There had been a temporary lull in filming scenes for Dead Man Down during which Wade Barrett had filled his time with watching hours of Euro 2012. Upon England's loss to Italy, however, even that temporarily loses interest to the Brit. With his slow recovery stemming from the elbow injury that had unfortunately laid him out so close to Wrestlemania, there's very little he's interested in doing. He's sitting on the beach in Florida, idly watching Boodah snap at the fireflies growing in number as the sun sets around them, when his phone goes off. Dark eyes rounding on the dog, he whistles at him as he stares at the name flashing. "Hey, boy, it's your owner," he calls out before pressing talk. "What, Slater?"
"Well hello to you too," the deep Southern accented voice mocks sarcastically. "In a good mood, huh?"
Wade rolls his eyes at the phone. "If it's that obvious, why are you calling? To make it worse?"
"Aw c'mon man, just callin' to see how you're doin'."
"I'm fine," he says, throwing a ball at the dog and half-smiling when Boodah races into the surf to collect it, shaking the waterdrops off as he trots back up to Wade, looking accomplished and proud.
"I think I know a way you can be better," Heath responds after a moment, sounding ridiculously sure of himself. Wade's learned to dread that tone.
"What do you mean?" he asks slowly, raising his eyebrows as Boodah nudges his hand, wanting him to throw the ball again. When he's ignored, Boodah begins to whine but Wade only absentmindedly pats him, still listening to his friend explaining his thoughts to him. "You have got to be joking."
Despite his initial reaction, he finds himself at the airport the next morning, laying claim to the ticket waiting for him. He'd only had time, really, to make a few quick calls, leave enough food and water out for Boodah to hold him over for the next few days and do a quick packing job- not that a lot had needed done, his bag still full from his time in Pennsylvania and New York- after Heath's call the night before. It's an early flight, the earliest one from Florida to Indiana that they have, and Wade kind of hates Heath for booking it, especially as he goes through the scans and luggage check required just to get close to the plane.
Even so, by the time they're actually up in the air and he's staring out of the window at the purple clouds, he's more relieved than anything for the distraction this is- a reprieve from the disappointment that Euro 2012 had ended up being and from the mind-consuming thoughts of how unending his rehab is seeming by now. The movie had done that for awhile but with it on a short break, he had had nothing except Boodah to focus on, both his homesickness and lack of progress in his wrestling career due to his slow recovery eating at him.
After getting off the flight and collecting his luggage, the first thing he sees once past security and out safely into the main part of the airport is Heath's bright orange hair in the crowd. He tightens his hold on his bag before quickly making his way over to him, careful not to jostle his arm any more than is neccessary while working against the crowd rushing to make their own flights. "Hey."
Heath snaps to attention, grinning up at him. "Well, there you are. Got everything?"
Wade nods, shifting his hold on the only bag he had brought. "Yes."
"Great. C'mon then."
As they head for the exit, Wade glances over at his former Corre mate. He hadn't been on the road in so long; with his return inching closer, this really actually is one of Heath's better ideas. Help him a little bit to get re-accustomed to the impromptu travels sometimes required by working fulltime with the WWE again, and all that that entails. "Hey, Heath."
"Yeah?" They pause outside of the car, Wade staring at him so long that it almost makes him uncomfortable. "What is it, man? Little bit hot to be standin' around staring, don't you think?"
He takes a breath, finally shrugging. "Yes. I just wanted to say thank you... for setting this all up."
Heath's eyes brighten as he grins across at him. "Sure man, you're welcome."
Watching Heath get defeated by Sid that Monday is one thing, the match is short and not a lot happens during it that Heath can't easily bounce back from, it amuses Wade to watch it from the gorilla position, really, but the match for Superstars that's scheduled a couple days later leaves him a little more uncomfortable. "Kane?" he repeats upon taking a glance at the note a tech had passed to the One Man Baaaand before they'd left the arena to go back to the hotel for the night.
"Yeah," Heath mumbles, also appearing not too pleased about it. Wade frowns over at him. "But it'll be alright. If I can survive that crazy Cyndi Lauper broad slinging glass at my head, this'll be easy." Despite his attempt at bravado, he doesn't sound too sure of himself for once.
All Barrett can think of is what all Kane did to Zack Ryder, for months, to get to John Cena. Thankfully Heath has no such association... but Kane isn't as feared as he is for his sane, sensible thought processes.
They spend Tuesday exploring Indiana, bickering at times over where to go to- Heath wants to check out clubs in the area later but Wade's content to hang around museums. Finally they compromise by going to a couple of museums in the afternoon and a club later Tuesday night, dedicating Wednesday to decompressing for a few hours before they have to travel to Superstars in Evansville, Indiana. With the heat on an uprise in the midwestern states, this idea grows more and more popular as time passes.
After staying up late watching movies and dragging Wade down to the new hotel's game room- full of arcade games and quarter machines that make the Brit shake his head and scoff, until he defeats Heath soundly in some generic racing game-, Heath sleeps in on Thursday but Wade is far from that lucky, his insomnia as bad as ever. He simply sits up and stares ahead at the TV as it drones on, the noise not bothering Heath in the slightest. One of the reasons they work as roommates, no matter how loud Wade keeps the TV, Heath sleeps hard enough to just ignore it. And as long as he stays off of his back, he doesn't snore loud enough to disturb whatever Wade's listening to. The Brit's mind wanders as he once more finds himself thinking about the match the following night. A lot has happened since the Nexus helped Kane bury the Undertaker- not that it'd gotten them very far in the long run- and he doubts that the now-masked man even remembers their hand in that.
He looks over at the paper that Heath has left lying out with his match details scrawled across it, shaking his head. I have a feeling this isn't going to end well.
He's still staring at it when Heath stirs, sighing quietly. "Whatcha looking at, man?" he asks blearily, blinking over at Wade as he hugs his pillow closer. Tilting his head, he gets a better look at the table surface and frowns. "Oh. That." He sits up slightly, running his fingers through his hair. Fumbling for it, he finally collects the paper and bunches it up into a ball before tossing it into the trash can nearby, immediately collapsing back into the pile of pillows surrounding him.
"You're not worried?"
"Is there a point to me worrying or not?" Heath shrugs, blinking lazily in the soft glow of the television. "If I worried over everything, nothin'd get done."
Wade makes a face, unsurprised that Heath's fast asleep once more before he can say anything to refute this. "Meh, silly ginger."
Hours later, the sun has rose completely, Barrett's narrowed eyes peering outside as Heath stirs behind him, yawning. "Didn't get any sleep, Wade?" he asks tiredly, running his fingers through his hair as he rolls out of bed, groggily stumbling around the room as he tries to get things together for the day.
"Not really," Wade admits lowly, turning to watch as he almost trips over one of the handles of his duffel and barely misses faceplanting against the wall. "Did you?"
"Yeah," he sighs. "I slept ok." He ducks into the bathroom, clicking the door shut behind him. "I'll be out in a few." There's no real hurry, it being a Superstars day means no huge media events or anything before or after it, but he knows that Wade likes to have his time in the bathroom as soon as possible, mostly to wake himself up and wash that gritty feeling from his eyes after hours of sitting around in a dark hotel room. He's still drying his hair when he ventures out about five minutes later, now wearing jeans and a plaid shirt. "There ya go." He grins, dropping down onto the edge of his bed as he brushes out his hair.
As soon as Wade disappears into the bathroom, all bravado disappears, Heath frowning at the opposing wall. A fair many legends have been targetting him lately, and it's ok, he's getting used to it, but Kane... He rubs his forehead, fingers pausing against a small scar that still remains from where Cyndi Lauper had bashed him with that gold-plated record. The headaches had only just subsided a few days ago, his match against Sid thankfully not long enough to really cause any lasting damage.
Everyone had seen the damage Kane had done to Ryder, though, and those who hadn't had heard blow-by-disturbing-blow about it, it being the talk of the locker room for weeks. In the course of a few shows, the Long Island native had almost been dragged into hell, chokeslammed off of a loading dock, and totally decimated physically and emotionally, his back still giving him grief at times. It had not been a broken back, as Cole had somberly claimed to the audience only minutes after it'd happened, but a slipped disc. Bad enough on its own, but not the potentially career ending injury some thought Kane was trying for.
Heath leans forward, tugging on his hair. Despite the AJ thing that has transpired over the past few weeks, Kane is still a monster and he can't overlook his conscientious bloodlust or need for personal destruction towards his opponents. When he hears the water slow to a stop in the bathroom, he straightens back up and tries to look like his usual, cocky self, smirking while finishing up his hair, making it look as perfect as it always does.
"Finished trying to pretty yourself up, Slater?" Wade asks mockingly upon leaving the bathroom, looking on in exasperation as Heath runs his fingers through his hair.
"No need to try, it just happens naturally," he drawls, smirk growing into a grin as Wade huffs at him, throwing his towel at him. Even this does little to mess his hair up, annoying the Brit all the more. "Told ya."
The locker rooms are always quiet on Superstars nights- it's just a small bone thrown to a few of those who want to compete but can't be fit in to Raw or Smackdown that week. Quite a few of them hope that, upon Raw moving to three hours, fewer guys will be regularly overlooked week in and week out, but more of them, the jaded, bitter long term guys who barely see a camera at all anymore, worry that it'll just mean more time for the guys already used frequently on both Raw and Smackdown.
Heath finds a locker room and ducks inside, dropping his bags onto the floor before he starts to get ready for his match. Wade settles down across the room and watches him, wanting to say something but not sure what exactly.
After awhile, the ginger finally looks up and notices his roommate staring at him. He blinks awkwardly and coughs, slowly winding wrist tape around his arm. "What?"
He lifts his good arm up in a half shrug, leaning back against the cool concrete wall. "What plans do you have to defend yourself against Kane?"
Heath frowns at him, looking back down as he finishes with the tape, roughly tearing it off and pressing the edge down. "I ... don't, not really." He glances up with a wince when Wade rolls his eyes at him. "Figured I'd stay away as long as I could and try to get as many hits in as I could when I did get close."
The Brit rests his face in his hands and sighs. "Of course, since that defense has worked so well for many others in the past." He stares heavily at Heath. "I guess I should put 911 on speed dial."
The ginger pales a little more, glowering at him. "Don't quit your day job," he snaps, rolling his eyes. "Your pep talks suck."
Wade smirks, watching as he finishes and leaves without a backwards glance. All pretense fails as soon as he's gone, Barrett taking a deep breath. "Be careful," he mutters to the empty locker room, shaking his head at this messed up situation.
The match goes about as expected, Heath's pure stubbornness helping him to get a couple shots in but Kane always rebounds, a few of the shots he lands on the shorter man making Wade wince. Especially the hard punch he lands as Heath comes flying off of the top rope, trying and failing to get the upper hand on him that way. A chokeslam follows that move pretty quickly, and the match ends.
The camera pans from Kane to Heath, showing how unsettled the downed man looks as the referee helps him to a sitting position. Wade feels worry as Kane peers back at Heath, his head tilting in what looks like intrigue. The feed dies as Kane slowly turns away, leaving Heath alone in the ring. Wade blinks back to awareness, surprised to find that he's on his feet, glaring at the now-blank screen, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
He forces himself to relax before leaving, going to round up his roommate. He doesn't trust the trainer or the referees to keep him safe, especially from Kane. When he finally locates him, he's sitting on a couch in the trainer's office, head down and bright hair curtaining his face. He wanders closer to him, walking slowly, and rests a hand between his shoulderblades. Heath barely responds, even when Wade sits down next to him. "Slater..."
"What?" he mumbles, slumping slightly as the Brit's warm fingers press against his back, well aware of the soreness that follows an all-body jarring move like the chokeslam, the havoc it can reak on one's back and neck and everything else.
There's a lengthy pause as they sit, Wade staring at the side of his face. "There's nothing scheduled for tomorrow, right?"
Heath blinks a few times, finally looks over at him. "What?"
"You're not needed for Smackdown, yes?" he repeats, slower. Holding onto his temper by the tips of his fingers, not wanting to snap at Slater when he can feel how tense and in pain he is.
"Uh. Yeah, why?"
Wade takes a moment to work over what he wants to say, how best to say it. "Let's go back to Florida early then." Honestly, he doesn't want to encourage anything from Kane against Heath by staying in Texas. Filming for his movie will resume the following week and he doubts that three days will hinder Kane if he really wants to go after the ginger- especially after waiting week by week to target Ryder- but it's better than nothing.
Heath looks a little suspicious but says nothing, raising one arm in a shrug before wincing. "Sure, why not." He's not needed for house shows either and seeing the beach again after the last few days sounds really, really good to him.
The flight goes by quietly, Heath sleeping through most of it. Wade alternates between watching him and texting with Drew, who is lurking around the arena that Smackdown's being held at. He doesn't have a match or anything scheduled for the show tonight but he's there anyway, a good number of them usually found hanging around whether they're on the card or not. Either way, it works out because he manages to keep an eye out for Kane, which is difficult on a good day.
Seen anything?
No, the Scot texts back a few minutes later. Others said they've seen him though, he's lurking near Big Show's locker room. With the ironclad contract had come with lots of perks that he hadn't had already- his own locker room, top of the line hotel rooms in every town or city they end up in, personal catering (something that they're all relieved of)- but this time it seems to be a bad thing, makes it easier for Kane to stalk. Keeping an eye on his MitB opponent?
Possible. If he's distracted with that, maybe he'll leave Slater alone.
Maybe.
By the time the flight ends, Wade feels a little more at ease about things, but not very. He knows until he sees with his own eyes that Kane will leave his former Corre mate alone that it'll be on the list of things for him to worry silently about. Even after he nudges him awake, the flight long enough that Heath had gotten a decent amount of sleep in, he still looks drained. "Are you alright?"
"Huh?" the shorter man mumbles, dazed and half asleep still. "Oh. Yeah, sure, man. Just, not very comfortable sleepin' on one of these things." Wade smiles slightly, knowing how true the statement is. As they leave, however, Heath ahead of him, his expression shifts to a thoughtful one.
They spend the weekend doing Heath's usual things when he's off from house show duty- movies, the beach, a couple errands here and there, and more movies. The bruises on his face and back thankfully fade quickly and they're barely noticeable by Sunday, when Heath begins packing to leave for the week's Raw. Wade is across the hall, also packing what few things he had bothered unpacking since returning back to their apartment, preparing for his trip back to Pennsylvania to hopefully wrap up Dead Man Down. He's working on autopilot, throwing his cell phone charger and other last minute essentials in his bag, while thinking about Raw the following night- the first time Kane will be in arm's length of Heath, able to do whatever he wants to the younger man. He's so distracted, he doesn't even notice when Heath stands in the doorway of his room, quietly watching.
Finally, Heath clears his throat and smiles innocently when Wade jerks, looking over his shoulder at them. "What say we get some food and spend the rest of the evening on the beach? It's pretty out and Boodah is restless."
The Brit looks down at the dog, who is laying calmly at Heath's feet, tongue poking out between his teeth as he pants softly. "Of course. Boodah is restless," he says, teasing slightly as he wanders over and leans down, patting Boodah on top of his head before scratching between his eyebrows, smirking as the dog looks up at him lazily. "When's your flight?"
"4 AM." He shrugs. "Good ol' red eye. I'll try not to wake ya when I get out of here in the morning."
Wade waves this off, standing and brushing his hands off on his jeans. "Don't worry about it. Just part of the fun, yeah?" He smiles slightly when Heath chuckles.
"Ok, let's say about an hour," he suggests. "I gotta finish packing." His brown eyes lock once more on the dog blinking tiredly at his feet. "Hey, up you get, lazy. You have your own bed, y'know. Wade don't want you drooling on his carpet." He turns, nudging Boodah gently with his socked foot. "C'mon, boy."
"Eh, leave him," Wade urges after a second. "He's not hurting anything. I'm almost done in here anyway."
Heath pauses. "If you're sure then." He steps over Boodah, heading back to his room.
"An hour, Heath," Wade calls after him, subtly accepting Heath's selected time, before turning back to packing. He's still not comfortable leaving Heath alone at Raw- yeah, there'll be Drew around, but he doubts anyone could really stop Kane if he'd wanted to get his hands on the hyper ginger. Hopefully we're just being paranoid...
An hour and a half later, they're sitting in the sand, a cooler of drinks at their feet and ridiculously large subs held in their hands, potato chips scattered on paper plates. Boodah's gained some of his energy back, running around the edge of the water and leaping back every time a wave washes up onto the sand, yipping when it gets too close. "You're sure that's a grown dog, right?" Wade smirks.
"God, I hope so," Heath mumbles around bread, lunchmeat and vegetables. "If he grows anymore, we won't be able to all fit in the apartment."
"Hmm. People do say that owners resemble their dogs," he muses, smirking when Heath glares over at him, still too busy eating to really shoot back with an insult. Which is probably just as well. They remain silent, content to listen to the waves, watch as the sun slowly sets, and enjoy the food.
Heath finishes eating first and, wiping his mouth with his fingers- Wade bites his tongue to refrain from commenting- leans back against his beachtowel, looking happy and tired. The latter had been common the past few days, but the first hadn't been there much at all, which is weird considering Heath almost always is happy go lucky unless he's gearing up for a match or Wade's really been biting with his comments. He's asleep within minutes and Wade finishes eating, quietly going to play with Boodah to keep him occupied so he doesn't disturb his owner's desperate need for rest.
He's just thrown a frisbee that is part of Heath's "beach neccessity" pack, waiting for Boodah to leap through the wet sand and pluck it out of the sky, when he hears a faint sound coming from behind him. He pauses and turns, eyes sharpening as he looks back at Heath. Even from this distance he can tell the man isn't sleeping peacefully any longer, laying on his side now and one arm pressed into the sand. He runs a hand through his hair and quickly walks over to him, careful not to trip over the advancing dog, who is expecting him to throw the Frisbee once more. "In a minute, boy," he says lowly, dropping to his knees next to Heath.
His face is tight with stress, fingers digging into the sand as his lips part. "No, no, stop, dammit. I don't... I don't wanna..."
Nightmare. He doesn't want to shake Heath out of it, well aware that the man wakes up swinging when he's startled and it'll be a pain in the arse if Wade goes back to the filming with a split lip or re-re-re-re-re-broken nose, but the choice is taken from him when Heath continues to struggle, whispering softly to whatever subconscious horror show is relentlessly gripping him, finally gasping out one simple word: Kane. Immediately Wade's hands are hovering around his shoulders, desperate to snap him out of it. "Heath! Wake up, mate." Knowing the easiest way to get things moving without any bodily harm to any of them, he turns to look. "Boodah!"
The black lab comes bounding over and stares from Wade to Heath, head tilted curiously.
"Wake 'im, boy!" Wade orders, still hovering close to Heath. He'll be less likely to punch the dog, right? Either way, it's too late to stop it, Boodah immediately licking Heath's face and neck with such determination that Wade moves away, Heath falling back onto the sand as he wakes up, sputtering and flailing.
"Boodah!" he complains, finally spotting Wade as he struggles to hold the big dog off. "Barrett!"
"You're welcome," he winces, grinning a little bit. Well, stopped his nightmare, didn't I?
Wade never sleeps a lot, his insomnia making it near impossible to get more than three to four hours a night. Even at home, he finds himself sitting up pointlessly staring at a droning TV, or the walls, or trying to read through his gritty vision for hours and hours while the world rests around him. He'd realized upon arriving in WWE that it was a common thing for people in their line of work, the over abundance of adrenaline that each match provides, the long hours spent in the gym, the day-in-day-out aches and pains they all suffer after months and years of taking falls, punches, kicks, and everything else one can think of working together to just make true, restful sleep difficult to accomplish.
Even Heath will have issues now and again, which is why sometimes he'll go and just sit at the beach late, late at night and stare out into the distance where the water and the sky meet, unable to determine where one ends and the other begins because everything is just so dark in the middle of the night. Sometimes Wade will join him, sometimes not.
Thankfully Heath seems to be sleeping the night through this time around, his roommate content to sit in the living room and just think. In around twenty hours, he'll know for sure if Kane is going to be a problem or not. He hopes it's just a night of status quo- Heath will hopefully simply try and fail at singing- again-, some legend will make their way to the ring, there will be a short match, and the night'll end with Heath going back to his hotel, perhaps a little more humiliated but no worse the wear physically.
Realizing that time is slipping through his fingers, he returns to his bedroom and closes the door just as Heath's alarm goes off. He sits in a chair and closes his eyes, listening as Heath gets up, mumbling unhappily as he ventures into the bathroom, brushing his teeth and hair before he goes back to his room. There's more murmuring as he talks to Boodah while getting dressed for his flight- Wade chuckles softly when he hears something about stupid oldtimers who don't appreciate singin'-, his footsteps quiet as he walks down the hall to the living room. A couple of soft thuds that wouldn't have been noticeable if Wade had been asleep as Heath puts his shoes on, and the telltale squeak of the front door opening, then shutting. It had become habit during his recovery to listen as Heath leaves for the next place, somehow soothing him with the familiarity of something that he had done- and will do again soon- as well.
He waits a minute, listening as the car starts up and slowly pulls out of the driveway, Heath now on his way to the next WWE event, and then gets up, opening his door a crack before he sinks into his bed, sighing softly. Only a few moments have passed before he hears Boodah nudge his door open, padding along his bedroom floor. As the large dog leaps up next to him, he chuckles and makes some more room. "Already missing him, huh?" he mumbles, finally falling asleep, lulled by the warmth and soft breathing of the dog next to him.
The flight to Pennsylvania and subsequent hours of filming for the movie is near excruciating. He can't text much in either place, phones kept off most of the flight, and just so damn busy with this scene, that screw up, this retake, that he's amazed when he finds himself back at his hotel, about to order room service and be anti-social for the rest of the evening, just to realize it's 9 PM and Raw is about to begin. Cursing to himself, he decides to try for food later and turns the TV on.
Nothing special happens for awhile, though he thinks there are some things he'll want to keep an eye on for his eventual return, and he's decided to just go ahead and order from a pizza place nearby that he'd already tried a time or two and were almost acceptable. By the time it arrives, of course, it's almost 10:30 and he's just answered the door when he hears Heath's voice on the TV. Eyes widening, he grabs his box and tosses some money at the startled delivery boy, adding in a tense thank you before slamming the door shut in his face and hurrying back to the TV.
He arrives, dropping the box onto his bed, in time to see Heath's opponent- and Heath's reaction. He smirks and chuckles, relieved and amused, as Doink the Clown makes his way to the ring. The match starts and Wade almost thinks Doink has it a time or two, but Heath recovers each time and finally finally, actually beats a legend. Whatever good feelings Heath has over that victory ends abruptly, however, when a different theme music hits and Diamond Dallas Page, of all people, comes out. They seem to get along briefly, even sharing a hug, but only moments later DDP stops Heath from leaving, just to hit the Diamond Cutter on him, planting him face first into the mat. "Oh bloody hell," Wade laughs, shaking his head. "Slater just can't catch a break."
He sombers a little bit, his words echoing over and over again in his mind. Well, the show's almost over. Kane's not going to do anything now... right? He pushes around what remains of his pizza, the Cena match that follows hampering his appetite almost as much as his thoughts are. Once Raw ends with no further mention or appearance of Kane or Heath, he shuts the TV off and goes over some lines for the next day.
Awhile later, he finally pulls himself from one of the trickier scenes they'll have to do the next day, surprised when he catches sight of the LED clock blinking at him from across the room. "11:30? How time flies," he mumbles drily. Pushing the papers back into the desk drawer, he looks around and finally finds his phone underneath the abandoned pizza box, grimacing distastefully. Wiping it off on his shirt- which he'll be changing in a little bit anyway, so it's fine- as he returns to the bed, he stretches out and stares at the ceiling while he hits speed dial #2.
Heath answers on the second ring, as always, and drawls, "Hey."
"I see you've survived," Wade smirks. "No Kane sightings tonight?"
"Well, kinda, but he didn't even look twice at me the one time we crossed each others' path in the hallway."
Relieved, Barrett nods. "Good. I guess you weren't interesting enough for him to target." He can almost hear Heath rolling his eyes.
"Oh, haha. Whatever, man, you know you're glad he didn't." Before Wade can say anything, Heath takes a deep breath. "Drew told me what you did during Smackdown, making him keep an eye out for anything on Kane. Sent him over his text limit 'n' everything."
"I swear he's the only guy left- bloke remaining- who doesn't have unlimited texting," they say at the same time, pausing awkwardly afterwards.
Heath chuckles. "Uh. Yeah. Anyway, I just- you know. Thanks. It's good to know someone still has my back."
Always, Wade thinks, not quite willing to say it outloud. "Now if we could just do something about your singing..."
"Very funny," the ginger deadpans. "Way to ruin the moment, Barrett."
"What, you expect me to just sit here while you get all sappy on me? I think not, Slater." As they continue bickering over the phone, he relaxes into the bed and smirks, his eyes gleaming. Status Quo.