"Son of a ... I'm gonna kill that bull," Heath groans. Raw had just ended a bit ago and he and Wade had both, very slowly, made their way back to the hotel. It had hurt, driving had sucked, they had seemingly hit every pothole along the way, but now finally, they're here, in bed, Heath flat on his back and Wade on his stomach, both struggling to breathe normally. Heath had been gored in... a pretty unfortunate place, and Wade has brutal welt marks across his back after wrestling Sheamus. "Ya alright, Wade?"
Wade grunts in response and Heath sighs, tilting his head to get a better look at him. His face is buried in pillows, the vicious welts on his back looking somehow worse under the dim light of the hotel room. It's clear neither of them are going to get much, if any, sleep tonight so Heath painstakingly gets to his feet and, gritting his teeth at each step, grabs his keycard and goes out into the hall. Thankfully the ice machine is a few feet away, in a small side room. He stands and fills the bucket, waiting impatiently until anymore would send the ice scattering across the floor.
Hoisting the bucket up, he walks back towards their room, unlocking the door and heading inside. He fills two baggies full of ice and wraps one in a towel before laying down with it, closing his eyes and breathing through his nose as it begins to slowly ease his discomfort. Once he feels like moving even the slightest won't make him scream, he rolls over towards Wade and plucks an ice cube from the second baggie, carefully running it across Wade's back, missing the welts as best as he can from this awkward angle.
At first, Wade tenses up, not expecting the cold, but soon he relaxes into it, breathing roughly into the pillow as it slowly eases his pain as well. Heath smiles, feeling a little like he's working one of those old activity book maze games as he dodges and glides across the uninjured flesh on Wade's back. "How's that feel?"
"Fine," the Brit mumbles, which for him essentially means "Bloody great, please don't stop", so Heath doesn't. When the ice cube melts entirely, Heath traces his chilled fingers around Wade's spine before fishing another out of the bag and continuing the process until Wade is relaxed, clearly close to falling asleep. Counteracting the cold, Heath leans closer and presses a warm kiss to his shoulder, above one of his surgical scars, smirking when Wade shudders for an entirely different reason. "Bloody hell, Heath," he mumbles, peeking at him from the folds of his pillow.
Heath grins at him and nuzzles closer, losing track of the ice cube as Wade shifts up enough to kiss him on the lips, the two of them exhaling at the same time. "That's better."
"Damn right it is," Wade sighs. "Thank you for getting ice. I couldn't even think straight earlier." He frowns. "I think I'm getting soft, Ginger."
Heath snorts. "You? Please, Brit. These welts do look pretty nasty... 'sides, at least you weren't sidelined by some damn bull goring you in the... well." He huffs.
Wade coughs, trying not to laugh, but when Heath rolls his eyes, he can't help but barking out a quick chuckle. "Sorry," he mumbles, not sounding entirely sincere. Heath tries to move away but Wade tightens his arm around him and squeezes. "Where do you think you're going?"
"Somewhere where I won't be laughed at for this crap," he grouses, but doesn't fight Wade's hold on him. They fall quiet, letting the ice continue to work its magic. "Think we can sleep now?"
"Perhaps," Wade sighs. "Cold and in some pain, what better way to rest, hm?"
"You're British, aren't you used to that sorta thing by now?" Wade's grumbles leaves Heath laughing now but he doesn't move away, encouraging the ginger to settle next to him and get comfortable, careful not to jostle him too much. "'Night," he whispers after a few minutes, lacing his fingers with Wade's.
"Good night," Wade mumbles back, his eyes fluttering shut finally.