Title: Burn it to the Ground
Pairings: Ted/Cody, Cody/Brett Dibiase
POV: Brett (this chapter)
Disclaimers: All belongs to the WWE
Notes: I'm glad you all liked this. I was hesitant. And this is going to be a many chaptered story so it's going to progress slowly. OF course, there's a reason behind Ted's actions. I'm not trying to make Cody into a meek sub. I am a huge fan of dominant!Cody but keep in mind that Cody's on the verge of a nervous breakdown because of Ted. He feels alone and sad. It'll take a while for him to see the light, to be strong, to get out from underneath Ted's control.
I've been in that kind of situation so I know it doesn't happen over night. It takes sometimes weeks, months, even years to fully get over it.
Nothing had happened that night at the hotel.
Cody had buried himself underneath a mountain of blankets and had turned his back to Brett, facing the wall. No conversation. No attempting to comfort a man that was depressed. Brett had laid awake for an hour just watching Cody sleep. The way one lock of dark hair fell stubbornly across the bridge of his nose... Long lashes skimming Grecian cheekbones… Slightly parted come hither to lips… It had taken all of Brett's will power not to slide into bed with Cody, to wrap his arms around him. Brett might have been a lot of things but he wasn't a home wrecker and as fucked up as Cody and Ted's relationship was; Cody still belonged to Ted.
Brett and Cody hadn't spoken since that night.
This was the first time he'd seen Cody; almost two days later in another city, another gym.
Brett watched-pretending to be absorbed in his set of bicep curls-as his brother and Cody engaged in a heated argument. Cody's baby blues were flashing with a rage that Brett had never seen before, Cody's gesticulating wildly with his hands, attempting to make his point to Ted. Each tendon and vein bulged with the motions of his arms, the olive skin accentuating the dips and curves of his muscles. Sweat was trickling teasingly down his sculpted pectorals and abdominal until it was absorbed by the band of his track pants. Brett had to force himself to focus on his work out instead of admiring his brother's boyfriend.
Ted was flush, face scarlet, a sign that he was seconds from snapping. Brett idly wondered what Cody could have done. It could have been nothing. Lately Ted had been increasingly temperamental, taking his frustrations out on Cody. Brett had seen the bruises. The swollen eyes. The raw cheeks. But it wasn't Brett's place to play the knight in shining armor. It wasn't his business. If Cody stayed with someone that abused him then that was his own stupidity. It didn't concern Brett. Yeah, then why are you so fucking worried about him? Brett told that voice to fuck off quick, fast, and in a hurry. He didn't need the added pressure of having an irrational crush on Cody. He was already nervous enough about finally being in the WWE and on RAW.
The sound of a fist connecting with flesh snapped Brett's eyes from the floor to see Cody holding the side of his face. The betrayed, kicked puppy expression shadowing Cody's beautiful face made Brett's stomach knot. This wasn't right. He and his brothers had been taught at an early age that one didn't lay a hand on their loved ones; woman or man. Cody would have shiner in the morning, the proof of Ted's downward spiral into self destruction for days to come. Yet Cody would be there. Always. It made Brett pity the older man. Made him want to know what kind of hold Ted had over Cody. Was it love? But love wasn't supposed to be like that.
Ted made a rude gesture to Cody before pointing at the door, telling him to get out. Cody cast Ted a pained look before hastily leaving the weight room, eyes downcast. "I'm beat. Hey, Ted, I'm headin' out. I'm exhausted from havin' my ass handed to me by John." It wasn't a complete lie. John Cena had volunteered to give him lessons, Brett listening intently and watching closely to everything John said and did. Brett wanted to excel and that meant learning from the best. He was just glad Cena was on RAW; he hadn't made many friends with his fellow wrestlers. Too many regarded Brett with amusement because of his age, with indifference, or outright hostility because of his brother's holier than though attitude. And then there was their alliance. The Fortunate Sons. He supposed that did make the three of them seem conceited. And poor Cody had been kicked to the curb in favor of Ted's egomania.
Ted grunted in response, grabbing a barbell from the floor and getting into a deadlift position. Typical. Brett grabbed his t-shirt off the back of one of the Smith machines, draping it across his shoulder. He wasn't sure why he was so drawn to Cody Runnels. They hadn't been close growing up despite they were only two years apart. Cody had had only eyes for Ted even at that young of an age. Cody was devastatingly gorgeous. Brett hadn't come across many men that could match Cody in appearance. Brett didn't personally know Cody well enough to justify the man's personality as another deciding factor in his misfortunate attraction to him. Maybe it was because Cody was broken, was quite possibly on the brink of nervous meltdown. Maybe Brett wanted to save him.
The locker room was blissfully empty. Most of the other wrestlers having long since departed for their hotels or the local restaurants and bars. Well, almost empty. Cody was bracing himself against the porcelain sink, head hanging low, his shoulders trembling. The terry cloth towel wrapped loosely around his protruding hips did nothing to diminish Brett's rapidly forming arousal. He was one sick fuck for having those kinds of thoughts about Cody. "Cody? Um, are you ok?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," his voice was coolly detached.
Brett sighed, crossing the boundaries that separated them, knowing that once he went across that line, he was going to immerse himself in a situation that put him between his brother and Cody. He was betraying his family in favor of his own desires. He was one selfish prick. "You're not," Brett said, startling Cody with how close he was, Cody's entire body tensing.
"What do you want?" Defeated. It was depressing.
"Well, for starters, we need to get some ice for that eye. You really wanna listen to make-up bitch, moan, and groan because you got a black eye? And then you'll have to explain it to McMahon. Come on, let me see it."
Just as Brett was about to grab Cody by the chin and make him show him, Cody exploded. "Fuck off! I don't need you coming here to check up on me so you can go tell your fucking brother! Leave me the hell alone, Brett!"
Taken aback, Brett sagged against the wall, watching with shock as Cody collapsed to the tiled floor, holding his head in his hands. Brett hadn't anticipated on witnessing Cody's breakdown… The sobs were heart wrenching, Brett was torn between comforting Cody and going after his brother and demanding answers for his recent behavior. His tender heart won out as he sank to the floor and wrapped his arms around Cody. There was a weak struggle before Cody wearily sank against his chest, warm tears splashing against his bare skin.
The silence wasn't uncomfortable. Not like Brett had suspected it would be. He simply held Cody, arms wrapped tightly around his muscular back, keeping the thoughts that Cody was in nothing but a towel from leaking into his fertile imagination. Eventually the sobs subsided. Brett continued to rub soothing circles against the small of Cody's back, waiting for Cody to make the first move to withdraw from the embrace. "I'm sorry."
"For what? You can't answer for your brother. He's… I don't know what's going on, Brett. I really don't. It's gotten bad in the past couple of months," Cody sighed, sinking back onto his legs. Even with his face blotchy and red, he was still handsome. "I just… I keep trying to think of what I could have done that pissed him off so much that… That he doesn't even wanna touch me unless he's been drinking."
Brett had a sinking feeling about the cause of Ted's mood swings. And hoped to God that his suspicions weren't true. "I'll talk to him if you want," Brett offered, hating that he always seemed to play the role of good Samaritan.
"It won't do any good," Cody said sadly, "And you've helped enough. Thanks for letting me act like a girl and not laughing at me. Well, I'll see you later. I still have to find a tag team partner in a handicap match against the Fortunate Sons. Funny, isn't it, that I'm third generation wrestling royalty and Ted didn't even include me? See you in the ring Thursday."
Brett pursed his lips, Cody disappearing around the bend towards the private changing room. It wasn't three minutes later that the door slammed shut. Cody's words came back to him. 'That he doesn't even wanna touch me.' How could any warm blooded human with a sex drive not want to touch the brunette bombshell? Cody was stunning, probably even more so than even Randy Orton. And Brett had spent years idolizing Orton. That was thrown to the wayside the second he met Cody after three years of absence. Cody in OVW and the WWE, Brett in FCW.
Mood swings, loss of a libido, the ripped muscles… The signs were targeting steroids as the culprit. But Ted knew better. And McMahon tested for the use of drugs monthly, especially Batista and Cena because of their physiques. But if Ted was using… Brett sincerely hoped he wasn't because the consequences would be dire.
"Little Dibiase, you're in here late," Randy Orton smirked, Brett's cheeks warming instantly, averting his eyes from gazing at the godly form of the older man, deeply bronzed skin dripping with water, too small towel hiding keeping nothing to the imagination. "Isn't it past your bed time?"
Brett kept his gaze on Orton's face, those steel grey eyes glinting underneath the lights. Brett had to wonder how much of Cody's break down he'd witnessed. "Um, I was just about to leave. Sorry, I'll let you-"
"How's Cody?" Randy asked softly, "I was leaving the sauna, heard Cody. I wasn't… I didn't want to upset him. Cody's… Look, take care of him, ok? I can't. It only pisses Ted off when I'm near Cody."
Brett warily watched as Randy grabbed his duffel bag from a locker, wondering about Orton's ulterior motives. "What'd you do?" Damn, did he suffer from a serious case of foot in mouth disease. This wasn't his business but his curiosity was piqued. "Sorry."
"Stop apologizing, kid," Randy chuckled, Brett on the verge of a nosebleed as he caught an eyeful of Randy's cock; even limp, it was impressive. Oh fuck, Brett, now you're perving on Randy! Bad! "Eyes are up here," Randy smirked at Brett's imitation of a fish; Brett felt his entire body blush.
"I'm sorry. I mean I'm- You know what, I'm going to just shut up."
Randy rolled his eyes, slipping into dark wash jeans, those thick thighs accentuated sexily. Brett noted Randy was going commando. Goddamn it, Brett, stop it! "You're nothing like your brother."
"Yes. I won't have to kill you." Oh God, even threatening him, Randy Orton was making his toes curl. The man just exuded raw sex appeal. It made Brett feel self conscious. "I'm joking, Brett. Hey, me and some of the boys are going out for a drink. You in?" Randy asked, sliding a red Affliction shirt over his head.
Brett's stomach knotted. "I'd like to but… Ted doesn't want me near you and I'm not about to piss him off. He's my brother."
"Fair enough," Randy shrugged, shouldering his bag. "Phone?" Brett hesitantly handed Randy his Iphone. "Call me if you change your mind. The offer's there."
"O..Ok," he stammered, surprised that THE Randy Orton had invited him for drinks.
As Randy began to leave, he threw a backwards glance at Brett over his shoulder, "You asked what I'd done. I went and fell in love with Cody. Don't make the same mistake as me. Cody comes off as weak, broken. But he's not. His heart is… There's nothing like it in the world. Ted's been leading him around on a leash for months. And I fell into the same trap as you. You want to save him. But Cody won't leave him. I tried. And failed."
"Why are you-"
Randy shook his head, "Don't play innocent, Brett. And don't take me for a fool. Be careful."
Brett pursed his lips, listening to the door shut, left alone in solitude.
Out of the frying pan and into the fire.
The story of his life.