Work Text:
Her arms were wrapped around his neck, palms scratching against the short hair there. He sang along to the music that she’d chosen: Wonderwall by Oasis. His singing wasn’t great, not by a long shot. His throat gave out at the end of every verse and his voice hitched as he swallowed a breath. But he went on, his song audible only to her as they swayed in the middle of the living room.
Dean had been practicing the same dance for 10 years, and he was always alone. He used to say that he liked it that way, that he was a solo act.
The steps went like this:
Wake up after barely 2 hours of sleep. Drive for 6 hours in a beaten up car. Find a gym. Do some media. Go to the arena. Try not to die in the ring. Change clothes. 4 hour drive to the next small town in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. Chase after sleep in a crappy motel. Wake up and do it all over again.
He has a partner now, and he dances to a new rhythm. Her laughter is music he’s never known. Her lightness loosens his grip because for once he’s not afraid of falling. And now, he can’t imagine dancing solo anymore.
He wakes up after barely 2 hours of sleep, to Renee brushing soft kisses on his chest. They drive for 6 hours and spend the whole time discussing the differences between the Bigfoot and the Yeti. He does media, and when they ask, he barely hides his smile as he says that he’s dating a magician.
He thought he had it made when he first signed with WWE. He finally got to show the world how he’d perfected his dance. After all, he’d always been a solo act.
But with a partner like her, he discovered new dreams. He discovered new melodies.
She became his song, his rhythm.
And they danced the night away as one.