disclaimer: I so do not own.
warning: SLASH. and... it's in Cody's POV at most points. and Jeff's a whore. oh, and Randy's kind of a douche bag.
A/N: Yes, I'm aware the title's kind of corny, but whatever. I came up with it on the fly, and it stuck. I just thought the overall idea would be kinda fun to tinker with, and this is what it produced.
note: while there are various pairings in this, I'm gonna tell you straight off, the main will probably be a Ted/Cody/Randy
Wrestling Academy. The prestigious institute for talented and gifted children.
At least, that's what the brochure said. But everyone knew it was just a business slogan, like the way McDonald's always says, "I'm lovin' it" even when their food sometimes taste like it got run over by a dumpster truck. Yeah, definitely not lovin' that.
The brochure also points out, in quite a suspiciously proud way, that the students are exemplary pieces of work, and always turn out to be successful championship wrestlers.
This is also a lie. Poor old what's-his-face never made it to the big leagues after he graduated. Guess where he's working now? McDonald's. Bet he's lovin' it there too. Note the sarcasm.
Now, brochure and fast food restaurants aside, the basic truth about Wrestling Academy is that it's not much different from any other old school. Its got the basic hierarchy, the cheerleaders are the most popular, and the football players get laid every other day. Well, except here the cheerleaders are called 'Divas' and the football players are actually 'Superstars'.
Wrestling Academy even has the same classes as any other, average, American high school would have. Of course, instead of Phys. Ed. as an elective, we have Grappling 101. And instead of Band, we have C.E.M. (Creative, Entertaining, Music) for when we need an entrance song during our debut—which according to the brochure—we are definitely going to get. Unless, of course, you're McDonald's guy.
Sounds fun? I mean, getting to tackle guys for a grade is like taking a class on jumping. Easy, right?
While the classes aren't hard—they don't need to be—the students are something else entirely. At Wrestling Academy, life is a constant fight for dominance. The prize is guaranteed Super-stardom, and everyone's vying for it. And they'll stop at nothing, to get what they want.
My name is Cody Runnels, son of the great Dusty Rhodes and a second generation wrestler. I was sent to this academy by my parents, to ensure that I'd become the perfect, wrestler son they'd always wanted.
One would think with a solid background like that, I'd be launching myself into the hallway brawls, and wrestling upperclassmen to better raise my level of notoriety and be the cream of the crop.
Unfortunately for you, I believe in acting like an actual human being—and not some vicious beast, fighting for survival in the animal kingdom—so I manage to keep myself on the down low, and off the radar of anyone with bigger muscles than me. Which, in a school completely dedicated to professional wrestling, is a lot of guys.
Besides, I've always been something of a video game buff, so I'm better off in the bleachers with a PSP in hand, than down in the ring facing off against a jar head three times my size.
So I, Cody Runnels, hereby officially state to the universe of my mind, that I, Cody, refuse to enjoy this hellhole humanity calls a school, and swear to have one, and only one goal in mind throughout my Wrestling Academy experience. Graduate and make a break for it.
Graduate and run.
"Ooh! Cody, Cody, Cody! You've got to share, you've just got too!"
I quirked an eyebrow, glancing at my close friend through my peripherals, still managing not to lose a single life as I did so—because I'm the master, like that. Evan was leaning against my shoulder for a better look at the digital screen of my Platinum Silver PSP, gaping like a fish.
We were currently at lunch. Sitting together at an abandoned table, so close to the exit, the lurking coaches in the hallways could hear our every word if they wanted to. Which would most likely explain its current state of abandonment.
"Shush-up, Ev. You're gonna get me killed," I murmured, refocusing my undivided attention back to the screen, a small frown across my brow, lips puckering out in frustration. Evan called it my 'Pouty-face', he said I got it whenever I played a game and the game started winning. Which doesn't happen often, by the way.
"You're so mean to me. Why don't you ever share your new toys, huh? I thought we were best friends!" Evan whined, his voice amplified due to the fact that it was directly adjacent to my ear canal. I bit my bottom lip, attempting to block him out, as I slashed my sword, narrowly missing The Boss and inadvertently giving him the leeway he needed to get in a good strike.
"Cody! Are you ignoring me?"
Watching my health bar slowly begin to shrink in size, was like watching a baby getting strangled. I whimpered, teeth grinding together as I pressed the triangle button so hard, I was slightly surprised it didn't break.
My shield didn't work—of course—and I was sent flying backwards, off of the bridge and down into the dark abyss that most definitely led to certain doom. Seconds later, those daunting words were blinking up at me from the safety of the screen.
I growled, low in my throat, and immediately rounded on Evan, shoving my PSP in his face. "You see this?! You see what you do?!" I hollered, making sure he got an eyeful of the dreaded message, before abruptly turning the damned thing off, and slamming it onto the laminate surface of the table with a huff. Jeez, a guy could never catch a break. Stupid Evan.
It was quiet for a moment, before I felt Evan's hand rest comfortably on my upper arm. "I'm sorry, Cody," He mumbled quietly, glancing up at me through his lashes, as if he were a five-year-old, begging for forgiveness. At least, until he opened his mouth again. "It's just a game."
Just a game?! Just a game?!
"Your mom's just a game." Evan's hand, still against my bicep, went from a comforting pat, to a painful pinch. "Ow!"
"You sure know how to ruin an apology," The smaller guy grumbled, moving to cross his arms petulantly, as he stared at anything that wasn't me. I rubbed my smarting arm, and stuck my tongue out at him. Knowing full well how immature and spoiled I was being, but I couldn't help it, its the way I was raised.
While the both of us were in full on pout mode, I made an unconscious decision to watch my peers that filled the cafeteria, as a source of entertainment, until Evan admitted he was wrong. And he would admit it. Eventually.
Four tables down from ours, one of the Divas—I believe, Maryse?—was rejecting yet another offer from her many male followers, her hand in his face as she continued a conversation on her cell phone. I rolled my eyes. The only thing she had going for her was her appearance. She could hardly wrestle, she had to have training sessions after school on top of the regular, required classes, just to make the grade.
Shifting my gaze seven tables over, I saw Punk—he goes by his wrestling name—sitting with a pair of newbies. A big, creepy guy who was always just a little too close to him and a woman with a huge rack, and no hair. Punk treated her like a pet, from what I had gathered. The three of them were like some sort of gang.
Currently, they were making a show of the fact that they were all eating salads and drinking from bottles of water. I'm pretty sure it has something to do with Punk's Straightedge ideals, or whatever. I wouldn't mind him so much, if he wasn't constantly shoving said ideals down everyone's throats.
Ironically, only two tables to the left, Jeff Hardy was leaning back in his chair, feet propped up on the table as he poured the last of, yet another, skittle package into his eagerly awaiting mouth. This guy was infamous for his suspensions due to his drug habit. On top of that, Jeff was a bit of a slut. So, you can guess how much the Straightedge groupies loved him. Sarcasm duly noted.
Not that I'd mention his promiscuous ways out loud, but the guy would hit on anything with two legs and a mouth. And if you had skittles, it was an added bonus. I can't even count on both hands and feet, how many times I'd walked into the locker room or one of the stairwells, and... And well saw something I really didn't need to.
Let's just say I've seen what Jeff and twenty-six other guys look like with nothing but their birthday suits on. Not exactly something you can just wish away from your mind. I have been forever mentally scarred, and he knows it, too. He thinks its funny actually.
So caught up in my distracting thoughts, I didn't notice—until it was too late—that Jeff had caught my gaze, green eyes shining with curiosity, as he gnawed on a skittle. After a millisecond of openly staring, he seemed to realize just who I was, and abruptly a suspicious grin materialized on his face and he flicked his wrist in a friendly wave.
I cocked an eyebrow at him, but before I could make any other sort of body language, Evan spoke, breaking his vow of silence he'd apparently taken. "Is that Jeff guy waving at you?" The contempt in his voice, was so painfully obvious I tore my gaze away from Jeff's grin, to glance at Evan.
"Yeah, you don't like him?" I questioned, guessing it was time to forgive Evan for getting me sidetracked earlier. Evan crossed his arms, fists clenched as he scowled.
"Yes. The guy was saying shit about you in 'Fliers," He hissed, referring to the high-fliers class he took—and apparently shared with Jeff.
I tilted my head inquiringly at this. "What kind of shit?" Evan ground his teeth together.
"He kept talking about how he'd give up skittles for a day just to screw you into the concrete," He muttered, already disgusted with himself for having to repeat it, I could tell. I smiled at the smaller man, not at all disturbed by this tidbit of news. As I've said, Jeff would do anything with two legs and a mouth. Which I—fortunately—happened to have. You know, being an average, healthy human and all.
"Aw, that got you mad?" I cooed, raising my hand to ruffle Evan's hair. I swear, sometimes this guy could be really adorable. When he's not ruining my high score, that is.
Evan looked up at me, clearly confused.
"Why aren't you mad?"
I chuckled, but before I could reply, the sound of a chair being tugged across linoleum, caused us both to glance up, curiously. The subject of our current conversation, plopped himself down to my right, another package of skittles in his hand.
"Hiya, Cody. What'cha guys talkin' about?" His words were slightly slurred due to the four skittles in his mouth. Evan bristled almost instantly.
"What the hell are you doing here?" He growled, grabbing my arm and tugging me towards himself, away from Jeff. I glanced at him briefly, before returning to face the Hardy who was slightly puzzled at the smaller man's animosity.
"He's a little angry because you told him you wanted to 'screw me into the concrete'." I even had the air quotes. Evan's fingers dug into my arm, his jaw clenched, he was most definitely not pleased with how easily I spoke to Jeff.
Trust me, I am in no way afraid of a guy like Jeff. Unlike more than half of the males at Wrestling Academy, he was roughly the same height as me, and his muscles weren't any bigger. To me, that was a man who was no threat to my sexuality whatsoever.
Jeff smirked, swallowing the remains of his skittles and raising his hand to rest it comfortably in the nook between my neck and shoulder. I didn't miss the hiss behind me, as Evan's grip around my arm tightened, if that were even possible.
What was with guys and touching me?
"I do wanna screw you into the concrete, Cody kins. You're adorable, and I'd love to see you naked, and writhing underneath me," Jeff murmured, licking his lower lip, his eyes boring into a certain spot below my belt. I, however, was unfazed. Jeff did this to everyone. Probably.
"Well that's great and all, but I don't think Ev would be too happy with that," I quipped smartly, gesturing with my head towards Evan, who was currently cutting off the circulation to my arm, he was so pissed. Not that I had any idea, whatsoever, why, but I didn't really mind. He was so cute when he was being angry.
In a, brotherly way, of course.
Jeff peered at Evan with slightly narrowed eyes, his hand still resting on my shoulder. "Ah. So its you who's keeping Cody from me." Uh-oh.
"Actually, I don't want to be screwed either, if it's all the same to you, Jeff," I hurriedly inputted, shifting to the side slightly in order to place myself between the two, sensing the tension that instantly ignited the moment they're eyes met. And while I wasn't scared or wary of Jeff in the least, I didn't want him gunning for Evan because of something I said.
Jeff turned green eyes to me, a small sign of a pout forming across his oddly handsome face. Not that I was playing his way, I just couldn't help but notice Jeff happened to be one of the better looking of the many attendants of Wrestling Academy. No wonder he was such a slut.
Just as soon as I noted the pout, it morphed into a devious smirk. "It's okay, Cody. I enjoy the chase, anyway," He commented lightly, leaning forward so quickly I didn't even register it, and pecking his lips to my cheek.
Evan growled, tugging me back by the shoulders so that I was completely out of Jeff's reach. Of course, I was still slightly disturbed by the fact that my cheek had been rudely defiled, so I was busy trying to wipe off the germs onto my shoulder.
"Get away from him! That's freaking sexual harassment, you asshole!" I heard Evan snarl with such vehemence, I almost didn't recognize it. What happened to my hyper, little boyscout, best friend? Catching a glimpse of Evan's face, I was nearly positive it was a different guy.
He looked like he'd just caught another dude screwing his girlfriend. Not that he had one, but if he had, I'm sure that's what he would've looked like. Jeff seemed unaffected by Evan's death glare, and he licked his lips in quite a satisfied fashion, as he eyed me wearing that same scary smirk. I shivered. It was like looking at the Cheshire cat from Alice In Wonderland.
"Jeffrey Nero Hardy! Get your ass over here!"
Jeff jumped at his full name being yelled, and sharply turned towards the shout with wide eyes. I followed his gaze, and saw his older brother Matt, with his arms crossed and a glare prominently covering his face, standing at Jeff's previous table, tapping his foot. Jeff bit his lip, before turning back to me.
"I'll see you at the Raw Smackdown then, 'kay Cody kins?" And without waiting for a reply, he hurriedly dashed towards his brother.
I shook my head. Everyone knew Jeff was something of a man whore, but the instant he saw his brother he pulled on his 'Sweet boy' persona, and acted like the little angel Matt obliviously thought he was. Jeff had a bit of a brother complex, but he was so adorable when he pretended to be innocent and sucked up to Matt, no one had the heart to tell the older Hardy about his younger sibling's promiscuous tendencies.
"I hate him."
At the sound of Evan's obviously pissed off voice, I moved to sit up straight, having been leaning against the smaller man ever since he pulled me away from Jeff and shifted to grab hold of his chin, tugging his eyes away from the Hardy brothers.
"Are you okay, Ev?" I questioned, shooting him a concerned stare. "Don't you think you're kind of overreacting a bit?" Evan "humph"ed but didn't jerk away from my hold.
"Don't you think you're under reacting? I mean, that dick just kissed you," He implored, his obstinate glare quickly melting into a pleading pout. I shrugged carelessly.
Because while getting kissed by Jeff Hardy was hardly rare, that didn't mean I took it in stride.
I wasn't totally comfortable with getting a kiss from anyone at this school, let alone a guy like Jeff, but I wasn't going to let it bother me. I had more important things to do, than freak out about something as small and insignificant as getting a smooch from a guy who fucked everyone.
Though, I was slightly curious as to why Evan was so worked up about it.
"Well I can't say I was happy about it, but what I don't get, is why you're so pissed. It's not like he kissed you or anything," I informed, quirking an eyebrow at him and releasing his face from my grip. He raised his hand to lightly massage the spot I'd just been grasping, before sighing, rather dramatically.
"If you don't know, then it doesn't matter," Evan remarked offhandedly, shifting in his seat to face the opposite direction. I chewed my lip, watching the smaller guy calculatingly.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I questioned, slightly offended and frowning with my arms crossed. I saw Evan's brown eyes glance at me through the corner, and he smiled slightly, turning towards me.
"You're doing your Pouty-face again, Cody. And you're not even playing a game. Isn't that weird?" He said, raising his hand to pet my head affectionately. I let him, seeing as how—despite his size—he was two years older than me, and every so often he would assert his seniority and treat me like a kid. He didn't do it too often, so the times he did I usually let him.
Minutes passed, and I noticed Evan was beginning to space out slightly, just staring at the tiled floor of the cafeteria, with his hand resting comfortably on my head. "Um, Ev?"
He blinked carefully, before turning his eyes to me. "Mm?"
"Your hand's kinda heavy," I commented, and he quickly retracted his arm, with a sheepish grin. I was pleased. His grin showing that he'd recovered from his earlier mood. That was, until his expression immediately melted into a glare, as he once again caught sight of the boisterous Jeff, bouncing around his brother like a cat on catnip.
"You're not really going to the Raw Smackdown are you?" He asked, referring to earlier, when Jeff had said he'd see me there. I shrugged carelessly, finally deciding on actually eating some of the chips I'd bought from the vending machine earlier.
"I dunno. I kind of like going, seeing all those guys wrestle. A lot of them are pretty damn good, and if I want to make it in this industry, it'd probably be helpful to learn from them."
The Raw Smackdown, was a big event that happened every Monday and Friday, just after school. Students were allowed to participate, and they wrestled in a huge real-life ring in front of all the rest of Wrestling Academy's kids. It was supposedly prepping us for the actual WWE screenings, so that we'd be used to having people watching us perform.
I'd never actually wrestled in one, but I usually went, just to scout the competition. Evan almost never showed, because after-school for him, was training with the high-flying coach for three hours. I hate to admit it, but he spent so much time with that coach, I sometimes got jealous.
"If you're going, then I'm going." Evan's voice brought me out of my reverie, and I turned wide-eyes to him. Evan, going to a Raw Smackdown? No way.
"Really?" I couldn't help the way my face lit up. The Raw Smackdown's were fun, but I'd have a much better time hanging out with someone I knew, let alone my best friend.
Evan got one glimpse of my face, before coughing a—decidedly fake—cough into the crook of his left arm and rubbing his nose in a more embarrassed fashion than in illness. His face was red too. Wonder why...
"Uh, yeah, you don't have to be so happy about it. I just don't want you alone with that asshole Hardy," He murmured, glancing away. I cocked my head to the side, taking in another potato chip.
"Well, I'm hardly alone. Nearly all the school goes," I informed, crunching the chip between my molars. "Really, I think you're the only one who doesn't show—"
Suddenly, my eyes caught sight of a figure walking towards our table. I froze the instant I recognized him, my mouth instantly clamping shut.
With light-catching, straw blonde hair, and the prettiest, cornflower blue eyes I'd ever seen, he was the epitome of perfection. At least to me. He had one of those southern drawls everyone couldn't help but hang off of, and that 'nice guy' attitude, that made him so damn irresistible.
I'd like to introduce, Ted DiBiase Jr. son of the Million Dollar man.
My throat instantly felt dry, and I swallowed thickly in a pathetic attempt to regain my voice, as he swept passed me, not even sparing a glance—and why should he? I was pretty sure he had no earthly idea who the hell I was, or that I even existed.
As he stepped by, I caught a whiff of his intoxicating scent, and I followed his movements with hooded eyes, completely oblivious to Evan's irritated prodding in my side. Ted stopped at the vending machine, and tugged out a dollar bill, straightening it out on the edge of the vendor, before sliding it in.
The muscles lining his right arm flexed and shifted underneath his light skin, as he raised it to scratch the back of his head absently, completely and totally unaware of my attentive eyes. I couldn't help but bite my lip, as I imagined tracing every individual definition of those hard muscles with my tongue. Oh, damn.
Just as I was drifting into sexy Teddy-land, Evan flicked my ear. Quite painfully, by the way. And I instantly flinched away, my hand flying to up to the afflicted spot. "Ow! What the hell, Evan?!" I growled, frowning in confusion.
"You don't have to stare at him like a lovesick puppy in front of me, do you?" He sighed, running his fingers through his short, brown hair. I felt my cheeks go red, and I immediately cursed myself for being so susceptible to embarrassment.
"And you say I'm mean," I mumbled, frowning at him. Evan fought down a grin, and reached over to tug out a chip from my chip bag. As he threw it into his mouth, he smiled lightly, brown eyes shining.
"You know Cody, I..."
Evan stopped, his mouth abruptly closing, and his eyebrows raising in surprise. I blinked at him, confused. "Ev—?"
"Hey. Do either of you know how'ta make the vending machine work?"
I froze for the second time that day.
That voice—the slow southern drawl I'd always imagined—was coming from right behind me. I slowly—very slowly—turned and saw the shining azure eyes of Ted DiBiase, glancing back and forth between Evan and I.
Wow. Just wow. And I never thought I'd see Ted so close. I gulped, my face instantly flushing, as that same husky scent washed over me, and I had to fight to keep my mind in the right place.
Now what had he asked?
Something about the vending machine? Right, just a second ago, he was standing by the vending machine, while I drooled over his arms. Oh man, those arms. And they were within perfect reaching distance for the first time, weren't they? My baby blue eyes traveled down his lean shoulders to rest most obviously on his biceps. Holy shit.
Wait! Concentrate Cody, concentrate dammit! I hollered at myself, biting my lip so hard I just knew there'd be blood soon. But before I could gain full control of my desensitized self, I heard Ted chuckle low in his throat. Oh, and what a sexy sound it was. Not that I'd say that out loud. But damn.
"Oh, don't worry 'bout these babies," He grinned, indicating to his biceps where I'd been openly gawking. "I don't wanna beat the shit outta' you or nothing. I was just wonderin' if you knew how to make that crappy thing over there work." He gestured with a tilt of his head towards the vending machine, looking slightly irritated with the fact that he couldn't figure it out on his own.
I cleared my throat, taking a deep breath and willing my voice to work in the presence of a guy I'd been kinda, sorta lusting after for the better part of my sixteen year old existence. "Uh, yeah... You just gotta, um, kick it."
Ted's—perfect—eyebrows pulled together. "Kick it?"
"Uh, yeah. Three times, right in the middle," I informed as calmly as I could without sounding like a completely infatuated idiot. I elbowed Evan in the ribcage once I heard his amused snickers.
"Really? Wow, thanks! And sorry 'bout this, I'm not really used to using vending machines, ...uh?"
"Cody! Cody Runnels." Ted's eyes widened slightly, and I nearly swallowed my tongue as he looked me up and down calculatingly.
"You're Dusty's kid? Man, you're a lot less, er, overweight than I thought you'd be," He commented lightly, flashing that sexy grin and unintentionally throwing me off a bit. I attempted to chuckle airily, but I knew I sounded extremely nervous.
"Uh, yeah. He... He and my brother like to joke about me being, the only one with abs in the family," I said, scratching the back of my neck, as I avoided Ted's alluringly blue eyes. I heard him chuckle slightly, and then I felt a big hand patting my shoulder in a comfortable way.
"I can imagine. And hey, Cody, you don't gotta' be so nervous," He gave me a light shake. "I'm just the same as you, even more so, now that I know you're a multi-generational wrestler like me," He assured. "So stop bein' so jittery." Shooting me one of those painfully adorable smiles, his white teeth gleaming, I felt as if the breath had be just been violently ripped from my lungs.
Those teeth. Oh, man I wish I could taste them. And... had he just said my name? Did the name 'Cody' fall from those tempting lips?
Holy hell, it did. I wonder if it'd sound any different if he moaned it...
I mentally shook my brain, trying to rid it of my perverted wishes, before bobbing my head up and down, yes, at the gorgeously angular face, the likes of which, made me want to pounce on the guy right then and there. But I refrained from raping him, and instead focused on the warm hand still resting on my shoulder. Which probably wasn't the best idea...
"Alright then," His smile seemed to grow with an amused quirk. "I'd better go get my drink, before someone else who actually knows how to work that damn machine, goes up and steals it," He said, glancing over at the vendor, as if his words would summon a thief on the spot. Turning back to me, he pat my shoulder again, before retracting his hand. I missed it's warmth almost instantly.
"I'll see you later then, Cody," Ted bid adieu, starting off towards the vending machines.
But my hand flew up and grasped his bare wrist before I could stop myself—though I couldn't say I didn't like the jolt of electricity that sizzled up my arm at the touch. Ted whirled around, taken by surprise, and more than a little bit confused. "Um..." God, I'm such an idiot! I couldn't help but curse myself as I floundered for something to say, Ted looking at me curiously, all the while.
"A-are you going to the Raw Smackdown?"
At the mention of the after-school bonanza of sorts, I noticed Ted's face light up instantly. It was so damn cute, I had to hold myself back from jumping him. Again. "Yeah, I am! I'm gonna be in it, actually!" He relayed, sounding so much like a kid who had just been given a humongous award, I couldn't help but smile.
"Really? Any idea who you'll be facing?" I questioned, still painfully aware of Ted's bare skin beneath mine. Ted shrugged.
"I'm not really sure. I just heard he was a new guy from some big league training facility up in Missouri," He explained, but that giddy grin was still on his face. I nodded understandingly—probably just as curious about his opponent as he was.
"Well, I'll be sure to cheer for you, Ted," I promised, allowing one of my own childish grins to spread across my face, proud of myself for maintaining control of my urges. Ted paused a moment, blinking slowly, before inhaling quickly and returning my friendly expression.
"Yeah, thanks man." And with that, I relinquished his wrist—reluctantly—from my hold and watched him head off. Probably looking like a dreamy, totally obsessed weirdo. But oh well, Teddy was fucking sexy. And nice too. Now how many of those guys came around?
I didn't think so.
"Stop grinning like an idiot, Cody," Evan's voice cut through my trance like a knife through butter, and I cringed, immediately spinning back around to face the table. Upon a light inspection, I realized with chagrin that my so-called best friend had devoured my entire bag of chips while I was talking to Ted.
Wow, 'I was talking to Ted'. Never thought I'd say those words.
"You ate my food."
Evan crumpled up the empty chip bag, with a shrug. "You were too busy talking to your southern boy, to eat anyway. I'm sure you're not even hungry, now." I blinked at his words, and realized he was right, all that nervous flustering had completely quenched my appetite. Man, Evan knew me like the back of his hand. Aw.
"Have I ever told you, you're my best friend, Ev?"
Evan rolled his eyes, but he smiled his cute grin anyway. "Only a million times." I smiled back.
"Good. I wouldn't want you to feel unloved." Evan rolled his eyes.
"Are you saying that you love me?"
I regarded this. "Yeah, I guess I am." Evan's smile only got bigger, his teeth barely hidden behind his lips. Man, I loved his smile to bits.
"I guess you are... I love you too." Evan winked. "If I have too." I scowled, crossing my arms.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"God dammit, John! You shit-fuck. I'm in the middle of fucking nowhere thanks to you're shitty directions!" Randy growled lowly, trying his hardest not to shatter the phone in his hand. He swore, John Cena was about as good at giving directions, as he was at keeping a steady girlfriend. Which wasn't too great.
"Well, if you would stop freaking screaming obscenities at me, I could actually concentrate," John hissed back. Randy narrowed his eyes, even though he knew John couldn't see him. Though he was damn near positive if John had been there, he'd have kneed him in the balls already.
"You better hope you're not within a mile radius of me, John, because I am going to castrate you. You no good worthless asshole." With that, Randy ended the call, and slid his phone back into his pocket with a bit more force than strictly necessary, but damn. How the hell could John douche up this badly? Sighing and slipping off his sunglasses, he agitatedly ran his hand over his shorn hair. There wasn't much of it, but at least it was soft.
He glanced back and forth, absently, from left to right, one endless hallway, to the other. Well, that was just fucking fantastic. First day at Wrestling Academy, and he was already lost. Thanks, John.
Grumbling with self-pity, Randy slid his sunglasses into place at the top of his forehead, since wearing them inside would make it harder to see, and hoisted his duffel bag back on to his shoulder. Grabbing his wheeled suitcase, he began making his way down the deserted hallway, hoping to whatever God, that civilization was within a five minute walking distance.
As he traveled down the seemingly endless corridor, a low, quiet, humming buzz that signaled many conversations going on at once, began to grow steadily louder, and Randy couldn't fight the accomplished grin that made it to his face, realizing that he must've been nearing some sort of communal area. See, he didn't fucking need John. He could do this all on his own.
Randy triumphantly made his way towards the noise, and soon found himself standing before a pair of large double doors, propped open to reveal a huge cafeteria, teeming with students of varying ages. Randy surveyed the area, in search of a suitable teen to pull directions from.
A tall, slightly familiar blonde, was kicking the hell out of a vending machine directly to Randy's left, and—farther ahead—at a lunch table, a pair of dark haired teens were playfully batting at each other, grins on their faces. Glancing back and forth between the blonde, and the two young men, Randy—having released his suitcase—tapped his chin thoughtfully.
Which would he rather ask directions of? The angry vending machine hater, or the little warring brats? Well, that answer was quite obvious. With a shrug, Randy slid his duffel off and dropped it to the tiled flooring. With a leisurely roll of his shoulders he kicked his luggage into a corner, and adjusted his clothing—a tight, black t-shirt, and a pair of loose-fitting jeans—before making his way towards the lunch table, carefully avoiding the vending machine kicker.
The moment he reached the two, they both paused in their ministrations, slowly turning to stare up at him through big eyes. Randy couldn't help but subconsciously smirk to himself at their blatant stares, mouths slightly agape. If the Orton was anything, he was an attention-whore, and he took pride in his praise-worthy physique.
"Can either of you tell me where the office is?"
Alright, so you remember when I told you how gorgeously beautiful Ted was? Well, uh. Not to be a man-chaser, but hot damn.
Standing before me, in nothing but a plain black T and a pair of white-wash jeans, was someone with one of the sexiest builds I had ever had the fortunate luck of admiring. I couldn't help my jaw, as it unhinged itself in awe at the ripping abdominals, showing teasingly through the man's tight shirt. I felt like drooling.
But, of course I didn't. After all, Ted was only six or seven feet away. What if he happened to turn, and see me? My chances would dwindle to nothing. And there was no way I was gonna let that happen, not after our first ever conversation just occurred. Besides, Ted was—and would always be—the only one in my heart. And in my wet dreams. But no one really needed to know that.
Evan was the first to gain control of his voice, as he was much more immune to the sex-appeal of men than I was. "Uh. Who're you?"
The tall—like, humongously, dreamily tall—man sighed, as if he had better things to do than explain his identity to us. Oddly enough, I was not put off by his better-than-you tone. God, I'm such a sucker. And my mouth was still hanging open.
No! No, think about Teddy. He was right. Over. There. Think about him naked. Think about his grins, and his sexy eyes. The guy in front of me pales in comparison to Ted's beautiful self.
"Orton. I'm new, and I need to register. So. Office?" His words sounded more like a request than an actual question. His voice was as low and rumbling as when I'd first heard, I'm sure he got plenty of good lays, with a sound like that coming from his mouth. Not that I liked it better than Ted's adorable southern drawl. But I had to give credit where credit was due.
Evan nudged me in the ribcage, as the Orton's enchantingly provocative gray eyes turned to me. Holy crap, I'm gonna overheat. This guy was practically raping me with his eyes. I struggled to reactivate my vocal chords, swallowing thickly.
Teddy, Teddy, Teddy...
"Uh, yeah. I know where it is, but... I mean, I could give you directions, but I don't know how easy they'd be to follow. The place is really... really far away from here. At least two buildings over, and I'm not a great judge of distance. I mean, the guys are always telling me that in class, because I always miss by, like, five inches when I try to do my Moon-Sault. It hurts like a bitch too, I even have the bruises to prove it and—"
His hand shot up to cover my mouth. Its warmth radiating over my lips and causing my voice to hitch in its throat instantly. Stupid voice.
He rolled his eyes in an annoyed, fed-up, sort of way. "Alright, motormouth. If you can't give me verbal directions, then get your ass up and lead the way. And do it quick, because I have to register by one."
I frowned. And suddenly, he's not as drop-dead gorgeous as he was five seconds ago.
What the heck? I don't care how sexy the guy was, he had no right to be ordering me around. He was the lost one. I growled, feeling it vibrate my lips and—in turn—his palm, still covering my mouth.
But before I could recoil and accuse him of his obvious offense in human etiquette, Evan spoke. "Why don't you ask someone else? Cody and I have better things to do than to be disrespected by someone we don't even know. If you had any sense of decency you'd know to respect people. Especially the ones you're asking for help."
Orton retracted his hand from my face slowly, and I exhaled a breath I didn't know I'd been holding, glancing back and forth between the daunting, taller man and my small, small, Evan. Orton narrowed his eyelids over those distracting gray irises, before moving so quickly it took me a second to realize what had even happened.
That same hand, was cupping Evan's chin tightly, in a none-to-pleased way, Orton's face mere centimeters from his.
"If I were you, boy, I'd watch who I was mouthing off to. I'm not afraid to take both your arms and break them in three different places, before punching out each, and every one of your teeth and shoving them down your throat."Animosity rolled off of him in waves, as he hissed his words, his own teeth bared.
Evan flinched. Though, I didn't blame him. This guy had one helluva temper problem and it was obvious he wasn't just talk, the way his posture tensed and the muscles beneath his tee rippled, all in anticipation. Practically screaming, "Danger! Stay away from me, I might kill you."
His grip on my best friend tightened and I shivered. That very hand at Evan's chin, was most likely capable of snapping my neck in two with minimal effort.
Wait. That very hand at Evan's chin—What if he tried to hurt Evan?! No way, was I gonna let that happen! Scary serpent man or no scary serpent man. I immediately moved forward, wrapping my fingers around Orton's wrist, and—biting my lip—jerked his hand away from the smaller man with as much of my strength as possible. The force—and the surprise of which—caused the huge guy to lurch to the side, as he was thrown off balance.
The second his incredulous eyes met mine, I took a sharp breath and spoke. "Don't touch him," I hissed, hoping to God my voice wasn't as shaky as I felt. I gulped, searching frantically for something else to say, as the taller man eyed me.
"If you leave Evan alone, I'll take you to the office," I proposed, my voice was husky with caution and apprehension, and I felt Ev gape at the back of my head, as I rose to my feet.
The Orton guy regarded me through slits of eyes, clenching and unclenching the hand I'd grabbed—funny, how only moments earlier I'd been so happy about grabbing Ted's wrist, this was a completely opposite situation, and I'd felt disgusted at having to touch the jerk in front of me.
Abruptly the older man's leer, morphed into a smirk and he stood to his full height, haughtily gaining inches on me. Crossing his arms, and tilting his head to the side, he eyed me with a calculating stare. I glared back as defiantly as possible, despite only reaching his jaw. Damn, God gave all the height to the wrong people.
"Fine. You can show me where the office is," He conceded with an exasperated huff, after much thinking, as if it was some great sacrifice letting me take him to the damned main building. I held my tongue, and nodded curtly, before casting an apologetic glance over my shoulder at Evan, as Orton began walking leisurely towards the exit.
I'd have to explain my, slightly warped, logic to him later, since he most definitely didn't understand it—if the confused glares and frantic 'no' motions weren't sign enough. To me, it was quite simple. Get the Orton guy away from Evan, and he won't hurt him. I know I could be a bit protective, but really. It's Evan.
I followed Orton—who's first name I still didn't know—out the double doors, and stood by as he hefted his duffel bag onto his shoulder and tugged a suitcase to his side. "Lead the way, half-pint."
Okay. If I was gonna walk fifteen minutes with this guy, there was no way in hell I was going to listen to him insult me. "My name is Cody. And I'd really appreciate it if you'd call me that. Thanks."
The gleam that instantly ignited in his eyes, made me bite my tongue, hoping I hadn't crossed some 'Temperamental Orton Line' or something.
God, I hope he doesn't punch me.
Randy cocked an eyebrow at the squirt before him, narrowing his gray eyes. The instant he did so, the boy flinched slightly, body tensing, as all the right muscles contracted in the telltale signs of the 'Fight or Flight' instinct. Randy couldn't help but find amusement in the kid's obvious fear of him. He loved having control. Especially over someone like this Cody kid.
"My name is Randy. And I'd also appreciate it if you'd call me that. Thanks," He smirked, adjusting his bag, as Cody shot him an irritated—albeit slightly anxious—glare. The man couldn't help himself. He was a jerk through and through, and he enjoyed every second of it. Besides, he had every earthly right to be a cocky asshole. He ranked top of his age group in Missouri, and he constantly had people gushing over how talented he was.
The kid in front of him, most likely fifteen or sixteen, was so out of his league it was almost sinful. Oh well, Randy shrugged. He was fun to tease if anything, and with that Randy decided it wouldn't be too damaging to his dignity to be hanging around with someone of the brat's skill level. Or at least the skill level he looked to be at. Randy was probably giving him more credit than he deserved.
"Anyway, the office is this way," The fledgling—er, Cody muttered, shuffling his way down the hall Randy had come from. With a nod, the Orton tagged along beside the young boy, not unawares to the two penetrating stares boring into his back, as he vanished from view. One was that short little kid, Cody'd called Evan.
The other: the blonde vending machine hater from earlier.
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