Dean could be a shit friend sometimes. He knew that, and really he had to give a lot of credit to Becky for overlooking his flaws, and putting up with him in the first place. He had totally ruined the biggest night of her career. Sure, if he had won a title and she had lost hers he would have dropped everything to comfort her just as she did for him. He knew that she didn't hold it against him, but that didn't mean he didn't feel bad about being a sad sack when they should have been celebrating and parading that title around town.

He looked over at her in the quiet car on the way to the next town and smirked. She was looking down at the title in her lap in awe, like she still couldn't believe it. Dean smiled fondly at her, even though she wasn't paying attention. He knew he had to make this up to her. They needed to celebrate. He looked back up to the road and saw a twenty-four hour restaurant at the next exit. That was perfect!

He merged into the lane for the exit, before Becky noticed anything was different. When she did notice she looked around and frowned. "Is this where you finally murder me and bury me in the woods?"

Dean smirked, "No need to worry, Irish. Only the good die young."

She laughed, her head lifting up in such a carefree way, and her nose scrunching. "Wow, you're such a dick, Ambrose."

Dean said nothing as they pulled into the parking lot for the restaurant he had seen. It looked pretty empty, just the workers still here at one in the morning. Becky had seemed to grasp his idea of food, it wasn't an unusual occurrence this late at night for them, and was starting to get out of the car. She placed her belt on the seat gently, but Dean stopped her.

"Hey, no, bring the belt." She looked at him unsure, and still worried for him. He really needed to show her he was okay, so that she could fully enjoy this win. "I know you want to."

Becky nodded shyly and picked the belt back up and threw it onto her shoulder. She walked up with Dean to the entrance and he held the door open for her theatrically. She rolled her eyes, punched him lightly in the gut, and went through. Dean was grinning, a plan coming together in his mind. She would most likely kill him, but that'd be better than the constant worry she was offending him with her happiness.

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!"

The staff looked unimpressed, but began to gather together enough premade burgers that Dean thought they might be giving them all the rest that they had. Becky had stopped fidgeting and was now trying to contain her giggles as Dean marched in a circle. She even raised the belt a few times. Dean couldn't help but flashback to the night that he retained the title so that it stayed with him on Smackdown. Becky was the second one out, a thing she was mad about. According to her, Cena had shoved her out of the way to be first.

When Dean had this flashback, he expected to feel loss. His title was now gone, but instead he could look up into the smiling face of Becky who was holding her title high in a late night fast food restaurant and feel utter happiness for his friend. His best friend, who had been there for him and meant more to him only in this past year than just about anyone.

He carried her on his shoulders all the way out to the car, only setting her down carefully because she was holding their bag of food. She got in the car, and seemed in a much better mood, no longer so caught up in what she feared he think if she felt happy. They got into the car and before Dean started driving, he unlocked her phone that was on the center console and flipped down until he found the song he wanted. He plugged the song into the radio and started the car. Soon enough, Queen's We Are The Champions, blared out the speakers and caused Becky to laugh loudly again before she began signing along.

Dean kept that song on loop for the rest of their thirty-minute drive to the hotel. And when they got there, the only reason he didn't put her back on his shoulders was because of all the luggage that had to bring with them up to their room. Still he announced her presence in the hotel lobby as the woman's champion like a queen's escort and everyone turned to look at them. Becky flushed and ducked her head down and made a beeline for the front desk. She got their room for the night, as Dean continued to point at her proclaiming her status as the top female wrestler in the world, something Charlotte, Sasha, and Bayley all would take issue with, but he wasn't their best friends.

They trudged up to the room and began to get settled in. Dean unpacked some of his shirts and took Becky's shirts and hung them up next to his. He left their folded clothes in their bags; he didn't need to be traumatized by Becky's undergarments. Not again. He heard Becky go into the bathroom to change into her pajamas, a tank top and sleeping shorts, while he peeled off his leather jacket and jeans and put on some basketball shorts from his bag. He headed to his bed and crashed on top of it. He could already tell he'd be sore in the morning, and not the good kind of sore either.

He heard the bathroom door open, and tilted his head up to see Becky coming out in her pajamas and her make up taken off. She had taken way longer than usual, but he could immediately tell the reason why. She had the title around her waist still, as she walked out, and he could see just the faintest glistening of tear tracks on her face. She'd been happy crying, most likely staring at herself in the mirror with the title around her waist. Dean gave her a knowing smile, which she tried to actively ignore. He knew how much this meant to her. He remembered, after WrestleMania and the Royal Rumble, how devastated she was. She had been the only Horsewoman to not hold a title in NXT or on the main roster. This was validation in the biggest possible way for her. She had patched things up with all the Horsewomen now, but she still felt like the kid sister of all of them, even though she was older than half of them. Dean knew all these things, because Becky confided in him about them at one time or another. Now, she had proof to what he had been saying, what Bayley had been saying, what the WWE Universe had been saying tonight. She deserved it, and was one of the best in the world.

Becky stood by her bedside, slowly taking the title off her waste. Dean could see the hesitation and longing. She puts her title on the bedside table and slowly gets into bed, under the covers, and turns in bed to face him and her title. Dean smiles at her, and gets a smile back.

"You know, I saw your interview. I won't judge if you want to sleep with it."

Becky blushed a little and shook her head, "That'd be ridiculous. I'm fine."

Dean shrugged, "Suit yourself, Irish. Good job tonight, now the real competition starts."

She got a determined smile on her face, "I'm counting on it. Goodnight, Mox."

His muscles relaxed, "Night, Knox."

She grinned at him for his use of her old name from the independents, before she reached over and turned off the light.

Dean woke with a groan, a pain in his injured leg. He sighed and reached over to the bedside lamp. He turned it on low and rubbed his eyes. He then looked over to the bedside clock and felt his heart drop at the sight of three A.M. on the clock. He sat there for a moment, before deciding to get some water from the tap in the bathroom. He shifted his weight and sat up. His head now turned towards Becky's bed and when he looked at her he stopped.

She was still turned and facing him, but now her hair was as wild as it usually was in the morning, falling all over her face in an orange flurry. And her arms were crossed over her chest, clutching that title to herself as if it were a life preserver. She must have either reached for it in her sleep, or not been able to go to sleep without it. Dean didn't know which he found more adorable.

He stood and stretched his back out a little, still determined to get a glass of water. He walked over to her and kneeled down, ignoring the protest of his bad leg. He gently moved her messy orange hair out of her face and saw how peaceful she looked. No bad dreams of betrayals and never measuring up anymore. He smiled at the peace that had fallen over her and gently pressed his lips to her forehead. She shifted a little, but settled soon without waking up.

He was still close to her head and whispered, just for her to hear in her dreams. "I'm so proud of you, Becky. So fucking proud."

As he stood up to get his glass of water he spared one last look down at her and felt the warm companionship he associated with their friendship wash over him strongly, as she had smiled in her sleep in response to him.

Dean was still sad about his title, and Becky had been sad on his behalf earlier in the night. But he knew that Becky was so happy for her own title win, and feeling guilty about feeling so happy when he no longer had his title. He put a stop to that and made sure that she knew that while their sadness and losses were shared between them, their joys in life and their wins were also. After all, that's what best friends do.