Work Text:
“Why are you sitting all the way over there?” Lyra asked.
After a gruelling match with Rosemary, Lyra was sitting atop a bench in the locker room. Tatum Paxley, ever her faithful companion, sat upright and proper in her dedicated locker–once Lyra’s–directly opposite her. “That’s not where you normally sit,” Lyra continued.
“Ava gave me this locker after you got drafted, actually. And I’m…” Tatum strained, “...I am trying to give you more space. I don’t wanna be too much.”
“You know that’s not what I meant,” Lyra chuckled softly, “and forget space. I missed you, Tater. Bring it in.”
Tatum flushed prettily at the nickname, doing as she was asked, she got up and plopped herself in Lyra’s lap. During their first stint together, back when Lyra had been Champion and Tatum had been the girl more than a bit too eager to find a friend, this was a position they had often found themselves in after Lyra’s matches. Tatum wasn’t great with boundaries to begin with, and she was always fussing over Lyra after a fight, making sure her champ wasn’t hurt. After one house show in a particuarily small town, the cramped locker room gave Tatum the perfect excuse to simply drape herself on Lyra’s lap as she gave the then NXT Women’s Champion her ritualistic post-match checkup. Lyra never really had the heart to outright refuse the other woman, though some nights the attention would irritate or make her uncomfortable quicker than others and she would cut it off after just a minute or two. Some nights Lyra was content to just let her do her thing. Even back then she had a soft spot for the girl.
“Why would you think something silly like that?” Lyra asked, doing something she had never done before and actually wrapping an arm around the woman sitting on her lap, “I just found my way back to you, didn’t I?”
“Well…last time I put somebody through a table for you, you were not happy about it” Tatum was blushing heavily now, this was all very new and very distracting, “I don’t want you to be mad at me, not ever.”
“Hm. You’re right, I was mad last time,” Lyra wrapped both arms around Tatum now, enveloping her ever closer, “but I realized something this time.”
“What?”
“I realized how beautiful what we have is,” Lyra brushed her lips across Tatum’s neck, barely-there, “I realized–appreciated– just how loyal my Tatum really is.”
“Your Tatum?”
“Mine,” Lyra nipped at her neck.
Lyra allowed herself a moment to stay down and catch her breath. A few feet away, Rosemary writhed in pain, having just received a superplex from Valkyria. The desperation move coming after Rosemary had scrambled to meet Lyra on the turnbuckles, blocking her from hitting Peripeteia, her leg drop.
Lyra wasn’t sure how long the match had gone on for at this point, but it felt like she had been fighting for hours. Rosemary was a bit taller, a bit stronger, and a bit more vicious than Valkyria, which was just the way Lyra liked it. A good battle.
A war.
The word itself seemed to send a surge of adrenaline through Lyra’s veins. She bolted upright with a kip-up, this second-wind, this renewed fighting spirit had her buzzing with energy, her arms rocking as she waited for Rosemary to stand up. The taller woman did so groggily, Lyra hoisted her over her shoulders, and slammed her down. Nightwing.
"One! Two! Ohhhhh…” the crowd groaned.
But Rosemary hadn’t kicked out, Lyra still had her pinned, had her beat. But Wendy Choo, who had accompanied Lyra’s opponent, had finally struck. Having spent the whole match just standing, menacingly, now the creepy woman saw her opportunity to get involved as she dragged the ref out of the ring before he could count the third time.
Lyra was furious.
She turned to her own ringside companion, “Tatum!” she shouted, not entirely sure what she was asking for, just knowing there was a problem that Paxley could address.
Before Lyra could even blink, Tatum was lunging at the shorter woman, Lyra could only watch in awe as Tatum fought like a caged animal, pummelling Choo with furious strikes. All for me, Lyra thought selfishly. Feeding off the energy of the crowd, off of Lyra’s approval, Tatum only let up her assault to turn her attention to the announcers’ desk ringside. Paxley cleared the surface of the table and then met Lyra’s eyes questioningly, she held up an excited thumbs up which Lyra had no choice but to return heartily. With that approval, Tatum hoisted Wendy up on her shoulders, and threw the woman down onto the table, the desk practically exploding on impact.
Lyra couldn’t stifle the grin on her face, and as the downed referee finally crawled his way back into the ring, she flung herself back up to the top rope as if shot out of a cannon. This time, Peripeteia connected. One, two, three. Valkyria wins.
The ref raised her arm, the crowd cheered, but none of it registered in Lyra’s mind. The only thought going through her head was Tatum, Tatum, Tatum. By all rights this was a match she should not have won. A stronger opponent, a henchman at her side ready to interfere should Lyra come close? She knew the way that story went. But in her own corner, Lyra had Tatum Paxley. This beautiful, weird, incredibly loyal soul who twice now had been willing to plant a woman through a table just as soon as (she thought) Lyra gave the word.
That wasn’t even to mention the other ways that devotion had manifested. The check-ups after every match, the hundreds of calls, texts, and emails, perennially being in her corner when she had been champion, wanting to see her reign continue. “We have Shotzi next week?” Lyra remembered Tatum asking, seconds after she came to after being knocked out by Lola Vice for costing the former MMA fighter her Breakout Contract opportunity.
It felt like everything was clicking into place, like she was putting on glasses for the very first time. Hours whirled by in Lyra’s mind in the few seconds that her post-match epiphany took place. Tatum was hers. She had proven her devotion time and again, and sure, back then it had felt like…a lot, at times. Irritating, even, certainly when Lyra was trying so hard to be the fighting, By The Book, Champion she hadn’t appreciated Tatum putting Roxanne Perez through a table right before their rematch.
But what had doing things by the book done for Lyra? Roxanne chose to walk a darker path before their Stand and Deliver match, breaking Lyra’s arm, jumping her and Tatum for weeks on end in the buildup, and she walked out of that arena in Philadelphia having taken everything from Lyra. Her Championship. Her Tatum. On Raw, the brand Lyra had been drafted to, she had also seen just where playing fair got you. Firsthand with Pure Fusion Collective, yes, but even at the very top, where Lyra’s ambitions lie, Rhea had won the title and held it for a year with more than a little cheating from Dominik Mysterio and the Judgement Day. And when Liv Morgan took the belt, she also took said faction’s loyalty and unending interference. No. To get where Lyra wanted to go, she would need some help. Something that been right under her nose for so long, never fully embraced.
No time like the present to remedy that, Lyra thought as the woman in question crushed her in an ecstatic victory hug. Lyra hugged her back fiercely.
When Lyra first came back to NXT to save Tatum from those other two creeps, when they had won their tag match against them a few weeks later, Lyra and Tatum had stuck around for a few minutes; soaking in the fans applause, Lyra playing to the crowd by bridal carrying the other woman and showing her off, the pair walking around ringside high-fiving some fans, the works.
This time, however, Lyra didn’t feel like sharing. She wanted to get her Tatum alone.
“Mine,” Lyra nipped at her neck.
Tatum just giggled, truly unsure of how to handle all this sudden affection.
“I need you to do something for me,” Lyra breathed right beside Tatum’s ear, warm breath tickling her neck.
“Anything,” Tatum sighed dreamily, certain she would agree to whatever her Dove asked.
“I need you to win my title back from Roxanne.”
“What?” Tatum’s eyes snapped open at that, the haze dissipating.
“Hold onto me,” Lyra murmured as she grabbed Tatum’s uncertain arms and looped them around her own neck, then–from sitting– lifted the woman in her lap up as if it was nothing. Tatum squeaked and held on tighter, locking her legs around Lyra’s waist as well.
“Lyra, I can’t be the champ. You’re the Champion between us. I’m just Tatum. I tried that already, no way can I beat Roxanne or those other new gir–” Tatum was cut off with a soft thud as Lyra carried her into a wall, crowding the goth woman in.
“You can. You will,” Lyra murmured as she resumed kissing up and down Tatum’s neck, “and that was before I came back to you. There is no just Tatum, but I know my Tatum can beat any weirdo they throw her way,” she continued. No longer having to hold the other woman up, Lyra’s free hands began to fiddle with the laces on Tatum’s gear top, “you’re going to make yourself number one contender, beat Roxanne for my Championship, then you’re going to hold onto it for a few months.”
“Dove, where is this comi–”
“Shh, Tater, let me finish,” Lyra continued undeterred, “I’m going to come down here as often as I can to be in your corner, but even when I’m not here, you know I’ll be with you–arms up,” Tatum did as asked, and Lyra lifted the woman’s gear top off of her, taking in the newly revealed skin, “we’re going to crush anyone who gets in our way down here, while up on Raw, I’m going to talk to Pearce, once you’ve been NXT Champ for a while, they’re going to notice you up there, I’ll make sure you get drafted.”
Lyra paused for a moment to look in Tatum’s eyes. She could see it now, their future; the gold, the accolades, the dominance. She felt like a fool for not realizing just how far Tatum Paxley and her could go.
“You and I, on Raw together?” We’ll have the Tag belts around our waists in no time. Do you want that Tatum? To be a champion? Make me a champion?”
Tatum moaned, “you know I want that, Dove,” Tatum pulled herself away from Lyra’s work on her neck to again meet Lyra’s eyes, this time, no trace of uncertainty or nervousness, “tell me more.”
“You said just now that I’m meant to be Champion between us, did ya mean that?”
“Yes.”
“Then you could make me a Double Champion. Once I’ve given you a pair of tag belts, you’ll help make me the World champion. Just like you helped me when I was here,” Lyra closed her eyes for a moment, taking in the vision, “I never appreciated everything you did for me, then. How helpful you were, how good you were.
“Good?” Tatum prompted.
“Good,” Lyra affirmed, “always a good girl for me.”
Tatum plucked a feather from the ring gear Lyra was still wearing, dragging it lightly down Lyra’s cheek, “I think you and I are gonna have a lot of fun in the future, Sweet Dove,” she whispered, grinning.
“To our future, then,” Lyra responded, finally claiming Tatum’s lips in a kiss.