Chapter Text
Your day had already been a disaster long before you ever opened the front door.
Work drained you. The commute dragged. And your ex spent half the afternoon trailing you like some ghost who refused to stay dead in your life, popping up at the bus stop, hovering near your street, pretending it was a coincidence. By the time you finally shook him off, all you wanted was to get home, relax and breathe again.
No drama. No surprises. Just peace.
So you came home that night, blissfully, took a long, burning shower to melt the day off your skin, and put on nothing but a brand new black lingerie set the one you swore you'd save for a special occasion but ended up wearing anyway because the day had already been cursed enough and you were alone.
And you deserved something that felt good.
Music playing, hunger kicking in, you started cooking dinner dressed like the main character of your own mildly chaotic romance novel. You danced dramatically to Princess of Power by Marina, giving the performance of a lifetime to your kitchen tiles.
And that's when Salem, your cat, your furry son, stopped mid-grooming to stare at something behind you. Something very tall. Something very quiet.
You didn't notice. You just kept dancing like the kitchen was your stage.
Meanwhile, Diana stood in the kitchen doorway watching the entire show.
You were dancing, flipping the food in the pan with the confidence of a cooking show host who absolutely did not just almost burn dinner.
Diana cleared her throat.
You froze.
Salem meowed, as if saying "finally'.
You turned around slowly…and there she was.
In all her tall, Amazonian glory.
Her arms crossed.
Her eyebrows slightly raised.
Her face the perfect blend of "What in Hera's name is happening."
You opened your mouth.
No words came out.
"I…didn't know anyone was home," you blurted.
Diana nodded once, very seriously.
"I gathered that."
You wanted the floor to swallow you whole.
Or at least let your soul ascend to a dimension where you weren't standing half naked in front of your old crush holding a wooden spoon like a weapon.
"I- Donna didn't tell me you were staying here," you tried again, your voice higher than usual because your dignity had left the building.
"She didn't tell me you two were living together either…"
A pause.
A longer pause.
"A performance, nice."
"IT WASN'T A PERFORMANCE!"
Salem meowed again.
Loudly.
As if to say: It was absolutely a performance, don't lie.
Diana lifted her hands in surrender, trying not to smile.
"Well," she said, "don't let me interrupt your… ritual."
"It...was just dinner!"
Another meow.
Salem disagreed.
Diana took one slow step back toward the hallway.
"I will…give you privacy. And perhaps…clothing."
You nearly choked.
"O-okay," you managed, wanting to evaporate into steam like the pan behind you.
Before leaving, Diana hesitated, glanced at Salem, who was still staring at her like a tiny furry judge, and then back at you.
"For what it's worth," she said softly, "you dance well."
And then she disappeared down the hallway while you stood there in sheer existential humiliation, Salem purring smugly by your feet like the little traitor he was.