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KING AND QUEEN OF THE RING
May 25th, 2024
SAUDI ARABIA
Cody stepped into gorilla, still feeling the adrenaline from his successful title defense. The match with Logan Paul was as expected. It had been flashy, fast-paced, and dangerous enough to keep things interesting. Cody gave Logan credit for his in-ring work, but he didn’t consider him a real threat.
Had Logan gotten near pinfalls on Cody? Of course, but only because Cody was thinking of Randy.
Cody saw him before the main event. His shoulders had been tense, jaw tight, still fuming from his controversial and borderline insulting loss to Gunther. Cody knew how much it burned just by looking at the older man. He didn’t think Randy would benefit from being backstage. He didn’t want Randy near Gunther in the locker room or backstage, especially since Gunther was not only cocky, but also had no filter or respect for anyone really.
While Hunter had been announcing Drew McIntrye was cleared to be Damian Priests’ next contender for the World Heavyweight Championship, Cody had sent his driver a quick text to let him know. Then he’d gently told Randy to go to his bus, breathe, and cool off. Randy was a changed man, yes. But Cody knew he still didn’t take important losses well.
As Cody got closer to the bus, he couldn’t help but worry about what state he’d find Randy in. Since he moved to SmackDown over a month ago, he and Randy had been closer than before. All the tension from WrestleMania was gone that following morning when Cody called to apologize. Randy had surprised him by apologizing too.
It still stunned Cody that it was Roman Reigns of all people who’d talked sense into him that night.
Cody stepped inside the bus and shut the door quietly behind him.
Randy looked up from where he sat on Cody’s couch at the sound. He looked exhausted, he was in a hoodie and his wrestling trunks. His eyes landed on the championship in Cody’s hand. He gave a half-laugh, dry and humorless.
“Look at that, you retained,” he said. “At least one of us won tonight, huh?”
Cody didn’t respond. Randy’s smile was gone. He looked exhausted and bitter, as if his match had taken more than just a win from him.
Randy nodded at the title. “Great job, Code. You must be relieved. You don’t have to worry about awkward promo battles with me leading into SummerSlam.” His tone was dismissive. “No ‘respect’ angles or tension. You can avoid it all now. Must be refreshing for you, right?”
Cody blinked, thrown. “That’s not true,” he said, firm. “I’d defend this championship against anyone, Randy. You included. Hell, I’d love to have a match with you.”
“Yeah, right. You expect me to believe that?” Randy snapped, rising up from the couch. “Come on, Cody. You’re glad I lost. Admit it.”
“What?” Cody stared, voice rising. “Why the hell would I be happy you lost?!”
“I don’t know,” Randy said, jaw flexing. “Maybe because I’m still a threat. Maybe because you’re tired of living in someone else’s shadow, I mean first your dad’s, then mine, even the past two years it’s been Roman’s. Hell, you’re constantly compared to John-”
“Whoa, that’s not fair. I’m not in anyone’s shadow, I worked hard to build myself up and earn this belt,” Cody snapped, stepping forward. “Why are you even saying this? Why am I the one getting punished just because you’re upset?”
“Oh, don’t act like you don’t know why.”
“I don’t! I don’t fucking know!” Cody shot back. “You think I’d want you to fail? After everything? Is that the kind of man you think I am?”
Randy looked away, eyes dark. “To be honest, I don’t know what kind of man you are anymore,” he muttered.
The words hit harder than Cody expected.
“You left for six years,” Randy continued, voice lower now, like the anger was dissolving into something worse. “And you left while I was injured. Out for months. And I had to find out from a fucking tweet that you were gone. Not a call. Not a message from you.”
Cody felt something turn in his chest. He didn’t want to argue anymore. He didn’t know why this was coming out now, two years after his return. Maybe because they’d never talked about it deeply. Not until tonight’s loss scraped the old wounds raw.
All he knew was that Randy was hurt. And hurt Randy always reached for whatever sharp edges he could find.
“Look,” Cody began softly. “I asked you to come here so you wouldn’t stew in that loss alone. Not to fight. Just… so you wouldn’t be alone.”
Cody set the championship down on the dinette with care, then moved toward him.
Randy didn’t move.
Cody cupped his face gently, his calloused thumbs brushing Randy’s jaw. He slid them back, fingers threading behind the older man’s neck, grounding him, and pulling him in for a tight hug.
They sat down on the couch, Cody holding Randy the whole ride back to the hotel. Cody didn’t know how long they stayed like that, he might’ve even fallen asleep.
His eyes opened at the sound of the driver’s cabin door sliding open. His diver stepped out and headed toward the bus door. He gave a small salute, “Good night Cody, good night Mr. Orton,” before stepping out of the bus completely.
It was only then that Randy let out a shaky breath against his shoulder, and they remained silent for another moment.
“I need you, Codes.”
The words were quiet, pressed into the side of Cody’s neck more than spoken. But Cody heard them.
He pulled back slightly, just enough to look Randy in the eye.
“Randy…” he said softly. “You have me, okay? You have me.”
Randy’s hands curled around Cody’s waist, rough palms resting against warm skin.
“No, you don’t get it.” Randy said, voice thicker now, more ragged. “I need you.”
Cody went still.
He’d heard that tone before. More times than he could count. It wasn’t new, but it wasn’t always clear. That voice, low and raw, could mean anything coming from Randy. Could mean everything.
He remembered the first time he’d heard it. Survivor Series 2008. They’d won that night. Randy had dragged him into a dark hallway, breath hot and wild, murmuring, “I need you,” before crushing their mouths together. And then… they’d fucked in the showers once the locker room cleared. Hard, fast, unforgettable. It had ignited something messy between them that never quite went out, even all these fifteen and a half years later.
Or even their first gentle and passionate time. It had been after the 2009 Royal Rumble when Randy had won by eliminating Triple H, thanks to Cody and Ted. Randy had actually been so grateful and gave Cody some of the best sex of his life.
But not every “I need you” had been like that.
There were other nights. Darker ones, after losses. Nights where Randy took what he needed and Cody gave, because what else could he do? Those nights didn’t always feel good. Not afterward, and not good in many ways.
But then there was Backlash 2022. Randy had lost, and still, when he’d come to Cody’s room, that night had been… different. They’d been slower, tender, like they were remembering each other’s bodies.
After all, Randy had changed, right?
What Randy sought could be dangerous here, especially if they went into the same hotel room in a hallway full of cameras. The bus might be their best option tonight.
So Cody steadied his breath. He nodded, slow. “I know what you mean,” he said carefully, even if he didn’t know which version of Randy was here with him tonight. He’d do anything for Randy.
“And you have me.”
Randy kissed him hard. No warning, no slow build, just the press of lips that were equal parts desperation and heat.
Cody, caught off guard by the intensity, let out a quiet sound against his mouth. Randy’s hand curled around his head, tasting him as if he needed to drown in something to feel real.
Cody broke the kiss just enough to breathe.
“Hey,” his voice was husky, eyes searching Randy’s. “Let’s take it to the back of the bus, yeah?”
Randy nodded, his mouth twitching, as Cody led him down the narrow hallway.
The bedroom door barely clicked shut before Randy was stripping. Quick, impatient motions. His hoodie hit the floor, followed by his trunks in one fluid movement. He didn’t even look at Cody as he reached for him, already working to get him relieved of gear.
“Randy…” Cody began, his voice softer and uncertain. He wanted to tell Randy they didn’t have to rush; they could slow down. Maybe even tell him they should shower first.
But Randy interrupted him with another kiss, his mouth hot and forceful.
Cody gasped softly, staggered backward until his legs hit the edge of the bed. Their bodies were bare now, chest to chest, breath mixing. And Randy wasn’t easing up. He kissed like a man trying to forget something.
His loss against Gunther, of course.
Cody kissed him back, hand sliding up Randy’s broad back, but something ached in his chest. He wanted this, but he still didn’t know which version of Randy would hold him tonight.
Cody melted into Randy’s weight, moaning softly as it settled over him, grinding slowly and deliberately.
Randy’s hand slid between them, fingers curling around Cody and stroking with purpose.
Cody cried out into Randy’s kiss, his body arching. It was always too much and never enough with both of them.
“Turn around,” Randy rasped against his lips, voice wrecked and breathless.
Cody nodded without a word. He shifted, turning over beneath Randy’s touch, palms splayed against the sheets, head tipped down. The air was warm and thick with breath, the mattress creaking under every motion.
Randy settled behind him and ground into him, slow and heavy, the heat undeniable.
Cody moaned, back arching into it, his breath catching in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to think too hard. About the past. About the ache in Randy’s voice earlier. About how good this felt even in the shadow of uncertainty.
Right now, it was just the two of them.
Randy’s movements grew deeper and more deliberate, the thick drag of his hips making Cody gasp softly with each roll. Cody clung to the sheets, flushed and sensitive, alive beneath Randy’s weight. He heard Randy spit, most likely into his hand. Cody was about to offer lube when Randy spoke first.
“I can’t wait, I’m going in now, okay baby?” Randy whispered, his voice hoarse and heavy with need, right against his ear.
Cody barely had time to process it before he felt Randy shift behind him. Cody gasped, his back bowing instinctively at the sudden, raw stretch.
“Fuck-” he choked out, eyes wide as the burn rippled through him.
But then Randy was already leaning down, blanketing Cody’s back, his chest flush against Cody’s skin, grounding him. One hand slid up to Cody’s jaw, turning his face gently to the side. And then Randy kissed him roughly. Desperate, like he couldn’t risk letting Cody go, even for a second.
Cody moaned, breath catching as Randy slowly and thickly penetrated, leaving nothing between them.
His thoughts blurred. It hurt, but it was Randy. The weight of him, the heat of him, the need behind every movement, it all wrapped around Cody like a storm he didn’t want to escape.
Randy moved roughly. There was no rhythm, just force and need and heat. The sound of skin meeting skin echoed in the small bedroom of the bus, broken only by Randy’s low, guttural moans as he thrust into Cody hard and fast.
Cody lay there, taking it.
His fingers curled into the sheets, head turned to the side where Randy had left it. His body responded the way it always had. With heat blooming low in his belly, nerves frayed and over-sensitized, but somewhere deeper, something else was unraveling.
He blinked hard, his eyes burning, and tears quietly slid down into the pillow beneath him.
Randy either didn’t notice or couldn’t stop, or maybe he just wouldn’t.
“Fuck… so good, baby,” Randy groaned, voice wrecked. “You feel so fuckin’ good. Say something. Talk to me.”
Cody opened his mouth, closed it, and his breath shook.
“Cody,” Randy panted. “Say something. Moan for me. Tell me you feel it, tell me you love it.”
Cody moaned from muscle memory, but he was slipping from himself, his thoughts, and his body.
He stared at the wall, vision blurring, and tried to focus on anything else. The slight sway of the ceiling light. The distant hum of the engine outside. The way Randy’s breath stuttered against his shoulder as he kept going, kept pushing.
Cody wanted to be here. Didn’t he?
He did… didn’t he?
He knew this feeling, and it wasn’t good.
—
SUMMERSLAM
August 23rd, 2015
BROOKLYN, NEW YORK
The locker room was empty when Cody got back from his match and sat down to get his thoughts in order. He was still in the ridiculous gear, face paint glittering under the fluorescent lights, jaw tight with frustration. He felt like a joke now. Everything did these days.
They’d lost.
He and Wade had lost to Neville and Stephen fucking Amell. Neville had pinned Barrett.
Cody figured he should feel grateful he was even in this year’s SummerSlam, and couldn’t help but hate himself for caring so much about a stupid celebrity match. But he did care, of course he did. They’d lost to the fucking guy on the show “Arrow.”
He peeled off his gloves and looked down at his hands. He didn’t even recognize them anymore.
The door from the showers slammed open.
Randy.
Towel around his waist, still furious. Shoulders tense, eyes blazing, pacing like a caged animal.
“Sheamus,” Randy spat. “Fucking Sheamus. Motherfucker… how the fuck am I the one eating the pin?”
Cody stayed quiet.
He recognized that tone. He’d heard it after losses, when the rage lingered past the ring. He’d avoided Randy for weeks, but working for the same company made it impossible for their distance to last forever.
Randy turned toward him, eyes narrowing. “You looked like a damn clown out there.”
Cody flinched.
“Don’t start,” he muttered, tugging off one of his boots.
“No, really,” Randy said, stepping closer, voice sharp and cruel. “You gonna hiss at me next? Do a cartwheel? What even is this Stardust shit, Cody?”
Cody stood up, eyes flashing. “You think I don’t know it’s shit?! You think I want this?! Creative doesn’t listen to any ideas I try to give!”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Randy said, looking him up and down with disgust. “All that glitter and smoke and mirrors. You wanna be a cartoon so bad, go to fucking Disneyland.”
Cody’s fists clenched. “At least my gimmick is what makes me look like a joke these days. What’s your excuse for actually being one?”
The words, meant to cut, landed deep. Randy stepped in closer, chest brushing his. “Say that again.”
Cody’s mouth opened and closed, but he didn’t say it again. He just glared at Randy.
Randy grabbed him by the jaw, fingers rough. “That’s what I thought.”
They stood breathing hard and staring each other down. Cody’s heart thundered in his chest. He hated this. Hated how alive it made him feel. Hated that he couldn’t make himself pull away. His eyes flickered to Randy’s mouth before he could stop himself.
Randy noticed. Of course he did.
“Oh, is this what you need?” Randy said darkly, shoving him back against the lockers. “You want something real? Want someone to treat you like something real for once?”
Cody grabbed Randy’s face and kissed him hard.
It was a rough kiss, filled with teeth and bruises, and a reminder of their past.
“God, I need you, Cody. You’re always there when I need you.” Randy groaned into the kiss.
Cody pulled away, and before he could answer, Randy spun him around, pushed him against the locker, and tore down the ridiculous bodysuit. Cody stumbled, bracing himself on the cold metal, his breath catching in his throat. He swallowed hard when he heard Randy drop his own towel.
There was no prep. No hesitation.
Randy spit into his hand and used it. That was it.
And then he pushed in.
Cody gasped loudly. The stretch was brutal. Pain bloomed up his spine, but he didn’t make him stop. He never did. Not back then.
“Quiet, you don’t want them to hear you, do you? Everyone’s in catering so shut the hell up,” Randy growled into his ear. “Take it.”
Cody bit down on his own fist.
Randy gripped his hips like he wanted to leave bruises, snapping his hips forward hard and fast. Every thrust was punishment, they were sharp and relentless. His body was fire and pressure, and Cody took it like he always had, teeth clenched, eyes burning.
“You’re nothing like your brother,” Randy hissed. “He knew how to stand on his own, even with a gimmick like that.”
Cody made a broken sound. That one landed deep.
“You want new gimmick so bad?” Randy grunted. “Then fucking earn it.”
The sound of their bodies colliding echoed around the empty locker room. Randy didn’t stop. Not when Cody started to tremble. Not when his knees buckled. Not even when Cody whimpered, quietly, against the metal, leaning his face into it, leaving some silver paint.
“Say you need me,” Randy hissed. “Say it.”
“I-” Cody’s voice cracked. “I need you.”
Randy moaned hard at that and slammed in deeper. “Yeah. You do. You always did, to help your career. Look at where you are now without me.”
He kept going and somehow, Cody came untouched, face pressed to the locker, shoulders shaking. He felt embarrassed, he felt humiliated. The truth was he only ever got action with Randy, and since starting the Stardust gimmick a year back, it’d been less and less encounters with Randy, or interactions with anyone. Whether out of bitterness or embarrassment, Cody didn’t know. Just a few weeks back, he’d gotten laughed at in an elevator by Sami Zayn, a newbie to the main roster, unlike Cody who had been there for eight fucking years.
And still Randy kept going until he spilled deep, panting against Cody’s back.
When it was over, Randy pulled out with no tenderness. No softness. Just the sound of him picking up the towel and walking away, leaving Cody slumped against the lockers, naked, skin stinging, heart hollow. He limped over to the showers as Randy changed.
Neither of them said goodbye that night.
A few weeks later, Randy suffered a shoulder injury, sidelining him for nine months.
Cody had left WWE seven months after Randy’s injury.
—
Randy was still moving inside him, hard and relentless. His breath ragged, voice hoarse as it broke past gritted teeth.
“Say something,” he panted, the words rough, desperate. “Say something, Cody.”
Cody’s cheek was pressed to the pillow, fingers curled in the sheets. He didn’t speak.
“I should’ve won tonight,” Randy growled, thrusting deeper, harder. “Say it. Tell me I should’ve won. That I deserved it. That I’m better than that arrogant prick.”
Cody swallowed thickly. His chest ached, his throat raw.
“You should’ve won,” he said quietly. “You deserved it. You’re better than Gunther.”
Randy moaned at that, fucked into him harder. “Yeah… Fuck. Say more.”
Cody closed his eyes. “You’re a better man,” he whispered.
“Damn right I am,” Randy rasped. “You know it. Deep down, you know it. You’re threatened by me, aren’t you? Aren’t you?”
“…Yeah,” Cody said.
He wasn’t sure if it was true. But Randy needed to hear it.
And Cody just needed it to be over.
As Randy rutted into him, chasing something only he could see, Cody started to fold in on himself. His thoughts drifted again, not far, just enough to dull the sting of each movement. Just enough to put a wall between this moment and his heart.
He couldn’t help it. He shouldn’t be here like this, it shouldn’t feel like this.
He turned his face further into the pillow, trying to disappear, to bury the sting behind cotton and sweat and silence.
Randy grabbed him, fingers digging into his jaw, forcing his head to the side.
“Don’t hide from me,” Randy snapped, eyes wild, voice breaking. “I need you. Don’t you fucking hide from me.”
Cody blinked at him, eyes glassy, mouth trembling open. He didn’t say a word, he didn’t trust himself to.
Randy leaned in, his thrusts still heavy, but slower now, like his body was burning out even if the fire hadn’t yet gone out. His head pressed to Cody’s temple, skin slick with sweat, breath shaky and uneven.
Then he kissed him, roughly and messy. Lips dragging along Cody’s cheek until he found his mouth again, crushing their mouths together like he needed to feel wanted more than anything else in the world.
Cody kissed back. He always did, and always would, with Randy.
But this time, he couldn’t stop the tears. They slid down his face, quiet, hot, salt stinging where Randy’s lips moved against his.
Randy froze.
He pulled back slightly, just enough to see.
“Codes…?”
His voice cracked, just a thread of sound between their mouths. His eyes searched Cody’s, confusion flickering there, something soft trying to break through the fury and heat.
His hips slowed. “Cody?”
Randy didn’t say another word at first. He just looked at Cody really looked at him.
Then he slowly, carefully pulled out.
Cody winced at the loss, more from the shift in pressure than pain. But then Randy’s hands were on him, warm and steady, guiding him to lie on his back.
“Hey,” Randy whispered, brushing a hand through Cody’s now damp hair. “Hey, Codes… look at me.”
Cody blinked up at him, eyes red-rimmed, chest rising fast.
Randy’s gaze softened with something like guilt, maybe even fear.
“I didn’t mean to… I wasn’t trying to-” he stopped himself, jaw tight like he couldn’t get the words out, then leaned down and pressed a kiss to Cody’s chest. Then another, slower, higher. “Let me make it up to you.”
Cody didn’t answer, but he didn’t turn away.
“C’mon, baby…” Randy whispered, lips brushing the side of Cody’s throat. “Let me take care of you. Please.”
His hand slid down gently, stroking Cody with practiced care, this time really watching him, reading every breath, every sound.
“I know I’ve been a bastard tonight,” Randy murmured between kisses, trailing his mouth across Cody’s collarbone, “but I see you. I do. And you’ve always been the best part of all of this, ever since you came into my life, ever since you came back.”
Cody groaned, the tension in his jaw easing as Randy stroked him slower, softer. His hips twitched up against the touch.
“I’m sorry I hurt you,” Randy said, voice thick now, kissing the space right above Cody’s heart. “I just… I lose sometimes. And when I lose, I fall back into old habits. But you…” his lips brushed up Cody’s throat “You’re not one of those bad habits. You never were.”
Cody swallowed hard, voice unsteady. “You say that now.”
“I mean it now,” Randy replied, looking up. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like… like you had to go somewhere else in your head just to get through me.”
Cody turned his face toward him, mouth opening to speak, but Randy kissed him again, this time slow and apologetic.
“I’ve got you,” Randy whispered. “Let me get you there, baby. Just let go for me.”
Cody moaned softly, his body arching into the touch, breath catching.
“That’s it,” Randy breathed, kissing along his jaw. “Just you and me. Nobody else matters.”
Cody’s hand tangled in the sheets as his hips started to rock, his moans growing louder.
“Randy… I’m close.” Cody gasped.
“Let go, baby.” Randy kissed him.
Cody groaned into the kiss, clinging to Randy’s shoulders now, as he moved with Randy’s hand. He broke the kiss with a strangled gasp, body trembling as he spilled into Randy’s hand.
Randy kissed his cheek, then his lips. “That’s it. That’s my Cody.”
Cody lay still, flushed and spent, skin damp and trembling in the dim bus bedroom. His heart raced, though not completely from pleasure.
Randy shifted to his side and watched Cody. His hand rested lightly on Cody’s abdomen, as if he wasn’t ready to let go.
Randy pushed up carefully, leaned across the small space, and grabbed a towel from the drawer beside the bed. Cody had left it for his now non-existent post-match shower. Randy moved slowly, deliberately.
“Let me clean you up,” he murmured, voice rough but soft.
Cody didn’t answer. But he didn’t resist either.
Randy eased the towel on Cody’s stomach, gently wiping him. The touch was different, warm, steady, and for the first time all night, Cody let himself breathe deeper.
“Hold still,” Randy said, softer this time. “Almost done.”
He blotted the sweat from Cody’s chest, then he got up and walked out, completely naked. Cody could hear his fridge and cupboards being opened. Randy came back with a water bottle, “Here. Sip.”
Cody blinked at him but accepted it, lips wrapping around the bottle’s spout as Randy tilted it.
“Good, that’s good,” Randy muttered, almost to himself. He capped the bottle again and placed it down. Then he came closer.
Cody expected him to lie beside him. Instead, Randy sat, leaned in, and brushed the back of his fingers along Cody’s cheek. His thumb followed after, tracing beneath one tired, red-rimmed eye.
“You okay?” Randy asked, his voice cracked.
Cody blinked, his throat tight. He nodded, then shook his head. “I don’t know,” he admitted, voice low.
Randy didn’t respond right away.
He lay down beside Cody, facing him, and pulled the covers up gently over them. He draped his arm across Cody’s stomach, but didn’t pull him close.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Randy said quietly. “I swear to God. I just didn’t realize.”
Cody turned to face him finally, their foreheads almost touching now, breath mingling.
“It’s not just tonight,” Cody said after a long silence. “It’s everything. I mean, I know what it’s like when you lose. I’ve seen it. I’ve felt it. You get dark. And I tell myself you’ve changed, but…”
“But you’re scared I haven’t,” Randy finished, not defensively, just honestly.
Cody gave a half-hearted shrug, conflicted. “I don’t know… I just hope you’re not back to the old you.”
Randy closed his eyes for a beat. When he opened them, they were glassy.
“I’m scared too,” he said. “Of that. Of where I’m at. Of… what’s next. This business doesn’t wait for anyone, Cody. My back hurts. My body aches. And now I’m losing to guys I know I could’ve crushed five years ago. It gets in my head.”
Cody swallowed, his voice softer now. “You’re the Randy Orton, and that’s never going to change. You’re one of the greatest of all time. You could’ve beaten Gunther tonight. It wasn’t clean, your shoulders were up.”
“But it still counts.” Randy countered.
“Yeah, I guess for the SummerSlam title opportunity it does,” Cody said, “but it doesn’t make you any less of a worthy competitor than Gunther. If I could give you this title shot I would.”
Randy looked at him for a long moment.
“I know you would, but I wanted to earn it, not use my status. And I won’t use it. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you,” he said. “I just- I looked at you tonight. Still holding that title. And I was angry, but not at you, just at myself for not trying harder and for letting myself feel jealous. Please believe me when I say I’m so damn proud of you.”
Cody’s throat tightened.
“I believe you, Randy,” he said, suddenly. It came out small but clear. “You’re one of the most important people, not only in my career, but my life too. But I’m not gonna break myself trying to hold you together if you’re gonna tear me down in the process.”
Randy blinked fast, his jaw trembling. “I don’t want to be that man anymore. I’m not. The one who uses sex like a weapon. Who says shit just to get a reaction. I don’t want you afraid to look at me afterward. And I know I said some shit just now, but I certainly don’t want you to feel threatened by me.”
Cody finally reached out, touching Randy’s face gently. “I’m not afraid of you. I just worry about what’s going on in here,” he said pressing a finger to Randy’s forehead gently. “And I’m not threatened by you either, I respect you so much. So I’m not leaving you, but you have to meet me halfway, okay Randy?”
“I will,” Randy all but whispered. “I’ll prove it to you.”
“You can start by holding me now, let’s just stay in the bus tonight. I’ll wake you up when it’s almost time to leave for our flight so you can get your stuff.”
Cody reached for Randy’s hand under the covers, lacing their fingers together, before Randy pulled him to his chest.
Cody closed his eyes, the shower could wait, it all could. He wanted to savor sleeping in Randy’s arms for the first time in a while.