It's Easy to Ignore Trouble

Darcy began loading things onto the conveyor belt while Moxley stood back and made a point to look like he didn't want to be grocery shopping.

"Can you go get bread? We didn't get any," Darcy said, looking up at him. He groaned but walked away.

"That's not going to last very long," an older lady commented, pushing her cart behind Darcy's. "The willingness to shop only lasts a little while."

"Huh?" Darcy asked with a quizzical look. The lady smiled at her kindly.

"My ex-husband, when we first got married, would always come with me. It only took a couple of months before he decided that he was far too manly."

"Oh," Darcy breathed out a laugh. "We actually aren't together. We just live together."

The lady smiled at Darcy, "Of course. Sorry for assuming, you're just very cute together."

Moxley was walking back towards them and Darcy shrugged at the lady, unsure of how to respond. It didn't surprise her that the assumption had been made – she hadn't expected it going into the store but she understood why it had happened. They had bickered like a married couple all throughout the grocery store.

Moxley, gaining a very sudden aversion to grocery shopping, told Darcy that he'd meet her outside. The old lady smiled knowingly but Darcy didn't make to continue their conversation. She had come to get food, not to converse with little old ladies about their glory days.

She pushed the cart out of the store, ignoring the man who offered to push it for her. She was, honestly, tired of people – usually men – who assumed she was unable to do anything by herself. Darcy had had enough training that she would back herself in a fight.

"What took you so long?" Moxley grumbled, taking hold of the cart and tugging it out of Darcy's grasp.

"Had to get past a guy with grabby hands," she told him dryly. He scrunched up his face but the expression was dropped quickly.

They loaded the trunk and Darcy ran the cart back inside the store. Moxley, again, grumbled at her for taking too long but Darcy didn't say anything – he was just frustrated that he'd been forced into grocery shopping. She asked how he fed himself if he hated shopping but it was left unanswered. It was clear he had assumed that now a female was living him he wouldn't have to do that anymore, he would soon learn that Darcy was going to be an exception to most things.

After a quick discussion about what Darcy was able to cook – the list included steak, pasta and vegetables – Moxley finally realised that nothing was going to change now that he had a roommate.

"You are a disgrace to women."

"Because I can't cook?" Darcy asked, "No one ever taught me how to cook."

"You didn't teach yourself?"

"This is what I taught myself." Darcy lifted the bowl into the air. It was basic pasta with basic pasta sauce but it was edible and that's all that mattered. She crossed her legs underneath her as they sat in the couch in front if the television.

After sitting in silence for a few minutes, Moxley spoke, "Is the couch okay to sleep on?"

"Yeah," she said with a mouth full of food and a nod. "I mean, Colby's was better but that was like a futon, so."

"Wasn't exactly expecting anyone to want to sleep on it for more than one drunk night."

"Why don't you have a roommate?"

"I live in a one bedroom apartment."

"Yeah, but why? You could have lived with someone else and it'd be cheaper."

"I don't like living with people."

"Why's that?"

"Because they ask me questions."

Darcy pulled a face, her expression saying something along the lines of 'well fuck me, then' and she forced another forkful of food into her mouth so she was unable to retort.

"Why do you call me Moxley?" He asked her after both had put their bowls down onto the table. She turned to him and shrugged.

"People call you Mox," she said back, her brow creasing.

"Yeah," he agreed, somewhat happily before he said more seriously, "people who have known be for years, back when I was Moxley."

Darcy frowned at him, her brow creasing, "Do you not want me to call you Moxley?"

"You can do what you want, it was just a question." He slouched down into the seat, finding a more comfortable position.

"I don't like people who ask questions," she mocked him haughtily, crossing his arms over his chest. "Colby still calls me Harlequin, these names sort of stick."

Darcy had picked up their bowls and was heading into the kitchen, ready to wash them, when her phone rang on the coffee table. The dishes were dropped into the sink when Moxley told her that it was Harry calling.

She raced back to the couch and all but ripped the phone from his hand, immediately sliding open the back door and moving onto the back porch.

"Hey," she smiled as she answered the phone, taking a seat on the wooden chair. It faced the glass window and she could see Moxley sitting on the couch. "I was just about to call you."

"How's the new place?" he asked without saying hello. Darcy sighed, he was always straight to the point.

"It's good, Harry," she told him, watching Mox through the glass door.

"You never told me who you were staying with. Do you work with her?"

"I work with him, yes. He wrestles as Dean Ambrose. Does it really matter?"

"Him?" Harry asked quickly, "and his girlfriend?" his voice lowered, almost daring Darcy to say otherwise.

"He doesn't have a girlfriend, no," she said firmly, already tired of the conversation.

"So he's gay," Harry decided, his voice lightening.

"Harry-" Darcy began to correct but she was cut off.

"There's nothing wrong with that. If it means I don't have to worry about him then good."

Darcy sunk down on the seat, her ass barely resting on it as she stared up at the roof tiles with a defeated expression.

"Are you still busy at work?" she changed the subject, for her own sanity and safety.

He breathed in deeply, "It only seems to get worse in summer. You know how it is."

"Yeah," she sighed sadly. "Great jobs for a long distance relationship," she added sarcastically.

"But we're doing fine," Harry stated in his most serious voice.

"No, of course we are," she agreed quickly, not wanting to upset him. "I just miss you."

Darcy let Harry go off on is tangent about work and how he was going to try get down for her first match. She stared through the glass door, watching Mox shift around in an attempt to find a comfortable position. She'd always known him to be restless. Before they were on speaking terms she had watched him train, just as a rookie wanting to improve her craft, and his twitches were impossible to miss.

"I'm still trying to get those days off," Harry said and she knew the phone call was coming to an end. "You know that I can't make any promises," he added when Darcy scoffed at him.

"I'll call you later," she said dryly, not knowing when 'later' was and not particularly caring. She was sick of having the same conversation over and over.

She was back in the house for less than a minute – taking her cigarettes and lighter from the pocket of her jacket before heading straight back outside. The nicotine, when finally inhaled, was heaven. She had to close her eyes when relaxation flooded her body, nicotine had always had that effect on her.

The door sliding open broke her out of her daze, Moxley deciding to join her. He sat down in a seat across the table, a cigarette hanging from his mouth.

"Trouble in paradise?"

"Wouldn't exactly call it paradise," Darcy mumbled before she took a drag. She held the smoke in her lungs for as long as she could handle – not even 10 seconds – before it was pushed out her nose and then the rest of it coming from her open mouth.

Moxley shrugged at her, offering her the suggestion he thought was most obvious, "Break up with him. If he's up in Philly and you're down here, there's not much point in you two being together."

"I love him," Darcy retorted quickly, holding the cigarette over the ashtray. "You make it work when you love someone."

He shrugged at her again, a careless expression on his face, "Guess I've never loved anyone enough to make a long distance thing work." Darcy stared at him and pushed her hair out of her face. He had to fumble around in his pocket to retrieve his buzzing cell, the cigarette just dangling from his mouth made her lick her lips unconsciously.

A smirk graced his face and Darcy cocked her head absentmindedly, wondering what had caught his attention. He didn't respond to the message, though, before he put phone face down on the table. She dropped her gaze when he sent her a wink across the table.

"Seriously, babe, you just need to break it off and get laid," Moxley said as he got to his feet, reaching over to put out his cigarette. "You'll be a much happier person because of it."

Her upper lip curled into a scowl, "I finally thought of a word to describe you. It's perfect for you."

"Lay it on me, sweetheart."

Darcy smiled at him, genuinely, widely, "You are a cunt."

"Sounds about right," he nodded, walking through the door back into the house.

Moxley had disappeared into his room earlier than usual that night, leaving Darcy to sit on the couch alone. She was half watching the history channel, half imaging her NXT debut when the doorbell rang and Moxley finally emerged from his room.

Darcy didn't have time to even think about standing up before the door was answered. Following him through the house was a woman – dark haired and tall with an actual figure. Darcy felt the jealousy fill her stomach. Sometimes she genuinely wished that she was taller, at least of average height, weighed more than 90 pounds and wasn't so pale. The woman who walked in with Mox was none of those things and Darcy hated herself for feeling the way she did.

They disappeared into his room, the door slamming shut, shaking what little things Moxley had around the house. Darcy couldn't help but snicker when she heard a scream. It happened again only moments later and Darcy laughed even louder. There was no point in trying to contain it; neither of them could have heard her over the noise they were making.

She thought about how she would ask him the next morning, how she would find out who the woman was. Maybe find out if his preference was really the girls in the porn she'd seen.

Then she thought better of it.

He hated people who asked questions.