A/N: Yay! Thanks for all the follows, faves, and reviews. Love ya'll. And I know I tend to use ring names/real names depending on the character. Mostly, I do that when it's easier to use—for example, I kept referring to CM Punk as Phil Brooks in my other fic, and still had questions from younger readers. So, I try to keep it simple enough for everyone to follow. Anyways, yay! Forward march.

"Do you like waffles?"

The odd question from the Samoan man surprised Chelsea, who was busy watching the scenery fly by her window. Her hand was still entwined with his, though it was starting to get the tingles like it was falling asleep. But she didn't care, because she wanted to feel connected to him. Because he made her feel better.

Chelsea couldn't really remember if she'd actually visited the city of Miami, or just spent time in hotels and airports. Either way, she wasn't prepared for it. For starters, it was beautiful. But the downtown area was full of bustle at almost four in the afternoon, and the streets were lined with boutiques, cars, bistros, bars, and a whole slew of nightclubs. She noticed a candy shop with caramel apples and fudge in the window, and her mouth watered. She was, as her ring name implied, easily swayed towards anything sweet.

She also noticed a shop called Selina's, a small store with a gold awning that had awesome thigh-high boots, a dark gray lace camisole, and some ass-kicking skinny jeans on the window display mannequin. Making a mental note to stop down there at some point during her visit here, she understood why Roman called this city home. Despite the amount of people, she couldn't imagine ever getting bored.

"Waffles are….cool," she responded lamely, but for the odd question, she thought it was a decent answer. She didn't see any waffle houses on the main drag, just a whole lot of sushi bars and a Subway.

"Over here it's a little touristy," he told her, flipping on his turn signal and turning away from the chaos. He'd gone to a more secluded part of the area, turning into the parking lot of a rickety old restaurant, some kind of Ma and Pa's diner. The outside was decorated with awful flamingos, but the painted wood birds that lined the building were chipped, some of them missing beaks, some of them not even pink anymore, and some without eyes, giving the appearance that they were winking.

The old sign up on the building was in desperate need of a paint job, too, and was named just as tacky as the outside, the words "Old Pink Bird's Waffle House." Not to mention, it was a mouthful and a half.

Roman opened the door for her, giving her sleeping fingers a rest. They entered the restaurant, and he led her to a two-person table near the back, the kitchen door to their left.

Of course, the inside was decorate in a similar fashion as the outside, but the cheap plastic flamingos were lurking in every corner, palm tree photographs up against the walls. The waitress, who appeared from behind the kitchen counter, appeared in a hot pink polo shirt, the buttons pulling across her large chest.

"Aw, hell nah," she said, clapping her hands together at the sight of Roman. "Don't ya dare tell me Romy came up in here without givin' a nod at 'ol Loretta Mae!" she came bounding towards their booth, her thick thighs running into the chairs pushed into the table next to them. "And lookie here, he got himself a girl with him. Sweet Lou, show your ugly mug on out here!"

The woman was a large, aged dark-skinned woman, her graying hair pulled into a tight bun. She had a grandmotherly feel, her warm brown eyes shining at the pair. She looked like a no-bullshit woman, and Chelsea warmed to this woman right away.

An old man in a cook's uniform poked his head out the kitchen door. He was just as old, but extremely tall, age spots sprinkling his cheeks. He wore his black hair tied into a braid, and when he smiled, Chelsea noticed he was missing one of his front four teeth.

Sweet Lou gave a low whistle, saluting them, then turned back into the kitchen.

Loretta Mae ruffled Roman's hair like he was a little kid, a huge smile on her face. "You ain't been 'round here lately," she motioned towards the front door. "Been keepin' busy, I see," she said, turning to Chelsea. "I'm Loretta Mae, Romy's nanny," she said inching closer to her, still smiling.

"Chelsea," she smiled back, showing her teeth. This woman had an infectious smile, and made her miss her own family. Even though she wasn't nearly as close to her own as she'd wished.

"Well, Romy, she is a pretty one," she clapped her hand on the table, headed away. "I'll bring ya the usual," she clicked her tongue. "Ya'll keep yo hands to yo selves."

Chelsea shook her head, trying not to laugh as her hand found Roman's knee under the table. He winked at her, and she felt like a teenager again. Butterflies and all.

"You're not allergic to nuts, right?" he asked, suddenly worried, and she shook her head no.

"Ginger," she replied. "Cookies, ginger ale…" and she smacked him from across the table when he raised an eyebrow at her.

"Shut up," she laughed, and Loretta Mae came back from the back, holding a pot of black coffee and two peachy-pink cups.

"Romy, when ya get a chance, tell that mamma 'a yours that she needs to pick up that dang phone! I gotta give that scoop on Old Man Harold!" Roman promised he would, telling the waitress that his mom was having troubles with her landline, but that he'd get a hold of her as soon as possible and drop a hint at calling her oldest friend.

They chatted a little bit longer, Chelsea scooping a spoon of sugar into her coffee. She felt that maybe the fact that Roman had brought her here meant something special. Like maybe she was something special, and this could actually go forward into an actual relationship. After all, Loretta Mae was pretty much his family. She couldn't see Roman being the type that just brought girls around, and if he was, she didn't think the old woman would have been surprised to see a woman opposite the boy she'd spent so much time with in his youth.

The pair chattered over waffles, with little interruption. They were excellent, with pecans, whole wheat, and powdered sugar. They'd put slices of pineapple on the tops. They were unlike any kind of waffle Chelsea had ever known, but they were amazing. Roman swore up and down that the recipe was Sweet Lou's own creation, and that he didn't know what made them so damn good. Chelsea didn't believe him for a second, but gave up trying to guess any secret ingredients.

After they'd finished, Roman had asked for the bill, but the nanny laughed. He shook his head, throwing a wad of cash on the table, giving the old woman a hug as he left.

"Romy, I like that one. Much nicer than that rat ya went and brought here last time. Be good to her, ya hear?"

Chelsea said goodbye to Loretta Mae, who pulled her in for a hug. "Don't go 'an break by boy's heart now," she said in a hushed voice. "I like yeh."

She couldn't help but let her mind wander, curious as to who else he'd brought home. Maybe there was a lot more, and that was just kind of his thing…perhaps, she wasn't anything special, but he was with her now out of pity…

Negative Nancy.

As Roman pulled into the drive of a small house a few miles back from the restaurant, the curiosity finally got the best of Chelsea.

"So who else has met your nanny?" she asked, trying not to sound bitter. She tried her hardest not to be jealous, because it wasn't fair. Roman had shown her nothing but compassion so far, and she was trying to take a step forward with him. Why ruin something when it hasn't even started?

"Ah, I don't think you've met her. The only woman I've ever dated and worked with. Good lord, that was a shit relationship, though."

If that was supposed to make Chelsea feel any better, it didn't. It made her feel like this was doomed.

She didn't press for a name, because part of her didn't really want to know. At least, not yet; she figured it was still too early to over-think things, worry about whether she could keep Roman interested, and mentally compare herself to his previous girlfriends. Right now, she wanted to get to know Roman and only Roman...because otherwise, she was certain she'd get scared and run from what might be something good.

Besides, nothing in the WWE ever stayed a secret for very long.

"What happened?" she asked, but she regretted it immediately. She wasn't sure she'd like his answer. Romantically, she didn't know a thing about Roman, but if he was anything like Dean, the ending wasn't a nice one.

He opened his car door, stepping on to the gravel of the driveway. She started to do the same, but he looked at her with "that look," and she stopped, letting him open the door for her.

"We were just very young, and not ready for the commitment thing. Either of us," he tacked on the last little bit, as if she wouldn't pick up on it. "It wasn't a really big deal. It was a whopping three-month thing, the ink barely dry on our contracts. And it turned out, she wasn't the kind of person I could picture myself with in the long run."

They walked towards the home and Chelsea's mind was going wild with questions she didn't want to ask. Trying to push away the wonder over whether or not they'd slept together, talked about marriage, talked about living together, if his ex-girlfriend was mean, or sweet...she turned her attention to his house, which looked more like a place that a widow would have inhabited, rather than a rising star in the WWE. But that was why she liked Roman. He was humble, and wasn't big on appearances.

That's why I'm standing here with him, she thought. She wasn't normally critical of herself, but the ex-talk had gotten her adrenaline running.

He opened the door to his home, and the first thing she noticed was a large, black leather sofa. Gray and black artwork littered the walls, and a plush gray carpet sat beneath her toes. The only thing of color was a gorgeous candle sitting on the coffee table, one of the dripping candles that someone had taken a lot of time to carve. It was cherry red, and the obvious focal point of the living room.

"You're looking for someone long-term?" she finally asked, walking further into the living room. She was now questioning his motives. He wasn't very old, and though he was accomplishing a lot right now, he wasn't all the way there yet. "By the way, your house is beautiful."

"I'm not saying I want to run down to the courthouse and marry anyone," he was smiling now, walking towards the kitchen. "But I always thought, 'if it's not going to result in me wanting to spend my life with whoever, then what's the point'?"

She followed him into the kitchen, where he was pouring two glasses of juice. This room was just as nicely decorated, the stainless steel appliances demanding the attention. It looked like it was straight out of a Best Buy advertisement, the only thing that carried any sort of personalization was a save-the-date wedding paper stuck on the gleaming refrigerator.

"My cousin," he followed her gaze, pointing at the save-the-date. She took her glass of juice from his outstretched hand. "I guess their relationship is my inspiration. Until I find the right one, the best thing I can do is focus on climbing higher up the ladder."

He showed her around his home, finishing with the guest bedroom. It was decorated with brown and green, an odd color combination, but it worked. A bamboo plant sat near the window, and the dresser was made of wicker, giving an almost rustic appearance.

"If you want to go ahead and take a shower, I'll bring your things up," he told her, watching her flop down on the pale brown beadspread. It was supersoft, and she felt like taking a nap just like that.

"Thanks," she looked up at him from her position, letting her hair fan around her face.

"Stay there a second," he replied, snapping a picture with his cell phone.

"Asshole!" she sat up immediately. "I probably have chipmunk cheeks!" She grabbed for the sleek phone, but Roman put it above his head, and she flopped back down, giving a dramatic huff.

He slid his phone into his pocket, a territory Chelsea didn't dare to go.

"You looked fine," he told her. "Now go take a shower, stinky."

Roman toted Chelsea's duffel bag and his own into the house, her own bag probably double the size of his. For being an anti-diva, she still brought along a crapload of clothes. He still turned their conversation in his head over and over, like a CD that you had hoped had a hidden meaning in it.

Maybe bringing Chelsea here was a mistake. He knew that Loretta Mae would take to her right away—she liked most people. And Chelsea had that thing about her that was just likable and real. But perhaps it was way too soon in their friendship, relationship, whatever to bring her to his home. He threw her bag on her bed, straining his ears to understand the song she was singing. Her voice was melancholy, and actually pretty good. He recognized the tune, but couldn't quite name it. Still, it was enchanting...

When you're too in love to let it go...

But if you never try, you'll never know...

Just what you're worth.

He closed his eyes, listening. Yeah, he was falling for this woman. Tripping all over, face-first. He was prepared to meet her demons, and help her put them in their cages. The kindest woman, aside from Loretta Mae, that he'd ever met. Her heart was on her sleeve, and she was spending hours and hours ensuring that she'd righted her wrongs by training and interviewing and fighting off the Natalya brood. He was sure as ever that she deserved to be happy.

He wandered into his own room, falling into the blue La-z-boy chair that he had pushed opposite of his bed. Sometimes, he didn't even sleep in his bed; his grandpa's old chair was worn in just the right way that when it reclined, he couldn't even tell the difference between that and a mattress. And sometimes, he could even catch a whiff of his grandpa's aftershave. Of all the items his gramps had left behind, this was all he'd wanted to keep. He remembered watching some old Hulk Hogan, Jake the Snake, and even Bret Hart matches with him on the very same chair, the pioneers who all encouraged him to follow his dream.

He sure did miss gramps.

He turned to his bed, the silvery blue sheen catching his eye. There was a lot more space in his bed than his chair, though. Roman shook his head, knowing he had to force thoughts of snuggling up to the woman in his house out of his head. The way she'd grabbed his hand in the car still warmed him. She was so unsure of herself, of what she really wanted. She was nervous, and she seemed so innocent. He couldn't be more surprised that she'd opened up to him, saying she was ready to fill him in. Why she held on to someone who used and abused her…and overall left her as a shell.

Still, he hoped he wasn't being too forward. Not to mention the heavy talking about his past relationship or his thoughts on marriage…that in combination with her own sad love story was a whole lot of baggage for two people to carry.

Well, she does call me Superman…

He looked at the picture of Chelsea that he'd snapped just moments before, feeling himself smile for maybe the hundredth time since he'd been with her today. She looked so peaceful, at ease. And they were both happy when they were together, that had to count for something. Early as it was, with a whole lot of the getting-to-know-you crap, he just yearned for just her company.

Because maybe she was just as lonely as he was, unlucky in the personal life and focusing on the life the fans saw. But it's so easy to forget...that life wasn't real.

He'd heard the shower shut off, then realized he was still staring at her picture. He quickly turned on his flat-screen TV, tuning in to whatever ESPN show was on. He looked at his alarm, just now realizing that almost a full hour had already passed. What the hell took women so long?

His answer was clear as she came down the stairs, her hair tied in a low ponytail. She wore a gray t-shirt and black skinny jeans, was barefoot, and had her eyes blacked behind thick-rimmed glasses. Normal as she was going to get, and that was fine. Except…

"Hey, your hair is red!" Roman couldn't hide the happiness in his voice, her hair now the same inky black, but with dark, blood-red tips. No more teal. Something about it gave a more grown-up appearance. And maybe it was his primal instincts calling, but the combination of red and black was sultry, sexy, and irresistible.

"It is," she said back, flipping her hair over a shoulder and admiring her work. "I wish I'd done it sooner. This is an awesome color," she flung her arms around Roman's neck, giving him a real hug. He inhaled her scent, a faint cinnamon sugar clinging to her skin.

"Thank you," she said into his chest. "I really, really needed that."

No more waiting, Roman.

"Chelsea," he said to her, and she looked up at him, her eyes widening behind the nerdy frames.
He bent down to her lips, feeling the softness of her skin pressed on his own. He looped a hand around her neck, pulling her in deeper. At first, he sensed a little resistance, but he took his free hand and put it on the small of her back, almost as if to hold her. Electricity buzzed between their bodies, and Roman's heart beat faster.

The two took a breath when they broke apart, and Chelsea bit her lip. He kept his hands on her, loving the way her soft skin felt, and wishing he could stop time. They kept their heads together, and Roman snuck a quick kiss on her lips to finish it off. For now.

"Thank you," he told her, his voice gravelly. "I really, really needed that."

Yeah! Finally! So...how will the rest of the time together play out? Who's Ro's mystery ex? What was going on with Dean? And, what does Natalya's brood have in store for Chelsea? So many questions!