They argue a lot. One thing that had come from both Nexus and the Corre had been their teammates' exasperation at Heath Slater and Wade Barrett's non-stop bickering. Who needed small talk and niceties when one could just as easily exchange verbal barbs and biting insults up to- and sometimes beyond- physical violence?
Even after Corre's disbandment and Wade's injury, this still holds true for the roommates. Arguments over what TV show to watch, which place to order from for supper, who gets to drive, on and on. The times they actually agree on something leaves them floundering, looking for something else to bicker about.
During Heath's recovery following Sheamus' attack, they don't stop- "I can change my own bandages." "Of course you can... you can barely do anything straight when you're not sloshed on pain killers, if you try to put bandages on now you'd probably put them right to left instead of up and down." "Oh, haha."- and it only grows worse when WWE management contacts Heath, following reports of Sheamus' attack.
"You seriously can't... email them, or Skype or...?" Wade huffs, looking down at the letter advising Heath to be at that week's Friday Night Smackdown to explain his side of things to the road agents and the McMahons.
He shrugs, throwing some clothes into his duffel. "They heard your side of things, now they want a face to face with me, prolly to make sure what you told 'em does hold up versus whatever he tells 'em. It's ok, I feel strong enough for this quick trip. It's not like I'll be wrestlin' or anything. I'm just there long enough to tell them what he did, what my recovery time'll be and then I'll be back at the hotel, runnin' up a room service bill and watching Family Guy. It'll be fine."
"Damn well better be," Wade grumbles, looking away as Heath glances up at him, a slight smile on his face.
Heath of course overestimates himself a little, the time it takes just to get onto the flight itself- through security checks, and standing for who-knows-how-long in line- eating away at his energy until finally an impatient TSA agent gets a little rough and prods just so at his side, sending shooting pains up his chest as the still healing stitches pull. "Ah, God," he groans, jerking away. "Watch where you're grabbin', man."
Wade notes as the agent begins looking a little pissed off, trained to be wary of quick movements and strange reactions, but before he can say or do anything, another agent mutters to him and he backs off, allowing the second agent to finish up quickly and effeciently without causing Heath any further pain. Wade's own check goes smoothly and he joins Heath in collecting his things. "You alright?"
"Yeah," he mumbles unhappily, trying to find the pain relievers in his carry on. "Let's get this over with, huh?" Wade gives him a moment before pulling out the bottle of pills and waving them under his nose, grinning when Heath glares at him. "What are you doing with those?"
"Wouldn't want you to lose them, now, would we?" His cocky smirk only grows as he wanders off, feeling the ginger's glower on his back as he drops down into , stretching out as comfortably as one could on the hard seats to wait.
"I hate you," he mumbles as he drops down next to him, only calming somewhat as Barrett hands over two of the pills and a bottle of water he'd wheedled out of a passing flight attendant. The pills make him sleepy so he's out as soon as they're settled in the plane and high in the air, his bright hair covering his face.
Wade watches a moment before turning to look out of the window. He has no idea what to expect at the arena, why exactly the higher ups want to see Heath, but it makes him uncomfortable. Sheamus has friends, of course... most of them have at least one. He doesn't normally dwell on what if, but should one of them target Heath when he's still recovering... Well. Today would be the easiest time to get to him, when Wade is busy with World Champion duties and everything else. He shakes his head, glancing back over at the sleeping man.
When they arrive at the Smackdown event, some of Wade's stress is relieved when they learn that Sheamus had been banned from the arena for the evening, and remains on suspension until WWE hears all sides and comes to a permanent decision regarding his future in the company. So, as they walk through the halls a little later, what exactly started their latest bickering fest, Wade can't really remember- the two of them can bicker over the weather, after all-, but Heath's on his way to talk with the road agents and Wade is following, not quite ready to give up the back and forth, when he responds to the latest ill-thought out insult by responding with something about the legends and Heath's infamous losing streak. He knows it was a little too below the belt as soon as Heath rounds on him, barely grimacing despite his quick movements. "What was that?" he hisses, glaring up at him.
"You heard me," he responds, feigning boredom as he glances around the hallway like anything would be more interesting than this conversation.
The pills must be wearing off, the younger man's eyes tight with pain, but either way, between that, and Wade's annoying insults and following them up by ignoring Heath, it all becomes just a little too much. He glowers up at his aggravating smirk and the slack hold he has on his title belt and- is it hot in here? Can't these idiots just turn the temp down a little?- he roughly pushes him, quickly wiping the smirk off of Wade's face, the comfort immediately leaving his body as he stands tall over Heath and glares down at him. Despite how tired from the flight and uncomfortable he is, pain burning along his side as the medicine fades from his system, he doesn't back down, returning the stare.
"Back off, Slater," Wade warns, fairly used to the worse of their arguments eventually leading to a more physical altercation. But not here, he thinks, trying to keep control of his temper. Not when he's still got 'round 30 stitches holding his side together. But Heath's temper is worse than even Wade's, especially now, and he's not backing down, seeming perfectly content to just stand and scowl up at him.
It's when he lifts his hands like he's about to push the Brit once more that Wade responds without thinking, quickly losing control of himself. One hand plants against Heath's chest and he pushes back, and that's all it takes- already disoriented from pain and anger, and not really that graceful to begin with, the redhead falls back, unable to catch himself, and hits a locker room door at an angle, almost dead on where Sheamus had stabbed him. It all happens so fast, but on recalling the moment, feels like it inches by in slow-motion to both men.
Heath freezes, his breathing heavy as he leans against the doorframe, trying to wrap his head around what'd just happened. Wade's hand is still outstretched, his dark gaze locked on his friend's back. "Heath," he finally mumbles, taking a subdued step forward.
Heath shakes his head desperately, holding a trembling hand up. "Stay back, I swear to God," he hisses, his accent thick and shaky. "Just... leave me alone." With a grimace, he peels himself from the wall and, holding his side carefully, staggers off. His speed picks up the further he goes.
Wade watches him go, still a bit shocked by just how quickly it had all happened, until he's out of sight. Only then does he turn his attention back to the door- where he sees a streak of bright red blood along the paint. "Oh, God." Turning back to look down the hallway, he snarls, annoyed about him just leaving like that while visibly hurting. "Heath!" There's no response and he readjusts his title belt on his shoulder before going to look for his injured roommate.
Heath turns a corner, his hair sticking to his face and neck already. He can feel something wet clinging to his shirt but thinks very little of it, his only thought really being Get away... The first locker room he sees, he ducks into, slamming the door shut behind him. Sinking against the wood paneling, he tries catching his breath, peeling the hair out of his eyes, anything. It's not really helping, the room is spinning. He feels sick. He thinks someone's talking to him, maybe even touching him, but he can't focus. He does feel as his knees give out, the floor quickly rushing up to meet him, but hands are there, easing him down next to the door. As soon as he's down, some awareness returns to him and he looks up through growing tunnel vision, tilting his head.
"Crap," he hears, finally recognizing the person before him. Zack Ryder, of all people. Just his luck. Even so, it's better than being alone and he mouths his name, unable to get up the energy to vocalize anything. He watches through blurry eyes as the Long Island Iced Z checks his side, hissing slightly at the re-opened wound and how it's bleeding. "Ok, bro, I'm gonna go get a trainer. Just hold on, huh?" As if he has a choice in the matter, half-watching as his off-again, on-again rival leaves the room quickly. He can vaguely hear him calling "Trainer! We need a trainer back here!"
I'm so screwed...
Wade's about to leave the main hall when he hears Zack Ryder's loud calls for a trainer, looking up in time to see him run out of a side corridor. His suspicions growing, he traces Zack's steps back to the first locker room, pushing the door open slightly. It appears empty but he ducks inside, looking around anyway. He's about to turn back around when he spots a flash of red out of the corner of his eye and, looking to his right, finds Heath slouched in the corner, holding his side and looking barely half unconscious. He swallows, dropping down next to him and shifts his face so they're eye to eye. His eyes are glazed over, his skin covered in a cold sweat. Wade shakes his head, unsurprised to find the side of his shirt stained in blood. "Dammit," he breathes, peeling it back to look at the torn stitches. "I swear, Slater, if I didn't know better, I'd say you liked ruining your clothes with blood stains."
The continued silence unnerves him until, "You... act like... it's my fault," he slurs, eyes fluttering.
"Ah, there you are." He looks up and smirks slightly as Heath glares tiredly at him, taking a deep breath. "It is a little bit," he teases, holding his pointer and thumb just a few inches apart. He bites back his laughter as the other man struggles to focus on his fingers, his eyes almost crossing. "Here," he whispers, grabbing an unopened bottle of water from the bench nearby. "Drink this, it'll help."
"S'not my fault," he grumbles, swatting uncoordinatedly at Wade's hand and only barely hitting his wrist, so little strength behind the move that his hand comes to a complete stop against him, looking even more confused when his hand drops limply back to his side. "Ugh." Wade presses the bottle of water to his hand in response, watching until he's sure it won't fall. He'd help him drink but he doubts that'd be welcome around now.
"Just relax. Ryder's gone to get the trainer, I think the whole arena heard that much. He'll be by to fix you up shortly." They sit in silence for awhile, Wade keeping an eye on both Heath and how much of the water he actually manages to get down without sloshing all over the place. "So I was thinking."
"Should I be scared?" he mumbles, leaning back against the wall with his eyes closed as he waits.
"Not really." Wade shifts until they're shoulder to shoulder and watches Heath as he struggles to open his eyes, look over at him. "We should make a deal. Until your stitches are out, we start arguing to the point where we want to pound each other, one of us walks away. No matter what. Then you won't ruin what little acceptable wardrobe you've got left, and the trainer won't grow even more tired of your face."
"Aw please, he loves me," Heath grumbles, growing a little more focused than he was before.
"Of course, he really loves when you wilt the plants in his office with your singing."
"Oh shut up."
Wade smirks over at him, eyes glinting, before sobering up. "So, is it a deal?"
"Yeah, sure," Heath sighs, leaning back. "But after my stitches are out..."
"I'll happily go back to wolloping you when needed."
"Ah, ha-ha," he groans, their discussion interrupted when the trainer makes his way inside, a bag full of supplies at the ready.
"Tore some stitches, Heath?" he greets them, quickly getting to work on his side. "What happened?"
"He tripped and fell into a doorframe," Wade offers helpfully, smiling innocently when Heath glowers over at him, hissing as his side is prodded before he is re-stitched up.
"Very funny," he grunts, hating the strange tugging of the string's intrusion as the stitches are redone. Thankfully, the trainer is quite efficient and it only takes a minute or two before he's done, snipping the thread and pouring a liberal amount of disinfectant over the area before rebandaging it, Heath cringing at the cool liquid on his still sweaty skin.
The trainer digs around in his bag once more before pulling out some painkillers and hands them over. "Take these, they'll help," he says, taking note on just how tense Heath had been since he'd arrived. "Be more careful next time, huh? Avoid those doorframes." He smiles a little as Heath groans out a quiet thanks, quickly distracting himself with trying to get into the blister pack of pills.
Wade rolls his eyes and helps, slitting them open easily with a fingernail. Once they're taken and Heath seems a little more comfortable, he glances at his wristwatch. "Well, unless you're really out to prove your point to the McMahons, we should get you a different shirt and get you over to talk to them about Sheamus." Heath's eyes widen and he almost spit takes, pulling the water away quickly. "Forgot, didn't you?" he laughs slightly.
"Yes. Damn! C'mon, we gotta go." Wade watches, bemused, as he quickly makes it to his feet, no visible sign that, just a few minutes earlier, he had appeared to be on the verge of passing out. I guess getting rid of Sheamus would be the rush of adrenaline anyone would need, though.
Zack passes them on the way out, blinking in surprise as Heath rushes by him as if his shirt isn't covered in blood still. "Er, so he's alright now?" he asks Wade when he walks past more leisurely a minute later.
"He's as alright as a ginger can be, I suppose," he responds with a smirk before following his roommate out.
Zack just shakes his head, confused as he watches Wade catch up with him and nudge him quietly. "This is a really weird business anyway but I think those two take the cake sometimes," he mutters before reentering the locker room. "Hey! Who took my water?!"