Author's Notes: I'd like to thank Fozzy-Floozy, AshMattXoXo, Westfan, sweetantidote, SummerRain173, Inday, jeffhardyfan722, Alkira Sonoma, WWESupernatural102292, Super T, Rheya-Goddess, littleone999 and Disco Inferno1 for your awesome reviews for chapter 15 – I'm so flattered and thrilled y'all are still enjoying this story, and all your comments mean the world to me!

Additionally thanks to Gin (Disco Inferno1, USER ID: 339498) and Karen (IMissPadfoot, USER ID: 1133633) for your help with this chapter. You girls are amazing, and I really don't tell you both enough how much I love you!

Now, here's the chapter y'all have been waiting for – the 'date' chapter! Enjoy!!

Chapter Seventeen: You're my Princess

As Charlotte started packing her things away for the night, and making sure everything was cleaned up, she switched on her I-Pod.

The opening beats of Justin Timberlake's Sexy Back began to play, as the blonde grabbed a broom, and started to sweep the floor.

Singing along, and shaking her bum, the blonde cleared up all the debris from the ground.

“I’m bringing sexy back. Them other boys dunno know how to act. I think you’re special what's behind your back. So turn around and I'll pick up the slack,” she sang, sounding like a dying cat.

“You sure are bringing sexy back,” someone whispered in her ear, just after removing the headphone resting there.

The blonde screamed, her broom and I-pod clattering to the floor, and turned around to see Chris Jericho grinning at her.

“You can dance, but you sure as hell can't sing,” he teased, jumping up onto the vanity table.

“Well, we all can't be famous rockstars, can we?” she returned, bending over to pick up the fallen broom and I-pod.

“I just wanted to check if we're still on for dinner?” asked Jericho, as Charlotte set down the broom, and hopped onto the stool besides him.

“Of course,” replied Charlotte, smiling back at him. “Where are you taking me that’s nice?“

“I haven't decided yet,” shrugged Jericho, scrolling through the playlist on Charlotte's I-pod. “God, you really have appalling music taste. Remind me to give you a few Fozzy CDs. Ok, dinner, what do you fancy?”

“I don't know. You got any preferences?” asked Charlotte, snatching her I-pod back off the wrestler, with a slightly offended look.

“You know, I could kill for a cheeseburger, fries and a strawberry milkshake right about now,” he commented. “I know this great diner, just a block from the hotel, which does the best cheeseburgers ever.”

“Do they serve fried chicken?” questioned Charlotte, with a slightly maniacal look in her eyes.

“Yeah, and it's almost as nice as the cheeseburgers. Seriously, if they had places that served food as good as that diner everywhere, I'd be the size of Mark Henry,” replied Jericho facetiously.

“Ok, you've got my vote,” agreed Charlotte with a grin. “Fried chicken and cheeseburgers it is, then.”

“Great. Ok, I'll meet you in the hotel lobby an hour after the show ends?” inquired Jericho, resting his elbows on the back of Charlotte's stool, and casually curling a lock of her hair around his finger.

“Yeah, sounds good to me,” replied Charlotte, leaning her head back, so that it rested in his arms. “How was Abby's school party?”

“She had a great time, thanks. Apparently all the other girls were jealous of her outfit, and the fact you and the divas had shown her how to do her hair and make up,” answered Jericho with a grin. “I've got some photos back at the hotel, so I'll bring them with me later.”

“Oh, great. I cannot wait to see them,” said Charlotte, before straightening up and taking out her I-pod again. “Now, are you going to actually do some work tonight, and let me get back to mine?”

The wrestler laughed, and jumped down from the vanity table, offering his hand to Charlotte to help her off the stool. “I suppose I better. Just promise me, you'll quit singing or I'll have to put you in a headlock or something.”

“Alright,” she agreed with a cheeky smile, as she took Jericho's hand, and walked across the floor with him. “Just don't sneak up on me again.”

“I promise,” he replied, with a grin of his own, as he pulled Charlotte closer to him and into a tight embrace. “See you later sexy.”

“Not if I catch you first, doofus,” teased Charlotte, returning the hug, and allowing her fingers to curl around Jericho's hair.

The wrestler lifted the blonde off her feet, span her around, and then set her back on the floor. Then, with one last wink, Jericho strode off along the corridor.

The make up artist grinned stupidly to herself, turned her I-pod back on and grabbed her broom. However, as she danced and cleaned, not a single song escaped her lips.

Returning with Paulo to the hotel, Charlotte looked around for Maria, Candice and Kelly. The blonde wanted to see her friends before getting ready for diner.

The divas appeared, all looking at the make up artist expectantly.

“All set for your date later?” asked Maria, as she embraced the blonde.

“It is not a date,” insisted Charlotte, with a fake pout. “But yeah, I'm going to shower and change in a minute.”

“Have you decided what you're wearing?” asked Kelly, as she and Candice came to join Maria, Paulo and Charlotte.

“No, I haven't given it much thought,” she replied, with a shrug. “I figured I'd have a look through my suitcase, and make up my mind when I get out of the shower.”

“Charlotte Louise Robinson!” exclaimed Paulo. “You're going on a date with the guy of your dreams, and you haven't decided what you're wearing? I'm ashamed!”

“I told you, it isn't a date. We're going out to have cheeseburgers and fried chicken, there won't be a candle lit table in sight,” Charlotte reminded her friends again.

“Whatever you say, Charlie,” teased Maria in a sing-song-voice.

“Oh, get lost,” said Charlotte facetiously. “Right, I'm going to shower and change, before y'all make me late for my date.”

The blonde had intentionally used the words, and relished the scandalized looks it drew from her friends.

“Call us later and let us know what happened?” shouted Candice, as the make up artist made her way to the elevator.

“Will do!” she called back, and then headed up to her floor.

Entering her room, Charlotte flung her suitcase onto her bed, threw it open and grabbed a towel, robe and strawberry scented shower-gel.

She was grateful to discover Ashley had been kind enough to leave her some hot water, before the camera girl headed out for the night herself.

After showering and washing her hair, the blonde began looking through her suitcase for an outfit to wear. Despite her insistence it wasn't a date, Charlotte wanted to look good, and not turn up in some old jeans and a t-shirt. Finally, she decided on her favourite pair of skinny fit jeans, the baby-pink sweater vest, she'd brought when out shopping with Ellie and few weeks ago, and her much loved pink pumps.

Charlotte finished off her outfit with chunky accessories, in the same shade as her sweater vest, straightened her hair, grabbed her purse and was almost ready to go. The blonde quickly reapplied her clear lip-gloss, spritzed herself with strawberry scented body spray, and pulled on her denim jacket. Then, she doubled checked she had the key-card to her hotel room with her, and headed out the door.

The make up artist strode to the elevator, humming softly to herself, jumped in and rode down to the hotel lobby.

Waiting for her near the reception desk was Chris Jericho, and he'd never looked better. He was wearing a short-sleeved black shirt, with the top three buttons undone, a simple silver chain hanging around his neck, and stone washed blue jeans.

The wrestler grinned as Charlotte strode to meet him, and crossed the floor to join her in the middle of the lobby.

“You look pretty,” he complimented, in way of a greeting, appraising the make up artist thoughtfully. “And you smell of strawberries too.”

“Thanks,” replied Charlotte with a slight blush, as she laced her fingers though his. “You look quite good yourself.”

“Quite good? Baby, I'm a sexy beast,” he said facetiously. “Do you now how long it took me to get my hair like this?”

“From the looks of it, about five minutes I'd say,” she teased, reaching up a hand and allowing it to brush through his blond locks.

“Women,” muttered Jericho. “Right, shall we get going, then? I'm starving.”

Charlotte laughed as they headed out of the hotel. “Chris, you're always hungry,” she reminded, with a grin.

Hand in hand, they walked the block to the diner, and settled into a cozy seating booth near the window. Moments later, a waitress appeared.

“What can I get y'all?” she drawled in her Southern accent.

“A cheeseburger, fries and a strawberry milkshake, please,” said Jericho immediately, without even looking at the menu.

The waitress nodded, took the order and turned to Charlotte, “And you, sugah?”

“Can I have a portion of fried chicken, fries and a glass of coke – no ice – please?” she asked.

Again, the woman nodded, wrote down the order, and then headed back over to the counter, where she called through the meals to the kitchen, and got the drinks.

Less then a minute later, she returned and placed the milkshake and glass of coke, along with cutlery and condiments on the table in front of Charlotte and Jericho.

“Thanks,” said Charlotte, taking a sip of her coke.

The wrestler swirled his milkshake with the straw, and gazed across the table at Charlotte.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked finally, after Charlotte had been scrolling through her cell phone for few minutes.

“Well, I thought you might want to see this,” she replied, slipping her phone across the table to him. “Just don't laugh too hard.”

Jericho took the cell from the table, as he sipped his milkshake, and eagerly watched the video Charlotte had set up on her phone for him.

Two minutes later, he looked up at her, and laughed so much he almost chocked on his drink.

“Where did you get that?” he asked, with a grin, of the video Charlotte had just shown him. It depicted her sixteen-year-old self, on the night of the biggest High School football game of the year. The blonde had been head cheerleader, and had pulled off a performance of a life time.

“I remembered you saying you wanted to see me cheer-leading, so I asked Ellie to find the video my dad had saved of that match, transfer the file on her laptop, and then send it to my cell,” explained Charlotte with a smile.

Jericho beamed at her and then said, “Well, it was certainly worth the wait. You were awesome, and now I understand how you got to be such a great dancer. Why did you give it up? Or how come you never considered taking dance at college? I mean, you could have become a professional, maybe even a back-up dancer for big-name bands and things.”

Charlotte shrugged, and slipped her cell back into her purse. “I don't know really. Cheer-leading was something I loved doing, but I only ever saw dancing as a hobby, not something I could do make a career out of. Right from a young age, I wanted to be just like Mama, and be a make up artist. She owned her own beauty salon and I virtually grew up in there. As soon as I could walk and talk, I could also hold a make up brush. It was second nature to me, and despite how good I was at cheer-leading and dancing, it never even crossed my mind to do something else,” she explained.

“I guess some things are just in the blood,” commented Jericho. “My dad was an ice hockey player, and in High School, I was too. Everyone assumed I'd go on to do the same, but the wrestling bug had bitten me by then, and nothing else mattered.”

“Your brother plays hockey though, doesn't he?” asked Charlotte, remembering a conversation they'd had a few weeks ago. “Anyways, I bet when your parents’ saw you wrestle, they were dead proud of you.”

Jericho nodded his head, and smiled. “Yeah, Evan does, I'm surprised you even remember me telling you that, it was weeks ago,” he confirmed. “Yeah, when my parents realized how much I loved wrestling, they supported me one-hundred percent.”

“That's great. I don't think Ellie, CJ or I would be where we are now if our folks hadn't been behind us. It's always great when parents want what you want,” she mused thoughtfully, as she finished off her glass of coke.

“Yeah, I couldn't agree more. I just hope I can offer Abby the same support, but you know, it's hard for me being away from her so much,” sighed Chris.

“I bet it is, but you're doing a great job with her. She's a fantastic girl, and you should be very proud of how well you're raising her. Some children in her situation – with you and Debby divorced, and you on the road so much – would have gone off the rails, but Abby hasn't,” commented Charlotte with a warm smile.

“Thanks Charlie, that really means a lot to me,” grinned Chris, as he reached out a grabbed her hand.

“Hey, I'm not saying anything that isn't true,” insisted Charlotte, brushing the wrestler's fingers with her own.

“Oh yeah, that reminds me, I've got the photos from her school party,” he said suddenly, pulling a small folder of pictures from his pocket, and sliding them across to the blonde.

The make up artist appraised the photos with eager eyes, thrilled at seeing how beautifully Abby had turned out for the night of her party.

The young eleven-year-old could be seen wearing the t-shirt Charlotte had given her, along with the jeans she'd picked up from GAP when she'd gone shopping with the older blonde and divas. Her long golden hair was crimped and she's attached small diamond like clips to it in various places. Abby's make up looked applied to perfection, shimmery silver eye-shadow accentuating her crystalline eyes, a light blush giving her a rosy glow, and clear lip-gloss plumping her mouth slightly. All in all, the young girl looked a lot older than her eleven years, and Charlotte could see why the other girls had been jealous of her.

“Oh, they're beautiful,” Charlotte grinned, gazing lovingly at the pictures. “I bet you're really proud of her.”

“Yeah, I really am,” Chris replied with a beaming smile of his own. “And I have you to thank for how amazing she looks.”

“It was nothing, I'm just working with the gorgeous features she inherited from you,” shrugged Charlotte sheepishly.

“I'm being serious, Charlie. Being a guy, I don't have a clue about this type of stuff, and Debbie never has time for it. Abby said to me, if it hadn't been for you, she'd have gone to the party looking like an idiot. She told me to let you know how eternally grateful she is,” he insisted with a warm smile, once again taking the blonde's hands in his. “And so am I. Abby's my baby girl; she means the world to me, and the fact that you care about her so much means everything to me. Some chicks wouldn't care less that I have a daughter, let alone spend so much time with them, but you lavish attention on her without asking for anything in return.”

The blonde blushed deeply, and felt herself growing very warm, “I told you, it was nothing,” she murmured again.

“It wasn't nothing, and you know that,” he protested. “That’s why I want you to keep some of these pictures. I know Abby would like you to, and so would I.”

“Thanks,” smiled Charlotte, sheepishly returning her attention to the pack of photos in front of her. Picking out one full length picture of Abby grinning happily, and another of the young blonde embracing her father, the make up artist looked up and asked, “Is it ok is I keep these ones, then?”

“Sure, keep whichever ones you want,” replied Chris with a smile.

“Thanks,” grinned Charlotte, slipping the two photos into her purse. “So, any more thoughts about what we can do when I visit over Christmas?”

“Well, I was thinking, Abby and I could meet you on Thursday night after the last houseshow before the holidays – maybe grab some dinner. Then I figured we'll be pretty tired from travelling on Friday – and my mum is insisting on making a fuss because we have guests – so we'll have to have dinner with them. Then I was thinking, on Saturday, there's a fair in town, with an ice skating rink and everything, so how about we spend the day there?” he suggested.

“Sounds perfect,” grinned Charlotte.

The couple then fell into an amicable silence, as their food arrived, and they both started eating.

The wrestler had been right; this was the best fried chicken the make up artist had ever tasted, even surpassing her own mother's variation on the dish.

“God, that was good,” she sighed happily, as she licked her fingers.

“It looks it,” replied Chris, taking a sip of his milkshake. “Hey, I was thinking, if you always smell of strawberries, I wonder if you taste as good as them too.”

“I dunno, why don't you find out,” suggested Charlotte facetiously, leaning across the table and pouting her lips.

The wrestler smirked, and then moved closer to the blonde, brushing his lips with hers.

Charlotte was momentarily stunned to feel Chris' lips pressed against her own; she honestly didn't think he'd actually go through with kissing her. However, seconds later, all thoughts left the make up artist's head, as her eyelids fluttered shut, and her whole body tingled. She'd been wrong; there was something that tasted better than the fried chicken.

However, seconds later, she was taken aback, when the contact ceased, and Jericho pulled away.

“Nope, you just taste like chicken to me,” he teased, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“Humph,” muttered Charlotte, taking a long swig of her coke. “Well, you'll be getting no more kisses from me.”

“Oh, come on, I was just kidding,” insisted Chris with a slight pout. “Come one, lemme try again.”

“Nah-ha, buster, you only get one kiss a night from me,” said Charlotte facetiously. “So don't complain to me because you've messed your chance up.”

“Tease,” he joked.

“A tease I may be, but you'll be back for more,” she insisted with a mischievous wink.

“Of course,” agreed Chris with a wink of his own, before the couple both burst out laughing.

As they calmed down, and Charlotte wiped a tear from her eyes, the waitress appeared to collect their dirty plates.

“Can I get y'all anything else?” she asked in her Southern drawl.

“Yes please, what have you got for dessert?” inquired Charlotte hopefully.

“We have apple pie and ice cream, chocolate fudge cake with whipped cream or cinnamon rolls and yogurt,” the server informed.

“Oh, cinnamon rolls,” Charlotte squealed in delight. “I'll take a portion of those, and another coke please.”

The other woman nodded her head, wrote down the order and then turned to Jericho.

“And what can I get you, darlin'?” the waitress queried.

“I'll have the same please, with another strawberry milkshake,” he answered.

“Coming' right up, sugah,” the server returned with a wink, as she sauntered back to her work station.

“You know, I think that waitress is hoping to take you home for dessert” teased Charlotte.

Jericho made a face, and then pretended to be busy with his phone when the waitress returned with their order.

The couple continued chatting over dessert, discussing what would happen when Charlotte was finally contacted again about her fight with Beth Phoenix.

“You know, I'm kinda scared I'm gonna be called to Vince McMahon's office or something,” Charlotte confessed sheepishly.

“Nah, McMahon wouldn't get his hands dirty over something as small as two employees fighting,” assured Chris. “You'll probably have to see The Senior Vice President of Human Resources, Carlotta McIntyre.”

“What's she like? Have you ever had to see her?” inquired Charlotte anxiously, starting to feel very nervous about the whole situation.

“Yeah, I did once. She's a very stern and intimidating woman, not someone you'd want to mess with,” he informed, and then seeing the make up artist's face turn pale, added, “But don't worry, you'll be fine. You've done absolutely no wrong and I'm sure Carlotta McIntyre will realize that.”

“What if she doesn't though? And Beth makes up a pack of lies about me,” sighed Charlotte, with downcast eyes. “I could lose my job because of her.”

“Charlie, chill, you're not going to lose your job,” protested Chris, taking hold of her trembling hands. “Valerie Ford will have already filled a report about how Beth reacted towards you when your probation was reduced. Besides, there's my official complaint against her, and I'm sure if you need it, your friends will come forwards with evidence of Beth's abuse towards you too.”

“I guess,” Charlotte agreed finally. “I just wish they'd hurry up and get the whole thing over though. I think waiting is actually the worst part.”

“I know it is, but in a case like this, they've got to be thorough,” insisted Chris, lightly rubbing Charlotte's fingers.

“Yeah, I suppose, and it'll all be worth it if it gets Beth off my case,” she sighed, pulling her hands away and shoving them in her pockets. “You know, it's getting kinda late, and I'm feeling tired. Do you wanna head back to the hotel?”

“Yeah, ok, but only if you swear to me you're not going to just go back to your room and worry yourself sick over this whole thing,” he returned, looking at the make up artist with concern.

“Yes, I promise, I'll stop thinking about it now,” insisted Charlotte. “I'll take a bath to relax me, and then head to bed.”

“Ok, but make sure you call me or something if you can't sleep?” asked Chris, as they both rose from their seats and he threw a handful of bills on the table to pay for the meal.

“Of course,” returned Charlotte with a smile, as she took his out stretched hand, and they left the diner. “And thanks. Not just for dinner, but for listening to me whine too.”

“Anytime, babe,” he assured, placing a light kiss on the blonde's forehead.

The couple walked back to the hotel in comfortable silence, Charlotte – despite her promise – still thinking about her fight with Beth and what ramifications it would have on her future within the WWE.

When they reached the lobby, Jericho insisted on riding up to the blonde's floor with her, and seeing her to her room.

“You gonna be ok?” he asked, as Charlotte leant back against her door.

“Uh-huh,” she replied with a nod of her head. “I'm sure after a good night's sleep I'll be feeling much better.”

“Yeah, things always seem worse at night, when you're over tired,” agreed Chris, taking the blonde's hands and pulling her close to him.

With the top of her head tucked under his chin, Charlotte wrapped her arms around Jericho's waist.

They stood in silence, their bodies intertwined for a few moments, the make up artist's eyes feeling heavy and then finally fluttering closed.

“Come on, Charlie, go get some rest,” Chris whispered in her ear, as he tilted her head up to face him.

“Ok,” she mumbled in reply, brushing her hair from her tired eyes. “Thanks again for tonight; I had a really great time.”

“Me too, Princess,” returned Chris, cupping her cheeks in his hands and kissing her lightly on the forehead.

Charlotte's eyes widened and she looked at the Canadian quizzically. “Princess?” she questioned.

“Yeah, you're my Princess,” he insisted with a smile.

The blonde blushed, turned her head away sheepishly, and tried to locate her keycard, which turned out to be impossible, as the wrestler still had his arms wrapped tightly around her.

Shrugging out of his embrace, Charlotte finally managed to get her hotel door open and stumbled sleepily back into the room.

“Night, night,” she said softly, lingering just on the threshold.

“Yeah, sweet dreams,” Chris wished, closing the gap between them again and once more kissing her on the forehead.

“You too,” returned Charlotte, again allowing her arms to wrap around Jericho's waist.

Finally, after a few moments more of embracing, the couple broke apart, and the blonde softly closed her hotel door. Then, feeling uncommonly exhausted, Charlotte changed into her pyjamas, climbed into bed, and fell straight into a deep sleep.