Randy Orton - One Shots

Therapy

Randy is known to be a tough guy, and so are you, as you're a UFC fighter. When it comes to you, Randy's soft side comes into play (well, except on bed, but that's a talk for another time.). And you... Despite being a tough motherfucker yourself, you had to admit you also have a soft side when it comes to him as well.

A couple of nights ago, you had a huge fight with Amanda Nunes, and despite putting a hell of a fight, she kicked your ass. So hard, you're out on injury. Your lip is busted, your nose is swollen, you have a black eye, your ribs hurt, your right shoulder hurts and your ankle is all swollen and in all kinds of red and pink shades right now... And that's where your injury is, your damn ankle.

Randy had left for his morning run so you took the opportunity to get out of bed, taking a good five minutes to do so, and walk to the kitchen, to grab breakfast. You walk slower than an old man, and you shouldn't even be up, putting weight on your feet, but you can't really handle the crutches right now and you sure as hell wouldn't ride a wheelchair.

Unfortunately, you're caught in the act and you can't run or hide, for obvious reasons. So, you just stand there giving Randy, who was fuming in anger, a regretful smile.

"(y/n), what the fuck do you think you're doing?" He asks angrily. You open your mouth to talk, but he cuts you off. "What are you doing up? You have crutches, you have a wheelchair, so care to tell me why you're putting weight on your feet?"

"I was hungry, and I just figured..." You start to talk, your voice small, you knew he had every right to be mad.

"You just figured you could make your injury worse, amazing." He replies sarcastically, making you avoiding his gaze in shame. "Baby, I know you hate the wheelchair and it hurts to use the crutches... but it's only for your wellbeing. And if you didn't wanna use any of it, you could just wait for me or call me, I'd be here in a heartbeat." He says, now softly as he nears you.

"I know... I'm sorry." You mumble, still averting your gaze to your hurt foot. "I just... I feel like an invalid. I can't do anything on my own. Not without feeling excruciating pain. And I hate to treat you as my fucking nurse." You confess, almost whispering but hurt and anger filling your tone, as you fight back tears.

"First, you're standing on your nearly broken ankle, and I bet you took a good 20 minutes to walk through this hallway, so of course you feel excruciating pain. Second, you don't treat me as a nurse, it's actually my duty to take care of my girl."

"But-"

"No 'buts'." You pout and he smiles down at you, then kissing your lips softly. "Now, come here, I'm gonna take you to bed and then I'm making you a healthy and delicious breakfast." He says as he picks you up bridal style, and you react by wrapping your arms around his neck, sighing softly.

He walks towards your bedroom as you kiss his neck a couple of times. He finally reaches your bed and places you down, really slow and softly.

"Okay, I'll be right back." He smiles, then kisses your forehead and heads to the kitchen.

After 10 minutes, he's back, a wide smile on his face and a tray filled with food in his hands.

"So, I'm back. I brought you some orange juice, some coffee, toasts, strawberries... Uh, I hope you like it." He explains, shyly, as he places down the tray above your legs and tries to read your reaction.

"It's perfect, thank you." You mumble, offering him a small smile.

You were starving so you ate everything pretty fast. He sat there watching you the whole time, sometimes it even made you uncomfortable.

"Okay, I'm done. Damn, I'm full!" You groan, smiling.

"I'm taking this to the kitchen and getting you your meds." Randy informs, starting to get up.

"No! No, don't leave. No meds." You beg, pouting and grabbing his hand because you know he won't pull you, afraid to hurt you.

"Babe, you need to take your meds." He says gently, sitting back down again.

"But they make me sleepy and numb..." You pout heavily, letting out a huge sigh.

"You still have to take them, they'll help heal you up faster and they'll take your pain away." He keeps trying to convince you to take your meds.

"You can take my pain away." You keep pouting at him, because you know he can't say 'no' to you.

"I can't. I'm sorry, baby. I'm really sorry." He whispers, avoiding his gaze, ashamed that he can't do anything else to help you. And now you're feeling bad, you didn't mean for him to feel this way.

"You have nothing to be sorry off. You do what you can to help me, and I'll never be able to show you how much I appreciate." You give him a small smile as you caress his cheek. "Now, I'll take my meds, if you promise you're gonna stay in bed with me the whole day."

"You swear you'll take them?" He asks, making sure you will. He knows you can be quite persuasive.

"Yes, I swear. Now, do you promise?" You ask, now your voice small.

"I promise." He smiles, kissing you softly.

"I just... I need your cuddles." Now, you make him chuckle, his face showing his oh-really look. "Yeah, your cuddles are therapeutic. And it's scientifically proven." You try to say it with a straight face but you fail completely as you both start laughing.

He chuckles, and tucks a hair strand behind your ear.

"Good thing you're the only getting that therapy, uh?"