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Becky feels the fire scorch underneath her skin, feels his pulse hammering hard beneath her fingertips when she pats him on the back as soon as she slips in the ring.
She's pretty sure she yells 'congratulations' at him as the rest of the roster files in after but Dean's not paying any mind and that's okay to her, considering he is holding that prestige title in his hands once again and the crowd is chanting at him in high volume.
It's a mixture of wonder and awe as Becky steps back, watches the way the other wrestlers crowd around him and lift him up, the pride and joy bursting in her chest like fireworks, jumping and clapping and shouting at him until she's aware her voice is going to go but she's just so happy.
But it looks like Dean might not have much of a voice left either with the way he's crying out and screaming right back at the fans in the arena, title held high above his head like the prize it truly is.
And then Dean looks back at everyone, at her, with a face-splitting grin on his mouth and satisfaction written all over his expression and Becky is 99.99% sure that her face is going to break with how hard she's smiling but she's just filling to the brim with delight because the title is coming home to Smackdown and right along with it is the man that deserves it more than anyone, she thinks --
-- (actually, she knows that he does. She's watched him for what feels like forever and she can't help but wonder why it's taken him this long to get it. She's had to watch him scratch and claw and fight his way to prove to the higher-ups and the world that he's more than ready to be a champion.
And in her heart, Becky knows he's always been ready, it's just been a matter of time).
Her thoughts get filled in the noises of the people behind her and the look on his face -- something akin to pure joy, like nothing could ruin this moment and nothing could change the course of his life with the way it's going now.
Dean did just fight tooth and nail against two people that he had to have considered some of the most important people in his life and she is just over-the-moon with pride for him.
The crowd moves Becky from the ring to backstage without her knowing, but people are chatting around her while her body is still buzzing with adrenaline - it's like her loss tonight doesn't even damage her senses because the whole atmosphere at the end boosts her mood a thousand times higher.
Becky's not even paying any attention really, lost in her own headspace, when a hand grabs her forearm and tugs her back against a dark corner away from all the madness. She doesn't fret or even fight back because she recognizes the callus hands and the rough skin of his fingertips and she breaks out in a smile almost immediately when Becky turns to look at him.
"Hi, champ." She murmurs, fingers already curled around Dean's as she slides them off of her arm. His own fingers are still thrumming with excitement and his face is covered by that toothy smile that makes her heart melt and swell all at the same time.
Dean's face lights up significantly more as if he just realized that he is indeed the champion still, like the moment hasn't even settled despite all of the chaos in the ring during and after the match. She doesn't blame him; the high of the victory over those two probably shadows the fact that he is still the true winner emerging.
"Did you see it all, Lass?" he laughs, chest puffing out in mock smugness and voice catching on a bad Irish accent as it always does when he calls her that. She can't help but snicker a little at him, nodding quickly.
"It was great, you were wonderful!" praises Becky, other hand raising to tap at the cool, gold DA plates on the title, her own smile stretching across her face. "I'm so proud of you." She ends the sentence in barely above a whisper, something she's been wanting to say since he pinned Roman, ending the fued once and for all with a clear achievement that no one could have thought was coming.
It's almost surreal when she considers it, watching them for the last year battle out in some bad blood. who's-better-than-who matches that still puts her on edge whenever she recalls them. But that title - the one that means everything to everybody - is now home on Smackdown and resides with someone who she believes from all corners of the universe deserves it. It's all those foolish things with the stars aligning and the sun shining upon them and Mars or some planet is lined up with the moon that roamed through her head about this moment. And sure, Becky is living vicariously with his championship but at the same time, it was captivating to see someone finally achieve their dream.
She realizes it's been a while since either one of them has said anything, so when she turns her attention back on him (after not getting distracted by the glittering gold, thank you very much), he's looking her up and down with a raised eyebrow and an unreadable expression. The mood change is so sudden, it startles her a little.
But then his mouth sets in a signature smirk and simply says, "You could break some hearts in that outfit, huh, Red?" He jokes, eyebrows wiggling in suggestion and she sputters about, forgetting that she wasn't in a regular outfit or even in her ring attire and now she's a bit embarrassed about it. Only Dean could turn some semi-serious atmosphere - (okay, maybe it was only serious in her brain? Who knows.) - into some goofy, mocking moment.
Becky manages to gather her wits but Dean's already noticed the blush on her cheeks, she's sure of it, when the real smug look crosses over his face. She releases his hand, crosses her own arms over her chest and glares, "Aye, don't know what you're insinuating, Ambrose," she jabs, finger wagging in his face as he chuckles. "but I just wanted to look nice, y'know."
"You look mighty fine there." Dean speaks and has the gall to wink at her afterwards. She knows he's teasing her but he's damn good at it and it kind of irritates her to the core. Okay, no it doesn't but Becky can't really admit that to Dean; he's already got an ego about himself.
She struggles to keep her composure, chin raised in defiance and certainty, but Dean's watching her, that silly grin on his face once more. It surprises her a bit when he lays the title on a sitting trunk near them, turning back with arms wide open toward her.
Becky doesn't understand the quick mood changes from him, she never really could, and she hesitates for only a second, a second too long apparently because he's bending down, arms now wound around her waist as he lifts her up.
It's definitely excessive and Becky flails momentarily as Dean laughs, face now buried in her neck when she finally grabs at his shoulders, steadying herself against his chest in the end.
She sometimes forgets that he nearly dwarfs her in size and she feels tiny up there, looking down at him while he looks up at her, looking amused and oh-so-proud of himself.
Becky whacks him on the head for it.
Dean feigns hurt, wincing and exclaming a half-hearted 'Ow!', keeping her up with one arm as he rubs at the 'sore' spot on his head, lips pushing out in a pout.
She tries for a stern look but it doesn't quite work when he grins at her again, dimples sinking into his cheeks and they may or may not make her go weak at the knees and she's very glad that Dean's holding her up because Becky's not quite sure she could do it on her own at this point.
She forgets about her disapproval for a second, leaning her weight against him as she weaves her fingers through the unruly curls on his head. They're still wet, drying a little at the roots but she can't tell if it's mostly sweat or water but Becky doesn't mind as she brushes his fringe away from his face.
Dean's looking at her again, like he did back in the ring with that smile that makes her heart skip a few beats, her lungs stutter in their breathing and Becky hopes that she's looking at him the same way, making him feel just out of his element as he does to her.
It's silly and pathetic sometimes but she's not caring right now, not with the way he shifts so Becky's sitting down a little further and props his forehead against hers.
There's that moment of silence, where the world stops in time and it all narrows down on them and Becky doesn't want to move a muscle as if it could ruin it all but she does repeat herself one more time to him, again with nothing more than a whisper
"I really am proud of you."
Dean lets out a little sigh, a small gush of air and his body slowly relaxes, shoulders slumping downward as she watches him close his eyes. The smile dims slightly, only a corner of his lips are curved up and it's the most beautiful sight, she's convinced.
"Pretty proud of myself too, y'know," he murmurs, head bowing so he nuzzles at her throat. She bites back a laugh because his scruff tickles slightly against her neck, before bumping her forehead against the back of his head and pressing a small kiss to the same spot. Dean continues on, words muffled now, "Didn't think I could it. It was a hard, man. Didn't think I was even going to make it."
Becky can't quite catch the tone in his voice, but she can imagine the kind of nerves that he felt, the hitch in his self-confidence going against two of his former brothers. "Well, I knew you could." It's a declaration that she's told him nearly every day up to the match, every chance she could get. She's been in matches against people who she thought had her back - more than once - and she could understand the need to prove to them that they're not someone to just step over.
She's just happy that Dean could prove that tonight even if she wasn't strong enough to.
He's smirking again, head tilting back to look up at her with amusement, "You had that much confidence in me, didya?"
It's her turn to be cocky, squaring her shoulders as she nods, "Of course I did!" Becky tries to her best to look downright offended as if she could think otherwise about the outcome of the match but all it does is get him laughing, head thrown back with raspy chuckles falling out of his lips.
"You're something else, darlin'," Dean drawls, lop-sided grin on his face as he finally sets her down, arm slung heavily onto her shoulders soon after. He tugs her in a headlock, something softer than what she knows he can do and Becky attempts to glare at him but it doesn't work because it makes him laugh again.
She's not that troubled about it; it's really amazing the way he holds himself through all of this. She could see the nerves and the tension all over him prior to the match, could see it watching it in the locker room with the rest of the roster. But now, Dean is relaxed and chatting about, letting her out of the headlock to praise about the moves he made during the competition. It's something he always does and Becky doesn't mind it, sitting herself on the same trunk that holds his title, and watches him.
Becky thinks about all the stupid, frivolous things again - how the universe is all his right at this moment and he could do what he wants with it and while she doesn't believe she's apart of that world right now, she's comfortable counting the stars.