Work Text:
“Hey, what’s up WWE High?” An extreme close up of Dean’s widened blue eyes opened the Facebook Live steam which had been captioned as “it’s better in the #ambroseasylum”. Greasy light brown hair stuck to his forehead, evidence that he hadn’t showered recently. As the camera shakily moved away, it was revealed that the teen was standing in front of a dumpster behind the school, fitting since the man literally looked like a piece of garbage. “I’m Dean Ambrose, and to all you losers, that means you by the way, Seth. To all of you watching this from class: welcome to my crib!”
Suddenly, the camera went out of focus as the lunatic began running towards his humble abode. A faint cry of “parkour” was heard before the loud metallic bang of someone physical hurdling themselves into a dumpster. By now, the feed was dark. Dean blindly felt around for a light switch, flipping it and illuminating the interior of his “crib”.
“Now as you see here,” Dean began, gesturing around him, “ol’ Dean-o has really straightened up this dump.” The camera tilted downwards, showing an elaborate oriental carpet. Panning up and over, a fireplace was momentarily in view before shifting to a red leather reading chair and, finally, a basket of live kittens tucked away into the corner. “While losers like all of you, and Seth, are busy studying and shit, I’m here all the time hanging out with my roommate. He’s great. Let’s go find him.”
The camera turned to focus on the teen’s face, again too close for comfort, his breath fogging up the lens of his Nokia 2320 Classic AT&T cell phone, Good Condition, Black.
“Aha! There he is, Mitch, my man!” Crouching down, Dean lowered himself and moved the camera away, the fog eventually fading to reveal a potted plant beside him. Giving the terracotta pot a pat with one of his taped hands, Dean smirked at the camera, “Yeah, Mitch is a good man. Hey, buddy, say hi to everyone watching this in class.”
Mitch remained silent, taking in a deep breath of CO2 and letting out a steady flow of oxygen.
“Yeah,” Patting the plant before standing, Dean began to move elsewhere within the room. A framed photo of Chyna was visible on the wall in the background. “Mitch is a great guy. Plant. He’s a great plant. Gives me some room to breathe, doesn’t betray me, y’know. Just a swell guy. Plant.”
By now, a solid 7 people were actually watching the feed, but it had thus far only procured 1 like. Probably Roman. Or maybe that was Rusev? It was hard to tell from the picture. Dean was going to guess that it was Rusev.
“Now… uh… if you take a look here.” It was evident at this point that Dean changed rooms. The warm, cozy atmosphere from the first room was gone. Instead, Dean Ambrose appeared to be in what looked like the set for Fight Club merged with a low budget sex dungeon. This was clearly his bedroom. The lunatic reached for something and held it up, “This is where I keep me and all my cool shit. Got this from Foley.”
A barbed wire bat made its way into frame.
“Dude’s got all sorts of weird shit. Don’t know why he still has a job here, but his taste in weapons suit me just fine. Man also gave me a chainsaw, a year’s worth of thumbtacks, and… oh man… I’ll save that last reveal for when I kick Seth’s ass later. Anyways, I actually just recently brought Barbie here to the homecoming dance as my date. Good times, terrible kisser.” Tossing the bat to the side, Dean opened a fridge that had just randomly come into frame.
This fridge was filled nothing but various kinds of applesauce. After some heavy consideration, the teen opted for the cinnamon applesauce as opposed to the strawberry he had earlier in the day. Popping it open, ol’ Dean-o took a sip of the pseudo baby food and smacked his lips, letting out a satisfied “aaaaaah…”
However, this peaceful moment of a man and his applesauce didn’t last long and before Dean could even show off his large violin, secret porn stash, and an absolutely unnecessary collection of kendo sticks and t-shirts with him own name on them, a screaming Seth Rollins crashed in through the ceiling, unleashing the forbidden melody of Linkin Park’s Numb into the room.
The phone was knocked from Dean’s hands and sent flying, hitting a wall and landing on its side. A blurry Dean and Seth were in shot as the men began to fight like wolves over a mate except they weren’t wolves and there wasn’t a mate to fight over.
“YOU BACKSTABBING WHORE!!” Dean cried out, landing a few solid chops into Seth Rollins’s chest.
“YOU CAN’T HURT ME, TRIPLE H IS MY DAD!” shrieked Seth Rollins, his voice harmonizing with Chester Bennington’s as he attempted to bash his Money in the Bank briefcase over Dean’s head.
Mitch looked on in silence as his roommate grabbed hold of the potentially stolen Deal or No Deal prop, tearing it from Seth’s hands, popping it open, and cashing in the contract for approximately $19. This made Seth Rollins scream in horror. That was his lunch money.
“Check it out, man. Our friendship was worth 19 bucks.” Dean taunted, stuffing the wadded up bills straight into his pants, “Must have been WORTH IT to run away and become Trip’s PET.”
Seth launched himself at Dean, curling his body around the lunatic and delivering a multitude of punches to his skull. This had no effect as an electric handsaw is the only thing in existence powerful enough to damage Dean’s head. Dean delivered a knee to Seth’s groin just as a shrill, piercing, banshee-like voice echoed throughout Dean’s dumpster crib home.
Peeking through the opening in the ceiling where Seth had fallen through was Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley. Seth, while still in excruciating pain from having his nutsack propelled back into his very person by Dean’s knee, rose and gave a very loyal bow. Even his usual blaring Linkin Park soundtrack had lowered itself to respect Mrs. McMahon-Helmsley’s holy presence. Mitch watched in a stunned silence.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Dean Ambrose?” squealed the principal. Dean shrugged.
“I… was just, uh, showing everyone my crib.” He answered innocently as several kittens escaped through the gaping hole in the roof and returned to their real homes.
His response was not sufficient enough for the unholy snake woman, forcing Stephanie McHelmsley’s voice to rise to a newly discovered octave that only 12 breeds of dog in existence could hear. Mitch’s pot cracked and shattered from the sound, causing Dean to shed a tear for his suffering roommate, now stripped nude for the world to behold.
“Dean Ambrose, you will have detention for the rest of your life!” Stephanie McMahon Helmsley mouthed out since no one could actually hear what she was saying.
“Yeah, but Seth started it.” Dean responded, trying to ignore the ringing in his ears and showing his sudden proficiency in reading lips. However, the demon queen’s facial expression showed that there was no way he would get away with dragging her son(???) into the matter and relented. As he was hauled away by school security and local rattlesnake Stone Cold Steve Austin, Dean Ambrose swore he would return and avenge Mitch and his damaged asylum.
They say his Facebook Live feed continues to stream to this day.