One: Dim.

Randy purred, blowing out a couple candles in the dark room, pressing up against Dave and looking up at him as he fell back on the bed with the larger man on top of him, their lips sweetly pressing against each other's until an annoying, happily-screaming banter on the other side of the wall caused Randy's eyes to jolt open and storm out the door and kick down the other – truthfully yelling that if Ted and Cody made even a slight noise, or so much as moved from where he sat them, he'd kill them.

Two: Futile

Bright blue eyes had long ago set into deep concentration, not needing to peer down at the game controller, as he promptly set to beating his leader's character into the ground, until the game ended, and Orton nearly broke the controller slamming it on the floor, "Fuck this!"

Three: Erratic.

Grey eyes narrowed, staring down at the coffee on the counter in front of him, "Are you serious?" he hisses, looking up in time to receive a half-assed response. His fingers grasped the hot cup, tearing it's lid off and smirking as he left the man behind the counter writhing in pain.

Four: Tired.

Dave glances down at Randy, who is asleep on his arm that has in turn gone completely numb. He attempted to move just slightly, failing to make it any better and deciding to cut it out before he woke up the sleeping viper – who for once almost looked like an angel... almost.

Five: Loved.

"Randy!!" Cody screams happily, attaching himself instantly around the older man's waist, "Where have you been?" he asks brightly, his beaming smile almost rivaling that of Evan Bourne's. Randy, being not in the mood for it as usual, sighs defeated; patting the youngest Rhodes on the head.

Six: Soft.

Randy coiled up on the small "love" sofa, his muscular, tattooed arms wrapped around Cody Rhodes, and Ted in back of his legs. Randy was almost asleep, his eyes opening slightly as he felt Dave's fingers gently caressing his hair. "Sorry," he whispered, feeling just slightly bad everyone had just piled up on his husband's lap. "I don't mind," he whispered back.

Seven: Hold.

"Hold on," Randy tells his two prodigies through his barred teeth, kicking the door shut with his heel and throwing his arms back up around Batista, "Now, where were we?" he chuckled devilishly, his lips attacking his lover as his strong fingers slipped under his trunks and hiked them down.

Eight: Shackles.

His head was thrown back for mere moments in lust, moaning in ecstasy as beads of his own sweat was licked off the tips of his tattoo spread across trapezius muscles. The viper groaned, his head twisting, and venomous teeth sunk into the leviathan's neck, his hands rattled the cuffs around his wrists violently, moaning through teeth clenched down on his lover's flesh.

Nine: Broken.

Randy was sat on the couch with Dave, leaning against his chest and sighing heavily before getting up to grab a box to help Cody and Ted as much as he didn't want to. His heart twisted with lonesome, his tenseness relaxing as he felt Dave behind him, "It's not like they're your children, Randall."

Ten: Precious.

Dave smiled warmly, sitting his suitcase down at the doorway, unsurprised to walk into his bedroom to find Randy cuddled up close with Cody and Ted.

Eleven: Question.

"Randy! Randy! Randy!" ten minutes later, "Randy! Randy!" Orton's eyes finally narrowed towards Cody, his mouth captivating his and slowly pulling apart, "Will you please shut up now?"

Twelve: Ink.

Randy's been injured for months, laying bored at home with nothing to do as he awaited the return of his boyfriend. He had to stop himself from leaping up off the couch, as much as he wanted to run and jump up into Dave's arms with a typical television reunion. Regardless, he rushed out, gently being taken into the older mans arms. "Looks like someone's been hitting up the tattoo parlor while I've been gone."

Thirteen: Twisted.

Ted and Cody's heads slowly turned toward Randy, who seemingly as usual had been talking aloud to himself, or someone else... that wasn't there. Deep in lone-conversation had abrupt a seemingly unusual topic – detailing all of the things Randy would like to do to mutilate a particular wanna-be gangster.

Fourteen: Echo.

The Legend Killer stood before Ted DiBiase Jr. and in back of him, Cody Rhodes. Attempting to give DiBiase direct instructions on what to do in the ring to Shane, he couldn't help but turn around and demand Cody shut his mouth, did he need to repeat everything?

Fifteen: Soothe.

Randy moaned, arching his back up into the couch at the feel of Cody's tongue swirling around him. His mouth had to be the best thing in the world.

Sixteen: Fight.

Randy's hand smashed against the door, sending it flying open as he stormed into the room and stood in front of his Cody, "You want to say that to him again?" he hissed, voice dripping with toxic. The smaller man before The Legend Killer made no sound or movement – but Orton already decided with a glance to DiBiase beside him, that he was about to set this bastard up for the best curb-stomp he'd ever given someone.

Seventeen: Naked.

"Get out! Get out right now!" Randy shouts as Dave hurriedly shuts the door. "I'm not ready, you dumb-shit," he hisses, leaving a confused Dave to wonder why he couldn't just look, it wasn't like he hadn't seen him naked before. He sighed and waited the extra fifteen minutes to see the new suit he bought to induct his father in – he hadn't really grasped that it wasn't about himself yet.

Eighteen: Push.

Randy's gray eyes snapped vigorously open, "Would all of you shut up! I know what I'm supposed to do, you morons!" he squirms violently, attempting poorly to take a swing at Cody, having already nailed Dave, and given him a bloody nose in the process; along with getting himself in restraints.

Nineteen: Alive.

Randy Orton's gorgeous body lays lifeless on the ground. By now, other wrestlers have surrounded and the EMT's. Cody Rhodes is wrapped around Ted, his eyes swollen with tears as he stares down at his leader and listens to DiBiase's voice trying to explain what had happened to a panicking, enraged Dave Batista. Still unresponsive, Randy is hauled onto a stretcher and taken away.

Twenty: New.

"I don't like it," Randy scowls. Turning and walking away from Dave who can't help but wonder why he bothers to get the bratty kid anything he asks for anyways. For a split moment, it crosses his mind to make the gift useful, and teach Cody how to ride a motorcycle, rather than just watch him model on Orton's while Ted takes pictures... He then remembers how much he loves those not-so-tasteful shots.

Twenty one: Murmur.

"I love you, Dave..." Randy whispers, rolling over and snuggling close under the sheets, his arms fixing around his boyfriend, who said something completely incoherent and hardly audible. Randy narrowed his eyes a bit and shook him slightly, repeating his words, before receiving a shut up, and shoving the older man out of the bed and to the floor.

Twenty two: Devious.

Orton's sharp nails claw hard down, and up Batista's back, blood pooling between his fingernails as he sinks into the sheets. Silver optics glancing up at the blood trickling down his palms, closing in lust at the metallic taste that engulfs his forked tongue.

Twenty three: Isolation.

Silently, Dave Batista paces around his bedroom, a blanket wrapped around his large frame and a tissue practically fused to his nose. His raspy voice begs Orton to let him out. "You're going to get everybody sick, Dave! We don't get sick in this house, Dave! You can't have any juice, you'll wreck it for everyone else, Dave!"

Twenty four: Starve.

"I'm hungry," Randy hisses for the thousandth time. He crosses his arm, glaring into the drivers seat and staring down Batista with the intensity to set something ablaze, that only seems to worsen when Dave comments that they just had lunch.

Twenty five: Breakable.

"Be careful, Dave!" Randy shouts – as if he ever talks quietly. With out exactly thinking, Batista whips around, bashing Cody's brains out of his head on the door frame and knocking him unconscious in the process. "See what you do! You always break my things!" Randy hisses, ripping the younger man from his husbands arms and informing the trainers that he can handle it.

Twenty six: Winter.

Dave falls to the ground with a loud thump, having been shoved out of the bed and watching Randy try and wrap himself in every inch of blanket he could. He says nothing, giving him a hard look over, almost ready to fall victim to the idea that Randy was indeed very cute – until he opened his mouth to start bitching. It wasn't even that cold.

Twenty seven: Ignore.

"Dave. Dave. Dave. Dave. Dave. Dave!" Purposely, Dave lowered his news paper, looking the other way and shrugged, going back to it and ignoring Randy's presence, even when he began to poke him excessively, "Theodore, what the hell is that annoying sound?" he could barely keep from grinning as he asked, enjoying infuriating Randy.

Twenty eight: Color.

The two young superstars burst into the room, grabbing the enormous man and ripping him from their leader. DiBiase fending him off as Rhodes scrambled to get Orton off from the floor and sitting up on the bed, inspecting the red, deep bruises Batista had left over Randy.

Twenty nine: Grace.

Ted grins wildly, seeing Cody wearing heels is always a treat with those gorgeous legs. Better yet, they had stolen them from Randy's closet... who happens to walk in the room, giving Cody a split second to kick them under the bed and attempt to look innocent while wearing a mini-skirt and corset. "Those were my wedding heels," he scowls, retrieving them in time to knock DiBiase out with one of the white stilettos – having dared to say he wasn't graceful enough to move in them. "Want to try on my dress, too?" he tries to remain angry when he looks over Rhodes' delicious body.

Thirty: Belong.

Timidly, Cody drags his suitcase behind him, following Ted into Orton's house. His smile is nervous, obviously faked, and Randy can tell as he pulls Rhodes into his arms, pressing against his curvy body, "You two belong here, with me. Stop being so afraid of Dave," he chuckles.

Thirty one: Choke.

Randy wraps a cold towel around his neck, sighing heavily as he faces the daunting questions from his fellow superstars, and hoping they don't make the connection that the bruises over his neck match the shape of Batista's hands.

Thirty two: Reach.

Cody whimpers, hardly able to stand with Teddy balancing on his shoulders, and Randy standing on Ted's, his own idea of how the correct way to arrange their tower should have been. Orton's fingers brush slightly against the glimmering WWE Title belt hanging from the locker room's rafters, too impatient to wait for a ladder, and unable to retrieve his prized object as Cody slips.

Thirty three: Difficult.

Randy hisses at Cody to shut his mouth, hating that everyone feels like standing around him at all times now. Eventually, he gives up, letting Dave help him up, and taking a swing at Cody for making yet another comment at him, "You try getting around when you have eight damn kids inside you!" he growls, immediately targeting Ted with his poorly whispered comment to Rhodes: "He has the hips for it."

Thirty four: Serenity.

Dave flops down exhaustedly on the couch, his eyes closing and enjoying that Randy was out of his hair for a little while. The gentle breeze of the fan drifting over his tattooed flesh and just getting comfortable... until Randy's whining, screaming voice was calling him.

Thirty five: Heat.

Wrapped up in a pile of comforters and sheets. Surrounded in pillows and draped over Batista. Gray eyes blissfully closed, and the most content look on his face - a very rare sight, seeing Randy like that almost made him want to get up and go get the camera... Rather than trying his best to get out of bed with out waking him, and go cool off in front of the freezer. He couldn't believe that Randy was wearing a sweat shirt and pants, and not sweating a bit, and yet he had on only boxers, and was completely dying. Summer seemed a lot like winter.

Thirty six: Veneer.

Cody puffs up his chest, storming into the living room where the Deacon was screaming at the Viper, almost determined to stand up to the larger man on behalf of his leader. Ted stands in the hallway, leaning against the wall, observing his nails till Rhodes slinks back. "What happened to kicking Dave's teeth down his throat?"

Thirty seven: Fall.

Randy holds tight onto Dave's large, tattooed arms. It's cold, and he's sure he can feel the cool pavement through his slip-on sneakers. He demands in an almost calm voice for the two to head back home, and firmly states that he can see his own breath - Dave laughs, "That's because your smoking."

Thirty eight: Nightmare.

Randy shot up, shaking his husband awake until he almost dropped him off the bed, "Wake up! Wake up and kill John Cena, Dave!" he narrowed his eyes into slits, glaring down at him when he was blatantly ignored. "I had that dream again, Dave!" he whined louder, continuing to shake him, "When he finds out my phone number..."

Thirty nine: Contagious.

"But Ted!" Cody whines with annoyance and shock in his voice, and a tone that is telling his boyfriend he can burn in hell over not getting what he asked for. Cody continues on a tangent as they walk through the store, as Ted gains a migraine from it, "Where the hell did he pick that up from," he growls under his breath. DiBiase looks up at Batista for some sort of answer, "Randy is contagious," the older man chuckles.

Forty: Good Riddance.

Whenever Randy speaks, his heavy voice seems to be just above a mutter, short, simple answers . He's doing his best to look like he's just as active as he's ever been, but it doesn't seem to fool Dave that he misses Cody and Teddy more than anything – even when he says he couldn't give a shit less.

Forty one: Monster.

The Viper is fast asleep, unaware he's pretty much half off the bed, and using what he can of The Animal's body to prop his feet up on. Expertly, a figure slinks into the room, kneeling at his side and poking at his tattooed shoulders, "Randy?" the voice asks, nudging him a little harder until he ends up crashing onto the floor in a flailing, upside down pile of limbs until he realizes it's only... Cody.

Forty two: Voodoo.

Ted hadn't seen Cody work so hard on anything before, with his birthday coming up, he had guessed it was a birthday gift. He hadn't mentioned anything and walked away from where Cody had been hard at work, and set to getting Randy to go and ask what it was Cody was doing. DiBiase had been completely unprepared for Orton's nonchalant answer, "He's trying to off your dad with a voodoo doll, Teddy."

Forty three: Burn.

Randy yelps, embarrassingly loud, dropping the cookie out of his hand with a stream of cusses. Ted's laughter doesn't help, who stands beside Cody minding him that the treats weren't just for anybody. Orton hisses, decides not to deal with them today and go back to sleep; muttering about Cody getting to bake in just an apron and stilettos wasn't fair. "I meant the god damn cookies!" he screams at the snickering pair.

Forty four: Scarred.

The Viper's eyes narrow into slits, writhing backward just enough to push forward and kick Batista off of him, "These things fucking hurt, if they cut me, I swear to God." He growls; demanding to be un-handcuffed from the bed, "I think I'm bleeding you asshole."

Forty five: Camping.

Randy and Cody grumbled, sitting close by each other for warmth while Ted and Dave had their nerd vacation. He kicked Cody from the stump, demanding he find more marshmallows – even if every last one had already been ate by Orton himself, while complaining that his life sucked.

Forty six: Shine.

Wishing he had roomed with Triple H for the night – a sledge hammer would have definitely been within his reach - Orton drags himself out of bed, shutting the fabric blinds and smacking Cody upside the head as he passed by... Now wasn't any time to be awake.

Forty seven: Destination.

Cody looks as happy as can be to board the airplane, they're early for the flight - but he still insists that they're going to miss it if Randy doesn't put out his cigarette so they can go inside. Randy ignores his voice to the best of his abilities attempting to least get half way through his smoke... but the information of a Cinnabon inside has him just as excited as Rhodes.

Forty eight: Last Dance.

Batista's chocolate eyes scan adoringly impassionedly over Randy's figure. For once, they've gotten some alone time with out his prodigies running through the house. He stands up, helping Randy up from his chair, knowing that he can't really stand in his strappy high heels. For a moment, he stands back and looks over his breath taking figure in his tight little black dress that hardly fits over his thighs. "Stop staring at me," Randy growls, "Or I swear this is the last romantic dinner we'll ever have."

Forty nine: Steady.

Dave carefully holds onto Randy's hips, steadying him against the small sink in the cramped tour bus bathroom. He closes his eyes after watching his lover's venomous saliva soaking through the shirt almost stuffed down his throat. Seconds away, Randy's hand slips, both crashing to the floor and outside the door.

Fifty: Grave.

Offering a supportive smile to Dave Batista, Cody stands beside DiBiase, releasing himself momentarily from his arm and handing the older man the bouquet of red roses. Not a single one of the three could understand , or fully grasp, what could possibly have driven Randy Orton to suicide.

Fifty one: Machine.

"Give me those!" Randy demands, taking the instructions off Dave's head that he managed to fold into a sailor hat. "If I can't figure out how to set these damn wires up Cody's never going to give me birthday sex... On his birthday."

Fifty two: Goodbye.

Dave Batista stands up quickly, dropping Melina on the ground as Randy Orton walks into the locker room. Their eyes catch for a brief moment, the look of hurt evident in the boy's silver eyes. He sighs heavily, throwing the Diva out of the room and setting to win back the the one he really cared for.

Fifty three: Intent.

Hunter's grinning as he looks over the young Randy Orton, licking his lips as he looks him up and down. The soap runs down every last curve, and Dave shatters every last thought running through Triple H's mind, "That's mine," he whispered from behind him.

Fifty fourteen: Nowhere.

Randy stirs from his peaceful sleep to the sound of a bickering Cody and Teddy, being completely unsure how Dave could sleep through it. "What would you do if I didn't tell you we were about to run out of gas?" Cody asks, causing Randy to look out the window immediately, just to become aware that they where in the middle of nowhere.

Fifty five: Garden.

Orton yelps loudly as he tumbles backward into the bush outside the hotel, with Dave still on top of him, he can't find a reason to let the prickly weeds ruin his first kiss with Dave Batista... Or the fact that he can hear Hunter walking by, laughing.

Fifty six: I know.

"Dave... Dave... Dave..." Randy starts up again, looking out of the limousine window, "Dave? Why is New York City called Manhattan? It's the same fucking place," he grumbles, shoving him to get a response and disliking getting ignored by his new boyfriend, cursing under his breath. "I know," Batista mutters, just to antagonize him.

Fifty seven: Dusty.

The young Rhodes had been horribly anxious all day, and night, to see his father, and practically shook with anticipation in the locker room getting ready. "Your--" Randy starts as he walks into the room, getting shoved aside as Cody darts by him and knocks the wind out of his father as he throws his arms, and the rest of himself, completely around the legend. "I can't believe your here!"

Fifty eight: Dream.

"No," Dave's voice holds every last bit of his nerves, trying his best to contain himself before he pounds his husband's face into the floor. Randy throws the older man against the wall, storming out the door to go and forcefully vent his raging emotions onto Cody and Ted... At least Cody cares, and Ted can look like he's paying attention.

Fifty nine: Destiny.

Batista can't stop smiling, and he's sure he doesn't want to either. Brown optics are lit up like a stadium. Nothing could be more beautiful than seeing his bride walking down the isle. As much as he didn't want to wear the dress, Randy Orton looked breath taking in it.

Sixty: Spring.

Cody smiles, beaming up at Randy and pointing out the singular flower in front of their house that roughly took an hour or two for him and Ted to plant. His face shatters into devastation when Randy's lip curls, and foot stomps the blue plant into mush... At least the sex in the lawn with Ted was good.

Sixty one: Sigh.

Smoke drifts in gentle swirls from The Viper's mouth as he sighs with utmost contentment. Shane McMahon's hands dance across his tattooed flesh. He can feel Dave's brown eyes burning daggers into the two of them, but he couldn't care less.

Sixty two: Fingertips.

"Stop touching me!" Randy hisses violently, his elbow swinging back and catching Dave in the gut. He pulls the sheets over his head, demanding his husband stop coughing because he was trying to sleep.

Sixty three: Waiting.

Dave looks back at his friend, who doesn't offer much else than a shrug. His eyes scanned the rows of people before him while he looks at the watch on his wrist he knows he's been checking for the past ten minutes. Maybe Randy didn't want to get married after all.

Sixty four: Playboy.

Randy walked out of the front door, stepping out for only seconds before he turned around on his heel, and headed back to find Dave. "What exactly... are Cody and Ted doing in my hummer?" he asked, slightly intrigued. "He's taking photographs of Cody naked, Randall."

Sixty five: Revenge.

Batista quirks his eyebrow, watching Randy sit up on the bed with a box of Cody's slutty shoes, almost wishing he didn't ask what he was doing. Of course Randy was tearing them apart for scuffing his own pair, what else? He sighs heavily when the door is slammed in his face, hoping that his one favorite pair he likes to see on the younger man isn't wrecked.

Sixty six: July.

Randy's just about done calling the police on every neighbor on the block when he sets to spraying Cody and Ted and their sparklers off with the hose. Dave chuckles, looking out from the window, knowing he should have given some warning about Randy's poor logic of having enough of the common festivities going off at work.

Sixty seven: Desire.

Randy can see Batista bite down hard on his lips from the corner of his eye, he smirks and follows his eyes locked onto Cody. His tattooed arm reaches into the shower, pulling the naked Rhodes out and throwing him up against the wall. "You want to see something hott, Dave?" he growls.

Sixty eight: Free.

"I'm hitting that for free," he laughs, waving the pile of cash Dave had given to his Cody hours ago, "And your paying all this to that kid? You should be saving to buy me a big ring like Punk's," he scoffs, counting through it and looking back over to him before he leaves the room, "He only comes a couple grand cheaper because your mine."

Sixty nine: Celebration.

"What are you two doing?" Randy asks, walking into the kitchen for a beer, looking over Dave and their daughter. Dave tells him to go away, he's helping with homework, and god knows Randy would give her a horrible grade. "The big yellow one is the sun," he adds, pointing it out in the book before he leaves. He rolls his eyes, "Your mother knows something, maybe we should celebrate."

Seventy: Stars.

Randy looks down at Dave, his eyes narrowed with out any amusement at all, "This isn't romantic," he gets up, brushing himself off, "I'm going back home; you can stay here." Halfway back to the car, he returns... not one to leave the bottle of wine behind.

Seventy one: Morgue.

Cody holds tight onto Dave's arm, for the first time he isn't arm candy, though he wishes he was. For the first time he doesn't want to see what was possibly his beloved Randy Orton. He doesn't manage to get inside the room, and stays behind with Ted, his blue eyes immediately looking away when he sees the look on Dave's face.

Seventy two: Space.

Cody giggles, his fingers running up and down his leader's strong, muscular legs, "You're thighs are totally hott..." he purrs, glancing up to a jealous Ted to confirm his facts as Orton relaxes into his massage. "They have their own gravitational pull," Ted mutters.

Seventy three: White.

"Do I look pale to you?" Randy asks, looking over his arms and legs, "I'm fucking pale!" he shouts, looking over to Cody and Ted, "We're going tanning, now!"

Seventy four: Alone.

Randy flops down on the hotel bed, glancing around and wishing he had Dave beside him, or DiBiase and Rhodes to fight over who got which side of the bed, or got to put their stuff where while Cody combed elegantly through the room service menu. Having alone time shouldn't have been so hard.

Seventy five: Coma.

Dave held Randy's body close, his heavy eyes staring down at their laced fingers, going on another day that he hadn't gotten the ability to go to sleep. He couldn't think of anything new to say to the younger man, trying to convince himself that he was only sleeping, and to convince Randy, if he was in there at all, that Cody was alright.

Seventy six: Letters.

The Viper sits silently on the patio, staring down at the paper in his hands. He can feel and smell the two men behind him, he wipes his eyes off quickly, folding the paper and hiding it in his pockets, not wanting them to know he was still acting this way over it.

Seventy seven: Phone call.

Cody sneaks out from the hotel room, taking refuge a couple paces away and scrolling through the contacts on his cell phone, impatiently waiting for Dave to pick up. He explains hurriedly that Randy wont shut up about missing him, and refuses to call because he doesn't want to seem needy, and demands Batista call him... minutes later, he's returning to the hallway to call him back, "He doesn't want to pick up so he looks like he's busy."

Seventy eight: Music.

"Cody!" Randy screams as loud as he possibly can, stealing the covers off Dave and storming down the hall, kicking the door down and ripping the stereo from the wall, "It is three in the fucking morning," his voice turns dangerously low as he steps towards his two prodigies, "I am pregnant, and I will kill both of you if I hear so much as a pin drop in here!" Ted sighs as Randy leaves the room - the door flies back up against the wall, cracking in the process, the two cowering. "I said shut up!"

Seventy nine: Silence.

The house is silent, finally. The music on the stereo is relaxing, and just loud enough to hear when your listening closely. Batista can't seem to fall asleep, flickering his phone back and forth, waiting desperately for an unexpected text from Randy. Missing his constant complain-festival was all too irrational for him.

Eighty: Cards.

For some reason or another, Randy refuses to acknowledge it is his birthday this year, and has turned over every birthday card, dumping it to find cash before tossing it aside and gathering his earnings. He wants so bad to reject the cake Cody baked for him, but the way the younger man's blue eyes look like they'll shatter into pieces forces him to sit down with him and Ted, and ignore the "Told you so" grin on Dave's face.

Eighty one: Emblem.

Randy stares down at the tee-shirt in front of him, "I am not wearing this piece of shit to the ring," he hisses, kicking Cody and Ted under the table to side with him, even if they are reluctant to do so in the presence of Mr. McMahon. "Re-design it," Orton spits, glaring over his shoulder and walking out of the room.

Eighty two: Elephant.

With skill, Dave has finally worked his way into his and Randy's bedroom, sweet talking him as sincerely as possible, and trying to apologize while still leaving the blame on his lover. He assured him that he was still sexy, irresistible and everything else, and that being pregnant did not mean he looked like an elephant... but throwing a "Yet" after it proved to be a mistake.

Eighty three: Monopoly.

Randy's eyes flare at the game board before him, "Your cheating, Dave!" he hisses, "Cody's stealing money! I don't even have a god damn house.. hotel.. thing! And I don't want to be the god damn iron! Ted took the one I wanted, and I'm in jail for the billionth time, we've been at this for hours!" he grabbed the board, ripping it from the table and throwing it to the floor, stomping it into the carpet.

Eighty four: Reality.

"But.. Dave, Layfield gave his husband a huge ring. I didn't get anything like that when you married me!" Randy whines, pulling on Batista's arm, "Please? I want to one up that fucking CM Punk!" Dave stares at him, almost blank, "We've gone over this. That thing is bigger than a ring pop, his hand is almost too heavy to even lift, alright? There's no way in hell I could afford something like that," his logic is met with a grumbling Randy. "Jerk."

Eighty-five: Born.

Randy smiles for the first time in hours, "She's beautiful," he whispers, kissing Dave, "I'm not sure how to go about all of this, I mean, eight?" he admits with a tired voice, that doesn't seem as exhausted as it should be for the countless hours of unbelievable pain.

Eighty-six: Bone.

Randy laughs, ruffling Cody's hair and grabbing the remote before stuffing a pile of chips into his mouth, "Dave will never find out, Cod'," he assures him and demands Ted go get him another pillow for his feet and Cody get another bowl of chips for him, and a beer while he was at it. "Your leg isn't really broken anyway, Randy, you could go and--" Ted scoffs, getting up to do it anyway, not expecting in moments he would be standing frozen in front of the leviathan. "...Did you hear that?" he asked with a gulp, not wanting to turn back and face Randy, and a giggling Rhodes.

Eighty-seven: Chalk-dust.

"What the fuck is this shit on my driveway!" Randy's voice has the potential for the neighbors to call the police – again. "Look at all this crap floating onto my bike!" He stormed through the house, managing to find Dave and complain about the children.

Eighty-eight: Manuscript.

Cody's eyes drift over Randy, waiting impatiently for the laptop, who has completed his incredibly slow, head bashing, keyboard slamming typing. "Why is all the paper gone!" his loud voice shatters the younger boy's ears. "...I used it all," he replies, "I was printing some pictures of my dad."

Eighty-nine: Ink.

Ted grins, listening to Cody rant on about how tattoo's are very pointless, and how much he doesn't like them. Ted nods a bit, attempting to show he's paying attention, "You... want to turn around and tell Randy that to his face?"

Ninety: Perfection.

Powerful hands grip onto hour glass hips, deep brown optics staring into sparkling gray that didn't hold fierce anger toward everything with a pulse for the longest time in months. One hand slowly worked around, gripping hard on the younger man's ass while their lips met in a series of rough, passionate kisses.

Ninety-one: Ring.

Randy hadn't been too surprised when Ted came running to him, informing him in hysterics that Cody had refused his proposal. Trying to be as comforting as possible for him, and that he could very possibly be lucky that Cody said no – because his own wedding to Dave would have been on an episode of Bridezillas... if it wasn't so violent.

Ninety-two: Drive.

Cody's knuckles have long since turned bright, neon white. His fingernails dug tight into the steering wheel of the car, eyes focused dead straight on the road while Ted turned the music up a little louder every few moments... Attempting poorly to drown out the sound of Randy whining.

Ninety-three: Missing.

Cody pulls his jeans back up, fixing his shirt neatly and primping himself back up rather than looking like a perfect mess. His grin is irresistible and sultry as he traces a small line down the Hall of Famer's chest, "We'll have to do this again," he whispers before the door bursts open to Randy Orton, who's voices have decided that he needs to panic every time Cody isn't within eyesight. He's forced away in a hurry, barely grabbing his bag and stuffing a couple bucks into his pocket.

Ninety-four: Full Moon.

Dave's eyebrows are raised in obvious approval, a sly smirk across his face, and duplicate looks across the other two Legacy members. Minutes pass, and Randy is still rummaging through his bag looking for tanning lotion that he swears he didn't leave at home. In seconds, he jolts upwards as Batista's hand collides hard with his ass.

Ninety-five: New Direction.

Randy lays silently in bed, unshaven and clung to the bottle of liquor that he can't seem to put down. Grey eyes distant and glossed, staring up at the ceiling fan pushing the smell of his own rotting decay around that possibly contributed to the rancid vomit on the floor. His eyes shifted for the first time in hours to the clock changing its numbers to the time his flight to get back to work was supposed to board. "Dave said forever."

Ninety-six: Family.

Randy growls, stirring from his sleep and scrambling over Dave to reach the clock, "It's five in the morning, Dave, wake up, one of the babies are crying" he pouts, trying to shove the larger man out of the bed. "Be a good husband and help me, Dave!" Seemingly shocked when he pulls the pillow over his head to ignore him. "It's not my job!"

Ninety-seven: Nag.

Randy isn't sure how many times he needs to tell Cody and Ted to pick up their things so he doesn't trip. He knows that it's been the fifth time he's walked through the living room, and video games, and random shit was strewn about. He assures them he's done screaming, and the next time he says something they would get kicked in the skull. Randy doesn't want to waste money on a maid when he could be getting a new wedding ring from Dave.

Ninety-eight: Swim.

Randy runs to Dave, slipping and falling into him in the process... and it doesn't help much that his husband is fully dressed in his Armani suit, and Randy and his clothes are soaking wet. "They're getting me all wet! And... Ted threw me in there!" he screams in child-like defense, "I can't swim!" he growls, demanding Batista do something about it.

Ninety-nine: Dinosaur.

"Look what I got at the store," Randy smiles brightly, handing Dave a bag, and struggling a bit to sit beside him, "It was really cute. Now I have something for all of them," he nods as Dave looks through the things, and holds up a green Apatosaurus, "Nothing for me?" he chuckles as he receives a glare. "...You don't deserve anything for doing this to me!" Dave's jaw drops, which causes Randy to laugh and continue on speaking, "Check this bag – you deserve every-fucking-thing for doing this to me, I can't wear it until I'm thin and hott again," he growls deeply into Dave's ear, his teeth clamping down on the soft cartilage.

One-hundred: Sweet.

Dave wraps his arms around Randy, who's hands gently cup his cheek as their lips gently press together, their eyes opening slightly to catch a glimpse at one another. The two tipped over onto the pool table, a tattooed arm shoving the balls on top out of his way before combing gently across Dave's hair and secure around his neck. The older man comments in a low growl that his younger lover tastes delicious, chuckling at Randy's usual, "I know," answer.