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Punk should let it go. He really should. They’ve discussed everything they were there to discuss: the new railway under construction, getting Chicago and Atlanta on the same page regarding the new potential for rapid cross-continent trade, the mutual benefits of getting the Great Lakes and trans-Atlantic networks linked up. All the shit he wouldn’t be bothering with if it wasn’t making him and his city money. They could easily just call it a day, maybe share a few drinks now that Cody’s condition was forcing him to get on board with Punk’s lifestyle choices. Relax and not have to worry about politics for once.But of course, he couldn’t let it go. “Can I ask a personal question, Cody?” he asked, almost hoping the answer would be no. He didn’t expect Cody to take well to questioning on his life choices, and he didn’t exactly need an argument with a friend right now. But he’d made a promise long ago, and if that meant being a little patronizing and getting Cody a little annoyed with him, then so be it.He could tell by the look in Cody’s eyes that he knew what was coming. When Cody responded with “Sure, Punk, you can ask me anything,” it came with a resigned tone of voice, like he’d already had the same conversation several times and wasn’t excited to be having it again.“Why him?”There were a couple beats of silence, that same resignation never leaving Cody’s face. “A lot of reasons,” he replied. “At first it was about getting the Bloodline on our side, making sure that they had a good reason to favor Atlanta in their dealings. Pretty much guaranteed security for our kingdom.”Punk opened his mouth to voice his concerns with that plan. He couldn’t forget the way Roman’s reign as Tribal Chief of Apia had been characterized by betrayal after betrayal of even close allies, the way he was known for working his own family to their breaking point if it meant securing a deal, the rumors that he was prone to physically violent outbursts on top of all of that. And Cody thought marrying into that was a fair price to pay for an edge on the world stage? Punk already felt that he had failed his promise to keep Dusty’s boy safe by failing to keep that tyrant’s teeth off of his neck. So really, pointing out how trade deals weren’t worth his well-being was the least he could do.Cody could read him too well, though. The second Punk opened his mouth to argue, Cody cut him off. “I said that’s what it was at first. I underestimated how much he’s changed, and how many other ways he’d be good to me.”Punk was, of course, still skeptical. “Ok, fine. Fill me in. Why him? What could possibly be worth risking all the things we know he’s capable of?”Cody sighed deeply. “People don’t change unless someone believes that they can. And as few of us there were who were willing to believe in him, it worked. I haven’t seen a shred of the kind of behavior you’re referring to, in the entire time I’ve been here. He’s been a good mate- not in the traditional sense, being a big strong alpha taking care of a poor helpless omega, but in the sense I actually wanted. We support each other without it being about who’s taking care of who,” he explained, his usual measured rhetoric taking on an obvious rehearsed quality. “And not just as mates, as statesmen with the rest of our careers ahead of us too. Of course we’re always looking out for each other on deals, but we both still stand on our own merit.”“So he’s a good fit for your independent streak. Is that all?” Punk quipped. That answer said more about Cody than Roman, really. Everyone knew that no member of the Rhodes dynasty would accept getting sidelined by their mate, secondary sex be damned.“Of course it isn’t,” Cody snapped back, his patience for the conversation clearly waning. “He’s right for me in every respect. As hard as it is for everyone to believe, we do actually love each other. And trust each other, and respect each other. Plus there was that spark from the beginning. Not sure you’d understand that part- with full respect for your privacy, of course.”Punk absolutely understood, not that confirming that was worth outing himself. His secondary sex was hidden from even his closest confidants, and he liked it that way. He’d started seeking out a way to hide it from the first day he presented as an omega. That’s how he’d first crossed paths with Paul Heyman, hearing of his advanced mastery of medical applications of magic. Following the Wiseman’s regimen, he was totally scentless. Perfectly, unnaturally scentless, without even the generic mammalian stink a beta could manage after a hard workout. It made people distrust him, especially alphas and omegas. They didn’t trust anyone they couldn’t smell, and he didn’t trust anyone who could smell him. Punk considered this a non-negotiable impasse, and if the rest of the world didn’t like it then they would just have to deal with it.But regardless, Punk definitely knew what Cody was talking about, the pull a highly compatible alpha could have even if they were an awful person. The most delicious-smelling alpha he’d ever encountered was probably sitting on his throne in Ayr as they spoke, plotting Punk’s downfall over some irrelevant perceived slight with that stupid sardonic grin on his face. Thank god for his good self-control, and for the strongest heat suppressants ever invented.Punk opened his mouth again, this time to offer a concession that maybe Cody had a point, but Cody cut him off again regardless. “That’s enough about my mate, we have other things to talk about. The Wiseman asked me to remind you that he still owes you a favor”.Punk raised an eyebrow. “I haven’t spoken to Paul one-on-one in years, I doubt he’s reminding me of that favor out of the goodness of his heart. What’s the catch?” he asked dryly.“I’m not privy to specifics, but my guess is that Apia needs allies now that things have gone south again in negotiations with Pago Pago,” Cody explained. “It could be a good opportunity even beyond Paul sweetening the pot with his favor. We set the stage for you to get in on trans-Atlantic trade today, getting more allies in the Pacific could be lucrative too.”“What did Roman do to piss off Solo this time? I thought there was some real progress toward at least getting him under control,” Punk responded. As much as Roman had been a problem, and as much as Punk didn’t trust that his shows of contrition to the rest of the WWE meant anything, Solo wasn’t even willing to put on that show. Hearing that he was acting up again was bad news across the board.Cody rolled his eyes. “Roman didn’t do anything. Besides get me pregnant, I guess. Restoring Solo’s place as Roman’s successor per the decision of the Elders was a big bargaining chip in patching things up with him. But that decision was never meant to supersede the inheritance rights of our children, which should not have been a surprise to him,” Cody said, seemingly offended now that his own legacy was involved. “He found out that he won’t be first in the line of succession anymore and went AWOL for nearly a month, while his thugs ran around doing his dirty work,” he sighed.A few beats of silence passed while Punk weighed his options. He still didn’t trust Roman at all, despite Cody’s best efforts. He trusted Paul a bit more, but that trust had soured a bit after years of watching him latch onto whoever the most powerful Entente member was regardless of how they got that power. But Solo was definitely a threat that needed to be curbed, and if things were bad enough that Paul was willing to call in an almost-forgotten favor then maybe there was a way Punk could turn this into a win for Chicago.“I’ll think about it,” he eventually responded. “Tell Paul he’s welcome to visit me in Chicago to discuss it whenever he has the time.”“He was hoping you’d stop to see him on the way out,” Cody replied.“I said I’ll think about it. Asking me to align myself with the Bloodline is a big ask, even if it really is on just this issue,” Punk reminded him.Cody sighed. “That’s what I told him. Do think on it though, it’s a good opportunity,” Cody said. “Anyway. Come have a drink with me? Our chef does a beautiful ginger-hibiscus mocktail, could almost sell me on the whole straight edge thing,” he said with a wry smile.Punk returned the grin, happy that he could finally move on to the fun part of seeing a friend. “Sounds perfect,” he replied, standing up from his seat in front of Cody’s desk.Cody went to stand as well, struggling. He tried another couple of times before looking up at Punk, defeated. “Do me a favor and help me up?”Punk immediately circled the desk and took him by the hand, helping him struggle to his feet from behind the heavy hardwood desk. Cody had already been sitting behind it when Punk came in, so this was his first real look at Cody’s pregnant belly. “Holy shit, Cody, how many you got in there?” he asked, slackjawed. He couldn’t remember ever seeing a pregnant person get that big before, even right at their due date.Cody smiled, the hand that wasn’t gripping onto Punk cupping under his belly to support its weight. “Three,” he answered, his pride undercut by a wince of pain from a particularly rough kick. “Three big, strong, healthy babies who love to roughhouse. Exactly what I should’ve expected, looking at both their dads.”“You look like you’re about to pop. When are you due?” Punk asked, the reality of it still setting in.“In about a month and a half, give or take. Doctor said multiples usually come early though, so who knows? Might get to meet them in the next couple weeks,” Cody beamed, his excitement warring with his obvious exhaustion.Once it really set in, Punk’s first reaction was anxiety. Every horror story he’d heard about how multiple births could go wrong collided with every horror story about pregnant people overworking themselves too late in the pregnancy. Then a different memory surfaced: of seeing Jey doze off halfway through an Entente-wide meeting and wake up in a panic, muttering shit, not again, Roman’s gonna kill me this time in a low, shaky voice that Punk was clearly not meant to hear. Then the anxiety was gone, replaced with rage. Everyone knew that Roman kept his family on a brutal schedule and accepted no complaints about it, but making his mate keep up diplomatic work while almost to full term with fucking triplets was beyond the pale. Punk was going to kill him. He was going to keep his promise to Dusty and do the entire WWE a favor in the process. They’d put him in prison for it, but it was long overdue, so fuck it.“Cody, I can’t fucking believe you’re almost to term in a high risk pregnancy and-,” Punk started. Cody cut him off before he could finish with he’s still making you work with “Punk, I don’t want to hear it. I’m constantly getting it from Roman, I don’t need it from you too. You both should know me well enough to know that I’m not going to be sitting around barefoot and helpless. That’s not who I am.”Punk froze, stunned. It took a second for it to sink in that Roman was just as upset about this as he was, and that the stupid risky move to keep working was entirely Cody’s decision. He’d underestimated Roman’s ability to care for his family’s well-being. Or, more likely, he’d underestimated Cody’s drive to work himself into an early grave.He took a deep breath to compose himself before answering; throwing a fit would just make Cody double down. “I’m not calling you helpless, Cody. You’d know I’d never do that. You’re doing the hardest thing a person can do and you’re doing it three times over all at once,” he appeased.“I know that, and I’m handling it just fine. I know my limits, Punk,” Cody hissed, his jaw tense and his eyes burning with indignation.No the fuck you do not, Punk thinks but doesn’t say. “If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for those kids. They’re gonna need their dad well-rested and at the top of your game,” he says instead. Seeing Cody try and fail to hide a gasp of pain from another kick, he adds: “Especially for when they need to come out. That’ll be way harder on your body than anything they’re putting you through now.”Cody’s jaw doesn’t relax, but his eyes lower and fixate on a spot on the floor. Punk knows that they both know he’s right, but that Cody will never admit it. He can live with that, as long as he can get Cody to take it easy at least a little bit.Eventually, Cody’s eyes meet his again. “I’ll offer you a deal. I’ll clear my calendar of all other diplomatic engagements if you swing by the Wiseman’s office on your way out. And really hear him out, not just make a show of it,” he said.Punk didn’t hesitate. “If it’ll get you to take care of yourself, then fine. I’ll go right now and I’ll really hear him out. But if what I hear isn’t good enough to get me on board with whatever he’s planning, then that’s beyond the scope of our deal,” he said firmly.“I understand that. All I’m asking is that you give him a fair shake. After, you can come meet me in my private quarters and we’ll kick off my vacation with one of those mocktails in comfort,” Cody appeased. “His office is just down the hall, last door on the left.”Punk took his marching orders and stepped out of Cody’s office. He paused, taking a moment to look upward. Someday when I see you again in whatever comes after, you’re gonna owe me one, old man, he thought. Didn’t think the person your stubborn brat would need protecting from is himself.