Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author Note: Can be read as Alexa/Murphy/Blake but it's low-key background and is also primarily a friendship fic.
FAR TO GO
On Monday, Alexa stretched and practiced. She flipped and tumbled, landing pretty perfectly every time. She'd been a gymnast for years, she'd entered competition after competition and here she was, using everything she'd learned, honed and achieved to forge another successful path for herself.
She'd never made the Olympic team but she'd found a way to gain the spotlight and a very different kind of winners circle. It wasn't any less of an achievement. Gold was gold and she'd be adding more to their total soon enough. Alexa was sure of it; she was not going to be denied.
On Tuesday, Alexa ran, her iPod earbuds blocking out the noise that too many losers were making on the streets. It was crowded on the sidewalk but she wove her way through and elbowed a path when she needed to. She had a goal in mind, a time to beat. She didn't hear any complaints.
The sun was shining and Alexa was all in blue and white, her signature colors up until recently. Blue would always have a huge place in her heart but it wasn't everything anymore. She didn't wear her taffeta tutu anymore either. She still wore her glitter make-up and she still smiled but it was a different kind of smile now. A winner's smile.
When she got back to the apartment that had practically become home, Murphy was just out of the shower, his hair wet down to his shoulders, his expression so pleased when he saw her. He high-fived her for smashing her running goal and complimented her glittery eyeshadow. Then he asked if he could wear some too.
It looked great on him.
Wednesday brought darker skies and abuse hurled from Carmella on Twitter. Alexa rolled her eyes. The princess of Staten Island had absolutely no class. Alexa reminded her that Blake & Murphy were the NXT Tag Team Champions and just what had Enzo and Cass won lately? Carmella's reply was even more furious and foul-mouthed.
Alexa let out an amused breath and switched her phone to silent. Carmella's lack of class demonstrated exactly why she and her idiot team hadn't ever been champions.
Blake loved wearing his hair in braids, his choices were always creative too. Alexa loved helping him out. On Thursday, he sat on the floor and she took the couch behind him, her feet bare and the latter half of her hair freshly dyed. She hummed as she worked and talked about the gymnast training she'd done as a kid and how it compared to the Performance Center and how her old gymnast friends were doing, what competitions and medals they'd won.
Blake told her about growing up in Texas, learning to ride a horse and muck them all out, the community and rivalry and how it'd prepared him for NXT, how he missed it sometimes. Murphy joined them, drinking thick black coffee as he told them about the Australian wrestling scene, how he'd achieved everything he could there before heading to America. All of them had journeyed far with success in mind and look at how they'd achieved it, despite the roadblocks, despite the WWE crowds howling.
Murphy leaned down to tug teasingly on Blake's hair as Alexa combed her fingers through it. A constant victory.
Friday was a cheat day. Alexa didn't surface until almost midday. She could smell brunch cooking, she could hear Murphy singing. His accent always sounded adorable when he sang. He was the best out of all of them at karaoke.
Alexa got out of bed and opened her wardrobe. Today was definitely a red day. A lot of days were now. The knee-socks that she liked to wear had recently gone missing though and Alexa really wanted to wear them but wait, there they were, piled up by her shoes. Blake or Murphy had found them for her.
Alexa smiled. There was a lot involved in becoming and staying a winner – dedication, focus, teamwork, the ability to learn quickly and thoroughly. Alexa and her boys constantly hit all of those targets. Anyone who ever claimed it was possible to be solely solo success was delusional; winners climbed onto other people's shoulders, they used footholds that others left behind, they accepted a helping hand when the benefit was clear. Winners always kept a knife tucked into a knee-sock too though because there could only ever be one winner - one set of tag team champions, one Divas champion, one reigning trio.
It was a question of finding the right people, it always was. Alexa had finally found hers. Together, they were a smooth, hard-working, unstoppable machine. They were synchronizing more and more, in and out of the ring, a victory for all of them. The boys had their gold and soon she'd have hers too. Fully dressed, she headed downstairs towards the smell of delicious brunch, the smell of success.
Blake's hair was in pigtails, Murphy's was curling wildly. They were both shirtless and laughing as they constructed brunch; the radio was on in the background. Alexa stole fried potatoes from the fork that Murphy was gesturing with; he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her in close. Blake poured her a glass of orange juice without the pulp. They were both wearing glitter daubed close to their eyes; it was also smeared across Blake's wrist.
Alexa drained half her juice and handed the glass to Murphy who had just caught a piece of crispy bacon in his mouth, thrown at him by Blake. Her boys. Her winners. Hers.
-the end