Thanks as always for reading. Review.

Also, after watching the WWE network thing about Becky, I'm gonna stop doing her accent after this chapter.

Also, review.

Chapter 5: Saved Dances

Christmas Eve at Jimmy and Naomi Fatu's house was the closest thing to a "family Christmas" Dean Ambrose had ever been a part of. Children of various ages were laughing and playing with some of the new toys they'd been allowed to open that evening. Dean couldn't help but smile, although he did his best to hide it from everyone.

The Christmas Eve service had been it's usual train wreck of cuteness and sentimentality. Toa sang earnestly, smiled for pictures, and even waited patiently for all of his parents' family and friends to arrive at the Fatu home before changing out of his nice clothes. In return, he'd been allowed to open the gift Dean got for him, and sprang from his seated position on the floor to throw his arms around Dean's neck when he laid eyes on his new Matchbox cars. It was a sweet moment for Dean, at a time in his life when they'd become increasingly hard to come by. It was the second best thing that'd happened to Dean that night.

The best thing that had happened to Ambrose that night had occurred just a couple of moments after he'd pulled his sturdy old truck up to the curb outside Becky's apartment building. The old brick building, which had once been a factory for machine parts, was decorated for the holidays. The white lights twinkled in the falling snow, and there was a giant decorated tree in the front lawn.

None of these things, in Dean's opinion, were in the same sphere of beauty as his date for the evening. His heart skipped a beat when the apartment front doors swung open and the exquisite form of Doctor Becky Lynch strode confidently out into the frigid air.

Even dressed down, she was a sight to behold. Her black slacks hugged her lower form perfectly, and her white blouse and maroon sweater combination set her rich auburn hair off unbelievable well. Even with her coat and stocking hat on, her natural beauty stood out. She greeted Dean warmly, with a warm hug and a light, soft kiss, and began walking to Dean's truck with him, her arm lightly hooked in his.

She smiled at him again when he opened her truck door, before pecking him on the lips again and climbing in. The ride to church was filled with small talk about the upcoming festivities, and Dean noticed a change in how affectionate she was being toward him. She'd reached to his side of the console and taken his free hand in hers. The drive to the church wasn't as long as Dean would've liked, as it meant not enough alone time with Becky, but when they parked beside the church, Becky smiled and kissed him again.

"I'm really 'appy to be 'ere, Dean. T'ank ya."

Dean snickered. "Don't thank me. I'm the lucky one. I do have to tell you one thing, though."

Becky's eyebrows furrowed a bit. "Tell me wha'?"

Dean sighed. "Well, my ex-girlfriend is gonna be at the house we're going to after this. It isn't a big deal, I promise. It's been almost ten years. She actually married a guy I'm gonna start working with soon. We… used to be close. I just wanted you to know in case someone said something stupid."

Becky nodded. "And I'm no' jus' there to make 'er jealous?" She asked, cautiously, though she made no move to pull away from Dean.

Dean scoffed playfully. "Oh, you're gonna make her jealous, because she's the jealous type. But I invited you before I knew she was even gonna be there. Promise."

Becky smiled and nodded. "I believe ya, Dean. Ya jus' never know."

Dean laughed softly. "I get it. Believe me, the last thing I want on Christmas Eve is drama. It just seems like drama always finds me."

Becky chuckled softly. Without any further conversation, she opened her truck door, as did Dean, and the two walked arm in arm (it was too cold outside to remove gloves, making holding hands both dumb and impractical) into the service.

Dean immediately spotted his small group of friends. Becky remembered Naomi from the night she met Dean, and was quickly and quietly introduced to everyone else. She'd noticed that the exchange between Dean and Roman was a bit stilted, and that Dean didn't say anything it all to the purple-haired girl Becky assumed was Sasha. Dean and Becky finally found their seats next to Naomi and Jimmy Fatu, and were greeted warmly. Dean waved at the girl he knew to be Jimmy's cousin, a large but strikingly beautiful Samoan girl named Nia. Naomi had once attempted to set up Dean and Nia, but she hadn't shown any more interest than he had.

Once everyone got settled, Becky scooted a bit closer to Dean, before taking the arm attached to the hand he was holding and sliding it over her shoulders. Dean smiled and glanced down at the affectionate Irishwoman, who playfully leaned into him. Dean began to let his guard down, until he heard a familiar voice that caused the hair on his neck to stand up.

She wasn't talking to him. She didn't even acknowledge whether or not she'd seen him, but Dean could feel her brown eyes bearing down on him. He couldn't decide whether or not to let Becky in on what was happening, but he decided he wanted her to be informed if there were an incident.

"Hey," he whispered into Becky's ear. His breath on her cheek gave her goosebumps, though her long sleeves hid them.

"Yeh?" She asked, her eyes scanning his face for a sign as to what he was talking about. She could see that he was clearly trying not to look in a certain direction.

"My ex wife is here. Pretty blonde, shoulder length hair, boring a hole in my skull with her eyes. I swear I didn't know she was coming." Becky could tell Dean was worried that she would think he brought her with less than honorable intentions, so she tried to pat his leg reassuringly.

"Shhh. It's okay, Dean. I know ya didn' bring me 'ere to be a jerk ta someone else. Ya can do tha' fine on yer own."

Dean chuckled. "You know me better than I thought, clearly. No, I wouldn't have come if I'd known she was going to be here. I dislike being around her that much." His eyes darted back toward his ex-wife, who was now making no attempt to hide her hateful stares at Dean and this new mystery woman. "Is she still looking at us?"

Becky's eyes darted toward the blonde- haired girl. "No," she returned honestly. "She's lookin' a' you."

Dean snickered, not expecting that response. "Well, I'm glad she doesn't hate you yet."

Becky smiled up at Dean. "Well, then, let's give 'er reason tah." With that, she leaned up from her seat toward Dean, pressed her lips toward his, and gave him the most romantic kiss she felt comfortable with in a church building. When she finished, with a small giggle, she reached up to Dean's face and wiped her lipstick from his mouth with her thumb.

"There," she continued, "now I'm sure she 'ates both of us." She smiled again, glancing over at the blonde woman, who'd narrowed her eyes menacingly at the couple. "Yeh, she's pissed," Becky remarked.

Dean gave her a wry half-smile. "Well, this is another thing we have in common."

Becky was halfway through formulating her response when the lights in the All Saints Church dimmed, indicating that the program was about to begin. So, instead of speaking, Becky simply turned her eyes toward the stage and leaned into Dean, his arm still around her, and slid her hand onto his leg.

Now, at the Fatu residence, the party was in full swing. Naomi, as well as Nia and Jimmy's mom, a wonderful woman Naomi had called Lena, were serving up a storm in the kitchen. They'd clearly spent a substantial amount of time on Christmas Eve day preparing delicious party food for their guests, and the smiles on their faces as they watched the pleased responses from their guests told the entire story.

Dean had other reasons to be pleased. He was currently slouched in an easy chair not far from the roaring fireplace, an overflowing plate of snacks in one hand, and a napkin in the other. He had a beer bottle wedged between his leg and the side of the chair, and he had a gorgeous, sweet smelling redhead perched on the armrest closest to the fire. She was nursing a plate of snacks, too, though hers wasn't nearly as loaded as Dean's. She could tell Dean had some mild hang ups regarding high levels of public affection, particularly in such an intimate setting, so she just sat with him, smiling, and talking with him quietly. She wasn't sure how deep her feelings were for Dean, but she knew she liked him enough to take things at his pace.

After a few minutes of small talk with Becky, another fresh beer, and some apple pie (freshly prepared by Lena), the exchanges of gifts began. There was no formal structure. No names pulled out of a hat or "white elephant" gift swaps. Just people who'd brought presents for other people that they loved. Even Becky, who'd had only a couple days notice that she'd even be there, had pitched in with Dean to buy gifts.

For his hosts, the Fatu's, Dean bought a "welcome" mat. Ever the kidder, however, the mat was custom, with a message that instructed any approaching potential guests to "Come Back with a Warrant." Naomi, in particular, found the message hilarious. Dean got Jimmy's mom a certificate for a message, and various gift cards for most of the other guests, whom he didn't know as well.

Dean got various gift cards and other less than intimate presents. Truth be told, no one related to Jimmy or Naomi really felt that they knew the enigmatic loner that well, and so they bowed to courtesy, bringing Dean gifts merely so they didn't feel like jerks for not bringing anything. Most of these same people also had no idea Becky was even coming, but she graciously laughed it off. She even joked with Lena Fatu that the family could "ma'e it up ta me nex' year."

Dean tried to ignore Becky's assumption that she'd be there the next year. He wanted to think it sounded presumptuous of her to just surmise that the two would still be seeing each other a year from now, but he also had to acquiesce to himself that the idea didn't scare him. He didn't know Becky that well yet, but everything he'd seen from her made him think that he'd be smart to keep her around as long as she'd put up with both his nonsense and his shitty work schedule. He couldn't help but stare at her. The raging fire was reflecting in her eyes just perfectly, and the flowing light gave her an almost ethereal appearance. Becky caught Dean looking at her, but, rather than give him a hard time, she merely playfully nudged him with her arm and grinned affectionately at him.

"I gotcha a gif'," she told him quietly, the commotion of gift giving around them covering up the sound.

"Really?" Ambrose countered, half-smile crossing his face.

"Yeh," Becky whispered, leaning close to Dean as she continued talking. "I'll give it to ya when ya ta'e me 'ome."

Dean grinned wider. "Oh, really?"

Becky shook her head and rolled her eyes, though she was chuckling, too. "No' a chance, boyo. Tonigh', anyway. But I did get ya somthin' I know you'll li'e. I di' leave it in me room, so you'll hafta walk me up this time."

Dean grinned and winked at his date. "Lookin' forward to it."

An hour or so later, Becky yawned loudly, and not to indicate that she was ready to leave, but out of actual fatigue. She'd had a long week at the hospital, and while she'd enjoyed meeting the people Dean cared most for, at this point in the evening she was having trouble keeping her eyes open.

There had been one more significant moment in her evening. Dean had gotten up to talk to Jimmy and Roman, leaving the seat next to Becky unoccupied. Before she had a chance to get up or change her location at all, the vacant seat next to her filled with a much smaller form than the one that vacated it. Becky glanced over at the easy chair's new occupant, and was surprised and mildly concerned to see the lithe frame of Mrs. Sasha Banks Reigns. What surprised her even more, however, was the congenial manner with with Sasha started her conversation.

"So," Sasha began, in an even tone that almost unnerved Becky, "I'm Sasha." She turned toward the stunned red haired girl.

"Becky," the Irish beauty responded, still curious as to what the smaller girl wanted.

"You're here with Dean," Sasha observed externally. "That's...good. You seem much less...extra...than the girls I normally see him around."

"Ya see 'im aroun' girls a lo'?"

Sasha shrugged. "Not really. I mean, we have a lot of mutual friends, and with Roman being a cop, like Dean, there's always tons of gossip. Last I'd heard he'd shacked up with some fitness instructor who was like ten years older than him."

Becky tried not to grimace. Dean had mentioned Victoria briefly, but mostly as an example of how haphazardly he'd been living his life since the divorce.

"Yeh, he mentioned t'at. Bu' so far 'e's been very swee'."

Sasha nodded. "He's a sweet guy. He also seems to have grown up a lot."

Becky snickered, but it didn't seem hostile coming from her. "I t'ink we all 'ave since high school."

Sasha nodded, though the look in her eyes was somewhat wistful. "Dean always had a big heart. He just sometimes chose to fill it with the wrong things. But he is being nice to you?"

Becky grinned and nodded. "Yeh. He brough' me dinner to the 'ospital the other night. Go' mah order righ' an' everthing."

Sasha laughed a bit louder. "He HAS grown up. No matter what I asked him to bring, he used to bring me a burger and fries. Told me I needed to get a little 'junk in my trunk.'"

Becky covered her mouth and laughed. Every story she heard about Dean made her feelings ripen for him in one way or another. Dean's checkered past didn't scare her off, but she did like hearing about it, if only to paint a clearer picture of who she was dealing with.

"Tha' soun's li'e 'im." Becky paused to take a swig of her beer. "No, I was wary a' firs'. Bu' 'e's been nothin' bu' a comple'e gentleman since we star'ed datin'. Tha' was abou' four days ago."

Sasha smiled. "Well, you seem really good for him. He's a good guy. Really. He can be a dick, but if he cares about you, he's the greatest guy in the world." She stood up, though it was more laborious than she remembered it being before she was pregnant. She clapped Becky on the arm, who'd also stood, though she wasn't 100% sure why.

"He's a good man, Becky. Roman says he's grown up a lot since he first met him. And you seem really sweet. Be patient with him, because he's been through a lot. Everyone I know who knows his ex-wife says so. She really did him dirty."

Becky nodded, stopping to run a finger through her hair and tuck some of it behind her left ear. "I 'eard. The women a' the 'ospital tol' me 'e was a bad guy, bu' he 'asn't been anything but a perfec' gentleman since we been dating."

Sasha nodded. "Good. I'll kick his ass if he isn't." As Sasha finished speaking, Dean came meandering back to his previous spot, his expression wary at seeing his current love interest and his former love conversing.

"The hell is going on here?" He asked, genuinely curious.

"Sasha 'ere was jus' tellin' me how much fun the two of ya used to 'ave."

Dean chuckled. "Oh lord." He rolled his eyes and slid his arm loosely around Becky's shoulders. "Nothing too good, I hope."

Becky grinned, winking at Sasha. "She tol' me abou' the bedwettin' thing."

A look of horror washed over Dean's face. "Sasha, what the fuck? I did no-"

Dean's protest was cut off by the laughs of both women.

"I'm just messin' wit' ya, Dean. She actually said you 'ave a good 'eart, an' tha' ya know how ta trea' people ya care abou'."

Dean's long, terrified face morphed into an arrogant but playful snicker. "Damn right I do."

Now it was Sasha's turn to laugh. "We had you going though. You thought I told her you were a bedwetter."

Dean shook his head again. "I was never a bedwetter. We both know that." He turned toward Becky, the expression on his face unchanged. "Don't listen to this nonsense."

Becky giggled. She liked it when the ordinarily unflappable Ambrose showed some emotion. "Are ya sure? I could see ya bein' the type tha' pisses 'imself while 'e's sleepin'."

The three all laughed again. For Ambrose, this was a big deal. There weren't many situations in which he'd be okay with anyone giving him a hard time like this. For Becky, though, he'd make an exception.

"It was only once, and I'd just watched Amityville Horror, and I was like eight. I was afraid to get out of bed and go to the bathroom. Despite what this one tells you." He pointed at Sasha, though everyone knew who he was talking about. "And why are you talking to Becky at all? I don't need any extra obstacles in convincing her I'm a good man."

Becky giggled whimsically. "Boy, ain't tha' the truth?"

Becky and Sasha swapped knowing looks. Sasha, visibly pregnant, was clearly not trying to get Dean back, and therefore Becky knew she didn't have to view Sasha as an enemy. If anything, Becky deduced internally, Sasha could prove an invaluable asset when it came to dealing with her new possible suitor and his idiosyncrasies.

Sasha threw her hands up innocently. "I was just being friendly." She grinned and winked at her new redheaded acquaintance. "Can I borrow him for just a second?" She asked Becky, no hint of malice in her countenance.

"Eh, sure, I guess," Becky returned, not sure why Sasha would need to speak to Dean alone, but unwilling to create a disturbance in public. Nodding at Sasha, and quickly squeezing Dean's hand, Becky wandered into the kitchen, greeted warmly by Naomi and Nia.

Dean followed Sasha into a sunken indoor enclave to the side of the Uso's family room. It was behind the fireplace, and so Dean felt the temperature around him drop fifteen to twenty degrees. Sasha gave a brief shiver in response, before starting her talk.

"So," she began, trying to ignore how frigid the room she was in was, "are you and Ro gonna be okay working together? I know there's been some bad blood between you."

Dean snickered. "Shit, you WERE the 'bad blood between us.' I think I can work with Roman. It's not like he stole you from me. I just... " He trailed off, taking a deep breath. "There's a code, okay? As my friend, he should've asked me if it was okay to date you. Even if I broke up with you. That's just courtesy. And when I saw the two of you eating that goddamn picnic, a little bit of me soured. Like, hasn't been right since. Until recently, honestly."

Sasha couldn't suppress her smile. "Becky?"

Dean didn't want to give his high school girlfriend the satisfaction of being right. "Yeah, I mean, maybe. I dunno. We're not even exclusive yet."

Sasha smacked Dean on the arm and gave him a playful smack on the arm. "Dean. Seriously, and I say this to you as someone who knows how difficult you can be, lock that shit down." She rolled her eyes as Dean began laughing.

"I'm not fucking kidding, at all," she continued, nonplussed by Dean's reaction. "She's a fucking smokeshow, she's a doctor, and she really seems into you. Do not mess this up."

Dean nodded, smiling wryly. "I get it. She's pretty awesome. I just don't know if I'm ready for-"

Sasha's touch to Dean's arm cut off his speaking. Both of them noticed that there was still a remnant of some electricity there, but their conversation wouldn't be derailed by lingering bullshit from years ago.

"Dean, seriously," she continued, powering through, "Becky is amazing. I'm telling you. We were in the kitchen earlier and every single time we asked her about you she started blushing. I know you're still smarting a bit over Renee, but do not let that horrible woman get in the way of a jewel like Becky."

Dean stared at Sasha, considering what she was saying. Finally, after longer than either would have liked, Dean spoke.

"You know, for a long time, I blamed you for Renee. I saw you and Roman together and I got with the next woman that showed me serious interest. And believe me, Renee showed me some serious interest."

Sasha shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I know. We all heard about you two hooking up in the Academy chief's office."

Dean grinned widely this time. "Yeah, that shit was legendary."

Sasha rolled her eyes and smacked him on the arm again. "Look, be smart. Okay? She likes you. I can tell you like her, too. Don't be afraid to be open with her. She's not the type that's gonna rip your heart out on purpose."

Dean smiled. "I know. Just...I'm working on it, okay? I only met her a couple weeks ago and I actually think things are going well. I'm trying not to ruin by being...me."

Now it was Sasha's turn to let out a big laugh. "I certainly understand that." She smiled, the same bright toothy grin that used to wrap Dean around her little finger. Sasha, deep down, still had a boatload of affinity for Dean, his reckless nature and boyish charm, and all she truthfully wanted was for her former love to be happy. Dean would always hold a tiny, tiny corner of her heart, and seeing him with a quality girl honestly warmed her spirit. She also knew Dean's proclivity for messing up the best things in his life. So, Sasha decided, she would help and encourage him, especially if it meant he and Roman could start getting along. She sighed deeply. It was weird having Dean back in her life after all this time, and yet something felt right about it. She drew in a breath to talk about their topic in common again.

"Okay, Dean, I think I made my point. I just really enjoyed talking to her. I think she suits you. Like, really well. She's headstrong and confident and hot and won't take shit off of you. Be smart. You won't do better than her." Sasha snickered. "I'm not sure there IS better than her."

Dean smirked and shook his head. "You trying to play matchmaker now?"

Sasha rolled her eyes. "Forgive me for wanting to see you happy. I'll never make that mistake again."

Her feelings were a little hurt now. Sasha was doing her best to be nice, and all Dean wanted to do was be a jerk. She turned to walk back into the party, before Dean clasped her arm with his hand.

"Sash, look," he retorted, an air of compromise in his voice. "It's just weird having my 'big ex' tell me how great my new potential girlfriend is. I promise I'll get over it soon."

Sasha motioned for him to follow her as she headed back toward the warmth of the family room.

"Good." She hesitated, before lighting up once again. "Oh, and save me a dance."

Dean's look turned from resolute to confused. "The hell are you talking about?"

Sasha grinned back at Dean, enjoying knowing something that he didn't. "You'll see."

The ride back to Becky's apartment wasn't nearly short enough for Dean's taste. He thought it was funny how he could wish for time to go slower on the way somewhere, yet for it to go faster on the return to that same place. Dean was into Becky. There was really no other way to say it. He was as intrigued by a future with her as she apparently was with a future with him. As her residence building crossed the horizon, growing closer by the second, he felt her warm hand relax in his. He found the sensation oddly comforting, and the company of this intoxicating young woman unlike anything he'd ever experienced before.

Dean pulled into a parking spot near the front of Becky's building. Sliding his truck's gear shift into "park," he looked over at the radiant Irishwoman occupying the seat next to his. She unbuckled her seat belt and leaned close to her date, drawing in and giving him another of the kisses that were becoming more and more frequent. After way too short a session for Dean's liking, Becky pulled away, a bashful smile on her face.

"Sorry, boyo, I jus' li'e kissin' ya. It's been a while since I though' enough a someone tah want tah kiss 'em this much."

She raised Dean's hand, which was still entwined with her own, and planted another kiss on the back of his hand. Dean, who was trying not to get lost in the eyes of this gorgeous soul, realized she was expecting him to say something.

"Yeah," he answered softly. "There's absolutely no need to apologize. I like kissing you, too."

If either of the pair currently in the truck has been paying attention to anything other than their growing affection for each other, they'd have seen the snow beginning to fall harder. But they weren't. So instead they kissed again, Becky's face pressed against Dean's, and tried to forget everything but each other. After another beat, Becky broke off the kiss, opened her eyes, and remembered what she was going to say to Dean.

"So," she began, somewhat hesitantly, "I 'ave somethin' I need tah ask ya."

Dean nodded anxiously.

"The mayor is throwin' a New Year's Eve party tah benefi' the new children's wing o' the hospi'al. It's gonna be a real fancy party. Open bar, great food, dancin'. I didn' wanna go, bu' now tha' we been ou' a coupla times, i' migh' no' be so bad if ya go with me."

Dean chuckled. Deep down, it thrilled his soul that this woman had asked him to something like that. Before he responded, one thought occurred to him.

"Wait," he returned slyly, "are Roman and Sasha going? Did you tell her you were gonna ask me?"

Becky nodded shyly, the bashful smile Dean loved so much crossing her lips.

"I did."

"Huh," Dean mused. "That's why she asked me to save her a dance."

Becky's smile turned wry, and a bit playfully annoyed. "Tha' bitch," she called in mock indignation. "Tryin' tah steal mah da'e!"

She shook her head, before feeling Dean's hand rest softly on her chin. Pulling her face back to him, he kissed her, quickly but passionately, and smiled.

"I'd love to, babydoll."

"Good," Becky returned in relief, "because I bough' two tickets after we ha' our firs' da'e."

The young man snickered playfully. "You did?"

Becky smiled and nodded, pulling hair from her face and resting it behind her ear. "Aye, I did. I was hopin' ya'd go wit' me."

Dean returned the show of affection Becky gave him earlier, lifting her hand to his mouth and kissing it softly. "I'm already lookin' forward to it."

Becky sighed with relief. "Good." She softly pulled her hand from Dean's, sliding her stocking hat over her head. "Now, Dean, understandin' tha' sex is off the table, would ya li'e to come upstairs an' ge' yer presen'?"

Dean snickered. While he hoped to get intimate with Becky sooner rather than later, he wasn't going to turn down any chance to spend time with Dr. Becky Lynch. Reaching behind the seat, he nodded. "Yeah, I got something for you, too. It's not much, but given how little time we've actually spent together it was the best I could do. Next Christmas I'll really nail it."

Becky's eyes twinkled as she tilted her head to one side and raised her eyebrows. "Ya think you'll still be aroun' a year from now, Ambrose?"

Dean snickered. "Yeah, unless you get tired of me."

Rather than answering verbally, Becky simply leaned into Ambrose and kissed him. Softly, slowly, and with as much tongue as she thought she could get away with without compromising her "no sex tonight" decision.

After a minute or two, Becky felt Dean's hand start to move from where it'd landed on her waist, exploring to her upper torso. As it came to rest on her breast, Becky moaned into Dean's lips, but moved her hand onto his and replaced it on her hip. Breaking the kiss and sighing deeply, Becky spoke her mind.

"Dean, I'm serious. I'm startin' tah think I migh' li'e yah, like, more than a l'il. And I've made mistakes in the pas' wit' gettin' too serious too fas'. Le' me take it slow, an' I promise, when I feel like it's the righ' time, it'll be min' blowin'."

Dean snickered, though he nodded his head in agreement. "Okay. But I want it noted for the record that I was promised 'mind blowing.'"

Becky chuckled, trying not to let Dean see how red her face was turning. She drew a deep breath, glanced up at Dean, and attacked his mouth with hers.

After a few more minutes, Becky pulled away from Dean again, though this time, she took the tiniest nibble of Dean's lower lip when she pulled away. She gave the now bewildered Ambrose the most sultry look he'd seen from her yet.

"Aye. Min' blowin'. Now c'mon," she replied, changing topics, "le's go in an' get ya yer gif'. Maybe you'll stay an' have a beer?"

Before any further making out could commence, Becky threw open the passenger door, shivering visibly at the bitter cold, and motioned for Dean to follow her.

"Le's go, Ambrose! I will leave ya ou' 'ere!" Becky steeled herself against the frigid wind and walked quickly toward the front walk of her apartment building. Dean shook his head, pulled the small bag Becky's gift was in from behind the seat, pulled the hood of the sweatshirt he was wearing under his jacket over his head, locked his truck tightly, and followed the beautiful doctor into her building.

Becky's apartment was fucking cold. That was Dean's first thought. Immediately, Becky's face turned to an alarmed look.

"The fuck?" She asked no one in particular. "Did Bayley turn the 'eat off?"

Dean scanned the living room that Becky's door opened into. It was a beautiful apartment. Whoever had been responsible for turning an old factory into loft apartments did an exceptional job. Floor to ceiling windows in the living room led to high wooden-braced ceilings. Brick interior walls gave an aged look to the unit. A fireplace on the far wall looked like it had once been a smokestack that originated in the basement and had carried billowing industrial smoke from all levels of the building out into the atmosphere. He noticed that all visible clocks were blinking, but they weren't at twelve a clock.

"I think the power must've gone out earlier. Sometimes at my house when that happens and the power comes back on, the heat doesn't turn over. I bet that's what happened."

Becky nodded. It made sense. At that moment, though, all she could think about was how cold it was in her residence. Quickly crossing to the thermostat, she checked the digital readout and tried not to scream.

"It's for'y one degrees in 'ere, Ambrose!" She exclaimed, turning the control off and back on. She shivered again and glanced back at her guest. "I'm so sorry i's so bad!"

Dean grinned and slowly sauntered over to where Becky was. Sliding his arms around her waist from behind, his heart skipped a beat when she laid her head back against his chest.

"It's not a problem, Doctor Pretty Lady. We'll just have to sit a little closer. Now," he continued, turning Becky to face him, "I believe I was promised a beer and a gift. How 'bout we do that?"

Becky's grin couldn't be contained. "Aye, Ambrose, I'll ge' righ' on tha'."

And she did. And Becky, for all the things she'd never had to be, was an excellent hostess. As she waited with Ambrose for her surroundings to warm up, she did her best to make him a bit more than comfortable. She brought him a beer and warmed some cookies she'd baked a day or two before. She'd even allowed Dean to build and light a fire in their fireplace. Up until that night, she hadn't been a hundred percent sure the fireplace even worked. After a minute or so of fiddling. Dean assured her that it did, and so her icy apartment began to soak in the warmth radiating from the fireplace.

And now, Becky and Dean found themselves relaxing on Becky's couch. Each had an open beer in front of them, and the television was pumping out Christmas programming in front of them, though they weren't particularly interested in the offerings.

"Ok, so, I go' yer presen' 'ere, Ambrose." Becky smiled sincerely at him. "Bu' I bough' it before I knew I wanted ta see ya as much as I do." She smiled and presented Dean with a large gift bag, while Dean rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

"Is it a pony?" He asked, clearly joking.

"Jus' open it, smarty," Becky responded. Dean dug into the tissue paper protruding from the large bag, layer by layer, until he ran into the bag's most valued contents.

"Holy shit, Irish whiskey," Dean cried out, though it wasn't much above a whisper.

"Yeh, they make i' in muh 'ome town, an' I though' ya migh' li'e it." Becky responded, trying not to betray how excited she was that Dean liked it.

"This is fantastic, Becky. How did you know I like whiskey?"

Becky giggled and shrugged. "I figured ya would appreciate a good whiskey. I's the smoothest I've ever 'ad." She scooted a bit closer to Ambrose on the couch, smiling at him. "I figured we could crack it open in a bit?"

Dean chuckled again. "Absolutely, Doctor Pretty Lady." He scanned the label, marveling at how strong the alcohol appeared to be. Then he remembered his own gift.

"Oh, shit, I forgot my gift for you." Dean handed Becky a smaller bag, though he seemed just as proud of his as she did of hers. "Again, I didn't really know you that well yet, and this gift just screamed 'buy me for Becky.'"

The Irish girl giggled. "I apprecia'e the though', Ambrose. Le's see wha' ya go' fer me?" She tore into the bag excitedly, finding a scented candle. She opened it, taking in its aroma for the first time.

"It's actually quite lovely, Ambrose, and very thoughtful." She leaned into him and kissed him on the cheek. "I'll ligh' it up righ' away. Thank ya, Dean."

She disappeared from Dean's field of vision, enthusiastically heading to find a lighter and fill the room with the fragrance Dean brought for her.

He heard the flicking sound of a cigarette lighter, followed closely by a soft humming as Becky set the lit candle on the mantle above the now roaring fireplace. She smiled back at Dean as he watched her in rapt attention.

"So, you got to use my gift, wanna get into mine?" Dean asked, trying to think of any reason not to leave Becky's presence. The redhead squinted at him skeptically.

"Are ya tryin' ta ge' me drunk, Ambrose?"

Dean shrugged, giving the beauty a wink and a smile. "I mean, I'm not NOT trying to get you drunk."

Becky giggled. "Fair enough. I'll ge' us a coupla glasses."

And that's how it went. Becky brought two short drinking glasses into the living room, pouring herself and Dean almost exactly two fingers worth of Irish whiskey. After chatting for a minute, they began discussing their favorite Christmas movies. Dean insisted that Die Hard was not only a Christmas movie, but the best Christmas movie ever. Becky stood her ground, clinging to National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. Following a few minutes of friendly banter, Dean relenting to watching Becky's favorite movie.

It was a good thing he did, because before the Griswolds grandparents had arrived on screen, Becky was snuggled as close to Dean as physics would allow. Her head rested securely on his shoulder, her arms hooked around his right arm, and her hand intertwined with his. Becky, for as much distance as she tried to keep at her emotional surface, was complete putty in the hands of Dean Ambrose. Lucky for her, Dean felt the exact same way about her. He hung on her every word, though she didn't know it, and so the two found themselves in a wonderful, precarious situation.

Still noticeably chilly in her apartment, Becky paused the movie to procure blankets for the two of them. The fire was helping as well, but given that the outside temperature was somewhere in the teens, Becky's living room was still an uninviting frozen tundra, and so physical proximity was the best thing either of the two people involved in this scenario could offer the other.

Becky leaned into Dean and grinned. "I love this movie."

Dean grinned, certain Becky was watching his reaction. "I like it too." He felt her head lean against his shoulder, and his insides warmed like they hadn't in some time.

They stayed that way for a while, Becky latched onto Dean, the two of them depending on each other for body heat, Becky sighing contentedly every few minutes.

Both of them were asleep before the movie was over. As they stirred awake, a bit later, Dean glanced at the clock, finding that it told him a time he wasn't happy with. He leapt from his couch seat, worried about the late hour and making sure Becky didn't feel awkward or pressured. She moaned softly as she stirred, her comfort zone harshly dispersed by Dean's shenanigans.

"Wha's wrong, boyo?" She asked, not completely sure what was happening.

Dean scoffed. "We fell asleep. Because we're super interesting."

Becky hid her face in embarrassment and chuckled softly. "I'm so excitin'." Grinning, she leaned into Ambrose and softly kissed his cheek.

"So, i's la'e, an' the roads are gettin' bad. Rememberin' tha' sex is off the table...probably," she continued, peeking out the window, "would ya like ta stay 'ere?"

Dean's brow furrowed in disbelief. "Really?"

Becky nodded softly. "Aye. I'd worry if ya tried ta drive to yer 'ouse righ' now, and, honestly, it'd be nice not ta wake up alone on Christmas mornin'."

That last comment touched Dean deeply. Last Christmas had been rough for him. Renee hadn't officially left him yet, but she'd gone to her parents house in Canada for the holidays. She'd begged Dean to come with her, to try to "work on their relationship," but Dean had been too focused on the disappearance of the last of the five girls to leave town. When Renee returned, after New Year's, she'd served him with divorce papers. It still pained Dean to think about.

"Yeah, that would be nice," Dean responded, sliding his arm around Becky.

"Bu' remember," she said, pointing her first finger in Dean's face, "no funny business. I'm serious. Yer 'ands stay above the wais'. Understand?"

Dean grinned. "Yeah."

"Good," Becky replied, before standing and offering her hands to Dean, helping him to stand as well. Both parties stretched their limbs, before Dean peeked out the window facing his truck. He exhaled deeply.

"Well, I always keep a fresh change of workout clothes in my truck in case I want to get some gym time in. It's not getting any warmer. Shit. Okay, I'll be back." Dean headed straight for the door, grabbing Becky's key fob off the coffee table. As soon as he left the apartment, the Irish stunner sprang into action, checking her appearance in the bathroom mirror, making sure the sheets on her bed smelled clean (she often slept at the hospital or on her couch and wasn't sure how long it'd been since they'd been changed). Finding them satisfactory, she moved the candle Dean had gotten her into her bedroom and made sure the tv was working. That way they could pick up the movie where they'd fallen asleep before. She noted that there was still a prevailing chill in the air, so she pulled extra blankets from the closet and laid them folded at the foot of the bed. Finally, deciding the accommodations were as luxurious as they were going to be, Becky slipped into the bathroom to change into her sleep clothes.

As she pulled on her tank top and short jogging shorts, she could hear Dean returning to the loft. She checked herself in the mirror. Despite her "no sex" edict, she was hoping to tantalize Dean a bit with her appearance in her less than modest sleeping apparel, and she admitted to herself that she looked great. She was toned, the product of daily (at minimum) workouts, and her smile was super bright from the almost obsessive care she took of her teeth. "Not bad," she admitted to herself. Sighing contentedly at the circumstances that had brought this incredibly handsome, if not somewhat insane, suitor into her life. She called out to him briefly, letting him know she was in the back, and she chuckled at Dean's heavy footsteps across the hardwood floors.

Before fully opening the bathroom door, she cracked it, peeking with one eye into the adjoining room. Relief washed over her when she saw that it was, in fact, the gentleman lunatic sitting on the side of her bed.

Her relieved giggle rang richly from the high ceilings in her bedroom.

"I was 'opin' ya weren' an intruder." She crossed the room, sliding into a seated position next to Ambrose.

Dean snickered. "Nah. I did think about hiding to scare you."

Becky rolled her eyes and swatted Dean on the arm before allowing him into the bathroom she vacated to change.

As he came out, his heart skipped yet another beat that night. Becky was laying in bed, her smile bright, her hair still up in a ponytail. She winked at him and patted the unoccupied side of the bed.

"Yer side is 'ere. Wha' are ya wai'in fer?"

She ran her hand back and forth on the duvet invitingly, and Dean climbed in slowly, hoping not to disturb any of the pristine decor surrounding the bed. He smiled over at his date, then peered out the window again.

"Damn, I'm glad you didn't make me go home. If I'd have had a breakdown out there, it would've been bad news for your boy."

Becky rolled her eyes, though her grin couldn't be contained. "Well, remember wha' I said, Ambrose. No sex tonigh'."

Dean chuckled again. "Okay."

Becky threw a hand up to stop him. "Bu' I will require a rather serious spoonin'. Tha's the price of admission. Ya keep me warm. We snuggle. Ya give me a kess when I need one. I cook ya breakfast in the mornin'. Is tha' fair?"

Dean pretended to think for a moment. "I mean, I guess, since it's too late to go anywhere."

Becky elbowed him playfully, before pulling the covers up to past her shoulders, prompting Ambrose to do the same. With very little prompting from Becky, Dean slid his arm around her waist, pulling her into him.

Becky sighed in contentment. "Yer warm, Ambrose, ya can stay this close all night if ya want." She giggled a bit, despite herself, trying not to give away how much she was enjoying this latest development. She felt him plant a small kiss on her neck, and she turned her head and found his lips with hers. After much too short a time for either of their liking, Becky broke the kiss, before turning back toward the window, turning off the lamp, and pressing herself even further into Dean's body.

Dean woke up to several of the more pleasant sensations he'd had in a while. He'd noticed that Becky's side of the bed was empty, but that question was immediately answered by the delectable smells wafting through the air. As Dean stood and stretched, he could tell that the heat had finally done its job, filling the entire apartment with warmth for the first time since they'd entered.

He staggered out into the great room, smile growing on his face as he saw the massive breakfast Becky was preparing.

"'Ay, boyo, Merry Christmas. How'd ya sleep?"

Dean snickered, wandering close to the would-be chef. He slid his hands on her hips from behind, kissing her on the top of the head.

"I slept like a baby."

Becky giggled. "Aye, I know. Ya were snorin' like an old man. It was righ' cu'e."

Dean laughed a bit in response. "I'm glad you liked it."

The red haired girl turned from the stove, lightly kissed the man behind her, then returned to the steaming smorgasbord in progress.

An hour or so later, as the two young professionals sat cuddling on the couch, used plates on the coffee table and Becky tucked snugly under Dean's arm. The parade was on tv, but neither was really watching. Becky was fighting drowsiness, and Dean was thanking his Maker that he wasn't working the parade that year. As the young man started to think about how he could get used to his private utopia, with the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen tucked securely under his arm, he heard his phone begin to rattle.

"Fuuuck," Dean moaned to himself, sliding his iphone into his field of vision. He intently read the incoming message.

Ambrose. Sry for ruining Christmas. There's a 273-D at ur old precinct. She says she'll only talk to you.

Dean sprang from his seat, causing Becky to fully wake.

"Wha's wrong, boyo?"

Dean shook his head. "We got a domestic disturbance victim at my old precinct. Apparently the victim says she only wants to talk to me. I gotta go, but I'll be back later?"

Becky nodded. "I'll be 'ere. Bring me some dinner?"

Dean smiled. "Absolutely. Let me know what you want."

With that, Dean grabbed his keys from the aforementioned coffee table and headed for the door.

So, we're gonna pick up the crime stuff soon. Wanted to follow through on Christmas Eve. Don't forget to review, follow, and favorite. Also, my favorite story right now is Stamford University. If you don't, please leave a review.