Canary and the Coal Mine

Survivor Series; November 18th, 2012

"There you are," Randy said with a smile as I walked up, leaning against the doorway of his locker room. He was just pulling his shirt off, getting ready for our match. "Friends looking for you yet?"

"Not this time," I told him as I tugged my mask down under my chin. "I told Nikki I was sick. She thinks I'm napping in John’s bus."

"Clever girl," he teased, slowly walking towards me, a smirk playing over his lips again. "You ready for tonight?"

Survivor Series. Team Foley against Team Ziggler; my first pay-per-view in the WWE. I took a deep breath and gave him the best smile I could, trying to hide my nerves, but he caught on. Randy rested a hand against the wall by my head and leaned towards me, giving me another rare, honest smile.

"You have nothing to worry about. You can take any of those assholes one-on-one, and I'll be right behind you if they start pulling any shit. I’ve got your back."

"Thought you said I shouldn't worry about making any friends," I teased, and Randy gave a low chuckle.

"Too late," he told me, and to my surprise, he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to my cheek. "Let's go kick some ass, kid."

I scrambled to pull up my mask before he caught the furious blush on my cheeks, but he gave me a smirk anyway as he slipped past me. Randy was always flirtatious with his teasing, and I hadn’t been around that a lot, so he enjoyed watching my embarrassment. We gathered with Team Foley just as Ziggler headed out. The six of us came together in a quick huddle as Foley looked around.

"Give it your all. Don't let 'em get away easy. There’s a reason I picked all of ya, remember that,” he encouraged. Our group exchanged appraising glances as Ziggler’s music came to an end. “We know they’re gonna play dirty, but we don’t gotta sink to their level. I know most of us hate each other, but let’s put the egos aside and show ‘em how it’s done.”

Foley gave us a wink as his music started up; our group backed up from one another, watching as he disappeared onto stage. Bryan and Kane lined up, and the rest of us fell quiet, watching the monitor as we waited our turn. Randy shifted and pressed his arm against mine as Team Hell No marched out to the ring.

"You got this, kid," he promised as their music faded out. I took my position, and as my own song started up, I walked out purposefully, head held high. Again, I was met with a surprising amount of cheers. My last few appearances had really left an impression, and as my eyes scanned the crowd, I even saw a few posters with RENEGADE on them. I smiled to myself as I broke into a jog, leaping up and grabbing the top rope to vault over.

I came to a stop next to Kane, crossing my arms to glare at Team Ziggler with the others. Miz joined me to my right, and when Randy finally hopped off the turnbuckle, he moved to stand behind me, arms crossed.

"You're up first, kid," Foley told me, nodding at David Otunga as the others cleared out.

"Tag out whenever you need to," Randy told me seriously, watching me as I nodded and turned back to my opponent as the bell rung. Otunga launched at me, and I ducked easily, catching him in the ribs with my shoulder. He stumbled into the ropes and I grabbed his shoulder, throwing a few high knees into his stomach before Otunga went to throw me down. I used his own momentum to spin and jump up, locking him into a Hurricanrana that sent him face-first into the mat.

Before I could go for the pin, he rolled out of the ring; I stifled a sigh. I wasn't big enough to manhandle him back in if he put up a fight, so I climbed onto the top rope. Plan B it was then.

"And now Renegade, taking position up top – ooh! Moonsault right into Otunga!"

"He's down, Michael, but how's this little man gonna wrestle David Otunga back into the ring? He's twice his size!"

"He's making due – Renegade has Otunga's arm around his shoulder, and he's powering him up and back into the ring!"

Good god, that was a heavy man. I let out a few labored breaths as I shoved him further onto the mat before dragging myself in after. I flipped Otunga, going for a pin. Not surprisingly, he broke out at two. Instead of pushing myself just yet, I stood and pulled Otunga painstakingly to his feet. Did I mention he was heavy?

I dragged him over to our corner and slapped Bryan's hand, holding out Otunga's arm for him as he kicked him hard in the elbow. I slipped out of the ring, taking Bryan's place next to Randy; he leaned down a bit and murmured,

"You good?"

I gave a quick nod, and I felt him relax just a hint. The match was actually going great – I took a certain pleasure in Sandow trying to storm off before Kane threw him into the ring. But as Bryan went for a hit, Kane tagged himself in. Great.

As Kane got the pin, Bryan was back in the ring.

"What the hell!?" he cried, and suddenly he and Kane were fighting in the ring. I groaned and leaned forward.

"Guys, guys," I growled, trying to keep my voice low in case Bryan recognized it. "Stop!"

Bryan shoved Kane, and Kane shoved him back. I leaned forward a little more.

"Knock it off!"

Kane's huge hand slammed into my chest, going to shove me off the apron. Randy's arm shot out and caught me across the shoulders just in time, keeping me up on the ring.

"Watch it!" he snarled at the guys; a heartbeat later, Bryan had been flipped out of the ring, and Ziggler got Kane pinned for three. Randy and I let out groans of frustration. As he rolled from the ring, both Randy and Miz moved to go in. They gave one another a heated stare.

"I've got this!" Miz argued, and Randy shook his head.

"Wait your turn!"

"Miz, let him –" I started.

"Shut up!"

"Watch it," I growled, just as Randy grabbed his shoulders and spun him to snarl,

"Leave him out of this!"

As Ziggler dove for Miz, Randy shoved him aside and knocked him down easily, wrangling him into a tight hold against his chest. Miz held out his hand, but Randy caught my eye instead.

"Ready, kid?"

I reached out, and Randy tagged me in. Miz let out a shout of disdain as Randy held Ziggler for me, letting me throw a good hit into his gut. As Ziggler staggered upright, I threw another few punches to get him into the turnbuckle.

Ziggler retaliated with a kick to my chest that sent me stumbling into the corner opposite him. As Ziggler grabbed me and pulled me forward, I turned us and locked my arms around his neck. Using his solid body, I hung my weight off him and jumped up, planting my feet on his hips as I threw us backwards as hard as I could.

My back hit the mat and I flipped Ziggler up and back, hard enough to make him do a complete flip before landing face-first on the mat. The crowd let out an excited roar at the move; I was even surprised he'd flown that hard. I'd only practiced that on Randy, and Dolph was clearly lighter than he was.

I went for the pin, but Ziggler got up at two, and without warning he got a kick to my head and slammed me into the mat. A little dazed, I managed a leg sweep and took him to the mat to give myself a chance to recover. Winded now, and a little out of it, I shoved up and pulled Ziggler to the corner, tagging Bryan in again – much to Miz's displeasure. It put a smirk on Randy's face.

Once again I came to Randy's side, assuring him quietly that I was just fine, even though my vision hadn’t stopped spinning. He didn't fully believe me, but he didn't push as we watched the fight. Our corner cheered as Bryan got David to tap out, but it didn't last for long. Del Rio was on him as Bryan desperately reached to make a tag.

As Del Rio ran across Bryan's back, shoving him into the mat, he dove for me. Surprised, I just barely managed to shove his arm away from my face – he was trying to pull off my mask.

As he hit the ropes Randy slammed a hand into his chest and shoved him away so I could keep myself from falling back. Del Rio sneered at us as he went to work on Bryan. Somehow, a battered Bryan managed to throw Del Rio out of the ring as he struggled forward. Thankfully, Miz was reaching for it. I was still a little disoriented and I wouldn’t be much use.

Just as Bryan dove for his hand, Miz grabbed my wrist and pulled my hand out for Bryan to hit. Randy let out a shout and told me to tag him instead. Before I got the chance, a hand fisted in my hoodie and ripped me in through the ropes, tossing me into the other corner.

Del Rio lunged at me, again going for the mask, and I grabbed the ropes, jumping to deliver a hard kick. My feet caught his chest hard, and he slammed back, skittering to the center of the ring.

As Del Rio got back in the ring I climbed onto the turnbuckle and launched myself at him, flattening him to the mat. As he groaned and tried to get up, I ran to the other corner. He came running at me and I jumped onto the top rope; I flipped back, spinning my body and catching Del Rio in the chest. I felt him go weak underneath me, and as I threw myself over him for the pin, a hand grabbed my ankle and ripped me off of him.

"What the hell –" I gasped as I was yanked to my feet. Ziggler shoved me back, and as I turned, Del Rio's foot connected with the side of my head, right where Ziggler had gotten me earlier. I let out a cry of pain as I dropped to my knees, falling forward onto my hands. My already sore head was throbbing now, and my vision was swimming again. Faintly, I heard Del Rio make a tag, but I couldn't move; it took all my effort to stay off my face.

Barrett lifted me slowly, prepping me for the bull-hammer. I was still unsteady from Del Rio's kick and couldn't brace for the elbow that Barrett threw into my face. Of course, he managed to hit right where the others had caught me, and I hit the mat hard. I barely rolled aside to avoid another blow to the chest, and reached to the ropes to pull myself up but something hard slammed into my stomach – Ziggler's fist.

As I stumbled back, Barrett's arm wrapped around my middle, and before I knew it I was swung around in a tilt-a-whirl and driven hard into the mat. Pain shot through my body and my head swam. I felt Barrett on top of me, heard the ref at two, but I couldn't move. Even after Barrett jumped up in victory, I couldn't get out of the ring.

A pair of strong hands pulled me across the mat to the apron, and before I rolled onto the floor, I saw Randy slamming Barrett into the mat. Somehow, I got to my feet, and managed to stumble up the ramp. Once backstage, I let myself slump against the wall and hit the floor. I pulled my legs to my chest and wrapped my arms over my knees, burying my face in the crook of my elbow. My eyes squeezed shut tightly as I tried to regain my balance and stop the pounding in my head.

Not long after, I felt someone sit beside me. A warm arm pressed to mine, and I let out a groan.

"You did good," Randy said quietly. I could hear the answer in his voice already, but I had to get confirmation for myself, so I picked my head up and peeked at Randy over my arm.

"We win?"

"…No," he said after a moment, and I sighed. My legs slid forward and I dropped my head against the wall, which just made me grimace. "We should get you to the medic."

"'M fine," I muttered, though I didn’t move to get up with him as he stood. He kicked my boot, and I peeled my eyes open, scowling at him. The contacts were beginning to bother me, so I pulled them out and shoved them carelessly into my pocket. The irritation and the pain were mixing together now to put me in a pretty fowl mood.

"Just because we lost doesn't mean we didn't have a great fight," Randy pointed out, leaning forward and offering me a hand.

"Yeah, I know," I said quietly, letting him pull me to my feet as I rubbed my head resentfully. "I just wanted that cheap shot I took from Del Rio to count for something."

"Don't worry," Randy muttered, and I looked up at him hearing the tone of his voice. "He'll get what's comin' to him for that."

Randy, thankfully, looped his arm across my shoulders and tucked me to his side as he lead me to the locker room. If he hadn’t been keeping me upright, I would have hit the ground; the headache that had been creeping up on me was just now kicking into gear, and the throbbing made my vision swim.

On the monitors, we could see the fight between Ryback, Cena, and Punk. All my money was on John. Even if he wasn't dating my best friend, I liked him the most, and really, I wanted him to wipe the smug right off of Punk.

As I went to follow Randy in to change, a hand caught my shoulder and held me back.

"I wanted to say, you're making one hell of an impression in the ring."

I turned, and looked up in surprise at Triple H. He was beaming down at me, clearly pleased with the fight from tonight. Randy caught my eye and gave me a quick wink, as he slid his arm off me and went into the locker room to give us some privacy.

"Thank you," I said to Hunter, still a little stunned. "Next time, maybe I'll actually pin someone," I joked, and he gave me an understanding smile.

"I know a loss is rough. But don't let it take away from how great you were out there. Ziggler and his boys went for the low and dirty. You had a clean fight of your own, and that's something to be proud of."

As I stumbled to find the words I wanted, brain still a little blurry, Hunter turned his attention to the monitor behind me. Ryback had just sent CM Punk rolling out of the ring, and now he had John up on his shoulders. I grimaced, knowing what was coming next.

"At least we're having a good fight for the championship," he noted, shaking his head in sympathy as Ryback dropped John hard into the mat.

"He's gonna feel that in the morning –" I began, and then three men came flying into the ring.

"What?" Hunter breathed, eyes going wide in disbelief as the guys, in all black, assaulted Ryback away from John. "What the hell is going on?!"

As the cameras zoomed in on their faces, I gasped.

"I know them!" Hunter turned to glance at me in surprise. "From NXT! That's Ambrose! And Rollins, and Reigns!"

"What the hell do they think they're doing?!" Hunter snarled as they flung Ryback out of the ring. "They're going to ruin the match!"

"I can help," I said immediately, adrenaline pumping through my veins. I was still in my uniform, and I couldn't help notice a very vulnerable John lying in the ring. I hadn't been teasing when I told Nikki he was a part of my family. He meant just as much to me as her or Brie or Bryan. And if those three turned on him –

"Go, go!" Hunter shouted, shoving me for the ramp. The adrenaline focused my foggy mind, and now I didn’t feel anything but excitement and determination as I spun and sprinted out into the arena. I came out just in time to see Ryback being powerbombed through the announce table.

I skittered around the left side of the ring, coming up behind them. They slowly turned their attention to John, still motionless in the ring. The three of them moved to go after him as well.

"Hey!"

All three men turned slowly to look at me. I hunched down, fists held up, ready to throw myself at them if they made any move towards Ryback or John. Dean Ambrose, directly in front of me, let his eyes slide over me dismissively. Roman Reigns, to his right, and Seth Rollins, to his left, disregarded me as quickly as Dean had. This time, they shifted towards me, and Dean’s eyes flicked past me to Ryback.

I shifted a hint to the left, blocking his view, and gave him the most threatening scowl I could muster. Probably not as intimidating without the white contacts, but I held his gaze nonetheless.

I could see Punk crawling across the mat to John, but the three guys were between me and the ring, and I knew I didn't stand a chance getting to them. The match might have been lost, but I’d be damned if the three punks put their hands on my friend. We held each other’s stares, none of us moving, until the bell rung.

Dean's lips twitched into a brief, victorious smirk before he turned and lead the group towards the crowd. Roman Reigns and Seth Rollins each gave me a look to match Dean’s; I watched as they hopped over the barricade, disappearing up the stairs.

As soon as I was sure the three of them wouldn't be turning back for round two, I moved to kneel next to Ryback. He was just starting to come to, groaning and blinking around in confusion. I'd be surprised if he even knew where he was.

"Are you good?" I asked, resting a hand on his shoulder. He mumbled something incoherent. As he struggled to sit, I slipped my arm across his back and helped him stay upright as the medics came rushing over. No way I'd be pulling him to his feet on my own. Once they had Ryback up and stumbling towards the locker rooms, I scanned the arena for John.

He must have already dragged himself back, because the only one left in the ring was CM Punk, celebrating his cheap win with Paul Heyman. He caught me glaring up at him as I stalked around the ring, following the parade of medics into the back. He offered a smirk before turning his attention back to hugging his undeserved belt.

The moment I got backstage, a gentle hand locked onto my wrist; Randy was looking down at me, a look of bemused exasperation on his face as he led me away from the gathering crowd of officials and handlers.

"Do you find trouble, or does trouble find you?" he sighed, locking the door behind us as I slumped onto the bench in the locker room. I gave a weary chuckle and peeled my mask and beanie off; my hair fell down over my shoulders, matted thick with sweat and blood. Definitely shower time.

This time I took a little longer. The hot water felt good on my sore neck and head, and I had to gingerly massage my scalp as I worked the hairtie out of my tangled hair. Now that the adrenaline was fading, the pain and dizziness began to take over again. Once I emerged from the shower, I caught sight of one of the most wicked bruises I'd ever received beginning to take color on the side of my face. Though most of it seemed to go up onto my scalp, covered by my hair, a good piece came down across my temple and cheek. No way I was sneaking that past the others. Thanks, Del Rio.

I emerged and passed Randy on the way; he caught my shoulder - minding the new and old bruises there - and took my chin to study my face. Something I could only describe as anger flickered in his eyes as he saw the damage. He let out a heavy sigh, squeezed my chin just a bit, and headed for the showers.

As I slowly sat down on the bench, combing out my hair, I began to feel just how hard Del Rio had kicked me, and now the ache in my back was spreading from Barrett's ruthless tilt-a-whirl. I tried to push the nausea away as I bent over to lace up my sneakers.

A wave of vertigo hit me like a ton of bricks, and suddenly I found myself on my knees, clutching at my head as the room gave a sickening spin.

"What did I say? Medic," Randy told me sternly as he appeared at my side from the showers, not giving me a chance to protest as he scooped up under my arms and lifted me to my feet. He kept one arm wrapped across my back, tucking me to his side as he powered down the hall, ignoring my embarrassed mumbling.

"I'm fine, really, I just slipped, and -"

"And if you have a concussion, and you jump back in the ring, you could suffer some serious damage, Jamie," he said curtly, not even knocking as he pushed the door to the medics office open. John and Ryback, both sitting on separate exam tables, gave me looks that were a mixture of surprise - more from John - and concern - more from Ryback.

"Jamie?" John managed, and a new head popped around the corner as I was ushered further inside, against my will. Nikki's eyes widened at Randy, and then doubled when she caught my face.

"Jamie!” she squealed, making everyone else in the room flinch. “What the hell happened to you!?" she demanded as she flew at me. She slammed into me and my sore back hit Randy; we both let out groans of pain.

Nikki dragged me forward and nearly dumped John onto the floor as she manhandled me onto the table beside him. Randy watched on with an amused smirk, and when he caught my eye, he nodded and said,

"I think you're in capable hands now. I'll see you around."

And now I was left with John, Ryback, Nikki, and the medic staring at me, waiting for an explanation. I gave a nervous chuckle and ran a hand through my hair, wincing as my fingers brushed a sore spot on my head.

"I, ah, I tripped coming off your bus," I started, glancing up at John. His brows rose up to his hairline and his lips twitched. "Don't you dare laugh at me, John Cena!" Which, of course, set both him and Nikki off into bouts of smothered giggling. "You've done it before!"

"Yeah, but I didn't nearly kill myself," he snorted as Nikki wiped away a stray tear and rolled her eyes.

"Wow, Jellybean. To think we were worried about the other wrestlers. We leave you alone for a few hours and you nearly take yourself out."

"Shove it, Nicole," I mumbled as the medic turned from Ryback, who was now cleared to go. He gave me a wary glance as she shuffled out, and I felt my cheeks heat up as John and Nikki laughed even harder.

The medic started with the bruise on my face; I winced as his fingers brushed over it and he frowned.

"You did all this damage from one fall?"

"Yeah," I chuckled, deciding it was better to play along than risk exposing my secret. "I'm not very coordinated."

"This kind of thing happens a lot," Nikki assured, and I rolled my eyes as I turned my head to scowl. Though I was thrilled she was playing along with my lie without even knowing, I didn't appreciate her lack of faith. No matter how valid her point was. John, at least, was trying to smother the grin on his face. Nikki was not. "She's a walking safety hazard."

The medic chuckled again, gently turning my head back. He quickly found the knot on my head; I sucked in a breath and John called me a wimp, which earned him an elbow in the ribs. He grimaced and gave me a wounded frown.

"Wimp," I countered; he stuck his tongue out at me.

"Is your back hurt as well?" the medic asked as his hands went down my neck, pausing at my shoulder. Before he could tug my shirt down I ducked out of his reach.

"No, it's fine," I said as sincerely as possible. "I was wrestling with a friend the other day and I bruise easily." With a chuckle, I motioned to my face, and he smiled as he took a step back. I let out a relieved breath; I knew the blooming bruises on my back and ribs wouldn’t mesh well with falling off a bus. There was only so much clumsiness I could feign.

I could see John accepted my answer as well, but Nikki’s laughter had tapered off. If the narrowed eyes I received were any indication, I was in for another interrogation tonight.

"Everything checks out. Just take it easy. Your head's going to be a little tender. But I don't see any signs of a concussion."

By the time we were dismissed from the medic, word had spread around about the attack from Ambrose, Rollins, and Reigns. We met up with Brie and Bryan in the parking lot, coming into the middle of their conversation. They were having a worried discussion with Natalya and her fiancé, TJ.

"It just, like freaks me out," Brie fretted, her arms wrapped tightly around one of Bryan's. "How could some guys just come into the ring and assault Ryback like that?"

"No idea," TJ said absently, clearly not as worried about the attack as Natalya or Brie. When the girls noticed his lack of interest, both their faces pulled into scowls.

"Is it not a big deal to you? Because I feel like you think we're overreacting-" Natalya began, and he held up his hands defensively before she could really get going.

"I don’t, really," he added at the look she threw him. He met Bryan's eye and shrugged. "I'm just sayin', if a pipsqueak like Renegade got all three of them to back off, I don't think they're as deadly and dangerous as you guys are thinking."

This would have launched Nattie and Brie into furious arguing if Nikki hadn't cleared her throat to announce,

"Jamie got beat up by a bus."

All four heads swiveled to look at us, apparently just noticing our presence. John snorted again, and earned himself another elbowing as Bryan clarified,

"I'm sorry, what?"

With a roll of my eyes I tilted my head towards them, and Brie sucked in a sharp breath, rushing forward. Her hands cupped my face as she examined the injury, and she met my eyes worriedly.

"Are you okay, Jamie?"

"Yeah, I'm -"

"How did you even manage that?!" Bryan snorted, unable to hold back his laughter, which just set Nikki and John off again. Natalya and TJ excused themselves, giving me parting looks of bemusement as Mama Brie whirled on the others. They shut their mouths instantly, and John even had the decency to duck his head.

"Jamie could have really hurt herself, and you assholes are laughing at her!" she chastised; the three of them did their best to look somber until Brie turned her back. All of them started chortling, trying to hold the laughter in.

"Let's get you back to the hotel. You should rest. Are you alright? We can go by the doctor..." she trailed off, ushering me with her towards the rental, smacking Bryan across the chest as we shoved past the giggling jerks in our group.

---

"You know what I think?” Nikki began between bites of her rice, turning to look at me. We were sitting cross-legged on the bed, eating our takeaway at 2am, watching an infomercial for sex toys. Which, oddly enough, was a common nightly routine for us.

My eyes were glued to the TV, doing my best to ignore her attempt at another argument as I took a bite of my egg roll as she continued, “There's like, no way you got that just from falling down three steps."

"I really just don't get why the color matters. Like, who else is gonna see it? Does your vagina really care whether you've got Kiwi Green or Passion Fruit Pink?" I began; she kicked her foot into my thigh and I swatted her away.

"Dude, I saw the other bruises when you were changing. And I know if Brie knew about them, she'd be pretty pissed. So either tell me, or I'm telling her."

"If you do, I'm telling John what you're making us watch," I threatened, and looked up to see her smirk.

"Trust me, I don’t think he’d mind one bit.”

"Damn it, John Cena. You kinky son of a bitch," I muttered, pushing my box of takeaway onto the bedside table as I took a sip of water, thinking of what to say. "Look, it's nothing bad, okay? It's just... you guys are so protective of me. I don't like making you worry. You and Brie get all nervous and you make those weird faces - yeah, like that," I said as her lips pulled into a tight line. She scoffed at me and kicked my leg again as I took a sip and smirked.

"So like, what? Is Randy into some really hardcore stuff?"

"What?!" I gasped, spluttering on my water. Nikki just shrugged and kept going.

"Like, did he get a little too into it? You know, this one time, my old boyfriend had tied me up, and he just went to town –"

"Oh my god Nicole," I cried as I finally caught my breath, falling back on the bed and burying my face in a pillow as she tried to push on. "Please, stop talking!"

"So if it's not wild, kinky sex, why can't you just tell me?" she countered, and I groaned. "I tell you everything. We never have secrets, Jellybean. Like, if something's wrong, I want to help-"

"Nik, I told you," I began, pushing the pillow back. "It's nothing bad-"

"You know, Brie has a point.”

"That you need to keep all discussion of your sex life to yourself?" I hinted, earning another kick.

"No, you bitch. She said you didn't start acting all weird and getting all beat up until you started spending time with Randy."

Finally pushing myself into a sitting position, I turned and gave her the most sincere look I could muster. I was surprised to see genuine concern on her face, and took a moment to realize how concerning it was starting to appear. Guilt twisted through me; like she’d pointed out, I never kept anything from her. I rested a hand on her leg and gave a squeeze.

"If I tell you, can you promise not to tell Brie and the others?"

"Even John?"

"Yes. He falls into the 'other' category."

"Ugh, fine. I won't tell. Unless it's like, really bad. And then I'm obligated to say something."

"No you're not," I argued, scrunching up my face. "That's if like you're in a position of power, and I'm in danger."

"What if you are?"

"I'm not, and even then, you're not in a position of power."

"Uh, yeah I am –"

"Do you want to hear this or not?" I cut in, and she rolled her eyes, but pointedly pressed her lips together as I thought of how to word what was going on without giving away my secret. "I was wrestling with Randy, okay? And we - don’t giving me that look! I didn't mean it like that, you perv! Like, he was showing me some moves, and I sorta slipped, and I banged my – Nicole!"

She was doubled over, laughing so hard she had tears in her eyes. I threw my hands up and moved to get off the bed. She wrapped her arms around my middle and jerked me back to her chest. As I struggled to get away she flipped me to my back and pressed me down into the mattress, slapping the bed for a three-count.

"Get off me, you ignoramus!" I gasped, giving my best Damien Sandow impression. Nikki leaned forward, caught my eye, and waved a hand in front of her face.

"You can't see me!" she growled in a terrible impression of her crush as she gave me a half-assed five-knuckle shuffle. I flipped over onto my knees and leaned back, wrapped an arm around her neck, and fell back on the bed.

"RKO!" I cheered, getting her onto her back and pressing her shoulders into the mattress. We both put on our best furious faces, glaring at one another. Nikki's lips twitched, and I pinched my brows together a bit more.

A heartbeat later, we burst out laughing and dissolved into giggles. We ended up side-by-side on our backs, looking up at the ceiling as we wiped the tears from our eyes, giggles slowly dying down.

"You promise me you're okay?" she asked after we’d caught our breaths. I rolled my head over to look at her and gave a sincere smile.

"Promise."

"Fine," she huffed, sitting up and pushing off the bed, grabbing her bathroom bag as she went. "But seriously, I better be the first to know whenever you and Randy start gettin' it on -"

"Nicole-"

"I'm just saying!"

As the bathroom door shut, I stayed on my back, running over the last week in my mind. So much had changed in just six days, and I knew there was so much left to come.