disclaimer: Holy crap. I don't own.

warning: SLASH. SLASH. /. and funny drunk wrestlers. clueless!Randy. jealous!Ted. and lots and lots of DENIAL.

A/N: I came up with the idea sitting around in a hotel room. And I thought it'd be hilariously awesome to write. It was. I just hope it's that much fun to read too.

note: nobody's married in this, to avoid confusion and general uncomfortable-ness.

Now, please, sit back. Relax. And enjoy.

"Aren't you gonna kiss your baby goodbye, Randy?"

Randy tensed, caught mid-step out the doorway, as Kelly's sickeningly sweet voice pierced his ear drums. He hesitantly turned around, slowly allowing the door to drift shut behind him—he'd been so damn close—and cast a wary glance in Cody's direction. Said boy was biting his lip, and averting his gaze, having nothing to do with the situation. Randy inwardly cursed. Damn brat, really wasn't much help when it came to digging their asses out of Shitville.

"Uh..." Randy desperately searched for something to say, his mind drawing a blank, Kelly tilting her head curiously, that "annoying blonde-girl" smirk grating on his short temper. The lighter to his already sizzling fuse.

"'Uh' what, Randal? I thought you and Cody were," She faltered, glancing back and forth. "You know... If you don't wanna even kiss your boyfriend, that makes me think you don't really love him, makes me think you two are fake."

Shit. Randy berated himself, knocking his brain around for some semi-realistic reason for not kissing Cody goodbye. Except for the... obvious reason. The fact that they weren't actually together. The fact that it was all a farce, Randy had guiled Cody into so that he wouldn't have to deal with snarky little bitches that only wanted in his pants, like the one in front of him. He only wanted to focus on his work, was that so hard for anyone to understand?

"Look, Kelly... We—"

"We don't do stuff like that in public, Kel. What are you, some kind of pervert or something? You wanna see two guys go at it?" Cody interrupted, hands to his waist and a black eyebrow raised. Kelly instantly shook her head, her hands up.

"What? No way! I'm nothing like that! I just didn't really think—"

"Think what? That we don't actually love each other? Is that it? You think just 'cos we're both guys, we're fake? Fuck, Kel. I never thought you were such a fucking bitch," Cody said, his voice glazed with mock hurt, as he put a hand to his chest and his brows pulled together. Kelly swallowed hard, shame glimmering earnestly on her pretty face.

"I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it, you guys. I was just... being stupid. I'll leave you two alone, now," She murmured, pushing past Randy, and out the door, blonde hair billowing out behind her.

It was quiet, the only sound was the click of the door shutting, and it rang throughout the locker room, seemingly echoing in their ears. Cody cast a blue-eyed stare over at Randy's still form, who—in turn—shook himself, not quite able to believe how good an actor Cody actually was. Maybe he wasn't giving the kid enough credit.

When it came to pretending to be his gay lover, Cody was the best of the best, and he couldn't say he'd ever find anyone better fit for the task.

"Shit, we need to remember crap like that, or we'll get found out. Try not to fuck up next time, Codes," Randy muttered, still mulling over the possible ways they could worm their way out of suspicion's eye, without him having to be entirely reliant on Cody's input. Hell, he didn't even really like the little squirt, it was even more degrading knowing that, in a way, he sort of owed him now.

Cody was already moving to get dressed pulling off his trunks. "A simple 'thank you' would suffice." His tone was nonchalant and, slightly, arrogant as he avoided eye-contact and slid a pair of boxers over his hips.

Randy glowered, finding his temper flaring once again as the younger, more junior leveled wrestler talked to him as if he were the lesser ranked. "Hey. I shouldn't have to thank you, you should have said something in the first place. We're in this boat together if you don't recall. You're as much a part of this as I am, so don't be a smart ass."

Randy jerked his trunks off, and replaced them with underwear and jeans, trying his utmost hardest not to smack the tyke across the face for being so disrespectful. He and Cody weren't close. Hell, they weren't even really friends. They wanted nothing to do with each other most of the time, and they were quite content to stay that way too, but Randy's plan was set in stone, and Cody would be his pretend-lover if it killed him.

"Yeah... About that, Randy. I have something to I need to tell you," Cody's usually snarky tone had suddenly heightened a few decibels to a timidly tentative mewl of a sound. And it slightly worried Randy.


"I... can't make it to the club tonight. So you're gonna just have to tell all the chasers you've got a gay lover waiting for you at home, or something," Cody informed, pulling a light blue tee over his head, blocking Randy's view of his face.

"What? What do you mean you 'can't make it'? What the hell are you gonna do at the hotel? And who the hell are you gonna do it with?" The Orton couldn't fight the slight note of hysteria that wheedled it's way into his deep voice.

He didn't sound like himself, he knew, but the thought of having to fight off all those drooling women—and sometimes men—at the club made his spine shiver. And really, what the hell could a kid like Cody do on a Monday night that would be better than clubbing with him? He was freaking Randy Orton for fuck's sake!

Randy growled, arms crossing in agitation at the prospect of Cody—his (pretend) gay lover—ditching him for some other bastard. "Well?"

Cody gulped, trying to look occupied with his belt buckle, his fingers fiddling with the latch. "Uh, Teddy and I, he, just got back from filming that movie, you know, and we really haven't had time to catch up. So, we were just planning on going to hang out somewhere or other and... and talk." Randy's fists clenched even tighter at the words, but he held his burning temper in check.

Teddy. Ted fucking DiBiase Jr. was the enemy of any and all things Randy. The little fucker spent all the time he could with Cody, hogging the boy so that it looked more like they were up to something. It made people think Cody was cheating on Randy, or—worse—that he and Cody weren't really together. Given, they weren't. But no one knew that, except Ted. Fucking Ted. Randy wished he would just go and fall down a hole, and never come out.

"Ted. You're leaving me, and the guys, to go and talk with Ted?" Randy hissed, malice and disgust lacing every individual syllable. Cody frowned at his words, as he plopped onto the bench, and pulled on his socks.

"Hey. Ted's my best friend. The least you could do is give me this one thing."

Randy narrowed his gray eyes, still in nothing but his jeans, having forgone getting dressed in order to give Cody the full affects of his Viper Glare. "What do you mean, 'the least I could do'?" Cody sighed, slipping his shoes onto his feet.

"I mean, I let you do whatever the hell you want, whenever the hell you want, with whoever the hell you want. This isn't a real relationship, but you could at least give me equal treatment. I'm not some lackey to be lead around on a leash, okay?"

Randy hesitated in his blatant display of anger, unable to keep himself from mulling over Cody's words. True, he did keep the young Runnels on an—obscenely—tight leash. But that was because he didn't want to look like he didn't care. What if he just let Cody waltz around with just plain old whoever? Wouldn't that make him a bad boyfriend? He had to be protective, or people would figure it out and his plan would crumble, right?

"Well. That's different. I'm supposed to be like this, this is the way boyfriends are," Randy supplied futilely, scratching the back of his shorn head, and glancing in the opposite direction. He knew his excuse was just that. An excuse. Relayed just for the sake of saying it. Because Cody was a boyfriend too. And if that were the case, then wouldn't Cody have every right to be protective of Randy?

Randy shook his head. No, now he was just confusing himself. He was right, and Cody was wrong. That's the way it was supposed to be.

"I'm your boyfriend too, you know. But you don't see me being all overprotective and possessive of you, do you?" Cody muttered, echoing Randy's thoughts, as he stuffed his trunks into his small duffel and zipped it up, casting a glance at Randy's bare torso, that didn't go unnoticed by the older man.

"I'mnot overprotective or possessive. I just think that, in a real relationship, the guy should worry about his... er, partner. You're just supposed to go along with it." Randy couldn't help but sound slightly demanding, his hands moving to his hips. Cody rolled his eyes.

"If you're the guy, what does that make me? The girl? I'm allowed to have friends. I think you're taking this fake relationship thing too seriously. You're being paranoid. I highly doubt, anyone's gonna realize if you and me aren't joined at the hip for one night. Hell, have you heard what people say about us? They say we're always together, that it's a bit strange," Cody informed with a huff, crossing his own arms across his chest.

Randy turned up the glare, barely suppressing a snarl. "Who says that? Teddy?"

Cody instantly backpedaled. "That's besides the point. The fact is, we do hang out too much. And, like you always say, we're not even friends. I just think you should go out on your own tonight. I'm your "gay lover" not your babysitter." His fingers acted as air quotes, as he spoke.

Randy simmered, feeling the threatening explosion slowly subside and his fuse fizzle out, as he processed the young boy's words. Cody was right after all. They did spend almost every waking moment together.

In fact, Randy had specifically asked to room with Cody, to further uphold the image.

Of course, most of the time, they slept in separate beds, but still. Randy woke up to the sound of Cody's shower, and showered to the faint sound of Cody's blaring mp3 music, and dressed to the sound of Cody's absent comic book rants. He practically lived, ate, and breathed Cody's existence. And he never stop to think that maybe that was a bit strange for two men who weren't even close friends.

"...Fine. You can go have your talk with Ted, or whatever. I'll just tell the guys you were busy, but if they suspect anything it's on your head," Randy forewarned, followed by an exasperated sigh. Cody couldn't help the small smirk of triumph that snaked its way onto his face, as he leaned over to grasp hold of Randy's t-shirt from earlier and toss it at the tall man.

"Thank you. Now put a shirt on, its indecent," He grinned, sliding his bag onto his shoulder and making his way out the locker room door, pausing only when he was nearly in the hall, to turn and say, "I'll see you later on tonight then, Randy... I love you." His tone was dripping with gooey, sugar-coated sweetness, as he let the door glide shut behind him.

Randy, all the while, was cursing himself, as he fought with the thin material of his t-shirt, attempting to tug it over his head as it only seemed to protest wildly. "God dammit. Fucking shirt," Randy hissed, while simultaneously fighting down the fluttery butterflies that were still dancing the waltz at the bottom of his belly.

He was probably taking his anger out on the shirt, but fuck. Why the hell were his insides getting all jumpy? All Cody said was "I love you". Who cares if that was the first time the kid had ever said something like that to him? Who gives a flipping fuck if only close, close friends did it? Shit, it wasn't like the guy actually meant the words. He was just trying to play up the act.

Randy shook his head, trying to pull up his signature Randy Orton smirk, after he'd successfully put his shirt on. He needed to forget about Cody anyway, he had a club to enjoy with the guys, he didn't have time to be worrying about the little Runnels brat's idiosyncrasies. Yeah. Fuck Cody.

They weren't even friends anyway.

"Hey baby, what're you doin' here all by yer'self?"

Randy's gaze lifted cautiously from the cell phone screen he'd been intently glaring at, cursing John and Hunter for being late. The assholes.

The sultry voice belonged to a bleach blonde haired woman, who was practically bursting from her top, as she leaned over the table, making positive her breasts were on full display for the decidedly sexy man in front of her. Randy dismissed her instantly with a derisive snort. She most definitely had some sort of sexually transmitted disease, a woman like her was a dime a dozen and he really didn't need this at the moment.

"Texting my boyfriend. He couldn't make it."

The words came out so easily, Randy wasn't sure if he should be unnerved by it, as he returned his gray-eyed stare to the screen of his phone. The blonde hesitated for a moment, before inching closer with a giggle.

"Dun' lie to me, bub-bay. Playin' hard ta get? Ya don't hafta' worry, I'll make it real nice fer ya," She purred, her low, husky voice sending shivers down Randy's spine. And not the good kind.

Fuck, if Codes were there, the bitch would have already been thoroughly disposed of. Randy hissed under his breath, making a mental note to himself that Cody seriously owed him for the night off the Orton had so graciously given, sacrificing his own comfort.

"Hay', are ya listenin' to me, bub-bay? Or are ya just shy?" But before Randy could tell her to just plain fuck off, a bellowing voice came from behind the curvaceous woman.

"Sorry, little missy. This man 'ere is taken. His heart and soul, belongs to one boy and one boy only. Plus, he just don't swing from your side of the plate, if you haven't already realized." John was grinning, finding way to much pleasure in Randy's discomfort, as the blonde jumped in surprise, wide brown eyes glancing between Randy and John with disbelief.

"Oh. Well then, I guess I'll just have to find someone else," The girl sighed, suddenly devoid of the annoying Southern accent from before, and slinking off in the direction of a group of shady looking men.

John and Hunter—who'd popped out from the crowd abruptly—eyed Randy like a pair of Cheshire cats, their grins so wide, Randy was surprised they didn't split their faces in two. The Orton shrank away from their prodding gazes, wishing desperately to be able to melt into the seat and away from view, or at least that Cody were there to hide behind. Not that Randy would use the word "hide" per se, more like "strategic placement".

"So, where's your little boy-toy? Usually you guys are stuck together like glue."

John's booming voice practically resonated off the walls, despite the harsh thumps of the beat of the song that blared from the surrounding speakers, as he slid into the booth, Hunter following short. Neither planning on addressing the fucking hilarious scene they had just witnessed between a frightened Randy, and a tramping blonde.

Randy leaned back in the booth they sat in, running his fingers over his short fuzz of hair, trying his hardest to regain his composure from before.

"He, uh, he went to go hang out with... with Ted. Since the bastard just got back," He replied, taking a, rather large, gulp of his happily awaiting beer, reveling in the icy cold that slithered down his throat. He heard Hunter's bark of laughter at his words, and he glanced over at the man with slightly narrowed eyes, unsure if he was being made a mockery of or not.

"Aw, is little Ran-Ran jealous, because his Cody-kins likes Teddy more?" The older man cooed, taking a swig of his own drink.

"He does not."

The words left his mouth, before Randy could stop himself. Even though, he was damn near—Fuck it, he was positive Cody definitely liked to be with Ted, much more than he liked to share company with the Legend Killer himself. And despite the fact that that prospect pissed Randy off—who in their right mind would prefer Ted?—it was still one of the main reasons why he was "seeing" Cody in the first place.

"Ooh, I wasn't aware the big, scary Viper had such a tender spot," John crooned, wiggling his eyebrows. Randy kicked him under the table, as he finished off the remainder of his beer, and used the now empty bottle to prod at the larger man's head.

"Shut-up, you dick. I do not. And I'm only letting Cody outta' my sight, because... because he said he needed some space, and that he was allowed to have friends and I shouldn't keep him from them." Randy bit his cheek, slightly worried he'd said words that hit a little too close to home. Hopefully, it sounded like an argument couples would have.

John whistled through his teeth, leaning back against the plush cushion behind him. "Man, does that kid sure got you wrapped around his finger." Hunter reclined back beside John, his own smirk on his bearded face.

"I second that one, man. Look at his face. He looks like a whipped puppy," The accomplished wrestler inputted, pretending to have a secret conversation with John, despite that Randy could hear every word they said to each other.

"I can hear you, assholes. And I'm not fucking whipped, so shut the hell up," He growled, jaw muscles twitching in irritation. How dare those two accuse him of being Cody's lapdog? For fuck's sake, they weren't even really dating! How the hell could he be wrapped around his finger, if they weren't together in the first place?!

Not that Randy could say this fact out loud, but still. The thought made his teeth grind.

"Damn, Randy, you don't hafta' get all defensive about it. We were just messin' with you," John offered with a 'Why can't we be friends?' pout, before flagging down a scantily clad waitress and demanding three more beers.

"Then again, all this defensiveness is starting to make me think someone's in denial," Hunter quipped, that same daunting smirk glimmering on his alcohol-lathered lips. Randy hissed.

"Shut the fuck up. I am not in denial," He growled, starting to seriously regret coming without Cody. Apparently all it got him was a helluva a lot of teasing, and more than few blatant come-ons. Next time, no matter what the hell Cody's excuse is, he is coming with. Randy refused to go clubbing without him.

Besides, who the fuck was he supposed to make fun of about their drunken lisp, if Cody wasn't there?

"Aha! Only a man in denial would say he wasn't in denial," John grinned, gladly accepting the beer bottles from the arriving waitress, who not-so-subtly batted her eyelashes in Randy's direction. Randy scowled, popping the top off his new drink, and guzzling half down, shooting the brunette woman a particularly nasty glare.

She, unfortunately, didn't get the message and remained at the side of the table, most obviously ogling Randy's tight-shirted form. John and Hunter exchanged amused glances, curious to see how temperamental Randy dealt with the new situation when the ever-helpful Cody—or John—wasn't around to (or didn't want to) dig him out.

Randy sighed, rolling his gray eyes in irritation, and inhaled deeply. "Hey guys," He began obstreperously, making sure the waitress could hear, loud and clear. "I wonder how my Codes is doing back home! I bet he just got outta' the shower, he probably looks so damn fuckable right now!"

John burst into a huge fit of laughter, inadvertently spraying the table with fizzy alcohol.

"Fuckable, hah! You mean suckable?"

At his words, even Hunter couldn't hold himself in and he too practically exploded with loud laughs. The brunette's eyes got wide and she gaped back and forth between the two, before instantly disappearing into the rapidly gyrating crowd.

Randy rubbed his temple at his coworkers' idiotic antics, downing the rest of his beer with one swig and eying the laminate surface of the table, thoroughly agitated. He couldn't believe he had to say shit like that just to get chicks off his back. Calling Cody fuckable was the last thing Randy Orton ever wanted to do. Especially in front of Hunter and John.

Fuck, it was so much easier when Cody was around to fend off the girls on his own without any of the Legend Killer's participation. It had been so long, he couldn't even recall how the hell he'd done it before little Codes came along.

Randy snuck forward to stealthily snag Hunter's beer from him, as the older man was preoccupied with John's insane musings, and hurriedly poured the burning alcohol down his gladly accepting throat.

And as he swallowed the cool liquid, he couldn't help but think, in his slightly inebriated state, that he sorely wished Cody were there.

Even if they weren't friends.

"Teddy! Where the fuck have you been, man? I hate to say it, but I missed you so much." Cody practically glowed, as he pounced up from the lobby room chair, bounding towards the blonde. Once he reached Ted's side, he tossed his arm around the neck of his best friend, taking in the scent and feel that was all Ted's.

"Hey, Coddles. I know, I know. I didn't really get to call much doin' that awesome movie makin' that I was. But, I sure as hell missed you too," Ted grinned, tugging the boy tighter to his side, his duffel in his other hand.

They had met up at the hotel, since Ted had flown in late due to some weather problems, and Cody was practically teeming with giddy, childish excitement. He hadn't seen Ted in person in months and he had to admit, hanging out, with only your (pretend) gay lover as company, for so long, really ate away at someone's happiness. Cody was just glad to be near the young blonde, and away from Randy.

"I'm telling you, Randy is being such a demanding asshole recently. Seeing you, is like the ray of light in my dark, little room," Cody informed, keeping pace with Ted as he headed for the front desk. Ted chuckled his low rumble of a laugh, and Cody couldn't help but smile back at the sound.

"You mean more of an asshole than he already was?" The blonde grinned, before his expression suddenly turned sour. "Seriously, baby boy, I'm not surprised. I don't see why the hell you had to goin' pretend to be his lover or whatever. The guy's such a dick," Ted grumbled, his tone exasperated. But Cody didn't have time to retort, as the Southern-native turned his attention to the young woman at the desk. "I'm Ted DiBiase, I need my key."

As the card was slid into his outstretched hand, Cody continued. "I know he is, but I can't resist when a guy like Randy Orton gets down on his knees and downright begs me to help. On top of that he was blackmailing me at the time, so, you know..." Cody muttered, unlocking his arm from around Ted's neck as he diverted his attention to a very interesting pattern on the marble tiled floor.

"He did what?" Ted turned fiery blue eyes on Cody's slight form, clenching the key-card so tightly in his fist, it nearly bent in half, hopefully it'd still fit in the door slot. Cody fiddled with the hem of his blue shirt, looking everywhere but Ted's face, even whistling a tuneless pitch. Ted growled. "Cody?"

Cody blinked. "...Yes?"

"He blackmailed you?"

Cody scratched his head sheepishly, a tiny, nervous grin on his face. "Maybe?" Ted narrowed his eyes, unsatisfied. Cody sighed. "Okay, yeah. But, I mean, it wasn't anything bad. I just, uh... He saw something after the showers, and threatened to tell someone. That's all. It's no big deal, really."

Ted continued walking, being sure that Cody kept pace as he did so. "So, I suppose you're not gonna tell me what it is, are ya?" Cody's cheeks instantly reddened, and he shook his head furiously, staring at anything but Ted's face once again. "Fine. I just hope you know it pisses me off, whatever it is, knowing that Randy knows, and I don't."

Cody bit his lip, as they fell into silence. This wasn't exactly how he'd wanted his reunion with Ted to go. Stupid Randy. Why'd he always have to go and screw things up? It was nearly every time too. Cody clearly remembered the time when he'd been video-chatting with Ted, the latter having been off somewhere in Southeastern Asia at the time.

After they talked for barely an hour, Randy had come stomping up, and violently slammed Cody's laptop shut, with a growl. When Cody'd asked why the hell he'd done so, the Orton merely rolled his eyes and crawled into bed.

Events like that had occurred throughout Ted's absence, without Cody ever having gotten a direct answer as to why Randy hated he and Ted's conversations so much. But Cody just brushed it off as a hormonal imbalance or something, because, quite frankly, he couldn't care less about Randy's feelings.

He just wished the asshole would stop slapping his laptop shut so harshly all the time. One of these days it was going to break.

So, lost in his inner musings, Cody hadn't even realized he and Ted had already reached the floor of their destination, as he'd just been obliviously following after the DiBiase without really being aware of his surroundings. And apparently, Ted hadn't even cared.

Cody cleared his throat, causing the blonde to pause slightly, before continuing down the narrow hallway in the direction of his hotel room. "Teddy? Are you mad at me?" He questioned, slightly irritated with how whiny he sounded, like a child who had gotten the cold shoulder from his father.

Ted stopped this time, and allowed for Cody to catch up to him so that they were side by side, before sighing. "No, baby boy, I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at that fucker Orton, for pulling you into his stupid little scheme." Cody blinked carefully, tilting his head slightly at the words.

"Yeah, but I mean it's not like I'm getting the short end of the stick or anything. Like I said, at first it was just blackmail, and then I just sort of felt sorry for him and it was fun pretending to be someone's gay lover..." Cody chuckled quietly, a small smile on his face. "But recently, Randy's been compensating me for my hard work, and buying me every single new game he can get his hands on. So, it's not all bad."

Ted's eyes darkened visibly, and the fist that held his duffel bag by the straps, clenched, white-knuckled. "Is that what this crap all boils down to? Video games? You're letting that dick treat you like his puppy, at his beck-and-call, for a bunch of games?"

Cody frowned. "What's that supposed to mean? He does not treat me like a dog." Ted's teeth ground together, and he dropped his bag to the floor, jerking forward to slam Cody against the hallway wall, with one hand.

"Yes he does. Are you that fucking stupid, Cody?!"

Cody instantly bristled, wrenching from Ted's grip. "Hey! What the fuck, man? What the hell's wrong with you? Why are you getting so fucking worked up over something that's not even your business?!" He snarled, scowling.

Ted stopped. All anger instantly draining from his face, to be replaced with desolate defeat, as he gradually stepped away from the younger boy, stooping to grasp hold of his duffel. "You're right, Coddles... It isn't my business. I think... I think I'll see you tomorrow."

Cody's own rage simmered at Ted's quiet voice. "Teddy, wait, you don't—"

"I'm exhausted anyway, you probably wouldn't want to hang out with a cranky old geezer, with the way I feel right now. Anyway, I'll see you in the morning. 'Night, baby boy," Ted plastered on a forced grin, that didn't reach his eyes, and reached out to ruffle Cody's black hair gently, before turning to head down the hall.

Cody watched, gaping like a fish and his eyes wide, as Ted slid his key into the slot of his door, and slipped into his room, not once sparing Cody another glance. The young Runnels didn't move, standing in the middle of the hotel hallway, a look of complete and utter shock gleaming across his face.

What the fuck?

Had he just gone and completely—royally—fucked up he and Ted's first day back together again? And—more importantly—had he defended Randy's controlling behavior? Holy shit, he had. God dammit, why had he done that?

Cody smacked his forehead, unable to believe the extent of his own stupidity. It was Randy for God's sake!

Fucking Randy.

The hell, they weren't even friends.

Randy's empty beer bottle banged against the laminate table, as he harshly dropped it down, having just finished off his twelfth. John and Hunter not far behind.

"I dun' get it," Randy slurred, head resting irritably beside his many glass bottles. John cocked his head to the side.


"Nuh matter how... much I drink. I sthill wish Cod—Coddles was 'ere..." Randy murmured, a deep set scowl morphing its way onto his face as an image of the grinning young Runnels cut into his haze and made him unbearably lonely.

He lifted a swaying arm to wave it around in the empty air to his right, further accentuating Cody's noticeable absence, as that was Cody's customary position. At his right. John nodded understandingly, cradling one of his bottles close to his chest.

"I... I schee wha' ya mean..."

Randy gingerly lifted his head from the table to stare blankly at the bigger man. "Nuh ya dun'." John nodded again.

"Oh... yeh," He giggled. "Ne'ermind 'den..."

"Heya' Rand—ay? Wha's it like...?" Hunter's voice questioned, as he sloppily sipped from his beer. Randy narrowed his eyes at the older man, slightly confused as the music's pulsating beats vibrated the seats of the booth they resided in.

"Wha's wha' like?"

Hunter sat up straighter, suddenly seeming more alert, but still horribly out of it. "Ya know... fuckin' Codes...?"

At his words, John burst into a raucous fit of laughter, barely managing to gasp out, "Ya mean suckin' Codes?!"

Randy's jaw had gradually dropped open at the two men's slurred words, and his inebriated mind began working profusely in order to comprehend what exactly they were referring to.

He wasn't fucking Cody... Was he? No, he wasn't. At least he didn't think he was... But why the hell were Hunter and John saying he was?Randy reclined backwards to squish into the bright red of the booth padding behind him, stretching his arms out, and allowing his head to lay back.

He didn't remember doing anything with Cody... And as he fought the drunken haze aside, in order to sift through the many mental pictures of Cody, the memories of the young man blurred with lust filled, alcohol induced imagery, and Randy wasn't aware which was a figment of his imagination, and which was real, the clips of thought flashing through, one at a time.

Cody's puppy-glare, as he was degraded in front of the audience, via microphone on live international television.

His naked body, on full view, as Randy worshiped his every nook and crevice with his hands and lips. His muttered, "I love you" as he left through the door and the butterflies it brought to Randy's stomach. His moans of pleasure as he cried out Randy's name, over and over again. His disgusted expression as he glared another girl down for attempting to bed Randy for the hundredth time. The ecstasy of bliss that started as a coil at the base of Randy's stomach, before unfurling into a full blown cyclone of euphoria as he rammed Cody through and through.

Randy scratched his head, still in the midsts of discerning artificial from authentic, his intoxication making it harder and harder to concentrate, as the seconds ticked by and Hunter and John waited patiently for an answer, conversing in low hushed tones about nothing perceivable by the sober mind.

Far too soon, the alcohol had clouded Randy's mind completely, and he simply decided that every memory was probably true, and he couldn't help the bit of shock he felt through his haze. He'd slept with Cody? Wow.

Replaying those supposed memories, caused a very unwanted reaction somewhere below Randy's belt, and he hurriedly shook his head, refocusing his gaze on John and Hunter. Or, rather, the four Johns and Hunters that sat in front of him, fazing in and out as if they were holographic.

"Um... Fuckin' ma' Codes is da' best schex—sex I've ever, ever, ever had... I shthink," Randy slurred determinedly, a drunken smile sliding onto his face with ease. Hunter and John gaped at each other, before turning to gape at Randy.

"...reashlly...?" John asked, after having finished the remainder of his eleventh bottle of beer. Randy mistook the incredulity in his voice, for some sort of eagerness due to his drunk fog, and he growled instantly, jerking forward forcefully.

"Codes. Ish. Mine." He hissed, eyes—despite their glazed film—were gleaming with an accusing, possessive glint, and John flinched, accidentally dropping his empty bottle onto the plush of the booth seat.

"Wha—Wait! Das' not wha' I meant!" He hurriedly stated, hands in front of his face in an "I surrender!" gesture. Randy narrowed his eyes calculatingly, swaying from right to left ever so slightly. John continued, "I jus' meant thshat it was... weird you'd shay it out loud..."

Randy wrinkled his nose, lips slightly parted. "Yeah? Well dat's 'cos Codes ish mine, an' I dun wan' you touchin' 'im... Ever." John shrunk away from the younger man's harsh stare, even if he was slightly off balance.

Hunter suddenly laughed out of nowhere, and John and Randy jerked their heads in his direction, surprised.

"Even when you're drunk, you're just as protective as ever. I wonder why the hell Cody puts up with you," He chuckled, shoving away another beer and shaking his head as if he couldn't believe it. Randy squinted across the table at the larger man, who seemed oddly sober now, and had to use his hands to keep from toppling over as the form of Hunter fazed in and out of obscurity, dancing across his vision.

"Wha? Wha're you sayin'?" John slurred, looking just as baffled and lost as Randy. Hunter rolled his eyes.

"Shut up, and drink your beer, John. I'm talking to Randy, okay?" He stated plainly, shooting John a dry stare. Said man, gulped and nodded like a reprimanded child, stealing at an abandoned beer and sipping it dejectedly. Hunter grunted approvingly, before returning his gaze to Randy.

"You there, Randal? I need you to stay cognizant, and listen to me," Hunter began, reaching across the beer bottle ridden table, to grasp hold of Randy's chin, as the man frowned at him, or at least tried too, his inebriation making it more and more complicated to even comprehend Hunter's words.

"I got you drunk on purpose."

Hunter allowed his words to sink in and Randy tilted his head wanly. What? What the fuck was the bastard going on about? Getting who drunk on purpose? Him? No way. Why would he wanna do that? And wasn't Hunter just drunk, seconds ago?

"I needed to get you drunk, because I didn't think you and the little Codes-mister were really going at it," Hunter explained, nice and slow so that Randy could understand. "But apparently you are, or at least are so lost in your own plans you think they're reality when you're totally wasted."

For some unfathomable reason, Randy felt like he should be offended at his words. But he wasn't completely void of logic reason, and he blinked slowly, confused. A feeling he'd been feeling a lot lately, but that probably just came with the alcohol.

"Wha' ya mean ya didn' shthink we wuh' togeshther? Why's stshat matter ta' you, anyways?" Randy inwardly cursed his tongue, as it twisted his words into their own barely identifiable lisp, heavy and thick with the beer he'd consumed.

"Look, Randy. I'm only gonna tell you this once, even though you're drunk, and you probably won't remember a word of this tomorrow. Really, I don't want the sober you to know I'm actually worried about Cody's and your's well-being, but if I don't say so, you'll most likely go all ape-shit, drunken abusive father on me," Hunter muttered, with a sigh as he shot a sideways glance at John who was watching the exchange with sleepy eyes.

Randy scowled, not liking the tone in the older wrestler's voice, as it echoed in his head and shot around like a pinball, even if his words were slowly getting harder to decipher, he couldn't miss the anxiety that laced their every sound. "Wha' ish it?"

Hunter finally relinquished Randy's chin from his hold, though Randy had to admit, he'd forgotten it was even there, before he took a deep breath. "I just caught a few things during Raw today, that some of the guys have been saying when you're not around to hear," he hesitated turning to stare intently at the wall, and Randy nodded slightly, curious despite his current state of "wasted"ness, the room starting to spin, and Hunter's voice starting to fade in and out in cloudy-sounding intervals.

"They talk about getting your Codes when you're not around to protect him. They get some kind of weird kick of taking things from the guy on top, and they've got one nasty thing for Cody. If I were you, I'd never let that boy outta' my sight, or at least have Ted keep on lookout, 'cos there's a lot of them and I wouldn't put it past one to act out their sick little fantasies they go on about.

"And I know it, because the exact same shit happened way back with Shawn and I, and it takes fierce manpower to keep those assholes at bay. So I needed to know you were actually serious about the Runnels kid, because you being with him, is what's making him so tempting to everyone else. If he gets hurt... if he gets hurt, it'll be on your shoulders."

Hunter finished gravely, gradually pulling his gaze from the yellowing plaster of the wall, and glancing over at the Orton.

But Randy's head was already limp on the laminate surface of the table, eyes softly shut and breathing deep and solemn.

I think drunk!John is adorable. Is that just me?

Anyway, do you like? Worth continuing, or not?

Reviews are welcome and asked for, as always!