It had been more than wishful thinking, Heath Slater tweeting about wanting an Intercontinental Title opportunity at Wrestlemania. He's aware that The Authority barely notices him, much less considers actually giving him a title shot. He'd lost 3MB, then Slater Gator, and Curtis Axel is too busy pushing Axelmania on TV so Heath knows it's pointless to suggest they try to work their tag team on tapings just yet. But back to the tweet, Wade hadn't said anything about it, which Heath is relieved for. No matter how nervous he is about his career, or bored with sitting around and doing nothing during the tapings, he doesn't want a one-off tweet that was only semi-serious to cause problems in their relationship, on top of everything else that's going wrong for him right now.

A couple days later, when Wade's title is reclaimed just to be stolen by R-Truth, Heath and Axel are sitting side by side backstage, watching the show, when the British man walks over to them, looking like he'd just lost his best friend. Heath grimaces sympathetically and glances around, seeing no empty chairs nearby. Nudging Axel, he clears his throat. "Hey, man, why don'tcha get up for a minute, yeah?"

Axel looks like he's about to protest but he takes one look at Wade and vacates the chair, taking a few steps away to continue working on his new website. As soon as Wade sits down, he slumps over and rests his head on Heath's shoulder, huffing. "I wish you still had your longer hair," he grouses.

Heath sighs and closes his eyes, reaching up and curling his hand soothingly over Wade's head, stroking his hair. "Sorry, Brit, you're stuck with me the way I am." Wade doesn't say anything so Heath shifts, resting his head on top of Wade's, wrapping his arm around his midsection as he whispers into his ear. "It's gonna be ok, Brit. You'll get it back." They sit for awhile, Wade's sadness leaving Heath frozen. I gotta try to cheer him up, he thinks desperately, sitting up and pushing Wade up too so that he can look him in the eye. "I challenge you to a match for the IC title," he says, lips parting into a smug grin. "At the performance center, soon as we're both home. C'mon, it'll be like the good ol' days in FCW... One on one, no nonsense, just pure wrestlin'. Yeah?"

Wade crosses his arms over his chest and eyes him. "Is this how you react to not getting a response to your tweet Monday?" Heath falters, his smile fading into nothing, the hurt clear in his dark eyes. Wade immediately regrets his bitter tone, resting a hand on the other man's neck and squeezing gently. "Fine," he says. "You have a deal. On one condition."

Heath gapes at him in amazement before nodding. "Yeah, sure, what?"

"You have to put something up too," Wade tells him. "I'm giving you a chance at my title... if you win, you'll be champion."

"And if you win?"

He reaches up and musses what remains of Heath's hair, smiling when the ginger struggles to get away. "You'll promise never to touch your hair again, at least not without my permission."

"Hey, that makes you sound like my owner or somethin'," Heath huffs.

Wade smirks and cups Heath's head, pulling him in and kissing him hard. "Bloody right I am," he mumbles. "We're even in that measure."

This shuts Heath up and he nods blankly. "Fine. Fine, I'll see you at the performance center, then."

It takes a few days. They both have busy schedules, even if Heath's is just for the live events, but eventually they find themselves back in Florida and, after some sleep and food that isn't hastily eaten in an airport, hotel or at catering, they go to the performance center and explain to the people in charge there what they want to do. It's easy enough to push it as an opportunity to show the developmental talent there what main roster guys who've been doing this for years can accomplish, and they wisely keep the Intercontinental title and hair stipulations out of their explanation.

After changing from their street wear to wrestling gear in the locker rooms, they meet up in one of the demonstration rings. There's no theme music, there's no hooplah, it's just them, the mat and these ropes. It's the best feeling either of them have had for awhile. For now, lack of use, title belts getting stolen, and whatever else doesn't matter: They get to compete like they used to, putting it all on the line and not caring what the crowd may or may not think.

It's a slow burning match. Wade and Heath circle each other, feeling each other out in ways that they haven't in a long time. Tentative tie up here, halfhearted punch attempt there, when they finally stop dancing around each other and start to wrestle for real, exchanging punches and kicks, knees and elbows. Heath is struggling after a number of kicks to his spine, trying to maintain his balance, when Wade grabs him and hits him with a Winds of Change, effectively taking his breath away. Sneering, the Brit steps back to give him a moment, not willing to let things end this early, tapping his fingers against his elbow pad as Heath struggles to his feet, leaning against the ropes to catch his breath.

He's glaring over at Wade when he approaches, eager to get the match going again, just to realize that giving Heath any sort of a break was a mistake. Many people underestimate Heath's true prowess in the ring, especially after ridiculous losses to the likes of El Torito and the Bunny but when given a true chance, he's pretty tough. So Wade is all too aware that he has no one to blame but himself when Heath's boots meet his face in a dropkick, sending him staggering back. He's soon ground down into the mat in an inverted DDT, his ears ringing as he struggles to get control of himself once more, but Heath doesn't make the same mistake that he had before, pinning his shoulders down and hooking his leg. Wade recollects himself just in time to kick out on two, anger pushing him up to his feet.

Heath is absolutely beaming, however, his hair all over the place, and Wade calms down, releasing an exasperated breath when he reaches out, eyes challenging Wade. Meeting him halfway, the Brit shakes his hand and they separate, pacing on opposite sides of the ring to regain control of themselves before turning back to the action, tying up once more. Wade strikes him with a knee to the ribs and he doubles over, gasping for air, but when Wade goes to the top rope to hit an elbow drop between his shoulder blades, Heath recovers in time to dive away when he's still midair, causing Wade to hit the mat, teeth jarring pain stabbing up his arm and he yells out in pain, gripping his elbow. Heath's eyes are wide with horror and guilt as he scrambles over to him, their match all but forgotten about as he reaches out for him, remembering all of the arm injuries he's suffered the last few years. "Brit, are ya alright?!" he demands, about to call for a trainer when Wade sweeps his feet out from under him and hovers over him, slapping him only hard enough to annoy, not actually hurt him.

"First lesson we ever learned, Ginger, was never fall for any injury. We're opponents, you're not supposed to care," he reminds him, blue eyes set and grim. "After the bell rings, whatever... but in these ropes, no."

Heath flushes, his eyes dark with anger. "Idiot!" he snaps, elbowing Wade square in the side, again and again until he retreats, the two of them quickly meeting eye to eye again. "That was cold, but fine, if you wanna be nothing to each other, I can do that." Wade makes a face but says nothing, running forward to punch out at him again, but Heath returns the favor, catches him in a droptoe hold and sends him roughly to the mat. Running off of the ropes for extra momentum, Heath races forward and drops his knees into Wade's back, watching with some satisfaction as he arches up and rolls around, trying to ease the pain.

An ending abruptly in sight, Heath's pretty sure that he can lift the other man and land a solid blow with Smash Hit and defeat Wade before he can catch his breath, but as he walks over to the downed Brit, he remembers. Last Friday, the devastation on Wade's face... the commentators saying that Wade couldn't buy a victory, how his losses have been piling up since he'd won the Intercontinental title and how it had been keeping him- an already well known insomniac- awake at night. A loss against me, Heath can't help but think. Some guy who's barely on TV, and haven't even sniffed at a title once in the last few years... It'd prolly kill whatever's left of his self-confidence. Heath puts a good face on when out in public, but his own self-confidence is shaky at best, especially after everything he's been going through the past few months. The mere thought of Wade feeling as bad as he does, if not even worse, because of his own selfishness leaves Heath disgusted with himself.

Sighing harshly, he gives Wade another couple of moments, rushing forward as soon as the Brit is getting up to his feet, changing his intentions and instead lunging forward with a punch that Wade easily avoids and returns with enough force that Heath hits the mat, staying up at the ceiling. He can tell without looking what the other man's doing but he doesn't care, giving him enough time before getting back to his feet and staggering around just to be met with the Bullhammer Elbow. Things do literally go dark for a few moments so it's no big stretch when Wade crawls on top of him, staring into his face as he pins him. Heath blinks his eyes open once it's over to find Wade still laying sprawled out over him and he flushes. What a pin, he muses, peering at the few students scattered around, watching them. "Guess you get to keep your belt, once ya get it back properly anyway." He wants to move, so badly, but Wade seems to be in no hurry to let him up. "Brit, what are you doin'? C'mon-"

"You didn't let me win, did you?" he demands, his voice heavy and gravelly. "I swear, Heath, if-"

"What? Hell no, I didn't," he insists, squirming underneath Wade. "Why the hell would I do that, I really look like I'd want you in control of my hair?"

Wade still looks skeptical but he releases a breath, ultimately deciding to let it go. He still doesn't move from where he's laying atop Heath, however, and the ginger starts to freak out, wanting- needing- this all to be over before Wade deduces that he is lying. "Alright, I believe you, I suppose. But you still need to say it."

"What?!"

Wade rolls his eyes and leans closer, eye to eye with Heath, their lips almost touching but not quite. "Say you won't touch your hair ever again without my permission."

"Brit, dammit, get offa me!" His struggles end abruptly when Wade digs his knees into his hips warningly, their eyes locked, challenging. "This ain't-" He grits his teeth together. "Dammit, Brit."

"Say it," Wade orders him. "Fair's fair, if you didn't just let me win. Be honorable, ginger."

"What the hell do you know about hono-" Heath's words fail him again and he huffs. "Fine, fine! I promise never to touch my hair without your permission again. Happy?"

Wade pauses for a minute, appearing to think it over, before shaking his head slowly. "No, I'm not."

"Why the hell not!" Heath exclaims, growing more and more flustered the longer this takes.

Smirking, Wade grips his wrists and pins them to his sides, stopping him from pushing fruitlessly against Wade's chest anymore. "You need to say you promise," he says so quietly that Heath can barely hear him.

"You have got to be kidding," he hisses, exhaling when Wade's fingers dig into his wrists. "You do not play fair, Wade."

"I'm not alone in that, Ginger. Now say it."

"I promise," he emphasizes in annoyance, "never to touch my hair again without your permission." The abrupt loss of Wade's warmth against his body is startling, but not as much as being pulled to his own feet in one quick movement, Heath blinking up at Wade.

"That's all I needed," he tells him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and carding his fingers through Heath's hair, trying to make it lay back in the style that Heath chose for some unknown reason all of those weeks ago. Heath looks far from pleased with the entire thing, however, so Wade leans in and softly kisses him. "C'mon, let's change and go home, then we can play with Boodah for awhile. I may not be able to do much about my title yet, but that obnoxious dog will distract me from it until I can, I suppose."

Heath pinches his side as he follows him into the locker room. "You know you love that obnoxious dog," he retorts, peeling his wrist tape off until he feels Wade's gaze on him.

"I also love that obnoxious dog's obnoxious owner," he says simply, pulling a shirt on. "Thank you for today, Ginger."

"Yeah, well, I love that obnoxious dog's grumpy owner, too, so there ya have it," Heath murmurs, his grin uncontrollable. "You're welcome, Brit." It's not until they're leaving, side by side, that it dawns on Heath. "Hey, Brit, if I had won, what would you've done about the title?"

"What? It would've been your responsibility to reclaim then, not mine."

Heath gapes after him as he continues to walk, his long strides taking him far away from Heath before he sorts through what Wade had just said. "BRIT!" he finally exclaims, chasing after a laughing Wade.