disclaimer: I don't own anyone.
warning: OMGWTFBBQ SLASH. possessive!Randy and devious!Jeff. which you will soon find, do not mix well together.
I had to start this! Cody getting kidnapped and Raw trying to get him back. Ah, I couldn't help myself.
Anyway, you can read it now. I'll shut-up.
Randy twisted in his sheets, feeling the tug of the silken cloth against his bare legs as he did so. He grunted, once he felt something hard being thrown across his chest, and the warmth of skin on skin ignite instantly, as the aforementioned something cuddled up to his side.
He was utterly exhausted from the night before. Wrestling really beat the energy out of you, and he felt like doing nothing more than sleeping away his Tuesday in bed with whatever the hell the smooth, warm thing was that was currently squished up against him.
Smooth, warm and moving... Sounded a lot like a human being if Randy wasn't mistaken. Randy furrowed his eyebrows, eyes still closed, as he pondered if he had gone to sleep with anyone the night before...
Immediately, Randy's eyes shot open and he jerked his head towards the unidentified sleeping object. There, wound around his naked chest, was a clothing-less Cody, his cheek nuzzled against his exposed collar bone, and his hot breath washing over his left pec.
Randy cocked a curious eyebrow, as he didn't recall inviting the young boy into his hotel room, let alone his bed. "Uh... Cody?" Randy started, raising the hand that wasn't encompassing Cody's small form in order to shake him.
Cody irritatedly threw his offending hand off with a roll of his shoulder, and groaned grumpily, before snuggling closer to Randy's muscular side. Randy frowned, as something in the bottom of his stomach coiled warmly and a sensation of heat washed over his torso, from shoulder blades to chest.
What the heck was that? Randy thought, alarmed by the sudden melting of his insides as Cody rubbed his naked body—save for a pair of tight fitting boxers—against his bare skin.
"Cody... Wake up..." His voice was unwillingly quiet, and his throat was unusually parched as he once again made a sad attempt to awaken Cody, strangely his body just wouldn't listen to him, and his brain was subconsciously stopping his hand from really putting any force into his light pushes.
He couldn't stop the thought that shot into his mind that, perhaps, he didn't want Cody to leave his side, that he quite enjoyed the feeling of Cody curling up against him like a newborn kitten. Randy abruptly shook his head back and forth, careful not to awaken the young boy, as he hurriedly wiped the preposterous thoughts from his head.
His movements caused the sleeping Cody to grumble quietly, an adorable pout forming across his face as he shifted to throw his bare leg over Randy's lower stomach, the muscles flexing and causing Randy to shift uncomfortably, as that strange coiling warmth resurfaced itself once more.
And suddenly the offending thoughts began to seep through his resolve once again, or at least they must have been, because those pouting lips were starting to look very enticing—Dammit! Randy inwardly cursed his wandering mind, as he tensed his abs that lay underneath Cody's leg, in order to distract himself from the positively inviting boy—sleeping absolutely defenseless against his chest.
He decided—before he lost control and took Cody right there—that he should try to awaken the boy once more. "Cody... Er, Coddles. Wake up. You're making me into a horny bastard... you little brat..." Randy muttered, his voice throaty and guttural, as he whispered into Cody's hair.
Cody reacted to his words in the most negative way possible, as he shifted his face to bury it in the crook of Randy's neck, his lips grazing across the sensitive skin that resided there.
That was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. Randy inhaled an enormous amount of air rather sharply, as he felt his face turn dark red and his skin crawl with pleasure. Almost instantly he hollered, "Ted! Get your ass in here!" The order didn't even faze Cody, who merely breathed his hot breath across Randy's neck, said man gulping, as sweat formed across his brow, the instant he realized his pants were growing tighter by the second.
Their rooms—Randy's and Ted/Cody's—were joined by one solitary door, a door that was usually shut and locked. Apparently it had not been, as it was standing wide open and Randy had quite a clear view of Ted's bed. Ted wasn't even budging.
"TED! I'M MOLESTING CODY!"
That would get the lout moving, Randy was positive.
The light shimmied through the window curtains as Ted tossed onto his side, jerking the comforter over his head and groaning with agitation. He hadn't been able to sleep properly ever since—about—four hours ago, and had been stuck in that horrible spot between sleep and consciousness, where you aren't fully aware of your surroundings, but your energy reserves aren't being restored any.
Being half-awake, Ted couldn't possibly pinpoint the reason behind his sudden inability to doze, but he knew he had this nagging sensation that he was missing something...
With another groan, Ted buried his face in the pillow he had rolled onto, and—inhaling—he abruptly realized it was Cody's soft, cushion of a pillow and with a hazy grin he intoxicatedly nuzzled his nose into the feathery plush, drunk off of the scent he suddenly realized he'd been missing the past few hours.
Unfortunately, he was too drowsy to wonder where his tag-team/sleeping partner had gone in the middle of the night, and simply settled for Cody's comfy, Cody-smelling pillow, cuddling it to his chest as a not-as-good replacement for his best friend who had mysteriously disappeared.
"Ted! Get your ass in here!"
Ted's brows furrowed and he paused in his coddling to scowl. Randy's voice was just as irritating in half-consciousness as it was when he was fully awake, and Ted tugged the blanket further over his head in order to block out the mind-grating noise and continue on with his Cody-incensed high.
It was comfortably silent for a few moments before Randy's voice shot through his senses like a bullet hot out of a shot gun.
"TED! I'M MOLESTING CODY!"
It must have been in record time, because Ted was in Randy's room faster than said man had time to blink. His eyes were narrowed dangerously, and the muscles that lined his arms were tensed as he glared at Randy with vice-like ferocity.
At the shout, though, Cody was rudely awakened from his cozy slumber, and he lifted his head from its previous place against Randy's neck, rubbing his eyes drowsily.
"Huh? ...Why am I in Randy's bed? Ted? What's going on... Are we having some sort of meeting or something?" Cody mumbled questioningly, scratching his head and gradually tugging his leg off of Randy, as he rose to a sitting position beside said wrestler.
At the sight of the hazy-eyed Cody, Ted's anger instantly simmered, and he scurried onto the bed in order to grab Cody around the waist and tug him away from Randy.
The sudden loss of warmth, left Randy missing the soft feel of Cody against his bare skin, and his ghost-like lips across his neck. And that simple fact, left him worried for his sanity as he couldn't help but eye Cody with a needy expression, before returning his gaze to the still slightly fuming Ted, who, while being pleased with having Cody against him once more, was glaring at Randy for having taken him away in the first place.
"Teddy? Um, what's going on...?" Cody wondered, still slightly asleep, as he yawned, his tongue curling much like a lion as he did so. Ted grinned, pulling Cody to his bare chest and threading his fingers through his raven colored hair.
"Good morning, Coddles," He murmured, placing a complacent kiss against the younger boy's temple, as he did so.
Cody smiled and leaned into his tag-team partner's embrace, still not quite catching onto to what exactly had transpired during his unconsciousness, but welcoming the good morning anyway.
"'Morning Teddy, Randy... So, why are we in Randy's bed, exactly...?" Cody questioned, finding himself at loss as to how he had awoken in his mentor's bed, and slightly irritated with the fact that no one was answering him.
"Uh, yeah, apparently you ditched Ted last night, and crawled into bed with me," Randy offered with an attempt at a shrug, the muscles in his shoulders rolling and tensing as he did so. But Ted could sense the ghost of a triumphant tone in his voice, and his smile was something reminiscent of a smirk in the DiBiase's direction.
"Oh... Sorry, Teddy. Guess I was sleep-walking or something," Cody apologized, using Ted as leverage to push himself up into a full sitting position, and stretching his tan arms into the air with another yawn. Ted couldn't help but notice how adorable the younger boy looked—in contrast to the many muscles that flexed with his movement, and would have usually given him a sexy persona.
"S'okay. You don't gotta apologize, it's not like it was your fault or anything," Ted muttered, shifting to rub his own sleep from his blue eyes as he smiled at Cody reassuringly.
Cody nodded subtly, before scratching his head once more, and making to slide off the plush covers, missing Randy by a hair's width.
"Okay then, I'm gonna take a shower," Cody informed, grabbing a towel that was previously slung over one of the dressers and making his way to the open bathroom. Ted and Randy watched as his small form disappeared behind the door, before turning to face each other, a prominent glare still obvious on Ted's face.
"You didn't do anything to Cody, while he was sleeping in bed with you, did you? 'Cause you guys were awfully close to each other," The DiBiase queried through narrowed eyes, as he made to get off of Randy's large bed. Randy leaned back against the headboard, sliding his hands behind his head in a relaxed position.
"No, I didn't do anything to Cody. He's just a really cuddly sleeper, I guess. I woke up with him on me like that," He explained half-heartedly, most of his mind still stuck in Cody-Land where he was quite content to stay, if Ted would stop harassing him.
Ted looked unconvinced, hand moving to ruffle his dirty blonde hair. "I guess... He does usually get real close to me when we sleep together. So..."
His cheeks grew red, as he recalled the moments when he'd awoken in the middle of the night, his face so close to Cody's he could taste the minty flavor of his Crest toothpaste on his lips. And their bodies so near each other Ted could feel every individual muscle on his partner's torso. He gulped, throat growing dry, as he hurriedly shook his head back and forth.
"You know," Randy started, gray eyes glazed over with a sort of fantasy induced haze. "I think I could do with a little company every once in a while, maybe you could share Cody sometimes, eh—"
"No." Ted's reply was abrupt, arms crossing as he narrowed his dark blue orbs. "Cody will not sleep with you. He's my partner." Randy looked taken aback by his fellow Legacy cohort's sudden animosity, and he sat up fully to shoot the DiBiase a curious expression.
"Oh. I wasn't aware Teddy was such a possessive tag-team partner," He stated, sarcasm laced through his voice, as he massaged the back of his neck, before stretching his arms out. Ted "humph"ed.
"I'm not possessive. I just... It's harder for me to sleep, when I don't have someone next to me, okay?" He murmured, averting his eyes to stare at the patterned hotel room carpet, not at all pleased with having to admit this fact to his stablemate. But before Randy could make any sort of comment, another voice caused him to jump.
"Aw! Teddy, I never knew you needed me so much!" Cody cooed, launching himself on Ted from behind, arms wrapping around his neck and head peeking over his shoulder with a mischievous grin.
"Ugh! Cody! You're all wet and cold!" Ted cringed, arching his back in a futile attempt to get away from Cody's chillingly damp bare skin.
"I know! Isn't it great?" He smiled, shaking his head for good measure, cool water showering Ted's shirtless form as he did so, and causing the man to whimper.
"Okay! Okay! I give, I give!" He shouted, gripping Cody's hands and throwing them off him, shivering as he inched away. Cody folded his arms across his chest, smirking at Ted in all his nearly naked glory, a white-towel being the only cloth keeping him decent. Randy eyed his lean form.
"Looking good, Sparky," He commented offhandedly as he shifted to his feet, bending his spine back with a light groan, the vertebrae twisting and popping as he did so. Cody pouted at him.
"I always look good, not just in a towel, but constantly," He corrected, hands to his waist. Ted snorted.
"Sure. Is that what ol' Daddy told you, baby-boy?" He crooned, puckering his lips, before his face broke out in a wicked, taunting grin. Cody narrowed his powdery blue orbs.
"Shut-up, you've got not room to talk, Teddy Jr." Cody scoffed, turning on his heel to head over to his duffel in the other room—in order to find some clothes, so that he wasn't traipsing around in nothing but a towel.
Before Ted could retort to Cody's sneer, there was a knocking on the door, and Randy scratched behind his ear, indicating for the DiBiase to answer it. Ted rolled his azure tinted eyes, sighing as he headed over to Randy's hotel room door, and tugged it open.
Shawn Michaels stood there with water slicked hair and nothing but a pair of jeans on. Hunter stood behind him, hair—also—soaked, but he'd apparently had time to pull on a t-shirt. Shawn smiled. "Uh, hey, kid. Any of you guys have a hairdryer, per chance?"
"Ours kind of broke," Hunter added.
"Yeah, because somebody crushed it."
Hunter growled. "You're the one who left it lying around!"
"You were the one who fell off the bed!"
"Because you pushed me!"
"Whatever! You started it! You kept hitting me in the face!"
"I wasn't hitting you, I was accidentally snuggling you, okay?"
"GUYS," Ted cut in, shooting the two older men an irate glare from where he leaned against the door frame. "Now. Without any other comments from the peanut gallery. What do you want?" Shawn sighed exasperatedly.
"We were wondering if you had a hairdryer, because ours... died." Ted glanced from Shawn to Hunter, a dirty blonde eyebrow raised.
"Uh... You do understand that Randy doesn't have any hair, and Cody and I don't need a hairdryer, right? Why the heck would we own one?" He questioned blankly, watching the two expectantly. Shawn blinked.
Hunter smacked his back. "Smooth... idiot." The Heartbreak Kid scowled at the bigger man over his shoulder, muttering something that Ted couldn't quite catch, before turning back to face him with a mock, teeth-showing grin.
"Well... We're gonna go now..."
And with that the two sulked away.
Ted scratched his head, still not completely awake, and still slightly confused. "Uh... Okay." Randy's voice broke him out of his slight relapse in thought.
"Who was it, Ted?" He inquired, ligaments and tendons finally stretched out comfortably, as he ran his thumb along the rim of his boxer shorts, the tight band having left a red indented line around his lower waist.
"Hunter and Shawn. They wanted to know if you had a... hairdryer?" He ended in a questioning tone, still wondering why the hell the two DX cronies would possibly think Randy—hairless boy wonder—would ever have such a thing.
"Hairdryer? The heck?" Cody came in through the doorway connecting their room, in the midst of tugging on a t-shirt that Ted found quite familiar.
"Hey, is that my shirt?" He asked suspiciously, eying the dark red shirt adorning the younger man's torso. Cody grinned sheepishly.
"Uh, yeah. I couldn't find any clean ones, so I thought I'd steal one of my best friends'..."
Randy cocked an eyebrow at the shirt, quite loose on Cody's smaller shoulders, as he fished around his own duffel for a pair of jeans. "You don't think it's a bit big on you, Cody?"
Cody glanced down himself, before shrugging. "Well, your shirts wouldn't be any better," He commented absently, blue eyes watching Randy curiously—unsure if that was what the man was implying.
"Oh, I don't know... I do have a tight RKO shirt that might fit." Randy tossed the shirt over his shoulder to Cody, who caught it and held it up to himself, in order see if the older man was right.
"Does it look like it'd fit, Teddy?" He asked, turning to face his tag-team partner. Ted huffed, crossing his arms.
"I don't think mine's that much bigger on you. I don't see why you have to change," He muttered, glaring at the back of Randy's head. Said man was in the process of tugging a pair of faded jeans up his legs and he pretended not to sense the heated stare boring into his skull.
"Just put it on Cody," He ordered, using the low, commanding, 'no-nonsense' voice he usually set aside for the camera. Cody gulped and hurriedly yanked off Ted's t-shirt, and pulled on Randy's, tossing the unused shirt back in his room.
Randy—buttoning his pants—glanced the younger man up and down with an appreciative nod, distractedly noting the way the tighter of his shirts showed off Cody's defined chest, finding himself impossibly turned on at the sight of the boy in his t-shirt.
His eyes widened once he realized he was staring, and he inwardly berated himself. Because Randy Orton should never get all hot and bothered when no one was naked. And Cody wasn't naked.
He growled lowly at the intruding thought, and shook his head, muscles flexing in irritation, but before Cody could question his sudden tense posture, the door was thrown open and Evan came stumbling in, nearly tripping over his own feet as he did so. Everyone was so surprised by his sudden appearance, they didn't question how he opened the door in the first place—seeing as how it automatically locked when it closed.
"Smackdown's doing it again!"
Randy's eyes narrowed. Cody blanched.
"Are you serious? Jeez, you'd think they'd get tired of it. When will they learn that Raw's a better show, and just get over it?" He grumbled, crossing his arms in exasperation. Evan went on.
"Yeah, except this time Jeff wants to face off against Randy!" He exclaimed, still slightly winded from his mad dash there. Randy placed his hands on his waist with a more than smug smirk.
"And what makes him think I'd agree to that?"
"He said if you beat him at whatever the challenge is than Smackdown will stop bothering Raw. For good," Evan cited, brown eyes watching his phone screen carefully, as he scrolled through the text he'd received from John Cena, who'd gotten it from Hunter, who'd gotten it from Jericho.
Randy raised his eyebrows at the highflier's words. Now that sounded appealing. It would be nice not to have Smackdown breathing down their necks every time they crossed paths.
Ever since Bragging Rights, Smackdown had taken the insults of their show from Raw a bit too literally, and basically declared war on the entire Raw team. Their ire eventually spread to anyone associated with the show, which Randy supposed included himself as well.
Now for the past three months, the wrestlers from Smackdown have taken it upon themselves to declare a completely useless challenge on whomever they hated the most at the moment.
The strange thing was, Jeff usually never faced off in one of these 'challenges' before—he being the leader-figure of Smackdown's roster—since 'Taker refused to get involved.
"What do'ya say, Randy?" Ted asked, as Evan prepared to send the Orton's reply back to John so that it could circulate itself over to Jeff.
Randy shrugged. "Sure, whatever. I don't really care as long as it'll get those bastards away from me and my boys."
The atmosphere was tense.
Ted probably would have broke under the pressure falling down on the room, but Cody was sleeping in his lap, so he couldn't move—and John was using him as support as he leaned over him to see the two men better.
Jeff and Randy sat on the carpet before the hotel room television, a handy Playstation 3© plugged in, and the familiar starting screen of Smackdown Vs. Raw 2009 shining on the screen.
Randy was eying Jeff, fingers clenched tightly around the first player controller. "State your terms."
His voice was grave. But that made sense, seeing as how this was a very serious issue. This moment would decide whether Raw had to deal with those Smackdown bastards for the rest of their godforsaken careers. OR if they would forever live their remaining lives in peace and harmony.
Or well as harmonic and peaceful as life on the road with twenty-odd testosterone pumped angry males could be.
Jeff smirked, with a sinister chuckle. "Oh yeah. The terms," He rubbed his hands together. "I came up with this one. You guys're gonna love this..." He began with deliberate gradualness, stringing his Raw rivals along, to the amusement of his fellow Smackdown compatriot, CM Punk.
Randy grit his teeth, and Hunter—lounging complacently on the bed beside Shawn—rolled his eyes. "Just get on with it, twerp. We don't have all night."
Punk scoffed at the older man's words. "You won't be so haughty when you hear these terms. Seriously, Jeff's a pretty sick ass." Jeff lightly punched Punk's arm, a smile on his face.
"You're just jealous, because it was all my idea."
Ted clenched his fists, being sure not to disturb the slumbering Cody as he did so. He was starting to seriously get sick and tired of the cocky wrestlers over at Smackdown and he—along with the rest of the Raw roster—was willing to do whatever it took to get the proverbial monkey of their backs.
"Just state the damn terms already," Randy ordered, steely-eyed glare directed back to Jeff, animosity and irritation radiating off of him in waves. The Hardy's smirk seemed to only grow with every second that passed and he shrugged.
"Alright, I've been holding you off long enough." He started leisurely, flicking a piece of lint off his jeans. "If you win—and that's a big if—Smackdown and all it's branches will stop annoying you—"
"Thank God!" Shawn muttered. And there was a murmur of agreement among the Raw wrestlers. Jeff's pleasant attitude seemed to only elevate with this comment, as he glanced around the room, with his eyebrows raised in appreciation.
"But. But if we win. If we win we get a prize. My prize... And the prize is—"
Ted felt like his spine was about to give out, as John leaned even farther forward in an attempt to hear better. Even nonchalant Hunter was edging closer curiously.
"Well?" Randy prompted, feeling as if a blood vessel were about to burst somewhere near his temple, as he clutched the controller anxiously. Jeff's smirk broke out into a full on grin, once he noticed how much tension he was creating.
He exhaled loudly, before shooting a green-eyed glance over at the sleeping face of a certain "prize".
"If I win, I get your little Cody over there."
"YOU CAN'T LOSE!"
"IF YOU LOSE, THEY FUCKING GET CODY!"
"SO YOU BETTER NOT FUCKING LOSE!"
"YOU'RE DOIN' IT WRONG! HIT R2, R2!"
"WHO THE HELL TAUGHT YOU HOW TO PLAY?"
"THE JOYSTICK MAKES YOU MOVE, IDIOT!"
"YOU FUCKING SUCK, ORTON! DO YOU WANT TO LOSE CODY?"
Randy growled, as he violently mashed down on the R2 trigger.
"SHUT THE FUCK UP AND LET ME CONCENTRATE, YOU BUNCH OF DEMANDING ASSHOLES!"
Just as the words finished flying from Randy's mouth, Jeff jumped to his feet the familiar bell-ringing in the background. "Ding-ding-ding!"
"I WON! I FUCKING WON, BITCHES! IN YOU RAW FUCKERS' FACES!"
Cody jolted into consciousness so fast the back of his head collided with the plaster of the wall behind him, and he collapsed forward—a string of curses muttered under his breath as he rubbed the newly made bump.
What the heck? He could've sworn he'd gone to sleep by Ted...
Glancing down, Cody noticed a plush pillow in placement of his Legacy partner's comfortable leg and frowned. Ted must've ditched him. The thought made him wanna punch his best friend, but he refrained from any violent notions, and instead scanned the room for the aforementioned man.
It was at that moment, he realized he was being stared at.
No, like, really stared at.
Randy, John, Ted, Shawn, Hunter and Evan were staring in horror, wide eyes and open mouths as if they couldn't believe the terrible atrocity that had just been committed. Not that Cody quite understood what that was, but he was only slightly unnerved. He suspected someone had stolen Randy's baby oil again or something.
Though, with one glance past his familiar companions, he found something that really unnerved him.
Jeff—standing to his feet with his arms crossed, controller hanging by the chord, he'd languidly thrown around his neck—was eying him too. But the expression on his face was vastly different then the one that marred his fellow coworkers'.
It had to be the most devious, conniving smirk Cody had ever had the unfortunate luck of seeing on a person's face. Which was saying a lot, since he'd hung out with Randy for the past two years.
Their eyes met, and Cody gulped. Whatever the hell was going on, it could not be good. Glancing away, Cody turned to Ted with a desperately confused expression. "What's going on? Why's everyone looking at me?"
It was quiet as Ted gnawed his bottom lip, brows furrowed—as if he didn't hear his partner's plea—Cody's questioning gaze grew more and more frantic by the second.
Before the DiBiase could answer—if he was ever—Jeff unwound the controller wire from his neck and dropped it to the carpet, before stepping through the wordless throng of wrestlers, in order to crouch directly in front of the defenselessly perturbed Legacy member.
"Hiya, Cody!" Jeff grinned, his forearms resting on his knees in a relaxed position. Cody was taken aback by the sudden amusement being thrust at him, and he scrambled to sit upright, any traces of sleep vanishing from his form.
He was hesitant for a moment, before deciding—what the hell. It's not like anyone else is talking—to interrogate the Smackdown Superstar. "Jeff, what'd you do?" Because he was near positive it was all the Hardy's fault, whatever it was...
Jeff smiled pleasantly at his words, and tilted his head to the side congenially. "I won."
Cody blinked. His mind slowly processing, Jeff's short statement, and the gears began to turn. "You mean that challenge? ...Randy—Randy lost?"
Jeff nodded, his smile growing larger—if that were even possible—as he placed a consoling hand at the crook between Cody's neck and shoulder, gently messaging the tensed muscle there. Cody ignored the older man's charming grin, and comforting hand to shoot a disappointed frown at his mentor and friend.
Apparently, this disapproving glare jolted Randy out of his earlier disbelieving stupor and the first thing the Orton registered was Jeff's hand. Touching—touching—Cody. He was to his feet in milliseconds, bridging the gap between him and the two cognizant men with one lunge.
And he was at Cody's side in seconds, jerking the boy into his hold and away from the Smackdown wrestler's offending hand. An involuntary growl rumbled in his throat, as he narrowed his icy gray eyes at the Hardy, clutching Cody to his chest.
Cody looked bewildered, his eyes wide with shock as he felt Randy's arms tighten around his torso. Even Jeff was slightly surprised, his eyebrows raised, just before the expression melted into a knowing smirk. He clicked his tongue.
"Ah, ah, ah. Remember our terms?" His finger was wagging back and forth and his tone was chiding, green eyes boring into gray smugly.
Cody frowned at Jeff's 'I-know-something-you-don't-know' voice, and he turned from Jeff to Randy and back again, silently questioning. Jeff duly noted the young man's irritation at not being in the know, before speaking once more to the deadly quiet Orton.
"Should I tell him, or should you?"
Randy hissed at the playful-venom lacing through Jeff's question, and he tugged Cody further away from the man, and further into his hold. His eyes darted around the Hardy, wondering just where the hell his supposed backup was.
Ted was still staring morbidly at the carpet lost in thought, Hunter and Shawn were watching their exchange attentively—but they weren't planning on inputting—John had his head in his hands, as if contemplating what exactly would happen to Cody in Jeff's company, and Evan was watching them too, wide, worried eyes glancing between them.
"Well?" Jeff inquired for answer to his earlier question and Randy growled.
"I'll tell him." Jeff smiled.
Cody sighed exasperatedly, struggling slightly in Randy's grip. "Just tell me what the hell we lost and get it over with!" The Orton reluctantly allowed him to gradually slide from his hold, but his right arm remained as a barricade between Jeff and him.
Randy messaged his temple with the other hand, as if trying to remain calm despite his rising temper. "Not what. It's who."
Cody cocked an eyebrow, with a suspicious scowl, as the entire room held their breath, in anticipation—the two Smackdown wrestlers—and in apprehension—the Raw guys.
"What do you mean?" He asked, his glare growing more and more prominent, and the muscles lining his shoulders, tensing.
Randy bit his lower lip. "The terms were... If I won, Smackdown would leave us alone..." He trailed off, trying to find the proper way to word his next statement. Cody took his momentary silence as a very bad sign. A very bad sign that had something to do with him.
"A-and if Jeff won?" His voice shook, and he mentally berated himself, but he knew whatever Randy was about to say would be nothing but bad. Jeff was leaning into Cody's line of sight grinning like a maniac, rainbow tinted hair only adding to the image.
Randy creased his brow, the hand at Cody's side moving to clench the boy's bicep tightly—almost desperately. He gulped.
"If Jeff won... He got you, Cody."
No freaking way.
"...I don't think I heard you right, did you just say he got me?" Cody repeated the ridiculous words that he was nearly positive he misheard, his tone joking as he scratched his head with a nervous smile.
But Randy's highly reluctant nod confirmed his question, and Cody felt disbelief bubble in the pit of his stomach, as his mouth fell open in absolute dumbfounded incredulity. Who the hell agreed to those stupid terms? And why the hell would Smackdown want him?
"And I won. So you're mine now, Cody!" Jeff cooed, throwing his arms around Cody's neck and blowing a gust of hot breath behind his left ear, causing said boy's spine to shiver and the little hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end.
Cody's cheeks reddened, and his gaze caught Randy's, still unable to believe that his own mentor—his friend, had allowed him to be put up for grabs, and then—and, fucking then—had the balls to fucking lose. Seriously, what the hell?
"Don't touch Cody like that," Randy snarled at the sight of Jeff cuddling up to his Legacy cohort and raised his other hand to cup the back of Cody's neck and pull the young man towards him, his forehead against Randy's exposed collar bone.
Jeff—unfortunately—had not released Cody, and was only brought forward with him, so that he was, unintentionally, mere centimeters from Randy's face. Jeff's eyebrows drew together and he narrowed his eyes.
"I could be wrong, but I'm pretty damn sure that that's not up to you anymore. Cody's with me, now," Jeff reiterated, his arms flexing and relaxing subconsciously. Randy ground his teeth together, once he realized what the Hardy said was true. He turned to shoot a hopeless glance at his fellow Raw wrestlers.
John spoke up, fists clenched. "You know the board's not gonna let you guys just take Cody. He's a Raw professional wrestler. They're not gonna just shift him over to your show just because you ask."
Punk snorted at this—having been lounging in an armchair with crossed arms—and John shot him a confused scowl. Jeff chuckled, the laugh vibrating his chest against Cody's back as he did so, and causing the younger man to cringe.
"Whoever said we wanted him as a wrestler?"
It was quiet, as Jeff allowed his words to sink in.
"Then what the heck did you want him for?" Evan scowled, crossing his arms indignantly. Jeff and Punk exchanged knowing glances. Cody's ears perked—he, too, curious as to why the Smackdown roster would want him of all people.
Punk scratched his head nonchalantly. "Well, we've always wanted a slave—"
"Don't call my Cody that!" Jeff pouted, a mock frown on his face, as he nuzzled his cheek into Cody's black hair—said man freezing in surprise, and remaining motionless, at loss as to what to do. Randy barely suppressed the urge to rip Jeff's face off.
"Then what should I call him?" Punk grumbled, nose in the air. Jeff smirked.
"You and the rest of Smackdown, can call him Jeffrey."
Punk quirked an eyebrow, and even Randy was confused. "Why?"
"Dunno. Jeffrey always sounded like a butler's name to me," Jeff informed, before putting on a seriously overdone British accent, "Jeffrey, would you fetch me some tea?" Punk sighed. Sometimes, he swore, it was like talking to an eight year old.
"And what are you gonna call him, Jeff?" Punk questioned, noting the flustered scowl on Cody's face as they talked about him as if he wasn't right there.
The devious smirk returned to Jeff's lips, as he squeezed Cody closer to him, resting his head complacently on the younger man's hair.
"That's obvious. Cody's my Sexy Skittle."
Cody blanched, his face growing more and more crimson by the second. Jeff realized this and his smirk widened. Randy noticed too, and he suddenly felt ten times more pissed than he had earlier. "Ya wanna know why he's my Sexy Skittle?"
"Sure, if it makes you happy," Punk allowed, standing up from his seat, and dusting his shirt off.
"Because Cody is to sexy, as skittle is to Jeff." With that, Jeff shifted to stand to his feet, tugging Cody up with him and Randy followed suit instantly. "Anyway, sorry to be a downer, but we gotta get back to our hotel room! And since Cody is officially Smackdown's Jeffrey, he stays with us!"
Cody's eyes widened at Jeff's words, and he shot a wide-eyed stare at Randy—please don't let them take me, please don't let them take me—with hopes that the Orton would somehow magically reverse time, to before the terms were ever set, so that they could bet something much less important like Hornswoggle, or a couple ladders.
"We'll come pick up his things from your room tomorrow morning," Punk informed, as Jeff moved to wind his arms around Cody's waist, to be sure he had a firm grip on the reluctant young man.
"Wait! You guys can't be serious!" Cody protested, as Jeff slowly began to drag his way towards the exit, Punk following at a leisurely pace. Jeff pouted at Cody's words.
"A bet's a bet. Besides," The Hardy spun Cody around so that they were face to face. "Don't you like me, Cody?" He whispered, a ghost of a heated breath dancing across Cody's parted lips so dangerously close to Jeff's own smirking ones.
Said man instantly clamped his mouth shut, and turned away—face stained red. Jeff chuckled. "Thought so, c'mon Punky let's go." And he motioned for his companion to follow him as he tugged the flushed faced Cody out the door, Punk not far behind.
Randy watched the exchange with balled fists, practically shaking with the amount of control he'd had to force through his veins to keep himself from launching onto the unsuspecting Hardy and stealing back what rightfully belonged to him.
Cody was his.
Hell, Cody was his before he was anyone else's. Randy set his jaw, muscles tensed. He'd never learned—or cared to learn—how to share his toys as a kid.
And he wasn't about to start learning now.
He had to get Cody back.
And from the looks on his fellow Raw members' faces.
They did too.
Do I sense the plot unfolding?
If things go as planned, Cody'll probably end up getting molested next chapter.
How fun! Well, not for him. But I'm sure he'll get over it. Eventually.