faces just blurred together. But through that mass, through the blur, had been a face. A beautiful face, belonging to a beautiful woman. Maryse Ouellet. He saw her, and he instantly fell for her. That was years ago, though. Now? Not so much. Sure, he still loved her. Just not that way.

Now he didn't like girls. Now, he was into men. He didn't know why. He didn't know what changed. All he knew is one night he was at home with her, and they were making out and teasing each other, but Mike was not getting excited. They stripped down and she started to give him head. And it had work. Until he was in her and she was moaning. He lost hardness right there. And honestly, it had always been hard to get it up with women. But it had always worked out. Until that night.

Since then, they hadn't really been together. Not in a sexual sense. He hadn't told her - or anyone - that he liked men, though he often found his cock twitch to life while he was wrestling. Thankfully, the shorts hid it enough to just look like a pant malfunction. But then he would go back to his hotel room and get in the shower and rub one out. He didn't know what was happening, but he wasn't liking it. Not at all.

So he sat in the Creative room, Maryse next to him, holding his hand. He squeezed her hand slightly when he heard the door open and took a deep breath. The last thing he wanted to do was work with someone who could take all the credit for wins. But he was being ordered. So he obeyed. He didn't want to be fired, either.

He didn't look when the man sat, or when his girlfriend sat, giving off the air of a snotty bitch.

John knew he was attracted to men. He had for a while. But he denied it. he pushed the feeling,t he urges,the cravings for a man's touch down,a nd locked them in a mental box, refusing to let them out. He'd met Melina, and forced himself to lust and love her. TH woman was cold hard bitch. Granted, John was usually passed off as a metrosexual Diva. But Melina was worse.

They had sex, John taking a Viagra right before they did it when Melina wasn't looking. THough he was never satisfied. But he'd never come out. John was afraid of what society an his family would think. He just... couldn't do it. So he suffered in silence. He and Melina stayed the power couple they were, looking good on the outside with problems on the in side. While Melina was in love with John, John just couldn't say the words.

John walked into the Creative office, Melina on his arm like candy as always. His sheds on his nose,not bothering to take them off or look at the other man with his girlfriend. He leaned back in his chair, wishing he didn't have to be here.

Melina scowled at Maryse and Mike as she sat down, making sure to stay as close to John as possible. There was no way she was going to let another wanna-be bitch get her man, no matter what.

Mike sighed as he leaned back. He just wanted to get this over with and go back to his room and sleep. He felt exhausted, keeping up this straight facade and all the training he did. He crossed his arms, staring at Hank, not paying attention to Maryse, John or Melina. He honestly didn't care.

Hank look at all of them, his arms crossed on the table. "John Hennigan, meet Mike Mizanin. Mike Mizanin, meet John Hennigan. You two will be working together as a tag team with the name 'Be Jealous'. And to get better acquainted with each other, you will be traveling and rooming together. There will be no arguments on this one. I don't care about your complaints. You do not have a choice," he said sternly, looking between the two men to gauge their reactions.

Mike just shrugged. He didn't want to tag with someone, but right now, he didn't care. Bed was calling his name. "I don't care."

"You will be rooming together, starting tonight," Hank clarified.

Mike's eyes widened. He had heard about John and his partying. He needed sleep tonight, because he had a lot of training and appointments tomorrow. And if John woke him up... Oh, he would be in for hell.

John's lip curled up a little. He did want to carry little Mizanin's ass in a tag team. ANd he certainly did not want to room with the other man. He always roomed by himself or with Melina. The way it was supposed to be. "Fine, fine. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a party to get to. And Mizanin, I'll be back at the hotel around... say 3 am." He said with a smirk.

Maryse simply sneered at the couple as they got up and headed out the door. She hated Melina with a burning passion. She squeezed Mike's hand before also standing.

John and Melina went straight to the club. He got wasted, just like he did whenever he partied. he was the life of the party. The one who drank the most. His lithe body grinding and dancing with all the girls. Though Melina always pulled him back. No secret she was a jealous bitch.

By the time John returned to the hotel, it was 3:30 in the morning. He was with a few other boys, wanting to finish their drinking in the hotel room. John smirked drunkenly to himself. Tie to wake Mike.

He and his friends burst into the room. "Honeeeey, I'm home!" John called out obnoxiously as he and his friends stumbled in to the hotel room.

Mike got back to the hotel room and showered quickly. He pulled on a pair of boxers and climbed into bed, the warmth of the comforter lulling him to sleep.

And sleep he did. Peacefully, at that. That is, until John came back.

"Honeeeey, I'm home!" John called out obnoxiously as he and his friends stumbled in to the hotel room.

Mike growled as he was pulled from sleep. His eyes snapped open and he looked at John. "Is there something you fucking need from me?"

John simply giggled, a Tequila bottle in his hands. "Noooothin. Drink with us Mizzy! Its only 3 or somtin' in the afternoon..." He slurred, sitting on Mike's bed.

His friends, alcoholic beverages in his hand, also sat on Mike's bed, laughing and giggling in their drunken stupor.

"You want me to drink?" Mike asked. He got up, taking the bottle of tequila from John. He gripped it and threw it against the wall, watching it shatter and fall to the ground. "Too damn fucking bad. Now leave me the fuck alone so I can fucking sleep," he said and climbed back into bed.

"Ooh, Mizzy Mizzy Mizzy... Why so serious?" John tsked and messed up Mike's hair. "You look kinda gay, Mizzy. Are you? Are you a faaag?" John snider in his drunken stupor. He was too trashed to know that he was being a major hypocrite. He straddled Mike's waste. "Is the little Mizzy attracted to men?: He cooed to him like a child, pinching his cheeks.

Mike growled, shoving John off of him. He tackled him to the ground, punching him on the face until John's friends pulled him off of him. "Don't fuck with me, Morrison," he snarled.

John growled and spat out blood. "It's Hennigan, asshole." He sneered and told his friends to hold Mike, which they did. John smirked and griped Mike's crotch, massaging it. "Ya like that Mizzy?" He chuckled darkly.

Mike growled, then a smirk came onto his face. "Do you?" he asked lowly.

John hissed and slapped Mike. "Fuck no! I have a fucking girlfriend." He hissed, getting defensive as his boys let Mike go.

Mike smirked, the slap not even fazing him. Maryse did so enough. "Really? 'Cause I think you like feeling men. Touching them, kissing them, fucking them. And I think you don't want people to know, so you make others seem gay. And the word fag? It means cigarette. So no, I'm not," he said.

"Shut the fuck up Miz. If any one is the fag, it's you. The chick magnet? Please, everyone knows you like cock. I'm sure even Maryse knows it. It's written all over your body. Just admit Mike." John sneered.

"I'll admit is as soon as you do," Mike said. He could see John was gay, no matter how he tried to mask it. And he knew John could tell he was, too. But if John said anything about Mike, Mike would say it about John, too. And, I mean, it's not hard to see that John was gay. All you had to do was look at him.

John simply clenched his jaw. "Goodnight Mike." He said lowly and going over to his bed on the other side of the room and sending his friends off to their own hotel rooms. He'd been holding in the fact that his was gay since he was a teen. And he'd keep holding it in until he was dead.

"Exactly," Mike growled and climbed back into bed, closing his eyes. He relaxed his body and slowly fell back asleep.

The next morning, John get up, puked in the toilet before falling asleep on the bathroom floor, curled up in the fetal position, his hair all over his face.

Mike woke up when his alarm when off, walking into the bathroom and stopping when he saw John. He smirked and took a few pictures with his iPhone before stripping down and showering.

John eventually woke up to the sound of the shower. He puked again before closing the toilet lid and resting his head on it, feeling like death in a body. "Fuck my life..." He groaned.

Mike was singing in the shower, some song that was stuck in his head. He had a good voice, and people told him that, but he didn't think so. That's why he only sung in the shower. He didn't realize that John was awake.

John frowned as he heard a a beautiful voice come from the shower. That Mizanin? He thought. He didn't say a word though. He rated his head back on the toilet lid, falling back asleep to Mike's voice.

Mike finished his shower and stepped out, chuckling when he saw John still asleep. God, he makes this too easy.

He walked out to the room and got dressed, getting ready for the day.

John eventually awoke, wanting to lay in his bed instead. He went into the room. He glanced tiredly at Mike. "Ya got a good voice." He said, plopping down on his bed.

Mike froze. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said stiffly.