"Becky would you fucking quit mother henning me?" Dean swatted Becky's hand away from his bandaged head. Becky glared at him, which caused him to pout but let her smooth his curls down around the bandage.

"You know this is for my sake rather than yours, Dean. Just let me fret over you for a little while and I'll feel better." Dean crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, but didn't make any attempts to argue.

Becky was in a chair by his hospital bed. He had been taken there after his Ambrose Asylum talk show had been cancelled. He had then been attacked by Chris Jericho and had a potted plant, Mitch, smashed against the back of his head. Becky had two things on her mind when she saw that happen. One, Dean's safety obviously. Two, she was going to pull Jericho's scarf out his ass.

"Do you wanna talk about what happened out there?" She saw the fire in Dean's eyes become intense as he snarled.

"Jericho just signed his death warrant is what happened. I'm gonna cook up something nice and juicy for us, just you wait."

Becky sighed, "You are gonna do something stupid and dangerous aren't you?"

Dean shrugged, "Most likely." He saw the worried look she tried to hide from him and frowned, "Hey, don't worry Irish, I ain't going nowhere. I'll live."

She patted his arm, his hand coming up to catch hers. She smiled at the gesture. "I know you big goof, I just worry is all."

Dean smiled sadly, "Gotta do what we gotta do sometimes. And that bastard killed Mitch."

Becky actually felt saddened when he mentioned Mitch. That plant had actually travelled with them and it had been like a son to Dean. He had actually let Mitch ride shotgun over Becky once, and it had been a great time.

"I'm sorry about Mitch, Dean. I know how much he meant to you." She watched him somber slowly.

"Yeah… it's the first plant I've ever been able to keep alive longer than a few days," he said sadly.

Becky squeezed his hand tighter, "You gave him the best life you could Dean. He was always happy with you."

"With us," Dean corrected, "He liked you too, Irish. Don't sell yourself short. You helped me raise him."

Becky smiled, "I texted Nattie. She and Sami were able to get the," she coughed, "body. If you want to bury him before we go?"

Dean sighed, but nodded, "Yeah, he deserves a send off. You'll be there?"

Becky smiled, "Of course I'll be there. I'll even say a few words if you want."

Dean smiled at her, "Thanks. And not just for offering, but for actually caring. I know connecting with a plant is strange and all, but-"

Becky shrugged, "Mitch was important to you so he was important to me. That's what friends do."

Dean twiddled his thumb against the hospital blanket, "Do-Do you think Roman would come?"

Becky felt a stab at her heart at his unsure voice. Roman had been involved against AJ Styles and the Club in recent weeks and had gone to war with them. He had not even contacted Dean to help, like he was expecting, and had instead enlisted the help of his cousins. Dean, while still dealing with Jericho, had been worried about his friend and how he had not talked to him since WrestleMania. She knew it bugged Dean and it was really starting to grate on him. She managed a smile and nodded, "We can definitely ask. I'm sure he'd love to be there if he can."

Dean squeezed her hand, "It's okay. You don't have to lie. I know he probably won't show up."

Becky sighed, "We will ask him anyway. Now, tell me what your plan is for getting back at that stupid idiot?"

Dean smiled sadly, at her blatant change of subject, but hummed in thought, "I don't know. I'm still kind of out of it. But I'll think of something."

Becky furrowed her brows, "Wanna let me give it a shot?"

Dean shook his head grinning, "Listen, Irish. Just cause we been hanging around and we are best friends now, doesn't mean you can do it better than-"

"Kill his jacket."

Dean's eyes widened at her voice, "What?"

Becky smirked at him, "He kills Mitch? You destroy his jacket."

Dean's brain started to work as his eyes roamed over her face, "That's… wow. That's actually really good…"

Becky sat back, his hand still grasped in hers, with a confident smile. "What were you saying earlier?"

Dean looked at her in awe, "Becky, you are a goddess beyond measure. I've never been this proud. And I know Mitch would be proud too."

"That's what I thought you were saying," Becky flushed at the praise and smiled, "You are starting to rub off on me a bit, Ambrose. That's a horrifying prospect. I feel so unclean."

Dean snorted, "It's not the worst thing in the world. But, god, that idea might be the best."

Becky leaned forward and smoothed out his forehead again, "You aren't allowed to do it until you are out of here though. Nattie and Sami are on their way; I'll text Roman and see if he can come. You just rest, okay?"

Dean nodded, and let his eyes droop a bit. Soon enough he was asleep. Becky took his phone and unlocked it; she smiled at his background photo of the two of them in the car. She could just make out the leaves of Mitch sitting in the backseat, strapped in of course. She flicked through his contacts, which were very few, until she located the number for a Samoan tank. She hit the message button and began to type her message to Roman. She hoped, for Roman's sake, that he came. Cause if he didn't show, Becky would be hunting him down.