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one more thing. cody rhodes. language of love series

cody rhodes x wife!reader

words of affirmation

The smell of coffee reached you before your alarm ever had the chance. You smiled into your pillow, eyes still closed as the familiar sounds of your morning drifted through the house. A cupboard door opened somewhere downstairs. The coffee grinder whirred for a few seconds before falling quiet again. A spoon clinked gently against ceramic. Cody was awake, which meant there was absolutely no point trying to steal another ten minutes of sleep. You stretched slowly beneath the duvet before finally dragging yourself out of bed, padding across the bedroom floor with considerably less enthusiasm than your husband seemed to possess before eight in the morning. The house felt comfortably lived in. One of Cody's hoodies hung over the banister where he'd clearly abandoned it the night before. A pair of trainers sat beside the front door instead of on the shoe rack. Somewhere in the living room, the television murmured quietly with the morning news despite nobody actually watching it. You smiled to yourself, some things never changed.

By the time you reached the kitchen, Cody already had his back to you, grey joggers, a faded WWE T-shirt, bare feet against the wooden floor, his attention was entirely focused on pouring coffee into two mugs waiting patiently beside the kettle. He hadn't noticed you yet. You leaned against the doorway instead, deciding to enjoy the view for a moment. There was something unfairly comforting about watching him exist when he didn't know you were looking. The gentle hum under his breath, the way he automatically reached for the sugar you always forgot, the slight crease between his eyebrows as he concentrated on not spilling the coffee despite doing this exact routine every single morning. You weren't entirely sure how someone could make making coffee look endearing. Yet somehow, he managed it. Without turning around, he smiled. "You're staring." Your eyebrows lifted. "I wasn't." "Were too." "You don't even know I'm here." "I do." He finally looked over his shoulder, amusement already dancing across his face. "I can feel it." "You can feel me looking at you?" "Mhm." "That's ridiculous." "It is." "And yet..." He picked up one of the mugs before crossing the kitchen towards you. "...I was right." You accepted the coffee with a grateful smile. "You got lucky." "I don't believe in luck." "No?" "I believe my wife is incapable of being sneaky." You gasped dramatically. "I am incredibly sneaky." "You walked down the stairs like a herd of elephants." "I absolutely did not." "You absolutely did." He leaned down to press a quick kiss against your forehead before taking a sip of his own coffee. "You also sighed before you even reached the bottom step." "I was waking up." "You sounded personally offended that morning had arrived." "I was." "I know."

You laughed into your mug. Marriage suited the two of you. Not because anything had dramatically changed after the wedding. It hadn't. You'd still stolen his hoodies. He'd still stolen your side of the bed every single night before insisting he hadn't moved an inch. You still argued over whose turn it was to unload the dishwasher before inevitably doing it together anyway. If anything marriage had simply made the ordinary parts of life feel even more like home. Cody glanced towards the clock on the microwave. "We should probably leave in ten." "We?" "I'm dropping you off." "You don't have to." "I know." "You've got your own meetings." "I know." "You'll be going the opposite direction." "I know." You narrowed your eyes. "So..." "So I'm dropping my wife off." "You say that like it's a privilege." "It is." You rolled your eyes affectionately. "You're unbelievable." "I've been told." He reached for your free hand, absentmindedly intertwining your fingers as the two of you stood together in the middle of the kitchen. Neither of you spoke, you didn't need to. The silence between you had never been awkward. Just peaceful. The kind earned through years of knowing each other well enough that conversation wasn't required every second.

Eventually, you glanced at the clock yourself. "We really should get going." "I know." Neither of you moved. You smiled. "Cody." "I know." "You just said that." "I know." You laughed, giving his hand a gentle tug towards the hallway. He followed willingly this time, collecting his car keys from the bowl by the front door while you shrugged on your jacket. Your wedding ring caught the morning sunlight streaming through the window. You adjusted the sleeve over it absentmindedly. Cody noticed anyway, he always noticed. "You ready?" "Mhm." You slipped your bag onto your shoulder before stepping closer, rising onto your toes to kiss him. It was soft, quick, comfortable. The kind of kiss shared by people who knew there would be another one waiting later. "I love you," you murmured. His smile was immediate. "I love you too." You squeezed his hand once before turning towards the front door. Your fingers had only just brushed the handle when you stopped. "...One more thing." You heard the quiet laugh before you turned around. "What?" "You look really handsome today." He blinked. For just a second, genuine surprise crossed his face. "Thank you." "I mean it." "I know." Satisfied, you turned back towards the door. You managed exactly three steps. "...Actually." Behind you, you heard him chuckle. "There's another one, isn't there?" "There might be." "I knew it." You looked back over your shoulder. "I really liked waking up next to you this morning." His entire expression softened. "My love..." "What?" "We wake up next to each other every morning." "I know." "So?" You shrugged, smiling. "I still liked it." For a moment, he simply looked at you. Like you'd said something extraordinary instead of something so wonderfully ordinary. Then he crossed the hallway in three easy strides until there wasn't even an inch of space left between you. His hands settled lightly on your waist. "I've got one." "Oh?" "Mhm." He kissed the corner of your mouth. "I really liked waking up next to my wife this morning too." You smiled so hard your cheeks began to ache. "I was hoping you'd say that." "I know." He kissed your forehead this time.

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The drive to work lasted just under twenty minutes. Twenty-three, if Cody insisted on taking what he claimed was the "better route." You still maintained it wasn't. "It's literally three minutes longer." "It has less traffic." "It has three more sets of traffic lights." "But less traffic." "That doesn't even make sense." "It makes perfect sense." You laughed quietly, turning your head to watch the streets drift by outside the passenger window. It was the same conversation you'd had at least six times before. Maybe more. Neither of you had any intention of changing your minds. That wasn't really the point. The point was getting to spend another twenty-three minutes together before the day pulled you in opposite directions. By the time Cody pulled into the car park outside your office, the conversation had somehow wandered from traffic to breakfast cereal, then to whether Pharaoh had always known exactly when Cody was about to leave for tour. "He absolutely does." "Cody." "I'm serious." "You think the dog understands your travel schedule?" "I know he does." You smiled. "I think you're giving him too much credit." "I think you're underestimating him." He put the car into park before looking at you with complete sincerity. "He can tell." "...You know what?" "What?" "I hope you're right." "I am." "I'll choose to believe you." "I appreciate that." You leaned across the centre console, kissing him softly. "I'll see you tonight." "You will."

You reached for the door handle. "...One more thing." His hand paused halfway towards starting the car again. "There it is." "What?" "I was wondering how long it'd take." You smiled. "I'm really proud of you." His eyebrows knitted together. "For what?" "For everything." You shrugged lightly. "You work harder than anyone I know." A small smile spread across his face. "You don't have to say that." "I know." "You already tell me." "I know." "So why are you telling me again?" "Because I thought it." He laughed under his breath. "I don't think your brain has a filter." "No it just... says things." "When they're nice. I'm not complaining." His hand reached across the console until it found yours. "I've got one." "You always do." "I do." He squeezed your fingers gently. "I don't think I tell you enough how much I admire the way you care about people." You blinked. "What?" "You just... do." He smiled, looking at your joined hands instead of you. "You remember everybody's birthdays, you always check in on people, you make everyone around you feel included, you don't even realise you're doing it." Your chest warmed. "Cody..." "I'm serious." "I know." "I've watched complete strangers leave conversations with you smiling." He finally looked back at you. "That's a gift."

For a second, neither of you spoke. Then you laughed softly, mostly because you could already feel yourself getting emotional and refused to cry in his car before nine in the morning. "You're ridiculous." "So my wife keeps telling me." "I married a professional speech giver." "You did." "It's very dangerous." "It is." "You can make me emotional before I've even started work." "I'd apologise..." He tilted his head thoughtfully. "...but I'm not actually sorry." "I knew you were going to say that." "I know."

You smiled, shaking your head. "I really do have to go." "You do." This time you actually climbed out of the car. You'd made it halfway across the car park before your phone buzzed. You didn't even have to look to know who it was. Husband One more thing. You laughed out loud. The woman walking past glanced over curiously. You smiled apologetically before opening the message. I forgot to tell you...

Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again. Thank you for making ordinary mornings my favourite part of the day.

You stood completely still in the middle of the pavement. People continued walking around you. Car doors slammed somewhere behind you. Someone laughed across the car park. For a moment, the rest of the world faded quietly into the background. Your thumb hovered over the keyboard. You smiled to yourself before typing back. One more thing. Almost immediately, the typing bubble appeared again. I knew there'd be one. Your smile only grew. Thank you for never making ordinary feel boring. You pressed send. Locked your phone. Made it all the way through the revolving doors of the building, past reception, into the lift. The doors were almost closed when your phone buzzed again. You sighed dramatically, already laughing. The man standing beside you glanced over. "Good news?" "The best kind." He smiled politely as you looked down at your screen. One more thing. You make being married look really easy.

You bit back another smile. By the time the lift reached your floor, you'd stopped trying to win.

There was simply no beating a man who loved you enough to turn every goodbye into three more. And if you were honest you didn't think either of you wanted to.

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By lunchtime, the morning had somehow disappeared. You'd barely looked up from your desk since walking through the office doors, one task bleeding into the next until your calendar looked more like a game of Tetris than a schedule. The only reason you realised what time it was came when your stomach reminded you. Loudly. "...Right." You rubbed a hand over your face before reaching for your phone. Three unread messages. All from the same person.

Husband Hope your meeting went well. Remember to eat. One more thing. You laughed before even opening the last one. You've got this. Simple. Five words. They still made you smile. You checked the time. 12:47. If you left now, you'd have just enough time to make it to the Performance Centre before Cody's afternoon meetings started. You'd promised him lunch earlier in the week anyway. Besides you missed him.

The reception staff greeted you with familiar smiles as you stepped inside. After years of travelling alongside Cody whenever schedules lined up, you'd become a familiar face. "He's in the gym," one of them told you. "Thank you." "You'll probably hear him before you see him." You laughed. "That sounds about right." Sure enough, the unmistakable thud of weights reached you before the room itself came into view. You followed the sound, weaving through corridors until the doors opened into the training area. The place buzzed with its usual energy, someone climbed into the ring, music echoed faintly through overhead speakers, conversations overlapped with the metallic clink of barbells meeting the floor. Your eyes found Cody almost immediately. Not because he stood out. Because they always did. He was midway through talking to one of the younger talent, gesturing animatedly while listening just as carefully as he spoke. You waited. There was no rush. Eventually, he glanced in your direction. The change in his expression happened instantly. His smile spread before he'd even properly registered you were there. "There she is." His voice carried across the room. You couldn't help smiling. "There you are." He excused himself from the conversation without hesitation, crossing the gym in quick strides until he reached you. "Hi." "Hi." He leaned down to kiss you, completely unconcerned by the fact that half the room had just watched him do it. "I wasn't expecting you." "I brought lunch." "You brought lunch?" You held up the paper bag. "I figured somebody had to make sure you remembered to eat." He placed a hand dramatically over his heart. "My hero." "I know." "You came all this way just to feed me?" "You texted me three reminders." "I was worried." "You were projecting." "I absolutely was." He laughed, slipping his hand into yours. "Come on."

The two of you ended up sitting outside on a pair of production cases tucked just beyond the loading bay. It wasn't glamorous. The sun was warm. The air smelled faintly of fresh tarmac. Someone drove a forklift across the far side of the car park, perfect. You handed Cody his sandwich. He looked inside the bag. "...You got my favourite chips." "I did." "I didn't even ask." "I know." "You remembered." "I always do."

He smiled to himself before taking a bite. For a while, conversation wandered wherever it pleased. Stories from your morning. Someone in creative accidentally replying all to an email. A dog you'd seen wearing tiny boots on your way into work. Cody insisting the boots were probably practical. You insisting they were fashionable. The argument remained unresolved. Eventually, you checked the time. "I should probably let you get back." His shoulders dropped dramatically. "I disagree." "I'm sure you do." "I think you should stay here all afternoon." "I have a job." "So do I." "And?" "I'd simply rather spend it with you." You laughed, gathering the empty wrappers. "Unfortunately, adulthood has other ideas." He stood as you did, brushing the crumbs from his hands. "I'll walk you out." "You don't have to." "I know." "You've got people waiting." "I know." "You always know." "I usually do." The walk back through the building was slow. Not because either of you walked particularly slowly. Because neither of you seemed especially interested in reaching the exit. By the time the front doors came into view, you stopped. "I'll see you tonight." "You will." You leaned up, kissing him quickly. "I love you." "I love you too." You took three steps towards the door. "...One more thing." He smiled immediately. "I was wondering when it'd happen." You laughed. "What?" "I think..." You paused, trying to find the right words. "I think you're really good at making people feel like they belong." His smile faltered. Not from discomfort. From surprise. You continued before you lost your nerve. "I watched you in the gym." He glanced back over his shoulder instinctively. "You listened to every single person who spoke to you. You remembered everyone's names. You made time for everybody. You never made anyone feel like they were interrupting you." You smiled softly. "I don't think you realise how much that matters." For perhaps the first time all day Cody was speechless. He blinked once. Then smiled in that quiet, almost bashful way he rarely did. "I..." A small laugh escaped him. "I've never thought about it like that." "I have." He looked at you for another moment. "I think I needed to hear that." Warmth spread through your chest. "I'm glad." Just as you turned to leave, his voice called after you. "Hey." You looked back. He was still standing exactly where you'd left him. One hand tucked into his pocket. The other lifted slightly to catch your attention. "...One more thing." You laughed. "I knew you had another." "I always do." He smiled. "You make every day worth coming home from." Before you could answer, "Oh, for the love of—" Both of you turned. CM punk stood a few feet away, shaking his head so dramatically it bordered on theatrical. "I've watched this goodbye happen four times." Cody looked completely unbothered. "Have you?" "Yes." "You've said goodbye." Punk held up one finger. "Then kissed." A second finger. "Then said 'one more thing.'" A third. "Then complimented each other." A fourth. "And now you're doing it again." You bit your lip, trying very hard not to laugh. Punk looked between the two of you. "You realise you're insufferable, right?" Cody didn't miss a beat. "I've been told." "By me." "I know." Punk pointed towards the exit. "Go." Then pointed at Cody. "And you." Another point. "Stop looking at your wife like she's hung the moon." Cody frowned slightly. "I can't really help that." Punk closed his eyes. "I walked straight into that one." You laughed openly this time. "I'll actually go now." "You probably should," Punk muttered. You started walking backwards towards the doors. Cody lifted a hand in a small wave. "So..." You smiled knowingly. "So." "I'll see you tonight?" "You will." This time, you made it all the way outside before your phone buzzed in your pocket. You didn't even need to look. You already knew exactly how the message would begin.

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The drive home felt slower than usual. Not because of traffic. Because neither of you was in any hurry to fill the silence. The radio played quietly, some playlist Cody had insisted was perfect driving music despite the fact it seemed to jump wildly between classic rock, country and songs you'd never heard before. "You've definitely skipped something." He looked up from the dashboard. "What?" "This playlist." "I haven't." "It doesn't make sense." "It makes perfect sense." "It went from Elvis to Shinedown." "Mhm." "And now..." You glanced at the display. "...Johnny Cash." "It's called range." "It's called musical whiplash." He laughed, drumming absentmindedly against his knee. "I like variety." "I can tell."

The conversation faded naturally after that. Not awkwardly. Comfortably. The kind of silence built over years of knowing neither of you had to perform for the other. You rested your elbow against the door, watching the evening blur gently past the window. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Cody looking at you. "What?" "Hm?" “You just looked at me." "I did." "Why?" He smiled to himself. "No reason." "Cody." "I was just thinking." "Dangerous." "I know." "You've got that face." "What face?" "The one where you're about to say something ridiculously sentimental." "I don't know what you're talking about." "You absolutely do."

He lasted another thirty seconds. Maybe. "I think you're my favourite person." Your heart did that annoying little flip it only ever seemed to do around him. "You have to say that." "I don't." "You married me." "I did." "So it'd be a little concerning if I wasn't." "I suppose." You reached across the centre console until your hand found his. His fingers intertwined with yours immediately, like they always did. "I think you're mine too." He looked over briefly, smiling so warmly it made your chest ache. "That's good." "Oh?" "I'd hate to be competing with someone." You laughed. "I don't think there's much competition." "No?" "No." You squeezed his hand gently. "I've met you." "And?" "I've been biased ever since." His ears turned faintly pink. It still amazed you that after everything he'd accomplished, after standing in front of thousands of people without so much as a flicker of hesitation, you could still fluster him with a single sentence. "You know..." he said quietly. "Hm?" "I don't think I'll ever get used to hearing you say things like that." "Really?" He shook his head. "Never." "Good." He glanced at you again. "Good?" "I'd hate for you to start taking them for granted." "I couldn't." "You'd better not." "I don't think I physically could." You smiled to yourself. Outside, the traffic slowed to a gentle crawl at a red light. Cody rested your joined hands against the gear stick, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb across your knuckles. "You know what I like?" "What?" "These bits." "The traffic?" He laughed. "No. I was going to say..." He looked out through the windscreen for a moment, searching for the right words. "...the in-between bits." You frowned thoughtfully. "The drive home, the coffee before work, the five minutes before we fall asleep, the little conversations in supermarket queues." His thumb traced another slow circle across your hand. "I think people spend so much time waiting for the big moments that they forget how lovely the ordinary ones are." You watched him for a second. "You've thought about this." "I have." "I can tell." He smiled sheepishly. "I think..." He shrugged. "I just really like doing ordinary things with you." The traffic began moving again.

You sat quietly for a few moments, letting his words settle. Then "...One more thing." He laughed immediately. "I knew there'd be one." "I'm serious." "So am I." "I think..." You looked down at your joined hands before meeting his eyes again. "I've never felt ordinary since I met you." He blinked. "What?" "You keep calling these ordinary moments." "I know." "They don't feel ordinary." He stayed quiet. "They feel..." You smiled softly. "...like the kind of moments people miss when they're gone." His throat bobbed. For a second, you wondered if you'd embarrassed him. Then he lifted your joined hands and pressed a kiss against your knuckles while the car waited at another set of lights. "I don't know how I got so lucky." "You've said that today." "I know. I'll keep saying it." "You don't have to." "I do." He smiled. "Because every time I think I've already told you everything..." He glanced at you, that familiar sparkle returning to his eyes. "...I remember one more thing."

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The moment you stepped through the front door, Pharaoh came skidding across the wooden floor. His nails clicked loudly against the hallway as he practically launched himself at Cody first, tail wagging so enthusiastically his entire body seemed to move with it. "There he is!" Cody crouched immediately, laughing as Pharaoh attempted to climb into his lap despite weighing considerably more than he seemed to realise. "I missed you too, buddy." Pharaoh responded by enthusiastically licking the side of his face. You slipped your shoes off, watching the reunion with a smile. "I think I've been replaced." Cody looked up. "What?" "He barely acknowledged I came home." Pharaoh finally wandered over to you, accepting a scratch behind the ears before promptly returning to Cody. You folded your arms. "See?" "He just knows who the fun parent is." "Oh, does he?" "He does." "I fed him." "I wrestle with him." "I took him for a walk." "I let him win." "You absolutely do not." "I absolutely do." You laughed, bending down to kiss the top of Pharaoh's head before heading towards the kitchen. "Come on." Cody stood, giving Pharaoh one final pat. "Dinner?" "Dinner."

Cooking together had never been particularly efficient. It wasn't because either of you couldn't cook, you could. It was because one of you always ended up talking or laughing or stealing ingredients before they made it into the pan, usually all three. "You chop." Cody handed you a chopping board. "I'll cook." "You don't trust me?" "I trust you." "You hesitated." "I trust you with knives." "But?" "I don't trust you not to wander off halfway through." "I've never done that." He simply looked at you. "...Recently." "There it is." You grinned, reaching for the peppers. The kitchen settled into its familiar rhythm. The gentle sizzle of onions hitting the pan. The steady tap of your knife against the chopping board. Music humming softly from the speaker on the windowsill. Neither of you spoke for a while. Not because there wasn't anything to say. Just because there didn't always have to be. You slid the chopped vegetables across the counter towards him. He smiled. "Perfect timing." "I know." He stirred everything together before reaching for the garlic. Without looking, he held the cloves out towards you. You took them automatically. Years together had taught you a quiet choreography. Neither of you needed instructions anymore. You simply... knew where the other would be. What they'd need next. "Can you—" "Already doing it." You held up the garlic press. He laughed. "I married a mind reader." "You married someone who knows your cooking routine." "Same thing." You smiled to yourself. "...One more thing." He looked up from the pan immediately. "I was wondering when it'd happen." "I really love watching you cook." He blinked. "You do?" "Mhm." "Why?" You shrugged. "You always look so... focused." "I am focused." "I know." "You make that face." "What face?" "The little one." "I don't have a face." "You absolutely do." You scrunched your eyebrows together dramatically. "You get these tiny lines here." You reached up, gently brushing your fingertip between his brows. "And you start talking to the food." "I do not." "You absolutely do." "I've never spoken to a vegetable in my life." "Cody." "What?" "You just told the onions they were 'doing great.'" He stared at you. "...Did I?" "You did." "I don't remember doing that." "I know." A laugh escaped him as he rubbed the back of his neck. "That's slightly embarrassing." "I thought it was adorable." "You did?" "I married you, didn't I?" His smile returned so easily it almost looked automatic. "You've got strange standards." "I've got excellent standards."

He shook his head fondly before returning his attention to the stove. For approximately forty-five seconds. Then, "...One more thing." You smiled without even looking up from the herbs you were chopping. "I like that you always make enough." You frowned. "Enough?" "For tomorrow." You glanced towards the saucepan. "I always make leftovers." "I know." "You've mentioned that before." "I know." He stirred the sauce thoughtfully. "But I realised something today." "What?" "You never make enough because it's practical." You paused. He looked over at you. "You make enough because somewhere in your head..." His smile softened. "...you assume someone should always have a meal waiting for them." Your hands stopped moving. "I've watched you do it for years." He shrugged. "You don't even think about it, you just..." He gestured vaguely towards the saucepan. "...care." You hadn't. Thought about it, that was. You simply always doubled recipes. Made extra portions. Kept containers in the freezer. It had never occurred to you that Cody had noticed. "I didn't realise you paid attention." He looked genuinely confused. "My love..." He set the wooden spoon down. "I pay attention to everything you do." Your heart squeezed painfully against your ribs.

Before you could answer, a sharp smell drifted through the kitchen. You both froze. The garlic. "Oh no." You spun towards the pan just as Cody did. He reached it first, hurriedly stirring the slightly-too-brown garlic into the sauce before it crossed the line from toasted to burnt. You burst into laughter. "This is your fault." "My fault?" "You distracted me." "You were the one complimenting me." "You started it this morning." "I did." "You've been emotionally ambushing me all day." He laughed so hard he had to steady himself against the counter. "I have not." "You absolutely have." "I regret nothing." "I know you don't."

You reached for the wooden spoon. "Taste." He obediently leaned down, taking the smallest bite. He hummed thoughtfully. "What?" "It's good." "You hesitated." "I was building suspense." "Cody." He smiled. "It's perfect." You rolled your eyes. "Liar." "I'm married to an excellent cook." "You have to say that." "I absolutely don't." He stole another bite before you could stop him. "I choose to." You sighed dramatically. "You are impossible." "I've been told." "By your wife." "My very intelligent wife." You pointed the wooden spoon at him. "Flattery isn't going to stop me noticing you stole another spoonful." "It wasn't flattery." He smiled. "It was an observation." And somehow you believed him.

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Dinner ended the way it usually did. With Cody insisting he'd wash up, with you insisting you'd cooked just as much as he had, with the two of you somehow ending up standing shoulder to shoulder at the sink anyway. "You know this defeats the point." "What does?" "Arguing over who does the washing up." "We're not arguing." "We absolutely are." "I'd call this a discussion." "You've been trying to steal the sponge for three minutes." "I have." "And I've successfully defended it." "I'll simply dry, then." "You were going to dry anyway." "I know."

You smiled to yourself as you passed him another plate. There was something strangely comforting about the routine. Wash. Pass it over. Dry. Put it away. It wasn't particularly exciting. It didn't need to be. The conversation drifted easily between half-finished stories from your day, what Pharaoh had apparently done while you'd both been at work, and whether either of you had remembered to buy milk. "You forgot." "I absolutely didn't." "You absolutely did." "...I absolutely did." "I'll get some tomorrow." "I know." When the last plate finally disappeared into the cupboard, Cody reached past you to switch the kitchen light off. "Living room?" "Definitely."

The sofa had somehow become your place over the years. Not because it was especially comfortable, it wasn't. The cushions were beginning to lose their shape, and one corner still dipped slightly where Pharaoh insisted on sleeping every afternoon. You'd talked about replacing it more than once. Neither of you ever actually had. It held too many evenings. Too many lazy Sunday mornings. Too many nights exactly like this one. You settled into your usual corner before Cody disappeared briefly into the kitchen. He returned carrying two mugs. "Tea?" "You remembered." "I usually do." He handed one to you before sitting close enough that your knees brushed. Not long after, that wasn't close enough anymore. Without either of you acknowledging it, he stretched one arm along the back of the sofa. You leaned naturally into his side. His arm settled around your shoulders, there, better. "What are we watching?" "I have absolutely no idea." "You picked." "I know." "So?" "I wasn't paying attention." You laughed. "Then why did you put it on?" "I wanted background noise." "You don't actually care what's happening." "Not remotely." You looked at the television. Something dramatic appeared to be unfolding. Neither of you could have explained the plot if your lives depended on it.

Five minutes passed. Maybe ten. You couldn't have said. Your attention wandered between the television and the steady rise and fall of Cody's breathing beside you. His thumb traced absent-minded circles against your upper arm. The same slow pattern, over and over. You weren't entirely sure he realised he was doing it. "...One more thing." You smiled without taking your eyes off the screen. "I've run out." You turned to look at him. "What?" "I think I've officially told you every nice thing I can think of." You gasped dramatically. "No." "I have." "You haven't." "I genuinely have." "You expect me to believe that?" "I've been complimenting you since seven this morning." "You've barely scratched the surface." He laughed quietly. "I don't know..." "You've still got loads." "I don't." "You do." "I promise you—" You interrupted him with a look. He sighed theatrically. "...Fine." "I knew it." He tilted his head, pretending to think. "Hm." You waited patiently. After nearly thirty seconds, his face brightened. "There it is." "I knew you'd find one." "I remembered." "What is it?" His smile softened. "I love how safe I feel with you." The words landed differently from all the others. Quieter. More thoughtful. You frowned ever so slightly. "Safe?" He nodded. "I know people usually talk about feeling safe because someone protects them." He looked down at your intertwined hands. "But that's not what I mean." You stayed quiet, letting him find the words. "I mean..." He let out a small breath. "I never have to be anyone else when I'm with you."vYour heart squeezed. "You've seen me stressed." He counted softly against your fingers. "You've seen me frustrated, scared, exhausted, you've seen every version of me." He looked back at you. "And somehow..." His smile was almost shy. "...you've loved every single one." Emotion caught unexpectedly in your throat. "Cody..." "I don't think I tell you enough how much that means to me." You reached up, resting your hand gently against his cheek. "You don't have to earn being loved." "I know." "I've never expected you to." "I know." "You don't have to be 'The American Nightmare.'" A tiny smile appeared. "You don't have to have all the answers, you don't have to be perfect, you just have to come home." He closed his eyes briefly, leaning into your touch. "I can do that." "I know."

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The television continued talking quietly in the background. Outside, rain had started tapping softly against the windows. You smiled to yourself. "...One more thing." He laughed into your hand. "I knew there'd be another." "There always is." "What is it?" You brushed your thumb gently across his cheek. "I've never once doubted that I was loved." His eyes met yours. "Not for a second." You shrugged lightly. "You've made sure of that."

The silence that followed wasn't empty. It was full. Full of years. Of ordinary mornings. Late-night conversations. Airport goodbyes. Shared dinners. Countless tiny moments that, stitched together, had quietly become a life. Cody smiled. "I think..." He leaned forward until his forehead rested against yours. "...that's my favourite one you've said today." You smiled back. "I was saving it." "I noticed." "I've still got one left." He chuckled. "I don't believe you." "You'll have to wait until bedtime." "Oh?" "Mhm." He kissed the tip of your nose. "I'll be counting the minutes." "You usually do." "I know." And for the first time all day neither of you felt the need to say anything else. There was still one more thing. But it could wait until the lights were out.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

The house had settled into its familiar nighttime rhythm. The television had long since switched itself off after neither of you had paid attention to it for nearly an hour. Even Pharaoh had given up trying to convince somebody to throw one last toy before bed, choosing instead to curl himself into a contented heap in his favourite corner of the living room. You smiled down at him as you switched the downstairs lights off. "He gave up." Cody glanced over your shoulder. "He'll pretend he wasn't asleep the second we move." "Of course he will." "He has a reputation to maintain." You laughed quietly before reaching for Cody's hand. "Come on." The two of you climbed the stairs together, your fingers still loosely intertwined. It had become one of those habits neither of you had ever consciously started. Somewhere along the line, walking through the house hand in hand had simply become... normal. By the time you reached the bedroom, Cody had already wandered towards his side of the wardrobe. "You stole another hoodie." "I borrowed another hoodie." "You've been borrowing that one since October." "I haven't given it back yet." "So..." "So it's still borrowed." He shook his head, smiling to himself. "I married a thief." "You married someone with excellent taste." "I did."

You disappeared into the bathroom to finish getting ready for bed, returning a few minutes later to find Cody already sitting against the headboard, absently flicking through a book he clearly hadn't read a single page of. "You've been on that chapter for three days." "I know." "You like pretending." "I do." "You've read the same paragraph every night." "It keeps me company." "You could've just said you were waiting for me." "I could've." He closed the book with a soft thud, placing it on the bedside table. "But this sounded more intellectual." You laughed as you climbed into bed beside him. The mattress dipped beneath your weight. Almost automatically, Cody shifted closer. One arm wrapped around your waist. Your head settled against his shoulder. Neither of you had to think about it anymore. It was simply where you fit. The bedside lamp cast a warm glow across the room.

You let out a contented sigh. "This is my favourite part of the day." Cody looked down at you. "Really?" "Mhm." "More than coffee?" "Barely." He laughed. "I'll take second place." "It isn't second." "Oh?" "It's tied." "I can live with that." Silence settled comfortably around you. Not awkward. Not expectant. Just peaceful. The kind of silence that only existed between two people who had long since realised they never needed to fill every empty space with conversation. Eventually, Cody reached over and switched the lamp off. The bedroom softened into darkness. Only the faint orange glow from the streetlamp outside slipped between the curtains. You closed your eyes. Listened to the quiet rhythm of his breathing. Counted perhaps twenty seconds, maybe thirty. Then, “Cody?" He smiled before he'd even answered. "There it is." You laughed. "You knew." "I've been waiting." "Mhm." "You promised me there was one left." "There is." He shifted slightly until he was facing you, even in the darkness. "What is it?" You traced absent-minded circles against the back of his hand. "I don't think we've ever gone to sleep angry." He was quiet for a moment. "No." "Not once." "We've been frustrated." "We've disagreed." "You've annoyed me." "I've definitely annoyed you." He smiled. "But no." You nodded against his shoulder. "I was thinking about that today." "What brought that on?" "I don't know." You shrugged lightly. "I just realised..." You smiled softly. "...I really like that we've always chosen each other before we've chosen being right."

The room fell quiet again. When Cody finally spoke, his voice was gentler than before. "My dad used to tell me something." You looked up. "What?" "He used to say..." Cody paused, as though hearing the words exactly as they'd been spoken years before. "'Never assume you'll get another chance to say something kind.'" Your heart squeezed. "He'd say life has a funny way of reminding you that tomorrow isn't guaranteed." His thumb brushed slowly across your knuckles. "I think..." He let out a small breath. "I carried that with me." You stayed quiet. "I've spent so much of my life travelling, so many airports, so many hotel rooms., so many mornings where I'd kiss you goodbye and think..." His smile was small. "...what if that's the last thing I ever say to my wife today?" Emotion tightened your throat. "So I decided a long time ago..." He looked at you in the darkness. "...that if I thought something kind..." His fingers squeezed yours gently. "...I'd say it." You blinked quickly. "So that's why." He nodded. "I never wanted there to be something I wished I'd told you." Your eyes stung. "You know..." You whispered. "I think I've accidentally started doing the same thing." "I noticed." You laughed quietly. "I can't seem to stop." "I hope you never do."

A comfortable silence stretched between you. Then "...One more thing." He chuckled. "I wondered who was going first." "I don't ever want you to wonder if you're loved." His answer came so quickly it almost overlapped yours. "I never have." You smiled. "Good." "My turn?" "Mhm." He reached up, even in the darkness somehow finding your face with effortless certainty. "I don't ever want you wondering either." "You've made that impossible." "I'll keep making it impossible." "You don't have to." "I know." His forehead rested gently against yours. "But I want to." You smiled, your eyes already beginning to grow heavy. “I love you." "I love you too." A few moments passed. You thought that was it. Then, "My love?" You laughed into the darkness. "What?" "...One more thing." "You promised there wasn't another." "I lied." "You did."

His smile was unmistakable, even though you couldn't properly see it. "I don't think..." He pressed one last kiss against your forehead. "...I'll ever run out." You smiled so widely it almost hurt. "I don't think I will either." The room fell quiet once more. This time, neither of you broke the silence. You simply lay there in the darkness, tucked safely into the arms of the person who had somehow turned an ordinary Tuesday into your favourite kind of love story. And somewhere between I love you and one more thing, you drifted off to sleep, already certain that tomorrow would bring another ordinary morning and another reason to remind each other just how loved you both were.

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