"No," Wade says. "No. Get off of me, bloody hell! I'm fine!" He's surrounded by referees, trainers, medical staff... He'd felt it the moment it happened, Swagger slinging him into the barricade wall, teeth gritting pain, and then the distant, throbbing kind of numbness of a dislocated shoulder. He's not sure what's worse, that Money in the Bank is only a few days away or that he had just promised Heath a few weeks ago he was healthy and was going to stay healthy... He closes his eyes and continues trying to push the well meaning but annoying people off of him, just wanting a minute to catch his breath, think it through...
How he ends up in a cot in the trainer's office, he's not sure, but it's just him and the WWE doctor, looking him over and prodding around his arm to make sure nothing else is wrong. He wants so badly to smack the man away, continue to ignore all of this, but he knows he can't. Still, he falls asleep at some point, coiled like a rattlesnake ready to attack, determined for this to be wrong, for him to wake up healthy and whole with his arm at prime fighting condition... The touch that draws him out of the doze he'd fallen into is gentle, ghosting over his arm, but he's still gearing for a fight to defend himself, his place in the business, his lack of interest in having yet another surgery with months of rehab and... without thinking, he comes up swinging and almost sighs in relief as his knuckles collide with something warm and with some give to it.
His positive emotions are short lived when he hears something hit the wall and a unfortunately familiar exclamation. "Aw, what the hell, Brit?" This wakes him up in a hurry and he sits up, only vaguely aware of the twinge of pain in his arm at the movement as he gapes at one very cranky looking Heath. "I know you don't like bein' injured, but dammit, man..." He's gripping his cheek and Wade swallows hard, realizing what must've happened.
"Come here, ginger," he says, watching as the man listens hesitantly, walking up to him and hissing as Wade reaches out and gently pries his fingers away with his uninjured hand. It's already bruising and he grimaces at the thought of how much force he must've hit him with- being a bare knuckle fighter, there had been a time or two where he'd had to defend himself and his winnings even in sleep, and it'd never really left him. "Shit, I'm sorry. I was asleep, and..."
"S'ok, I shouldn't have touched you when you were asleep, I know how you get," Heath sighs, nuzzling into his palm. "So when's your tests'n'stuff?"
"Tomorrow," Wade mumbles. "Once we get home and I can be looked over by my own doctor."
Heath nods somberly. "I'll be there, every step of the way that you want. Surgery too. I'll take a day or two off, not like they're usin' me much since 3MB ended anyway."
Wade releases a breath, still eyeing the bruise spreading along Heath's face. "You're too good to me."
Heath just smirks. "C'mon, let's get outta here." It's a sick kind of deja vu as they walk side by side down the hall a few minutes later, Heath carrying Wade's bag and his own.
Pain medicine and the general exhausted awareness that he'll be off of the road for the foreseeable future actually forces Wade into some much needed sleep, his insomnia not eating away at the hours for once. When he wakes up, something warm is pressed against his side, laying across his good arm, and he squeezes Heath closer, squinting in the shadowy morning light at his face. The bruising along his cheek has spread all the way down to his jaw, and Wade's pretty sure his eye's going to be swollen shut too. He grimaces and kisses Heath's unblemished skin, breathing out, "I'm so sorry."
He closes his eyes, aware that the guilt is for more than one thing. For punching Heath, of course, but also for leaving him on the road alone when things are still so up in the air for him. The groggy, "I forgive ya, Brit" isn't a surprise, but also doesn't do much to ease his inner turmoil, especially when Heath sits up and lightly kisses him just to hiss as pain stabs up his jaw at the contact. "Damn, man, you got bricks in your fists or somethin'?" he wonders, pulling away and staring at himself in the mirror.
"I'll get you ice," Wade offers, aware that he needs some himself.
Heath shakes his head, though, pushing him back down. "Nah, I'll get it. You rest. And don't go swingin' when I return." His eyes soften when he sees the guilt in Wade's blue eyes, leaning over and carefully kissing him, tilting his head so the pressure is off of the discolored side of his face. "It's all gonna be ok, you'll see." Another kiss and Heath gets up, grabs the keycard and goes, undisturbed by what people might think of his face.
Wade watches him go, the bemused look on his face slowly easing into a half-smile. It's hard not to believe him when he says things like that most times, he thinks, closing his eyes and relaxing into his pillows as he waits for him, careful to keep his fists relaxed this time.