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John Cena Fan Fiction
[It's Because I'm Awesome] 
6th-Jul-2009 11:01 am
Disclaimer: I don't own them, I’ve never met them, and this is clearly only real in my delusional mind.
Title: It’s because I’m Awesome
Pairing: Cena//The Miz
Rating: PG-13
Summary: John and the Miz work the program, making sure that EVERYTHING is in perfect harmony.
Warnings/Spoilers: contains allusions to m/m situations and maybe mild language. No spoilers in this one I believe.
Author's Notes: this is my first fic with this pairing; any hints or pointers would be appreciated. I’m just learning the particulars about the Miz, so any mistakes are completely my own.

My back was bent in an awkward manner as I sat, but I didn’t bother to move. The wooden bench that I sat on was hard, and the tension that my body was gripped in caused me considerable pain. But I didn’t dare move, because I was so riveted. The locker room was plain with its white paint, and cubby holes for all of our gear, but those were not what my eyes were fixed on. I sat, with no shirt of, my wrestling boots off, and my shorts unbuttoned. My hands gripped my thighs tightly to complete my compelled statue.

It was steam that I had been staring at; steam that was billowing out of a small ceramic shower stall just out of my view in the next room. I knew exactly who was in it, exactly who was soaping their toned body behind that curtain. We had been working on a match for the pay-per-view for the last several hours in this empty building. I took a deep breath and stood, re-buttoning my pants and hurrying out of the room. I needed to get away for a moment, and it wasn’t as if he would even know I was gone.

My bare feet padded along the worn arena floor and I tried to block out the thoughts of all the things that my feet could be coming in contact with at that particular moment. Note to self, never walk barefoot in the ARCO Arena, ever again. Once I had reached the inner sanctum of our business, the area which housed the ring that we all lived and worked for, the ring, I stopped. I stood at the top of ramp, looking out to all the seats that were now empty, but would be full in only a few short hours. I imagined all those people screaming for me, as my eyes sparkled and I wrestled the match of my life, all for them. And for him.

I shook my head again, trying to relieve my mind of him. But in reality, I knew it was all in vain. He had not left my mind since Vince had told me that I was going to be working a program with him. I would stand in the ring; call him out, so he could stand face to face with me, His blue eyes boring into mine, with our shoulders squared in defence, while our faces read nothing but aggression. I had been ecstatic; it would be my chance to make an impression on everyone, but mostly to make an impression on him.

While I had been thinking about that moment, I had walked down the ramp and reached the ring, which I climbed into slowly, taking the time to relish the moment. I stood in the middle until I was overwhelmed by the quiet moment, and was forced to sit down to gather myself. I allowed myself to relax, and just looked around, then closing my eyes, and letting my other senses take over. My nostrils flared as I took in the smells that I didn’t normally have the time to take in, and heard the absolute silence of the empty arena.

“Mike, what are you doing out there?” I heard a voice bellow from fairly far away. I opened my eyes and looked up, only to see John standing at the top of the ramp, where I had been only moments ago. I smiled widely, hoping he was too far away to see how my face had lit up when I saw him. I loved when people called me Mike, because that meant they knew that The Miz was only a character.

“Just scoping out the place where I’m going to kick your ass!” I laughed a little too long and a little too hard, but still managed to push myself to my feet, standing in the center of the ring, waiting for him to come down.

I didn’t have to wait long, because he walked down the ramp quickly, and got in the ring the same way he would have if he was in front of 35,000 people. He then burst out laughing in spite of himself. “I’ve always wanted to do that when the place was empty. For some reason, it just doesn’t feel the same.”

We stood about five feet apart, face to face, and smiling. But it was awkward. I knew the last thing he wanted to do was smile. He had just had a very public breakup with Randy, and had been outed at the same time. His eyes didn’t have that fire for life that they normally possessed and it had made me sad. I myself had never been shy about the fact that I would take it where I could get it, but I understood why more popular stars weren’t so forthcoming. I wasn’t trying to be everyone’s role model, but it was obvious that John Cena already was.

“Look...I’m sorry about what happened with Randy. He’s a snake. And you’re better than that.” I decreased my smile, tried to look sad about it. I was not really THAT sad about the fact that it happened, now he was single, and maybe I had a chance. My hands got slightly sweaty, and I took a deep breath. It was the last thing I wanted to think about when he was standing in front of me was how I wanted to get with him. To think about how much I wanted to sit on my knees in front of him, and find out just how big his cock was, was definitely not a good thing to think about when that man was standing in front of you, looking completely gorgeous. I began to feel a stirring inside me.

“Oh, that? Don’t worry about it. It was close to over anyways, he just wanted to be dramatic.” He shrugged softly, obviously not wanting to talk about it. I mentally berated myself for bringing it up. Now he would think that I was an insensitive asshole. Maybe I was.

I shifted from foot to foot, not sure what to do. Suddenly he smiled wide, and lunged toward me, spearing me to the ground in what proved to be a particularly vicious motion. I lay on the mat, with him on top of me for a good long time. I tried to keep my breath even, but it became deep in a combination of impact and adrenaline. He looked down at me, that mischievous smile still on his face. I returned his look, and tried to shift my weight so our bodies weren’t touching quite so much. This was nothing like a normal wrestling match, and now the friction seemed to burn my skin, but he held me in place.

“What’s wrong, Miz? You seem uncomfortable.” His eyes changed then, they looked almost malicious, and completely unlike the John that everyone cheered for on Monday nights.
“Uh...Just a little uncomfortable I guess. Can you let me up?” I again tried to squirm away, but his muscled body held me tight against the canvas of the ring.
“Uh...No. I don’t think so. Why so uncomfortable? You don’t want to be so close to me? Am I not your type, you whore? Do you even have a type?” He spat the words angrily, and I had no idea what to say, so I just blinked.

He slammed his fists down on either side of my head, only inches away from my ears. “Am I not good enough for you, Michael? Am I damaged goods? Just Randy’s throwaways?” His voice rose until he was yelling and the echo was almost as strange as the actions that were taking place.
When I finally snapped out of my stupor, I was almost angry. “Excuse me? What are you talking about? I like you John, but I’m uncomfortable because you just speared my air away, and I’m having trouble breathing which is only being made worse by the fact that all your muscle-bound weight is on my lungs!” My chest was heaving against his at that point, and I wanted to get out of this situation.

I felt him let up a bit and he looked me in the eyes. “What did you say?”
“I said, you were cutting off my air supply and that’s why I was...” I was cut off by him standing up and starting to walk away. I was again so confused by his motions that it took me a few seconds to catch up.

“What are you doing? What’s wrong John?” I stood up with some difficulty and took deep breaths, and when air fully filled my lungs I chased after him, as he was nearly halfway up the ramp, walking with determination.

I finally did catch up though, and I grabbed his muscular shoulder tightly, spinning him around on one foot. “John! What is up with you?” Once the words had spilled from my mouth, I saw his face, and the pain that his eyes were reflecting, which were near tears. My lips made a hard line, and I released my grip, instead my fingers softly rubbed the fabric covering his behemoth shoulders.

“Sorry Mike, I don’t know what came over me. Jericho had told me that he thought you were interested in me, and I came out here to talk to you. But once I was there, all I wanted was out. I’m not ready.” He sighed softly and went to turn away. I again tightened my grip on his shoulder, holding him in place, although I knew that if he really wanted to, he could have turned and left me standing there alone.

I leaned in slowly, pressing my soft lips [I was a stickler for Chap Stick] to his, and quickly increased the pressure. I ignored the fact that he had just said he wasn’t ready, and kissed him anyways, but he didn’t pull away, and soon he was putting as much pressure on me as I was on him. He wrapped his arms around me and soon we were pressed against each other, our hands roaming gingerly.

Then, as suddenly as this whole exchange had begun, he pulled away and left me standing there, with my mouth open, and my breath heaving for a completely different reason than before. I just stood there and stared, and after a moment he turned back and winked. I burst out laughing at the cliché motion, and shook my head. What was I doing to myself? And why didn’t I think that I would regret it?

The smile on my face was impermeable as I walked back down to the ring, and stood high on one of the turnbuckles. “I’m The Miz, and I’m Awesome!” I yelled out to the empty seats, and the echo that came back to me made me smile. The barely audible answer from the back in that familiar voice came a few seconds later. “Yes, you are.”
This program would work more than just the crowd, and I knew it.
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