Thanks for all the love. I don't know why the "peck on the lips" line is still in there. I've tried to change it 3 times. There was a section I decided to delete that would've made it make sense. Just...block it out of your minds I guess. I guess it's true what they say: "Write drunk, edit sober." In my case, it's "write drunk, don't forget to edit." Y'all are the best. Speaking of editing, I could use an editor. My primary editor is a smashing success here and doesn't have the time necessary for me. If anyone with a gmail account has some extra time and wants to help out, I'm all ears.

Chapter 3: Oedipal shite.

As it turned out, Dean did beat Becky to Anvil's for their date. He insured this by arriving at six fifty five, rather than the appointed seven. The young man hadn't been on a date in a long time, not a real one, and this particular redheaded physician with impeccable bone structure piqued his curiosity like no female ever had. He'd just greeted the doorman, letting him know to make sure Becky got in okay. The large, tattooed hercules gave Dean a nod, which Dean responded to with a "Hey, Tyson."

Dean shook off the cold as he entered the run-down old pub. A staple of West Titan for the last thirty years, Anvil's was the culmination of a longtime dream of it's owner and founder, Jim "The Anvil" Neidhart. Jim spent 25 years as a street cop in Titan, working downtown. The day he retired, he laid down every bit of what he'd saved over his career to buy a failing bar not far from where he'd grown up. He worked it, his daughters worked it when they were old enough, and he'd turned it into a profitable business. He'd done so mostly by offering insanely low prices on beer and fried foods, counting on volume to make up for low markups. It was somewhat counterintuitive in the restaurant business, but it had worked for Neidhart.

None of that mattered to Dean at that moment. It was now 7:01 pm, and Becky was late. Ambrose tried not to panic. The last he'd heard from her was a text around four pm saying how excited she was to hang out with him, but a lot could change in three hours. Dean tapped his fingers on the worn wooden table, signaling to one of the servers he recognized that he wanted a pitcher of his "usual." She grinned and winked, acknowledging his order, but her face turned to surprise when he held up two fingers, indicating that he wanted one more glass than normal.

Dean ended up worrying for nothing. At almost exactly 7:04 PM, the front door to Anvil's opened and the alluring form of Doctor Becky Lynch sauntered confidently toward Dean. "Holy shit," Dean muttered to himself. And it was deserved. If four extra minutes were all it took for Becky to look like she currently did, Dean was prepared to extend her even more grace regarding arrival time in the future. She strode toward him, clad in tight faded black jeans and leather jacket. She shrugged the outer garment off, revealing a dark green tank top. Her hair was curly, but not in the obnoxious way some girls do. Instead, she allowed her hair to simply cascade around her face in gentle crimson waves. She was wearing makeup, but not so much that it distracted from her natural, God-given beauty. As she drew closer to Dean, she smiled, revealing her perfect white teeth once again.

"'Ey, boyo," she greeted Dean, her voice betraying her inner warmth.

Dean rose from his barstool, pulled back from his high top table, and smiled at his date, taking her in from head to toe. She extended her arms for a hug, and Dean happily obliged.

"I'm glad you made it, 'Doctor pretty lady.'"

She chuckled and shook her head, breaking the embrace. "Ya know ya can jus' call me Becky, yeah?"

Dean nodded. "I know, but I kinda like your nickname more." The two broke their embrace and were immediately joined by their server, who placed a pitcher of beer and two glasses on their table. She smiled at them, and not just out of obligation.

"Will there be anything else?" She asked the pair of occupants.

"You want a shot or mixed drink?" Dean asked, an anxious, compliant look on his face.

"Aye," Becky nodded. "I'll take a whiskey diet cola and twelve medium wings, if ya don' mind." She was facing the brunette young waitress, but Dean got the feeling that question was directed at him as much as anyone else. The young man chuckled.

"Girl knows what she wants. I'll take a whiskey and sour. Make it a double. Tall. Double tall whiskey sour and twelve 'scorcher.'"

Their server grinned, having just quadrupled her ticket price. "Absolutely. You want a side of fries or anything?"

Dean raised his eyebrows at Becky, who nodded. "Yeh. A side a' fries sounds tasty. Thank ya, dear." She grinned at their excited young waitress, who nodded and hurriedly whisked herself away to take care of her guests.

"So," Becky began again, re-focusing on Dean. "How's yer arm?"

Dean snickered. His bruises were still expansive, and it hurt him to move in certain ways, but the kevlar had done its job, and as a result Dean was dealing with discomfort, rather than bullet holes in places that could've ended his career, if not his life.

"It's good," he replied, rotating his shoulder slowly, as if to demonstrate his health. "You people do good work."

Becky smiled. "Good ta' hear."

Over the next few minutes, Dean learned a lot about his new potential love interest. She'd grown up in Belfast, with her mother introducing her to resistance early. She'd come to Titan City only eight weeks prior, when she'd been offered and accepted the position of "head trauma surgeon" at Rogers General. She enjoyed ultimate fighting, American football, baseball, and grunge music. As their mixed drinks arrived, however, their conversation turned to Dean, and what a guy like him was doing in Titan City.

"So," Becky redirected, stopping to sip her mixed drink, "tell me abou' Dean. How ya became who ya are."

Dean sighed deeply. "Yeah. Well, I was born here. Raised here. My mom beat a drug addiction. I grew up in a decent part of town. Good schools. Went to church. When I was twenty one my mom was accidentally shot in a drive by. She was walking home from the corner store. They never caught the scumbags that did it. After that, becoming a cop seemed like the logical thing to do."

As he told the story, Dean could see the empathy growing in Becky's brown eyes. At one point, she slid her hand over his as he told the story in more detail than Becky probably needed. When he finished, Becky drew a deep breath and pouted briefly.

"Dean, I am so sorry ya had ta deal wit' all that while ya were still young. That had ta be hard."

Dean snickered. "Yeah, I mean, it wasn't ideal, but I had several good years with mom while she was clean. We had a good time. I do wonder if losing her when I did made me marry Renee when I wouldn't have otherwise."

Becky nodded. "Renee is yer ex?"

Dean let a single laugh go. "I guess the nurses on your shift really did tell you everything. Yeah, we got married not too long after we met. Less than a year, in fact." Becky nodded as he paused to take a long pull from his glass of beer. "It was great at first, then I caught that case." Becky nodded again, more intently than she had all night.

"The one wit' the dead li'l girls?"

Dean shook his head in the affirmative. "Yeah. I can't actually even prove that they're dead. We never found any bodies. But they disappeared. I mean they were fucking gone. I only ever had one real lead, and that dissipated pretty quick."

"Ya ever hear from anyone else over them girls?"

Dean slowly lowered his head. "No. Once the trail went cold, that was it. I couldn't find anyone to say anything."

Becky's face betrayed her train of thought. "Holy shite, Dean. Ya had to deal wit' a lo'. And Renee didn' want ta be a par' of it?"

Dean shook his head again, causing his hair to wave. "Nah. She felt neglected. And I really don't blame her. I spent a TON of time on that case. Like a TON. I stayed at the precinct for sixty straight hours once making calls. I lived on catnaps in the squad room and peanut m&m's from the vending machine."

"Wow. Yeah, t'at's a lo'," Becky affirmed. As much as her brain was questioning whether or not dating a cop would be good for her own mental health, she couldn't help but be taken in by the manic intensity behind Dean's eyes. She was also really taken in by his seemingly relentless passion for justice. She caught his eyes with hers, and patted the top of his calloused hands with her, her elegant fingers running lightly over his knuckles.

"Do ya have hobbies? A way ta blow off all tha' anger?"

Dean shrugged and raised his beer glass.

"You're lookin' at it, really. I'm at work, here, at the gym, or asleep."

Becky scoffed lightly. "Bullshite. The girls a' the hospi'al say yer ou' tryin' ta ge' girls ta go home wit' ya all the time. Wha' abou' tha'?"

"I believe that's covered under 'sleeping'," Dean mused." By the way, your accent gets much more pronounced when you've been drinking."

Becky returned a deep, sincere grin and chuckle. "Aye. I've heard tha' before."

The two kept up their small talk for a bit, and their food was delivered shortly after. When they'd spent a few moments in content silence, both of them immensely enjoying their food, Dean worked up the nerve to ask the question the question that had been circling his mind since they'd begun their conversation.

"How about you?" Dean asked, doing his best to sound interested without appearing to pry.

"Wha?" Becky questioned, her focus having been pulled from her dinner.

"Was there ever anyone special for Dr. Becky Lynch?"

Becky snickered, almost sadly, and took a sip of her beer, before refilling both Deans and her own glass. She nodded, the wistful look still on her face.

"T'ere was only two real ones. My high school boyfriend was named Sheamus. We grew up in Belfas' toget'er. We was jus' friends until tenth grade, when he asked me to the movies. No' long after, we was makin' ou' in the back o' me mum's car. That was a big deal."

"Why was that?" Dean asked, his face a mask of rapt attention.

"Mum never wanted me ta date. My dad lef' when I was li'l and she tol' me every man was all the same."

Dean chuckled and nodded his head. "We really are."

Becky rolled her eyes, but couldn't hide the smile from curling her lips. And, in Dean's opinion, any reason to steal a glimpse of her lips was a good one. She continued her story, trying not to let on that she could tell Dean was staring at her intently.

"She forbade me to see 'im, which jus' made me wan' to more. We did all the 'high school swee'heart stuff. Then he wen' ta university and I never saw 'im again."

Dean shook his head. "Fuck that guy," he asserted. Becky made no attempt to hide her laugh this time, and used the sudden movement to brush her hand on Dean's again.

"That's wha' mah mum said, too. She asked me if I'd learned me lesson wit' boys yet. And for a while, I had."

Dean nodded his head knowingly. "Until boy number two?"

Becky nodded, the look in her eyes growing in distance as she recollected. "Aye. Finn Balor. We was in med school together. He was the most gorgeous man I'd ever seen, and 'e treated me like a princess."

Dean urged her in verbally. "And then what happened?"

Becky took a long drink of her beer, emptying her glass, and poured what was left in the pitcher into her no longer frosty mug. "I caugh' him bangin' our ana'omy professor."

Dean waited for more detail before finally relenting and asking his pressing question. "Was your professor like, a guy or something? I know him cheating on you is shitty enough, but the look on your face makes it seem like you saw him shoot a puppy or something."

The conversation paused long enough for Dean to signal to their server that they wanted a second pitcher of beer. After the young woman received his nonverbal cues, Dean turned his undivided attention back to the auburn haired beauty in front of him. Becky paused, still hesitant to tell him everything.

"No, it was a 'she,' bu' she was old enough ta be his mum." Dean made a face as Becky nodded. The fresh pitcher of lager, along with two fresh glasses, landed on their table. She continued as Dean poured beer in their respective cups.

"Yeah. A' first, he tol' me he was only doin' it ta help his grade." She chuckled. "I was jealous she wasn' inta girls when I heard tha'. I needed help wit' mah grades, too. I was even willin' ta forgive 'im." She cringed as she prepared to tell the next part. "Then I read his texts. It was some weird Oedipal shite. He was callin' her 'mum' and she sai' he was 'er 'good li'l boy.' It was fucked."

Dean had turned a full shade paler during the story, his stomach churning in disgust from this new revelation. "That is fucked. I mean, not the older woman part. I went through a bit of a 'cougar' phase myself." He chuckled as Becky hid her head in her hands. "The part where he's playing 'the good son.' That shit is...gross."

"Aye," Becky nodded. "He tried ta tell me he ha' a sex addiction, bu' it was too la'e. I moved ou' tha' day. Me mum was a' the door, wit' a look tha' said 'I tol' ya so' right on 'er face. That was the las' serious one. Since then i's been jus' a few casual t'ings here an' t'ere. Nothin' since I moved 'ere."

With that last revelation, Dean was the one who couldn't hold in his smile. "No dates since you've been in Titan City? Good. All the guys here are scumbags."

Becky grinned, turning her head sideways playfully at Dean. In spite of herself, she found his unorthodox manner extremely attractive. It was though Dean was physically incapable of taking anything more seriously than was absolutely necessary, and Becky got enough seriousness in her life saving lives all day at the hospital. Spending her evenings with a man as irreverent as Dean was an appealing notion to Becky, who loved to laugh in spite of the severity of the decisions she made at work every day. She slid her hand onto Dean's again, winking at him when he looked up at her, unsure of the message she was sending. She smiled, showing Dean that grin he was growing so fond of. After another moment of small talk, Dean's phone, which he'd meant to turn on "silent" before beginning his date with this latest entry into his personal life, but had forgotten immediately on laying eyes on his date, went off, and he was paying the price now.

"Fuck," he spat to himself.

"Wha'?" Becky asked, her interest in high gear. Dean shook his head in response. "I have to do some interviews tomorrow. December 22nd and we have to go to work. Can you believe that?"

Becky smiled again and rolled her eyes. "I pulled a bulle' ou' of a senior citizen on Christmas Day las' year," she asserted, letting Dean know how ridiculous she found his protest.

"Well...I didn't," he finally relented, unwilling to admit she had a point. "Anyway, apparently a few candidates won't be here until after January once they leave town for the holidays, so my captain wants me to get their interviews in tomorrow."

Becky's eyes flared with interest. "Who are they?" She asked, her curiosity bubbling over.

Dean squinted at his phone screen. "Huh. There's some experienced officers applying for this unit."

Becky's look of curiosity turned to full-on inquisition. "T'at's a good t'ing, right?" She pried, gently, hoping Dean would satisfy her curious mind.

Dean scoffed in return. "Yeah. Even though it makes me wonder why I'm one of the ones in charge of this bowl of fruits and nuts."

"Who else is in charge?" Becky asked, enjoying hearing Dean discuss topics he cared about.

"Well, there's Captain Foley. He appointed me. I gather that I'm like, team leader or whatever. I run the day to day, he keeps the brass happy. There's also Dana. She's the one that gave me the 'heads up' on these interviews tomorrow. She said her specialty is 'undercover,' but I get the sneaking feeling she might be there to keep an eye on me." Dean pulled his iPhone closer to his face. "Looks like I have four interviews tomorrow. Booker Huffman, Dustin Runnels, Emma Dashwood, and Zack Ryder. I know Zack, though, and he's hired if he wants the job."

"He's a good cop?" Becky inquired, sipping from her cocktail.

"Yeah, but not in the traditional sense. He's the best forensic accountant in Titan City. Maybe the country."

Wha' in God's name is a 'forensic accountan'?" Becky asked, her inebriation beginning to show.

Dean scoffed lightheartedly. "A forensic accountant is a cop who figures out where the money siphoned through a business owned by a crime figure is actually coming from." Seeing the puzzled look on Becky's face, he expounded on his point. "Let's say a drug lord has a ton of cash that he needs to explain the presence of. So he buys like, a car wash. It's a cash based business, there's no record of how many customers visit per day. It's a perfect front for organized crime. Instead of there being like three hundred thousand dollars this guy can't explain, he can say ' we had a good week at the car wash.' That's how they got Al Capone, actually."

Becky nodded. "I t'ink I ge' it." She smiled, slid off the stool across from Dean, and reset herself on the one to his immediate left.

"Is this ok?" She asked, not particularly caring what his answer was.

Dean grinned at her in response. "Absolutely." He slid his arm around the backrest of the high-backed chair. She, in response, leaned into the unstable Ambrose, grinning, and pecked the shocked young man on the cheek. (Author's note: I did mean for this kiss to stay in.)

"What was that for?" Dean asked, genuinely puzzled by the actions of Lynch.

"Yer jus' so stinkin 'andsome," Becky responded, the color beginning to flood to her cheeks. "Yer so passiona'e abou' wha' ya do. I's very attractive." She smiled at him, deeply, and leaned into his casual embrace. She took a long, final drink of her cocktail, before signaling for another. She turned her head toward Dean, letting him see her sparkling white grin. "I was very nervous abou' goin' on a date wit' a cop. Especially a cop I'd 'eard so many stories abou'." She grinned as Dean's face colored slightly. "Bu' I really wouldn' min' gettin' ta know ya be'er."

The young detective grinned. "I'm glad to hear that. I'm an interesting guy."

The two smiling young professionals continued their small talk for a while longer, until they were finished with their snacks. They played pool, casually threw darts, and lightheartedly flirted for another hour or so.

Finally, after a particularly rousing game of darts, Dean checked his watch. "Shit," Dean muttered. "It's getting late."

Becky gave an exaggerated pout. "Bu' we was jus' startin' to 'ave fun." She winked at Dean, before lightly running her hand up and down his arm. "No, I understan'. I know ya 'ave them interviews tomorrah."

Ambrose checked the time again. "Yeah, I should be done midway through the afternoon. You want to have dinner or something?"

Becky smiled sweetly, and a bit shyly. "I'm at the 'ospital tomorrah. 'Til la'e. But I'm off the res' a' the week fer Christmas."

As soon as the scarlet-haired beauty mentioned the upcoming holiday, a thought Dean had had earlier and then forgotten throughout the course of all the beer and general merrymaking, but he figured now was as good a time as any to ask the question on his mind.

"Do you have plans for Christmas?"

Becky smiled again, but this time Dean could make out a glint of sadness in her face. "No' really," she mused, "Me roomma'e is working Christma' Eve and spending the day wit' 'er boyfrien's family. I figured I'd watch 'allmark movies and eat ice cream."

Dean snickered. "Well, I don't know if I can offer that level of fun, but my old partner invited me to her house for Christmas Eve. Her son's gonna be in the pageant at church and it always sucks but they're little kids so the adults smile and applaud anyway. The dinner after is always somethin', though. Naomi and her mother in law go all out every year. I am one hundred percent sure you won't be an inconvenience or imposition. They love being hospitable."

Becky gave a toothy, truly happy grin. "I would love tha', then. I was very sad thinkin' I migh' spend' Christmas Eve alone." She slid both her arms around Dean's left upper arm, briefly resting her head against his shoulder. "Thank ya fer invitin' me."

Dean grabbed her jacket for her, then held it so she could put it on. He wasn't sure why, but he really wanted to impress the intrepid doctor with how he could treat a woman he was interested in when properly motivated.

"T'ank ya," the Irish angel beamed. "Yer such a gentleman."

Ambrose let a single hearty laugh escape at that statement. "That might be the one name no woman has ever called me before." He gestured toward the front door, nonverbally inviting Becky to walk with him. Her smile grew wider as he took her hand, and she couldn't help but peck him on the cheek again. This one was soft, like the last one, but it lasted a bit longer and Becky closed her eyes while delivering it.

"Yer a swee' man, Dean Ambrose. I don' care wha' them ladies at the hospital say abou' ya."

Dean snickered. "I guess it depends on what they say about me." The two sauntered slowly through the door, letting the frigid December northeast air slap them across the face. "So, where'd you park?"

Becky grimaced, though it was playful. "I walked."

Dean's eyebrows raised in surprise. "This is Titan City. You walked alone to a bar?"

Becky shrugged animatedly. "T'ere were still lots of people aroun' on the streets. It's only abou' eight blocks. I figgered it wa' safe."

Dean shook his head. "Well, you got lucky getting over here unscathed. I refuse to let you take the same chance going home, however." He gestured toward his truck, a well-worn but immaculately kept Ford F-250. "I won't take 'no' for an answer. Seriously. I don't want you to get trafficked on the way home."

Becky giggled, now fully feeling the effects of the beer and cocktails she'd imbibed throughout the night. "Okay. Ya can drive me 'ome.. Bu' no funny business, mister…" she trailed off, her pointer finger squarely in Dean's face.

Dean grinned his best smile at her. "I promise, you're just getting a ride home." He winked at her, and she rewarded him with another kiss to his cheek.

After opening the vehicle door for Becky and helping her into said vehicle, all the while trying VERY hard not to stare at Becky's alluring backside, Dean got himself settled into his vehicle and engaged in small talk with Becky for the extremely short ride back to her apartment.

Pulling into the closest spot he could find, Dean threw his truck into "park" and jumped out of the cab, hoping to get to Becky's door before she opened it herself. To his chagrin, she slid out of her seat and closed the door just as he was arriving, but did take his hand again as they walked to the door of her apartment building. FInally, after a few more silent steps, Becky turned toward Dean and smiled, taking his free hand in hers.

"I really ha' fun tonigh', Dean, thank ya."

Dean tried not to smile, hoping to keep his cool exterior together. "I had fun too. Will you text me tomorrow night if you get some free time?"

Becky glanced down at the sidewalk, trying desperately not to squeal with glee that Dean seemed to be so into her.

"Aye. I will. An' if muh roomma'e is 'ome nex' time, I'd like ya ta mee' 'er. She's an excellent judge a character."

"Then I'm not sure if I should meet her or not. She might figure me out."

"Ha!" Becky exclaimed, not expecting that answer, though she should have. "Yer a much nicer man than ya le' on, Dean. And I'm glad." With that, the auburn-haired vixen slid her arms around Dean's neck, raising her head to his and planted a kiss on the somewhat surprised mouth of Dean Ambrose. Feeling a slight moan escape the lips of the beautiful redhead, Dean leaned into the kiss after a moment, and the two allowed themselves a brief moment of total submergence into youthful romanticism. After what seemed like an hour, but was probably only two or three minutes, Becky pulled away from the kiss, slowly and remorsefully.

"I hafta go in now, Dean. Or I'll be ou' 'ere all nigh' kissin' ya."

"What's wrong with that?" Dean asked, his hands still plaed gently on Becky's hips.

Becky looked him in the eyes, thoughtfully. "I'd like ta. Truly. Bu' ya hafta be up early and I'm a' the hospital all day. But le's do this again soon, ya?"

Dean nodded. "Christmas Eve?"

Becky grinned. "Yeah. And maybe after?"

Dean smiled again. "I'd count on it."

Becky, despite her better judgement, grabbed Dean playfully by the lapels of his leather jacket and pulled him in for another kiss, allowing their tongues to intermingle for a precious few seconds. After another minute or so, Becky broke the kiss. She backed away from Dean slowly.

"G'nigh', boyo. Tex' me when ya ge' 'ome, yeah?"

Dean snickered. "I will."

With that, Becky scanned a small object over the electronic locking device that kept unwanted would-be visitors out. She turned, blew a whimsical kiss at Dean, and retreated into her building.

I did not intend to do 10+ pages on Dean and Becky's first date. I just had so much fun writing it. Next chapter will deal with cop stuff. Promise.