Chapter Text
Charlotte Flair had been in plenty of uncomfortable situations.
She’d been booed in cities that probably booed their own mothers. She’d been chopped by women who treated pain like an artistic medium. She’d worn outfits held together by the sheer audacity of rhinestones and faith.
And yet, somehow, nothing compared to Alexa Bliss saying—far too casually, like she was asking if Charlotte wanted fries—
“My mom wants to meet you.”
Charlotte stared at her across the locker room bench. She blinked once. Twice. A third time, because sometimes her brain refused to process words unless they were repeated at least three times like a cursed chant.
“Your… mom,” Charlotte said carefully, as if Alexa’s mom might suddenly appear behind her with a steel chair.
Alexa nodded, tying the laces on her boots with maddening calm. “Yeah. She’s in town. Well, not in town. Like… an hour away. My whole family is. We’re doing dinner.”
Charlotte’s heart performed a triple back handspring and stuck the landing directly in her throat. “Why.”
Alexa’s mouth twitched. “Because she saw you on TV. Like, with me. Multiple times. And she said—and I quote—‘Who is that tall blonde girl and why does she look like she’s about to sue someone?’”
Charlotte’s lips parted. “That is—”
“Accurate,” Alexa finished, eyes sparkling. “Anyway, my family thinks we’re, like, friends.”
Charlotte narrowed her gaze. “We are friends.”
Alexa paused, as if the word “friends” had been tossed like a grenade and she was deciding whether to kick it away or let it explode.
“…Sure,” Alexa said, voice light. Too light.
Charlotte’s own chest tightened in a way she hated. Because she’d learned, annoyingly, that Alexa Bliss was a person you could not simply out-wrestle or out-wit or out-sarcasm. She slipped past defenses like a cat through a cracked window. One minute Charlotte was rolling her eyes at “tag team synergy,” and the next she was—against her will—handing Alexa her water bottle and making sure she ate something besides energy drinks and spite.
It was fine. It was normal. It was…
Charlotte made a face. “Your family doesn’t need to meet me. We’re tag team partners.”
Alexa’s eyebrows rose. “Partners, yes.”
Charlotte stared. “Don’t.”
Alexa’s grin widened. “What? I didn’t say anything.”
“You said it with your eyebrows.”
“My eyebrows are expressive. It’s a gift.”
Charlotte exhaled slowly through her nose. “Why would your family want to meet your tag team partner.”
Alexa shrugged. “Because I told them I was bringing someone.”
Charlotte froze. “You told them—”
“Well, I couldn’t say I was coming alone,” Alexa said, like that was a completely normal thing to say to a coworker she’d only recently started trusting with her life and maybe, unfortunately, her heart. “My mom would try to set me up with her friend’s son. Again.”
Charlotte’s brain conjured the image of Alexa being ambushed at dinner by a man named Tyler who owned a jet ski and described himself as “entrepreneurial.”
Charlotte’s soul left her body briefly and returned carrying a warning sign.
“So,” Charlotte said, “your solution is to—”
“Bring you,” Alexa said brightly.
Charlotte’s voice went up half an octave. “To your family dinner.”
“It’ll be fun,” Alexa insisted, and she said it the way people said “it’ll be fun” right before someone got trapped in an escape room and started crying.
Charlotte stood. Towered, really. She was aware—painfully aware—of the way Alexa’s gaze flicked upward, the way her eyes softened for the tiniest fraction of a second before she covered it with a smirk. Charlotte had seen that look before, usually in the mirror right after she convinced herself she didn’t care about what people thought and then cared anyway.
Alexa rose too, stepping close enough that Charlotte could smell her perfume—sweet and warm, like vanilla that had survived a bar fight.
“You don’t have to,” Alexa said, quieter now. “But it would help me out. I… don’t want to go alone.”
Charlotte stared at her. Every instinct she’d honed over years—every protective wall, every I don’t need anyone—tried to snap into place.
But Alexa’s mouth was set in that stubborn way that meant she’d already decided she was fine, even when she wasn’t. And Charlotte—because she was apparently an idiot now—felt something soften in her chest.
Charlotte clicked her tongue. “Fine.”
Alexa’s smile flashed, dazzling and quick. “Really?”
“Yes, really.” Charlotte lifted a finger. “But we’re not—”
“Dating?” Alexa supplied, way too fast.
Charlotte’s stomach dropped like it had been hit with a surprise roll-up. “We are not dating.”
Alexa nodded, innocent. “Obviously. We’re just… tag team partners.”
Charlotte watched Alexa’s lips curve like she was enjoying this far too much.
Charlotte narrowed her eyes. “If your family asks, I’m telling them you’re desperate for a wingwoman.”
Alexa’s grin sharpened. “If my family asks, I’m telling them you’re desperate for me.”
Charlotte’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”
Alexa shrugged. “It’s believable.”
Charlotte’s cheeks heated. “It is not.”
Alexa leaned in, voice a purr of mock sweetness. “Sure. Because you’re totally not the kind of person who would see something shiny and go ‘mine.’”
Charlotte forced herself to breathe. “You are unbearable.”
Alexa’s eyes warmed. “You love it.”
Charlotte started to retort and then realized she had no idea if that was true or not, which was deeply inconvenient.
So she did what she always did when confronted with feelings: she went on the offensive.
“Tell your family,” Charlotte said, “that we’re strictly professional.”
Alexa nodded solemnly. “Absolutely.”
Charlotte frowned. “And you’re going to say it like you mean it.”
Alexa blinked. “Charlotte.”
Charlotte stared.
Alexa smiled, angelic. “I’m an actress.”
Charlotte groaned. “Oh my God.”
⸻
Two days later, Charlotte found herself sitting in the passenger seat of Alexa’s SUV, watching the world blur by while Alexa drove like she had a personal vendetta against speed limits.
Charlotte kept her posture immaculate because she had dignity. Also because the seat was somehow both too comfortable and not comfortable enough, like it was designed to lull you into letting your guard down.
Alexa, meanwhile, had one hand on the wheel and the other drumming a rhythm against her thigh. She was humming under her breath—some pop song Charlotte didn’t recognize, because Charlotte lived in a curated bubble of gym playlists and dramatic orchestral music.
Charlotte cleared her throat. “So what’s the plan.”
Alexa glanced over. “We eat dinner.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes. “No, like… what’s the narrative. Why am I there.”
Alexa’s smile turned sly. “You’re my… friend.”
Charlotte stared suspiciously. “Why did you hesitate.”
“I didn’t,” Alexa lied immediately.
Charlotte’s stomach did an annoying little flip. “If your mom thinks we’re dating—”
Alexa’s eyes flicked back to the road. “She won’t.”
Charlotte’s doubt was immediate. “You sound like someone who has never met your mom.”
Alexa sighed. “Okay, she might. But it’s not like she’ll say anything.”
Charlotte raised an eyebrow.
Alexa winced. “She’ll say something.”
Charlotte leaned back, arms crossed. “Alexa.”
Alexa glanced at her again, expression softer. “I told you I didn’t want to go alone.”
Charlotte’s throat tightened. She hated that. She hated that the simplest sentence could do that.
She forced her voice back into its usual sarcastic armor. “Do I need to pretend I like… casserole.”
Alexa snorted. “You do like casserole.”
“I do not.”
“You ate half of mine at catering.”
“That was different.”
“How.”
Charlotte glared. “It was… survival.”
Alexa laughed—real and bright. It filled the car in a way Charlotte didn’t want to admit made everything feel easier.
“Okay,” Alexa said. “Here’s what we do. We go in. We’re normal. We’re friends. We do not act like… whatever my mom thinks we are.”
Charlotte nodded sharply. “Good.”
Alexa continued. “And if my family starts being weird—”
“I will destroy them,” Charlotte said at once.
Alexa’s grin returned. “That’s why I invited you.”
Charlotte blinked. “…You invited me because I’m intimidating.”
“No,” Alexa said, too fast again. Then she corrected, softer: “Also because you’re intimidating.”
Charlotte looked out the window, because for some reason the trees were suddenly fascinating.
“Just so we’re clear,” Charlotte said, voice quieter than she meant, “we’re not—”
“Dating,” Alexa finished, lips twitching.
Charlotte didn’t look at her. “Right.”
A beat.
Alexa’s voice dropped, gentle but teasing. “Unless you want to.”
Charlotte’s entire brain short-circuited.
She snapped her head around. “What.”
Alexa kept her eyes on the road, like she hadn’t just detonated a bomb in the car. “Nothing.”
Charlotte stared. Alexa’s face was composed—too composed. But her grip on the steering wheel had tightened.
Charlotte swallowed hard. “Okay.”
Alexa exhaled, like she’d been holding her breath. “Okay.”
They drove the rest of the way in a silence that was not awkward. Not exactly.
It was the kind of silence that hummed.
⸻
Alexa’s family home was suburban cozy: neat lawn, warm porch light, the kind of place where your soul automatically relaxed against its will.
Charlotte stepped out of the car and immediately regretted every life choice that had led her here. Not because she didn’t want to be here—she did, which was the problem—but because this was dangerous territory.
Family territory.
People who loved Alexa before WWE, before the glitter and the pyro and the personas.
People who might casually mention childhood stories that would make Charlotte’s heart explode.
Alexa came around the car and stopped close, their shoulders almost touching. Charlotte’s body reacted instantly, leaning without permission.
Alexa murmured, “Remember. Normal.”
Charlotte’s lips quirked. “I’m always normal.”
Alexa gave her a look. “You literally wore a feathered robe to brunch once.”
“It was fashion.”
“It was a bird.”
Charlotte opened her mouth to argue, but the front door flew open.
A woman with Alexa’s eyes—same bright sparkle, same I know something you don’t energy—beamed at them from the doorway.
“ALEXA!” she called.
Alexa’s face lit up. “Mom!”
Charlotte froze.
Oh no. Her mom was adorable. That was… not part of Charlotte’s mental preparation.
Alexa bounded up the steps and hugged her. Her mom squeezed her like she’d been waiting to do that for months.
Then her mom pulled back, still smiling—until her gaze landed on Charlotte.
Her smile sharpened into something… interested.
Charlotte had faced down entire locker rooms and hostile crowds, but she’d never been evaluated by someone’s mother like she was a suspiciously tall purchase.
“Oh,” Alexa’s mom said. “So you’re Charlotte.”
Charlotte’s throat dried. “Yes, ma’am.”
Alexa’s mom stepped forward and took Charlotte’s hand. Shook it firmly. Then, in a move Charlotte did not see coming, she patted Charlotte’s knuckles like she was blessing an engagement.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Alexa’s mom said, warmly. “Alexa talks about you all the time.”
Charlotte’s head snapped toward Alexa.
Alexa’s eyes widened in a silent warning: Don’t.
Charlotte forced a smile so tight it could’ve held together a championship belt. “That’s… great.”
Alexa’s mom leaned in slightly, voice conspiratorial. “She says you’re very… determined.”
Alexa coughed. “Mom.”
“What? She does,” her mom insisted, eyes twinkling. Then she turned back to Charlotte. “Come in, come in. Everyone’s dying to meet you.”
Charlotte’s heart sank. “Everyone.”
Alexa’s mom nodded enthusiastically. “My husband. Alexa’s sister. Her aunt. Her cousin. The neighbor who practically raised her and also thinks wrestling is—what did she call it—‘soap opera punching.’”
Charlotte glanced at Alexa.
Alexa mouthed: I’m sorry.
Charlotte mouthed back: I hate you.
Alexa mouthed: I know.
Charlotte mouthed: You’re paying for this.
Alexa mouthed, with a grin: Worth it.
Charlotte followed them inside like a woman walking into her own demise.
The house smelled like dinner and comfort and the kind of family warmth Charlotte pretended she didn’t need and absolutely did.
And then a man appeared from the living room—tall, friendly-looking, wearing an apron that said KISS THE COOK like he’d never known shame.
“Alexa!” he said, and his face broke into a proud smile. “Hey, kiddo!”
Alexa hugged him. “Dad.”
Her dad looked over Alexa’s shoulder at Charlotte and his eyebrows shot up.
“And you must be Charlotte,” he said.
Charlotte gave a polite nod. “Yes, sir.”
Her dad took Charlotte’s hand like her mom had.
Then he did something worse.
He winked.
Charlotte’s spine nearly snapped from the sheer force of her internal panic.
“Dad,” Alexa warned.
“What?” her dad said innocently. “I’m just saying it’s nice to meet the woman who’s got my daughter smiling again.”
Charlotte’s heart did a small, painful lurch.
Alexa’s face went still for a split second. Then she laughed—too loud. “Okay! Great! Dinner smells good! Where do you want us?”
Her mom’s grin widened like she’d just watched a rom-com begin in real time. “Oh honey. You can both just go wash up.”
Charlotte, desperate for solid ground, asked, “Where’s the bathroom.”
Alexa’s mom pointed. “Down the hall. Second door.”
Charlotte made a swift retreat.
As she walked down the hallway, she heard Alexa’s mom hiss—loudly, as if subtlety was a myth—
“She’s even prettier in person.”
Charlotte’s ears burned.
Alexa’s voice came, strained: “Mom!”
Alexa’s mom replied, delighted: “What? I can appreciate your taste!”
Charlotte gripped the bathroom door handle like it was the only thing keeping her upright.
This was going to be a nightmare.
A warm, homey, delicious-smelling nightmare.
⸻
When Charlotte came out, she found Alexa in the hallway too, staring at the floor like it had personally betrayed her.
Alexa looked up, and Charlotte saw it: the flush in her cheeks, the way her eyes flicked away, the tiniest tremor of laughter caught under embarrassment.
Charlotte couldn’t help it.
She smiled.
“Your parents,” Charlotte whispered, “are terrifying.”
Alexa sighed. “I told you.”
Charlotte leaned closer. “They think we’re dating.”
Alexa’s mouth opened, then closed. “They don’t know.”
Charlotte’s smile turned sharp. “Alexa. Your father winked at me.”
Alexa groaned, covering her face. “Oh my God.”
Charlotte—because she was Charlotte—couldn’t resist. “Should I start wearing a ring.”
Alexa’s eyes peeked between her fingers. “Don’t you dare.”
Charlotte tilted her head. “Should I call you ‘babe’ at dinner.”
Alexa’s glare was immediate, but it was ruined by the way her lips twitched, fighting a smile. “Charlotte.”
Charlotte softened, just a little. “Relax. I’m joking.”
Alexa’s hands dropped. Her voice was quieter. “I know.”
Another beat, filled with the same humming silence from the car.
Then Alexa said, barely above a whisper, “Unless you want to.”
Charlotte’s heart slammed into her ribs.
Charlotte opened her mouth and—miraculously—found sarcasm to hide behind, because that was her superpower.
“You’re unbelievable,” Charlotte said.
Alexa’s smile was small. “I get that a lot.”
Charlotte let out a breath. “Okay. Here’s the deal.”
Alexa raised an eyebrow. “Oh, a deal. How on brand.”
Charlotte leaned closer, lowering her voice like they were planning a heist. “We survive dinner. We do not fuel the delusions.”
Alexa nodded solemnly. “Agreed.”
Charlotte continued, “We do not accidentally touch too much.”
Alexa blinked. “Accidentally.”
Charlotte’s cheeks warmed. “Shut up.”
Alexa’s grin returned, soft and real. “Okay. No touching.”
Charlotte nodded sharply.
Right then, Alexa’s mom called from the kitchen, “Alexa! Charlotte! Dinner’s ready! And I set the candles because I’m romantic!”
Charlotte froze.
Alexa froze.
They looked at each other.
Alexa mouthed: I’m going to die.
Charlotte mouthed back: I’m taking you with me.
Alexa grabbed Charlotte’s wrist—quick, light, instinctive—and tugged her toward the kitchen before she could overthink what that contact did to her entire nervous system.
Charlotte tried to ignore the warmth of Alexa’s fingers.
She failed.
And as they walked into the kitchen together, hand still on wrist, Alexa’s family turned as one—like a pack of delighted wolves.
Alexa’s mom clasped her hands. “Oh my God. Look at them.”
Alexa whispered through a smile, “We’re not dating.”
Charlotte’s smile stayed fixed and perfect.
Charlotte whispered back, “We are going to need wine.”
Alexa, dead serious now, murmured, “I don’t think wine will be enough.”
Charlotte glanced at her, and despite everything—despite the chaos, the embarrassment, the yearning she refused to name—she felt something warm settle in her chest.
Comfort.
Dangerous, stupid comfort.
Charlotte straightened her posture and stepped fully into the room.
“Hello,” Charlotte said, voice smooth as satin, smile sharp as a blade. “I’m Charlotte.”
Alexa’s mom practically vibrated with excitement. “We know.”
And Charlotte—because she was not a coward—added, “And Alexa has been… very determined about bringing me here.”
Alexa choked.
Charlotte’s eyes flicked to her, just for a second.
A challenge. A tease.
Alexa’s stare met hers—equal parts glare and laughter and something softer underneath.
Then Alexa, recovering, slid into her own role like she was stepping into a ring.
“Charlotte insisted,” Alexa said brightly. “She said she couldn’t live without my family’s cooking.”
Charlotte leaned down, voice silky. “Did I say that.”
Alexa smiled sweetly. “You did now.”
Their eyes locked.
Charlotte’s heart did something unhelpful.
Across the table, Alexa’s dad murmured to Alexa’s mom, “I’m telling you. They’re in love.”
Alexa’s mom whispered back, loud enough for the whole room to hear, “I give it three weeks.”
Charlotte sat down at the table, composed, elegant, fine.
And Alexa slid into the chair beside her—close enough that their knees almost brushed.
Charlotte told herself not to look.
She looked anyway.
Alexa’s expression was bright and playful, but her eyes—when they met Charlotte’s—held that same quiet truth Charlotte had been trying not to touch.
Yearning.
Charlotte’s stomach swooped.
She swallowed.
Okay.
Dinner.
Candles.
A family convinced they were dating.
Two women pretending it meant nothing.
This was going to be a disaster.
A warm, comforting, funny disaster.
And Charlotte hated—hated—how much she wanted it.