Title: Be My Superman

Author: Candy_rko

Pairings: John/Mike

Summary: Mike has a hard time showing the world himself so he hides behind the Miz. But John wants to draw him out of his cocoon of safety.

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me

Author's Notes: VERY short but only because this a tester chapter. I'm not sure how this is going to go over… Let me know. Please and thank you! :- )

-There's something about you,

I want to rescue.

I don't even know you,

So what does that mean?

Maybe I'm cynical,

Painfully logical,

Tragic and beautiful,

That's good enough for me.

Looking for a hero

But it's just my old tattoo.

Tonight I swear I'd sell my soul,

To be a hero for you.

Who's gonna save you,

When the starts fall from your sky?

And who's gonna pull you in the tide gets to high?

Who's gonna hold you when you turn out the light?

I won't lie,

I wish that I,

Could be your superman tonight-

Chapter 1/?

His mouth was dry, staring into the furious blue eyes of John Cena.

"What the fuck was that about? I thought our little feud was over?" John seethed, the hands on Mike's shoulders digging into the tanned flesh, leaving imprints behind. "Huh, Mike? You think I don't have enough shit goin' on without your stickin' your nose where it don't fuckin' belong?"

"Maybe I'm not the only one that's getting sick and tired of you always being the face of the WWE. I'm not alone in wanting you to be knocked down a few pegs," Mike's tone as cool and calm; the exact opposite of how he was trembling on the inside. "Batitsta's the only that's had the balls to do it." "Is that so?" John sneered, "So you've suddenly developed a back bone because someone bigger's shown their ass to the world?"

"Hey, I proved I wasn't some punk bitch that was going to take it lying down from the great John Cena," Mike hissed, emotions at war with each other. Part of him wanted to run away and hide, the other half wanted to confront John Cena head on despite the collision. "I proved it to everyone. Everyone but you."

"You came out here for weeks, Mizanin. Paradin' your ass around like some showboatin' poodle, insultin' me. I retaliated and you weren't man enough to stick to it. Our rivalry's fizzled out and been buried for a long time. Why are you bringin' all this shit up now?"

John's hold on him loosened, the feeling returning to Mike's limbs. "I told you. If Batista can do it, I can-"

"That's where you're wrong," John shook his head, stepping back, massive arms crossing in front of his chest. "Batista's been in the business years longer than you, kid. He's the only one other than Shawn, Mark, and Paul that have the right to go after with me a vendetta. And you, baby face Mike Mizanin, a reality show has been, thinks you can upstage the Animal at his game. You've lost before it's even happened."

That stung. All Mike had ever wanted from John Cena was his approval. To be seen as an equal but John had never given him the time of day. And fuck if Mike hadn't sported a serious crush on the older man when he'd first debuted on Raw and met the man. That was quickly destroyed once the illusion of John Cena was shattered. "You think I want to do this in front of millions of people? No, I'm more then happy with doing this back stage."

A shadow fell across the handsome face and Mike almost fled. "Oh really?"

"Really."

"I'm not goin' to fight you."

Mike chuckled, hysteria beginning to mount. He was a goddamned moron for provoking John Cena like this. "I don't want a fight either. I want you on your knees, begging me."

A brow rose. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Don't act so self righteous. I know all about your dirty little past with Orton," Mike scoffed, wondering what anyone could see in Randy Orton other than his godly good looks. "So lay off the I'm straight act. I want you underneath me, Cena, and I'm not taking no for an answer."

John chuckled. "You're not the first man that's demanded me on my back. But there's one problem. I only get on my back for men that have my respect and so far, you haven't earned it. You're an egotistical bastard that's slept his way to the top. At least, that's what the rumors say."

Mike's ice blue eyes narrowed at the accusation. No, Mike had spent years making it to where he was, busting his ass, hoping to get noticed. He didn't spread his legs for anyone to get where he was. It was God given talent. "Whatever makes you sleep at night, Cena."

"But you know, I don't think you'd be so bad if you pulled the stick outta your ass and let the Miz take a back seat to Mike," John's verbal arrow lodged painfully in Mike's heart. How… "You're hot. I'll give you that. You're probably one of the hottest pieces of ass on the either roster. But that personality of yours could use a make over. What happened to that kid I met years ago?"

The Miz ate him, Mike thought darkly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

John's smile was sad, fond even, "The one that stuttered and blushed when I introduced myself? He's there," John gently touched Mike's chest, just above Mike's rapidly beating heart. "Somewhere. When you let Mike out to play, come find me. Cuz, I sorta had a crush on him."

Mike's jaw dropped, watching as John grabbed his bag from the floor and walked towards the door of his private dressing room. "Oh, and Miz, you can drop this feud shit. I don't have the patience for head games."

With that, John Cena left, leaving Mike a confused mess.