Chapter One – Backstage Boundaries
The roar of the WWE crowd rumbled through the walls of the medical room, muffled but ever-present. Maeve had long since grown used to the sound, the way it vibrated through the very foundation of the arena, signaling another night of brutal matches, unexpected injuries, and the chaos that came with being part of WWE's medical team.
She glanced up from her clipboard, pushing a loose strand of auburn hair behind her ear as she checked over the evening's injury reports. Minor cuts, a bruised rib, nothing out of the ordinary—yet. That wouldn't last. It never did.
"Maeve, you got a minute?"
The deep, unmistakable voice sent a jolt straight through her, but she forced herself to stay composed before looking up. Cody Rhodes.
She had spent months perfecting the art of acting indifferent around him. It wasn't easy. He was, after all, the WWE Champion. Charismatic. Confident. The kind of man who could light up a room just by walking into it. And, unfortunately, the exact kind of man Maeve had been silently crushing on since the day she'd started.
He leaned against the doorframe of the medical room, sweat glistening along his temples, the remnants of his match still clinging to him. His blonde hair was slightly disheveled, his ring gear clinging to his body in a way that did not help Maeve's ability to think straight.
Focus, Maeve.
"What's up?" she asked, keeping her tone professional as she set her clipboard aside.
Cody smirked, stepping further into the room. "Got a bit of a situation."
He peeled down the top half of his ring gear, revealing a fresh cut across his shoulder. It wasn't deep, but it was bleeding enough to warrant attention.
Maeve sighed, motioning for him to sit on the medical table. "I swear, you wrestlers are allergic to being careful."
Cody chuckled, but obeyed, sitting down with that effortless confidence he always carried. "Kinda comes with the job."
Maeve rolled her eyes but grabbed a sterile wipe, stepping between his legs to get a better angle. She was hyper-aware of how close they were, of the heat radiating from his skin as she worked to clean the wound.
"So," he said casually, watching her. "How's your night been?"
Maeve gave him a pointed look. "Well, I was having a great time filling out paperwork until someone came in here bleeding all over my floor."
Cody grinned. "Sounds thrilling."
"Absolutely riveting," she deadpanned, before tossing the bloodied wipe into the trash. She reached for the medical tape, keeping her focus on the wound—not on the way his muscles tensed under her touch.
For a moment, there was silence between them, just the distant echo of the crowd and the methodical movements of Maeve's hands as she wrapped the bandage around his shoulder.
But then Cody tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. "You seem tense tonight."
Maeve paused, startled by the observation. She forced a light laugh, shaking her head. "I'm fine. Just a long night."
Cody didn't look convinced, but he didn't push. Instead, he smirked. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, you're doing a great job keeping me from bleeding out."
Maeve rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Try not to die out there, will you?"
He chuckled, standing up from the table as she finished securing the bandage. "No promises."
With one last grin, he turned and walked out, leaving Maeve standing there with her heart pounding way harder than it had any right to.
She let out a slow breath, shaking her head. Get it together, Maeve. It's never going to happen.
Maeve busied herself cleaning up the medical room, but her mind was still on Cody. It wasn't just that he was attractive—though, let's be honest, that was a huge part of the problem. It was the way he carried himself, the way he treated everyone with respect, the way he seemed genuinely passionate about WWE.
And the way he definitely didn't know she existed outside of stitching him up.
Not in the way she wanted him to, anyway.
Not that it mattered. WWE's rules were clear—staff and superstars didn't date. Period. Relationships between medical personnel and talent were even more frowned upon. The last thing Maeve needed was to be fired because she couldn't keep her feelings in check.
Which is why she had spent the past year pretending she didn't feel a thing.
She was doing fine—until Cody made that impossible.
With a sigh, she shook off the thoughts and grabbed her phone. A message from her best friend, Sarah, lit up the screen.
SARAH: Spotted you getting up close and personal with the champ. You lucky cow.
Maeve groaned, typing back quickly.
MAEVE: It was literally medical work. You know, my JOB.
SARAH: Oh please. You were one deep breath away from climbing him like a tree.
Maeve choked on air.
MAEVE: I hate you.
SARAH: Love you too. But seriously, when are you gonna admit you like him?
Maeve's fingers hovered over the screen before she locked the phone and shoved it in her pocket.
She'd admit it when it wasn't completely impossible. So, basically, never.
Hours passed, and Maeve had nearly convinced herself she wasn't thinking about Cody—until chaos broke out in the hallway outside.
Shouts. Footsteps pounding against the floor.
She barely had time to process before the door slammed open, and two referees rushed in, supporting a very dazed Cody Rhodes between them.
Her stomach lurched.
"What happened?" she asked, already moving toward them.
"He took a bad hit," one of the refs said. "Got his bell rung hard—he was out for a second."
Maeve immediately guided them to set him down on the medical table. Cody blinked sluggishly, clearly out of it, his usually sharp blue eyes unfocused.
"Cody?" Maeve said, snapping her fingers in front of him.
He barely reacted.
Shit. Concussion.
"Alright, just stay still," she said, her voice slipping into full professional mode. "How many fingers am I holding up?"
Cody squinted at her hand. "Uh… three?"
"Try again."
"…Five?"
Maeve bit back a curse. His pupils were dilated, his breathing slightly uneven. He needed rest.
"I'm gonna clean up that cut on your forehead," she said gently. "Try not to move, okay?"
Cody hummed, not quite answering. Maeve dabbed at the small gash above his eyebrow, hyper-aware of how completely unguarded he looked like this.
And then—it happened.
Cody reached out—too fast, too sudden—and cupped her face with one warm, calloused hand.
Maeve froze.
His eyes were hazy, unfocused, but locked on hers.
Then, before she could react—he kissed her.
Maeve's brain short-circuited.
It was brief—just a soft press of his lips against hers, but it sent an electric shock straight through her. By the time she finally snapped out of it, he was already leaning back, blinking in confusion.
"…Maeve?" he mumbled, his voice thick with exhaustion.
She barely managed to step back before her heart exploded.
"Y-you need rest," she stammered, grabbing the nearest ice pack and practically shoving it at him. "Put this on your head before you pass out."
Cody blinked at her, clearly not registering what had just happened.
Maeve, on the other hand, was very aware.
Because Cody Rhodes had just kissed her.
And he didn't even realize it.