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Cody wrenched open the front door, eyes narrowed, lips already pursed to snap at whoever thought pounding on wood was preferable to a doorbell. The bark froze on his tongue the instant his gaze landed on—
“Jimmy?” The reprimand dissolved instantly, replaced with a note of concern.
When the furious knocking had first started, Cody mentally underlined furious because that’s exactly what the pounding could only be described as; he’d been mid-shower. He half expected whoever it was to get bored and leave, because reasonable people did that when met with silence.
But no. Fifteen relentless minutes later, after the quickest towel-dry Cody had ever managed (leaving his blond hair still dripping onto his shoulders, skin still prickled from the hasty rubdown), Cody found himself staring at Jimmy Uso, looking nothing at all like his usual laid-back self.
Cody was used to wisecracks, swagger, and a little too much volume. This Jimmy looked like he was auditioning for Jey’s more volatile moods, shoulders squared, fists twitching at his sides, jaw locked tight enough to crack teeth.
“Is Roman in?” Jimmy demanded, refusing to cross the threshold even as Cody swung the door wider in silent invitation.
“What’s going on?” Cody countered, worry creeping into his voice. “Are you oka—”
“Is Roman in?” Jimmy repeated, louder, cutting through Cody’s question. His tone was no-nonsense, bordering on hostile.
Cody blinked, suddenly aware of how damp his hair still was, how ridiculous he felt standing barefoot on the hardwood while Jimmy radiated crisis on the porch.
“…No.” He forced caution into the single syllable, scanning Jimmy up and down from baseball cap to sneakers, hoping to spot a telltale glitch, because this wasn’t his usual cousin-in-law. This was someone else wearing the same face, carrying the same build. If some kind of body snatcher had set up camp in Jimmy Uso, Cody was onto it. He had no clue what he’d do with that revelation, but he was officially on alert.
“He took Pharaoh for a walk,” Cody added after a beat.
At that, Jimmy’s shoulders loosened by a fraction. The air around him was still humming with barely restrained energy, but somehow the thought of Roman being absent seemed to grant him temporary permission to exhale. He lingered outside, eyes shadowed beneath the brim of his cap, expression twisted in thought as he debated with himself.
“Jimmy, what is going on?” Cody asked, exasperation bleeding into creeping fear. “Are you coming into the house or not? You’re letting all the AC out.”
Jimmy looked up then, blinking as if snapping out of a trance. He let out a scoff and yanked his hat off his head, dragging a hand over his braids before finally stepping inside.
Cody trailed him to the living room, which didn’t fare much better under Jimmy’s scrutiny. His eyes darted from the TV to the couch cushions, to the rug, to the framed photos, suspicion etched into every movement.
It was bizarre. Almost like Jimmy had never set foot in this house before, despite the dozens of barbecues, game nights, and family gatherings they’d shared here.
Cody’s patience cracked. He could endure a lot, but Jimmy Uso prowling his living room warily had a thirty-second shelf life on his temperament.
“Look, whatever this is, I’m calling Roman,” Cody declared finally, patience fully exhausted.
He turned toward the stairs, intent on grabbing his phone from the bedroom upstairs where he’d left it charging. Before he could take more than a step, Jimmy was there, blocking him in one sharp pivot.
“Jimmy, this isn’t funny anymore,” Cody snapped, his voice dropping to a low warning.
Jimmy leaned in slightly, one hand gripping Cody’s shoulder. “Can I trust you?” he asked, and Cody had to blink rapidly, because what the fuck?
“Of course you can,” Cody said instead. This was starting to feel like the opening scene of a thriller movie, and he wasn’t sure he liked his role in it.
“Cody,” Jimmy leaned in closer, telegraphing the gravity of the moment. “Can I trust you?” He repeated, the emphasis heavy with subtext.
The undertones were clear as day. This was a conversation meant to stay between them, sealed away from Roman’s ears. Cody, with his irritatingly consistent habit of telling Roman every damn thing, was being tested.
“Yes,” Cody answered sincerely, meeting Jimmy’s gaze without flinching.
Jimmy must have sensed the sincerity in Cody’s voice, because he finally lowered himself onto the couch, deliberately folding himself into as little space as possible. He perched there stiffly, shoulders drawn tight, knees together. Cody took the opposite end. He would’ve usually gone for the armchair that had become Roman’s unofficial throne in their living room, but sitting beside Jimmy felt like a quiet act of solidarity.
“How is Roman doing?” Jimmy asked suddenly.
Cody took a second to blanch. For a man so adamant about keeping Roman out of the loop, leading with Roman’s well-being was… certainly a way to go.
“He’s fine,” Cody answered, blinking. Although there are some lingering aches, and the docs say—”
“That’s not what I’m asking, Cody.” Jimmy interrupted again. His voice was sharp and no-nonsense, no room for the gentle reassurance Cody had been gearing up for. “Maybe I should rephrase. How is Roman acting?”
Cody’s frustration bubbled up. He rubbed his temples, the droplets from his hair trickling down his neck, adding to his discomfort. “Jimmy, at this point, you need to just spit whatever the hell this is out. Critical thinking has never been one of my strong suits.”
“Yesterday, backstage at Raw, Jey was on the phone with someone.” He let the sentence hang like bait, eyes narrowing. “What was Roman doing last night?”
Cody exhaled, long and dramatic, index finger and thumb lifting to massage the absurdity straight out of his skull. “I know Jey’s been riding a rough patch recently, but this is one hell of a leap.”
“Jey’s definitely been riding a rough patch.” Jimmy’s agreement came too quickly. “Matter of fact, it’s been so rough—” he spat the word, “—someone’s been trying to sneak in a personality transplant.”
Cody sat forward, eyebrows climbing. “What exactly are you accusing Roman of here? Mind control? Puppet-mastery?” He threw his hands up, letting them drop back onto his lap with a preposterous smack.
“I’ve got a match this weekend.” Jimmy leaned forward, hands pressed together, willing Cody to understand. “I’m supposed to be tagging with Jey, Uce. And I’m uncomfortable.” The confession came out heavy and vulnerable. “In all my life, through all the nonsense, through every stupid fight and family drama we’ve survived, never did I ever think I’d utter the words, I. Don’t. Trust. My. Twin.”
Cody scrubbed a hand down his face. The sheer gravity of that admission sat between them like a third person.
“So yeah,” Jimmy pressed on, his tone turning pointed. “No offense, Cody, but you need to check your boy and make sure he hasn’t reverted back to factory settings.”
Cody’s mind did a quick inventory: Roman was fine. At least, he seemed fine. Other than his usual short bursts of stubborn pride, the man had been his rock lately. Extra attentive and extra supportive, with no signs of the brooding intensity that had defined his darker days. And God knew Roman was too impatient to be that good of an actor. If something was off, Cody would have noticed... right?
“Have you tried talking to Jey? Make sure you’re not overreacting.” Cody asked because it felt like the adult thing to do, even if Jimmy’s glare was already telling him that route was the wrong one.
“Don’t you sit there and Doctor Phil me.” Jimmy’s eyes narrowed to slits. “I know what I’m talking about. This isn’t my first rodeo—I grew up with those two. I can read them like a playbook.” He tapped the side of his head once. “Something’s off.”
Cody had to grant him that. If anyone could sniff out the subtlest shifts in the Reigns-Uso dynamic, it would be Jimmy. He’d been coiled next to Jey and Roman his whole life; hell, he could probably spot the cracks before Roman or Jey even realized they were forming.
“What do you want me to do?” Cody asked, because at this point, solutions felt more useful than righteous indignation.
“Watch Roman.” Jimmy barely let Cody’s words land before he pounced. “Watch him every time, all the time. I’ll keep a closer eye on Jey and those sus phone calls he keeps sneaking off on the side.”
“I have SmackDown on Friday,” Cody protested weakly, voice cracking with the hollowness of a man who already knew he’d lost the argument.
“Then you either take him with you or find someone to help you watch him.” Jimmy countered, his tone brooking no argument. He reached out, gripping Cody’s forearm briefly to drive the point home. “Uce, listen to me—the last thing any of us wants is Roman going off the rails again, especially with Jey backing him. You know what happens when that combo kicks in.”
Cody nodded slowly. He remembered all too well.
“And as God is my witness,” Jimmy added, his voice rising with fierce determination. “I can not—I refuse to relive 2023. I’m not sitting back and letting anyone order me around again. Roman or Jey, whoever it is, I will start kicking before I roll over.”
Cody swore softly, fingers combing through his damp, nearly dry hair as a million worst-case scenarios jostled for dominance in his head. His mind wouldn’t stop spiraling, every thought louder than the last.
The lack of tangible reaction from Roman lately, towards Seth and his merry band of mayhem, slotted a little too neatly into Jimmy’s conspiracy. Roman hadn’t so much as mentioned Seth or the Brons since walking out of the hospital. And for someone like Roman, whose entire legacy was built on paying debts with receipts, sometimes brutally, the quiet was more alarming than any tantrum he could have thrown.
Cody wanted to credit the suspicious lunch meeting between Roman, Mox, and Seth as maybe some hushed truce no one else had been privy to. But Roman had a long and bloody track record of keeping score and cashing them in when the timing hurt most. Friend or foe, it didn’t matter. Cody wanted to believe it was the long-awaited maturity and healing everyone had asked for, but if there was ever a justified time to hold a grudge, it was definitely after almost being paralyzed by your ex-boyfriend’s henchmen.
He tried to steady his thoughts. Roman deserved the benefit of the doubt; he’d earned at least that much. However, the puzzle pieces Jimmy had dumped on the table were sliding together too neatly.
His chest tightened when he inhaled. He loved Roman so fiercely it ached, but he’d have to draw the line at power-hungry overlord resurgence. The thought of Roman undergoing some throwback personality overhaul and slipping back into the manipulative tyrant that had once fractured families and alliances sent a shiver down Cody’s spine. Cody wasn’t sure what he’d do if it happened, only that it would break him.
“Wh—” Cody swallowed, throat dry. “Where’s Jey?”
“With Sami,” Jimmy replied immediately. “I told him to keep an eye out, but I’ma have to head over soon because Sami—” Jimmy cut himself off with a vague noise, shaking his head.
Cody didn’t need the full sentence. Sami was resilient, sure. He’d endured the Bloodline circus longer than most sane men would have, but Cody doubted even Sami Zayn had what it took to singlehandedly restrain an absolutely unhinged Jey Uso. Especially one who was already fraying at the edges and pushing people away.
As for himself? He had no earthly idea if he could restrain Roman either, not if Jimmy was right about him reverting to factory settings. The thought made his chest tighten worse; he hated even entertaining the possibility. Hopefully, that bridge would burn itself when they got there.
The front door clicked open, the creak of hinges cutting through the tense air. Jimmy shot to his feet instantly, posture taut.
Roman strolled in, Pharaoh padding ahead with a gentle tug of the leash, the husky’s ears perked with the quiet joy of a good walk. Roman stooped slowly into a crouch, one arm steadying himself against his knee. He grimaced slightly at the pull in his back as he unclipped the leash, fingers brushing the husky’s ears in a soft scratch, then murmured something low, just for Pharaoh, and the dog leaned into it with a happy huff.
Cody’s heart did a traitorous flip. It was ridiculous, insulting, even. As far as manipulative overlords went, Roman crouched in the doorway cooing at his husky was wildly off-brand. But then again, Roman could probably be both, couldn’t he?
Roman finally looked up, eyes flicking from Cody to Jimmy with faint confusion, then rose to his full height. “Jimmy.” His tone was neutral.
“Uce,” Jimmy replied, forcing the word out tightly. “I was just leaving.”
Roman nodded slowly, his gaze lingering on his cousin with perceptive intensity. “Did you want to talk about something?” he asked carefully.
“Nah, man.” Jimmy slid his cap back on briskly. “Hadn’t seen Cody in a minute, so I came by.” He punctuated the lie with a smile that was completely un-Jimmy-like, the mirth failing to reach his eyes.
With a curt nod in Cody’s direction, Jimmy strolled out, the door shutting behind him with finality.
Roman lingered, eyes fixed on the closed door for a beat too long. Hesitation flickered over his features before he turned, dark gaze pinning Cody.
“What was that about?”
Cody swallowed hard. Lying to Roman was going to be a damn chore, considering the man’s uncanny ability to sniff out deception. He could only pray to whichever deity had fewer smiting appointments on their calendar that Roman’s lie-detector senses would be dulled by the walk. The affinity Roman had for detecting a lie before it even formed in your mind was a legendary talent.
“He actually came to check up on you,” Cody said, forcing his shoulders into a casual shrug. “And somewhere along the line, got mad that you weren’t in.”
The words tumbled out offhandedly. It technically wasn’t a lie, just a carefully curated slice of the truth. And Cody clung to that technicality. Perhaps he would weather this storm if he held on tight to such technicalities, because if Roman so much as pressed, Cody wasn’t sure his poker face would hold.
Roman snorted, shaking his head as a mutter slipped out; something scathing and fond in equal measure. Cody marked it down as a win in his internal column.
Roman padded over, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the crown of Cody’s head. “I’m having brunch. Want anything?”
“No, thanks.” Cody lied again, voice steady despite the churn in his gut.
“More for us, then.” Roman turned to Pharaoh, who barked in agreement, tail wagging like he’d understood every word. “Come on, bud. Let’s raid the fridge.”
And with that, Pharaoh and Roman disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Cody rooted in place, his head buzzing with Jimmy’s warning and his heart heavy with guilt. The house was quiet again, save for the faint clatter of Roman setting out food.