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Becky and Dean were simply sitting on the couch when it happened. They were at her place in Orlando, just coming off a day of training down in the performance center. It’d been a nice little break from shows after the craziness that was WrestleMania weekend. But Becky knew it was too good to be true, that it wouldn’t last long, and her intuition seemed to be on point when Dean’s phone rang. It almost seemed louder than normal, making them stop their conversation and both turn to look at it with some amount of impending dread.
She reached over and grabbed his hand, giving it a little squeeze of reassurance. With one last long look to her, he reached forward and grabbed it. He stood, making his way off towards the room adjacent to her couch. She could still see him around the corner slightly and when he ducked his head low, still muttering into the receiver, she knew it was a done deal. Dean was heading to Raw on Mondays, and given that her phone had not rung at the same time, Becky wouldn’t be joining him.
She watched him pace, seeming to be getting the information that he needed about when to be there, as well as contract and promised pay. Not only would he be leaving her, but also Renee, which was going to be tough on him, but given that Roman and Seth were both on Raw, barring any trades, he’d have someone over there looking out for him. The thing that Becky couldn’t get over as he stood there was the figure he cut, eerily similar to the first time he’d spoken to her. And that was all it took to bring her memories all the way back to their friendship throughout this last year and a half.
To Dean’s credit he didn’t wince at the name of his old stable, he let his head fall forward to meet her eyes. “Cause as much as Roman and Seth were my brothers, we didn’t have a past that stretches as long as yours and Casper’s does.”
Becky had to fight off a wealth of emotions at that. Amusement at Dean’s choice of nickname for Paige, sadness at the reminder of her betrayal, and surprise that Dean knew they had a past in the first place. She went with the last one. “You know about that?”
Dean winced like he had let something slip; his hand came up to awkwardly scratch the back of his head. “Yeah, I was a fan of yours. I knew about you and the Knights, and I used to stay up late in shitty motel rooms watching your matches against Daizee Haze.” He chuckled, “Used to tell the female wrestlers in the companies I worked for to try to beat that. They never did, but they put on some good matches trying to.”
Becky felt a steady blush creeping up on her cheeks from the outpouring of compliments. She ducked her head and mumbled a thank you. Her two out of three falls match with Haze was one of her proudest accomplishments. It felt good that someone here knew about it.
Dean gave her a dimpled smirk, “Yeah, don’t go getting soft on me. You know your good, don’t need me to tell you.”
The thing was, they’d both gone soft around one another. They’d basically become codependent not long after this happened. They’d become fast friends, so much so that when a little over a month later when Charlotte had done her in, like Dean had been warning about, he found her and cemented that they were friends while also managing to make her feel better just by being there.
“Dean,” Becky called after him, using his first name. He turned around and looked at her, “Thanks for not saying I told you so.”
He shrugged, “That’s not what a friend does, Irish.” He tried to turn back around, but she took a few big steps forward and hugged him from behind, her arms linking around his stomach. She felt him tense up for a second at her touch. As he’d always been the one to initiate contact between them, this was uncharted territory.
“You aren’t a consolation prize either. Just so you know.” She quickly let go of him and scampered down the hallway, feeling his eyes on her back the entire time.
And she never felt like a consolation prize with Dean either. In fact, he always seemed to go out of his way for her and that even meant sometimes making himself uncomfortable. Hell, there were a few times where they both were and his actions still made her feel somehow better.
She fought off a smile from the endearing nickname she had come to love and sighed, “Just thinking about how gross it was. I hate that I’m gonna have to have that be my last kiss until I can go out again or get a date or someth-“
She heard Dean mumble something that sounded suspiciously like: ‘Please, don’t punch me’ before taking his hand, putting it on her chin, and tilting her head up towards him. He brushed his lips against hers. Her eyes widened, but she instinctively responded for the brief couple of seconds that the kiss lasted. He pulled back and stood, putting his jacket on.
Becky sat there in a daze, not only had she been kissed twice tonight, unexpectedly, but one of them had been from one of her closest friends. She felt a blush storming its way onto her face, as Dean kept his back to her. The kiss may have only lasted a couple of seconds, but it was a good kiss. Like a GOOD kiss. Something that Becky was going to actively ignore after tonight.
That didn’t mean they didn’t have roadblocks where Dean wasn’t feeling quite himself. There had been more than one time where Becky had to be the voice of reason between them and pick up the shattered pieces of Dean. It was never fun, but it did feel good to be needed sometimes, and she’d never get tired of making her best friend feel like himself again.
Dean’s head whipped back and slammed itself into the production crate, HARD. Becky’s eyes flew open and she rushed to put her arm up to stop Dean who was repeatedly bashing his head against the crate. She got him in a firm headlock and pulled him down. “I can’t help it! I hate myself. I always have and I just can’t-“ He tried to break free of her, but she held on tight. He tried to push at her arms, but he was still tired from his match so eventually he stopped struggling.
Becky held on longer than was necessary. She eventually loosened her grip enough that he was resting in her arms more comfortably. One of her hands began running soothingly through his hair while she rocked him back and forth against the wall. She hummed a quiet tune, close to the top of his head, hoping that the white noise would help soothe whatever his head was yelling at him. It was a tune that she had heard Dean whistle a time or two while he had been driving. She had always assumed it was from his childhood, but knowing Dean it could be from some gum commercial that he had seen on television. She didn’t care as long as it helped soothe him.
When he was completely limp in her arms, and had stopped whimpering she lowered him into her lap. He lay there, facing away from her, letting her run her nails through his hair.
And sometimes, Dean was the voice of reason to her outbursts. She always felt things happening to those close to her like they were happening to her. Even when those things had happened years before they were friends.
“Is that a threat, Ambrose?” Seth tried to swell up to him, but Dean smirked back.
“Course it was. I thought I made it obvious. Then again, you were always the pretty one.” He tried to pull Becky around Seth with him, but Becky still wanted a piece of that weasel’s ass. When she wouldn’t budge, she felt Dean stoop down and throw her over his shoulder. She hated when he did that. She tried to wiggle out, but he kept a firm hold of her. She pounded her fists on his back and kicked her legs.
“Put me down, Dean. I’m gonna rip his hair off his weasel face!”
And somehow, no matter how down either of them got, he’d always end up surprising her.
When he couldn’t continue, she did, “I don’t even know what to do anymore. I can’t win the championship, here or back in NXT, and I can’t keep a friend cause they all turn on me.” She let a tear slide down her cheek in front of him, “When is that gonna happen to us, Dean.”
Dean clenched his jaw; he wished he were better at this sort of thing. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “It’s never gonna happen, Irish. You are stuck with me for life now. I’ll retire young and live in your attic, just like we always planned.” He smiled a little when she let out a little hiccup of a laugh. His eyes trailed back over to the monitor. It showed Seth and Roman duking it out, a match he should really be paying attention to, but his friend needed him and he was going to make her be okay at any cost.
He saw her sad expression, then looked to the match, then down at his new briefcase down on the floor. He gently took Becky off his shoulder and stood up. He reached down to grab it, his eyes connecting with her startled ones. He held the briefcase to his chest and gave her what he hoped was an inspiring look.
“Just watch that screen, Irish. I’m gonna show you what someone who has been overlooked, underestimated, and betrayed can get.” He sprinted out the door without giving Becky a chance to say anything.
And that championship hadn’t changed him. He was still the same dork who annoyed her and stayed by her side no matter the time of day or day of the year.
“Well, I know the champ has duties and stuff, I figured you might be too busy now.” She said this as airily as she could, but Dean caught her eyes flickering down and sat straighter.
“Irish, I’m always gonna make time.”
She watched Dean bite into his waffle again with gusto and smear syrup all over his face, it dripping down into his shirt. Becky groaned, “You are a literal five year old.” She gave him a blinding smile, "But you're my champion."
Dean shrugged, "I said that already, I'm the Smackdown Champ-"
Becky interrupted, "No, you're my champion cause you're my best friend."
Dean just gave her a syrup filled grin before offering her some of his waffle.
And he’d not only took care of her during her lows, but was there to, quite literally, lift her higher on his shoulders and celebrate the highest of her highs.
She pulled open the second set of doors and Dean crept up behind her. He put his shoulder right under her butt and pushed up with his legs. He hoped his bad leg from his match earlier, held up, or he might kill them both. She squealed in surprise as he lifted her on to one of his shoulders, his six-foot-four frame making her brush the ceiling. All the workers in the restaurant turned to look at them weirdly, but Dean just paraded her up to the front of the counter, with Becky beginning to yell at him. “WE GOT A WOMEN’S CHAMPION HERE AND IT’S CHEAT DAY! GIVE US ALL YOUR BURGERS!”
That wasn’t to say that they didn’t fight. All friends did, but they were always there at the end of the day to forgive and move on, somehow stronger than they were before.
Becky sighed, a hand running through her hair. God, this boy… “Dean, I’m not angry at you, I’m just disappointed. You might of cost us that match…” She looked down at the turned over monitor to see Bray deliver a Sister Abigail to Roman Reigns and sighed in relief at the three count. “You didn’t, but you could have. I get that you hate AJ, there aren’t a lot of people here that don’t, but you have an entire TLC match to tell him how you really feel with really heavy furniture. Tonight was for making sure that everyone knows that Smackdown is better than Raw, because we freaking are. I might have messed up for all of us, but what you did was unnecessary and almost cost us an entire year of honor to Raw.”
And when she’d gone through a time of crisis, there was no one she trusted more to be there.
She huffed a sad laugh that sounded like she was trying to keep the emotion out of her voice. She took another sip and let the silence drift over them again. Dean cleared his throat. “You still have your rematch at some point. You good?”
Becky glared at the opposite wall. “You told me, when you lost, that losing a title changes a person more than winning one does. I think I know what you mean. She is gonna see a different Becky Lynch next time, and I’m definitely gonna make her earn it.”
Dean nudged her with his shoulder, trying to deflate her rage and sadness that he could see in her stiffening muscles. “Can’t become a multi time champ if you never lose the belt. We are like cockroaches, can’t be killed and will keep coming back. You’ll be a two time champ before you know it.”
And now, he was leaving her. All those memories had left her feeling hollow, like a Sunday evening when she was a teen. You knew that it wasn’t the end of the world, just the weekend, but it always felt like it somehow was. She simply felt melancholy, and didn’t realize the tears dripping down her cheeks until a hand brushed them away.
She looked up and met his steely grey eyes. He looked a little misty, but he was smiling softly. “Come on, Irish. Don’t get weepy on me. You know how sensitive I can be.”
She choked out a wet laugh and simply wrapped her arms around his neck and crushed him in a hug. She smiled when he didn’t hesitate to hug her back, remembering how unused to touch he had been when they had first become friends. “When do you have to go?”
“I need to leave tonight.” One thing she always appreciated was that he never pulled his punches with her. And though it felt like she’d been punched in the stomach, she was glad that he hadn’t tried to dance around it. “I’ll need you to help me pack. I can’t ever get everything to fit in the suitcase right.”
“Well, you’re gonna have to learn. I feel like a mom sending you off to college. I still need to teach you so much.”
He pulled back, leaving his hands on her shoulders. “I’m sure you’ll get to. Remember, this ain’t the end. It’s just a new chapter. We’ll still see each other loads, and I’ll come visit. Hell, I’ll use that one Facetime thingy if you can teach me.”
She nodded, but felt the tears welling up again. He gave her a knowing look and tilted his head. “I still got a couple hours. You want to do anything?”
She shook her head, her mouth opening, but all the words she still wanted to say stuck in her throat. Dean seemed to understand and leaned forward, giving her forehead a kiss, before settling down next to her, arm across her shoulders letting her bury her body into his side. She dropped her head on his shoulder, like she’d done after Charlotte’s betrayal, and just sat in silence, as they soaked one another in. She chose not to think about what it would be like to watch him drive away in a few hours, but she knew that this moment. It was perfect.
Dean shut the trunk to the rental car and sighed. Becky watched him, her hands buried in her pockets. It was time. He turned to her and gave her a small smile. “It’s not goodbye, just see you later.”
She nodded, her nails digging into her thigh through her pockets. “Kick some Lass over there for me? Don’t let anyone push you around. Oh, and take care of yourself too. Never be afraid to call me, and don’t-“
He laughed, putting his hands on both her shoulders. “Irish, I’ll be fine. I know I’ve always got you in my corner. And I’ll call. A lot. I’m a mess without you to nag and make sure I’m being safe and smart.”
She nodded, biting her lip. She felt like she needed to do something significant. Something to send him off, knowing just how much of an impact he’d made on her life, and that he would continue to be in her thoughts and that’d he truly would have a place at her side, always. Even if they had only phone calls to communicate. She searched her mind for a small thing, anything, that could accomplish this and, before she could question herself, she stuck her hand out in a fist between them. She knew she was taking a risk, bringing up the shield fist bump thing, but she knew that this gesture meant a lot to Dean. It meant family, understanding, and trust. She needed him to know she had those feelings for him and always would.
He looked at her fist, not seeming to comprehend it, before his back went rigid. He looked between it and her eyes, like he couldn’t believe he was seeing this. After what felt like hours to Becky, Dean smiled and held his own fist out and touched hers. They held it there for a second before they both threw their arms out and pressed together for their last hug. Becky couldn’t help the small sniffle that she made into his leather-clad shoulder, and she would pretend she didn’t hear the small shudder of his breath that he sighed into her hair.
He took a step back, gave her one last watery smirk before turning and heading for the driver’s side. She waited for him to reach it before she called to him. “Dean.” He stopped, turned around and raised his eyebrow at her. She took a shuddering breath and smiled. “Thanks.”
He immediately brightened up. He seemed to remember, just like she did, that this was the same goodbye that they’d started their friendship with on that night where Paige had turned on her. Sure enough, though this time he looked her directly in the eyes, he replied, “See you around, Irish.”
The car started and pulled away, driving down the street slowly, before making the final right turn and disappearing from sight. Becky stood there, expecting the car to come back, for Dean to tell her it was all a big ruse and that he was staying with her on Smackdown, but she knew that was a pipe dream. She didn’t mind, as it was a beautiful evening, and despite her going through all the memories earlier, she couldn’t help but play them in her mind again. She sat down in the grass, hugged her knees to her chest, and pretended to wait for Dean to find her again, just like he did back on that December day…