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Judgement Day

Summary:

What starts as a nerve-wracking visit to Cody’s Georgia home turns into something softer and far more domestic than Roman ever expected.

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Roman Reigns had faced legends, retired phantoms, and walked through fire. He’d main-evented countless Manias, led a dynasty, and stood tall when the lights were brightest. But standing on the porch of Cody Rhodes’ Georgia home, gripping a neatly wrapped bottle of bourbon turned peace offering, and a heartbeat skipping double-time in his chest, Roman felt like a damn rookie again.

It wasn’t the house that made him nervous. Wasn’t even the man beside him anymore.

It was the dog. Pharaoh.

The same Pharaoh Cody had paraded across social media like canine royalty, the ‘gentle beast,’ the four-legged heir to the Rhodes legacy. And Roman… well, he hadn’t exactly been kind to Pharaoh’s human last year. WrestleMania and the buildup to it was a sore spot. Not so much now he and Cody had made peace, turned a corner, and fallen into something dangerously close to love.

But animals were honest, they didn’t do press conferences or backstage apologies. They simply knew.

“He’s gonna hate me,” Roman muttered, voice low as Cody fiddled with the front door lock.

Cody snorted, glancing back over his shoulder with that half-smile that always made Roman’s chest ache. “He’s a dog, Ro, not The Rock. He won't be cutting any promos about your betrayal, I promise.”

Roman didn’t laugh. He peered over Cody’s shoulder into the living room, where a hulking white husky lay sprawled across a rug like a fluffy judge of character. Heck, Pharaoh’s glacier-blue eyes were already locked on Roman with the finesse of a seasoned trial attorney.

“Look at him,” Roman whispered to his boyfriend. “He knows.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m telling you, he remembers,” Roman insisted, stepping into the house like it might bite him.

Cody gave a breezy thanks to the dog sitter and shut the door behind them. “Pharaoh doesn’t hold grudges. He’s not on Reddit.”

“Are we sure?”

Cody leaned in, kissed Roman’s cheek, and grinned. “Trust me, if Pharaoh held grudges, he’d have mauled countless people years ago.”

Roman glanced at Pharaoh again. The dog hadn’t moved. It just stared. Like a very fluffy ghost of guilt.

Cody wiggled the leash, in invitation, Roman moved like he was approaching a lion in the wild. Pharaoh stood up, tail low, ears perked. Roman froze.

“Nightmare,” Roman said under his breath. “This is exactly how every animal attack video starts.”

With a low whistle, Cody unhooked the leash, and Pharaoh rose to his paws silent and majestic. Roman might have respected the dog in any other circumstance. Pharaoh approached and sniffed Roman’s outstretched hand, Roman stiffening like he was being frisked by airport security.

Then, with a soft huff, Pharaoh nuzzled Roman’s palm. One quick lick, and his tail gave a lazy, approving wag.

Roman blinked. “Would you look at that.”

“Told you he'd love you,” Cody said, smug and sunny. “What’s not to love?”

“Mm.” Roman dropped into a crouch, still half expecting teeth. “Or maybe he’s just lulling me into a false sense of security.” He scratched Pharaoh anyway. “Damn, he’s soft. This is what forgiveness feels like?”

Pharaoh leaned into Roman’s touch and gave a happy little grumble, then flopped dramatically onto his side and exposed his belly.

Cody grinned. “That’s trust, baby. You’re in.”

Roman rubbed the dog’s chest, shaking his head. “He forgave me faster than half the WWE Locker Room.”

Cody crouched beside them, hand on Roman’s back. “Maybe Pharaoh just knows what I know.”

Roman raised an eyebrow. “Which is?”

“That you’re secretly the sweetest, softest—”

“Okay.”

“—and most shockingly romantic person behind closed doors. And I know Sami Zayn.”

Roman snorted. “Sami Zayn?”

“Don’t worry,” Cody said, dropping a kiss on his lips. “You’re hotter.”

Roman leaned in, forehead pressed to Cody’s. “You always this corny?”

“Only when I’m happy.”

They stayed there a moment. Roman, Cody, and Pharaoh like some domestic fever dream Roman never thought he’d have. And maybe Pharaoh didn’t care about titles or main events or promos from a year ago. Maybe, like Cody said, Pharaoh was just smart enough to know when someone was trying their damned best to be… better.

Roman smiled as Pharaoh let out a content sigh and tucked his head into Roman’s lap.

“Good dog.”

 

---

 

Cody knew something was off the moment his eyes cracked open.

The bed was half-empty, too cold on one side, and way too quiet. 

Normally, Roman would still be dead asleep, snoring like he was trying to cut down a forest in his dreams. But now? No snoring. No dog breath. No sound of man versus duvet in a low-stakes wrestling match.

He rubbed his face, yawned, and dragged himself out of bed, stomping downstairs like a man who hadn’t had his morning coffee and had a very real fear his boyfriend and dog were doing something nefarious without him.

And well, they were.

Roman was splayed out on the floor, long legs crossed, head propped on a pillow stolen from the couch. His entire expression was weirdly calm and laser-focused, eyes locked on the TV screen like he was analyzing footage of a particularly important opponent. Except on the screen wasn’t wrestling. It was Steven Universe.

Roman Reigns was watching Steven Universe.

Pharaoh, meanwhile, was curled against his side with his big head across Roman’s chest like he’d been born for this role: Emotional Support Dog and Number One Roman Reigns Stan.

Roman didn’t even look up. “You sleep okay?” he asked, fingers idly scratching behind Pharaoh’s ears.

Cody just stared. “What the hell is going on down here?”

“Bonding,” Roman said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Pharaoh let out a sigh and nuzzled closer to Roman’s side like a very judgmental weighted blanket.

Cody blinked. “You... you left me alone in bed...”

Roman kept scratching Pharaoh. “You were snoring.”

Cody gawked. “...For cartoons?”

Roman finally looked over, grinning. “It’s not just any cartoon, Nightmare. It’s about friendship. Love. Gem fusion. Y’know, Tribal Alliances.”

Pharaoh gave a delighted little huff like he got it.

Cody blinked slowly. “I swear to God, Ro, if you've replaced me with my own dog...”

“I did not,” Roman said. He reached out with one arm, beckoning Cody closer. “You wanna join the cuddle pile or are you just gonna stand there being jealous of a dog?”

Cody flopped down with a theatrical groan. “I hope Pharaoh sheds all over your gear bag.”

Roman smirked. “I hope he does. I’d consider it an honor.”

Cody huffed, narrowed his eyes at the smug dog, and muttered, “We’ll see if you're still saying that when I make breakfast and he picks the guy holding the bacon.”

Roman chuckled. “He’s Team Roman now, Nightmare. You lost him yesterday.”

Pharaoh gave Cody a single, smug tail wag before dramatically resting his head back on Roman’s chest with a loud, blissful sigh.

Cody stared. “Traitor.”

Roman kissed Cody’s temple. “Still my favorite human.” Then, to Pharaoh, sotto voce: “We’ve got him wrapped around our fingers.”

Pharaoh huffed in agreement.

Cody peered open an eye, from where his head rested on Roman's chest as well and muttered to Pharaoh, “I liked it better when he was scared you would eat him.”

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