Sometimes he just liked to watch her.

As creepy as that absolutely sounded, he saw it more as an occasional, brief admiration. Just watching the little things that she did. Over time, he had noticed her many reoccurring features; like how the system she had for putting make up on, attending to her hair, and removing make up never changed. Over time, he came to realise how much of an organised and careful person she was. And considerate - definitely considerate.

Not just the emotional consideration she had towards others, but to each thing she did. Everything from painting her nails to preparing to wrestle. Each regime being very different, but very intricate. Emma noticed that he watched her sometimes, though she didn't mind, she supposed that he found comfort in it if he was ever stressed.

There was one time when he'd had an exceptionally rough night at an event after losing a match. He didn't take it well, of course, and ended up trashing a few things backstage and shouting in a few faces. Emma had witnessed the majority of it, he knew, right up to when he walked out of the arena and just sat outside for a while. Dean remembered it being cold that night, it didn't help that he was drenched in sweat with just his ring gear on. The only thing that kept him going was the adrenaline that slowly wore off.

He couldn't help but always feel awful thinking back to that night, because he was so harsh with her given his bitter mood. Regardless of him not being the kindest he could have been, she still stayed with him, and she still gave off her incredibly bubbly vibes that he hated (but also loved). He remembered her saying nothing to him for some time as the two of them sat there together in the cold. Emma had taken it upon herself to grab his hoodie that he had left backstage and bring it out to him. He of course denied it.

The Diva knew how stubborn he was and how he was always keen to keep in any kind of affectionate emotion, much like he did that night, so she wasn't offended by the way he was, but she just wanted so much for him to let his guard down - just once.

That same night, after a lot of convincing, Emma managed to get Dean into the car with all of his things and drive him back to his hotel room. He said nothing to her for the duration of the journey, which she didn't mind at all because she liked listening to music and not talking when she was driving. By that point Dean had calmed down a lot from his original state and was just slouched in the seat of the car like a child that hadn't gotten its own way. Thinking back, he remembered watching her as the music played.

If he remembered rightly, the song that played was 'Flow' by Cage The Elephant - he recalled Emma mentioning that it was one of her favourite songs to drive to when it was dark. She told him that song meant a lot to her. He could see that it did, he could see in the corner of his eye that she was miming - maybe even singing very quietly - the words perfectly. Her head swayed ever so slightly and she tapped her fingers to the beat on the steering wheel. For some reason, being around her in that kind of calm and satisfied state really calmed him down and made him feel much more comfortable inside.

That brief car journey was one of his favourite times with Emma. Hell, maybe even one of his favourite moments ever. It just felt right.

When he was with Emma, when it was just the two of them, he felt so different inside. He was still the same sarcastic jerk attitude wise, as that was just him, but the inner bitterness he often felt completely left him. It wasn't a feeling that brought him down, it was a feeling of distaste towards most things.

Even after the worst of nights, being with her after it all changed it around entirely. Dean never told her of his true feelings, but deep down he knew that she was very aware of them but just didn't mention them or bring up the subject of their feelings for each other for his sake. Which he loved. He felt that they did not need to be a topic of discussion and hid them as much as he could.

But right now couldn't have been more contradictory.

Emma was reading, she sat with her legs straight in front of her and her back against several pillows she had propped up. Dean lay next to her, watching her intently as she chewed lightly on her bottom lip and scanned over the pages of the book with those blue eyes of hers that he loved. The curls that were styled into her blonde hair for the event had become more loose and gave her hair a much more natural, wavy look. The make up was still unblemished on her face, but Dean knew she would soon remove it before she went to sleep.

Yes, Emma made sure to tell him of the importance of removing make up thoroughly before sleeping.

As she continued to read the book, he continued to watch and admire her with heavy eyes. He was tired, but content. He noted how she continuously braced her knees, but moved them down again, and how she also played subconsciously with the corners of the pages of the book. She was very fidgety.

Sighing, he pulled himself up slightly using his elbows for leverage, so he was sat closer to her, almost mimicking how she sat. Emma took her attention away from the book in her hand and looked at him with question. Dean said nothing, only carefully taking the book out of her hand, folding down a tiny piece of the corner of the page she was on down and closing the book. He leaned over to put it into the drawer.

"Do you mind?" Emma asked sternly but with an adorable frown.

"Let me hold you," he replied, already laid back down how he was before, his left arm now stretched out, encouraging her to lay just there. Emma gave the smallest and sweetest of smiles before doing so. She took the pillows that were on her side and brought them over to put beneath Dean's neck and head, then tucked herself against him in his grasp. The arm around her held her protectively, and his fingers gently moved over the skin of her arm.

Dean was on his back and was facing the ceiling. The lack of light along with the warmth of Emma made him even more tired, but he tried his best to stay awake for as long as he could so he could savour this moment for everything it had to give, because it was perfect. Everything about this was perfect; how he held her, how she fit perfectly up against him in his grasp, but mostly - how the two of them could not have felt more content with each other if they tried.

This was all they needed at that moment.