WWE's touring through Florida this week. Neither Heath or Wade can find much to complain about when it comes to Heath getting to sleep in in his own bed, and only having to drive a couple hours to get to work, instead of going through the hassle of catching a flight and everything, and even getting to come home that night.

And it is going great... until Wade realizes that Flo Rida is at the show. "Oh no," he mumbles, staring at the TV screen. Boodah whines at him and Wade exhales. "Well, your owner might be getting in trouble later on tonight." Boodah hops onto the couch and stares at him sadly, Wade grimacing and scratching his forehead. "I know, boy. I know."

They watch quietly until everything Heath gained at the PPV fades away after one exchange with Flo Rida, Heath pushing him just to get pushed down hard to the ground. There's nothing that can be done afterwards, Heath watching on in humiliation as Flo Rida leaves to prepare his performance. Titus, of course, is no help.

Wade sighs and pets Boodah. "Guess we called it," he sighs, standing up. He chooses to listen to the rest of the show from the kitchen, heating up some leftovers of steak, mashed potatoes and this weird mixed vegetable medley that Wade hadn't expected to like as much as he did that Heath had served up for him before he'd gone. As Wade sits down to eat at the table, Boodah sniffs around at his feet, whimpering curiously, and Wade rolls his eyes, holding some pieces of steak out to him. Boodah eats happily and Wade wipes his fingers off with some distaste before returning to his own meal. "I would've never fed a mutt like this before I met Heath," he mumbles. "That ginger has brought about some disgusting, American changes to my British sensibilities..."

Once Raw ends, Wade gets up from the table, turns the TV off and heads to bed. He's dozing when the door opens, Heath lightly toeing his shoes off and leaving his jeans over the rungs of the chair across the room before slipping into bed. Wade hums and turns, wrapping an arm around him while Heath snuggles closer. "Well, that sucked," he mumbles, eyes closed.

"A bit," Wade murmurs.

"So much for actually keeping my momentum going," he sighs. Wade squeezes him tighter and listens as Heath breathes in and out raggedly. "I should've been able to lay waste to Flo Rida, I mean hell. I lasted so long in that Battle Royal, but then..."

Wade exhales. "It's probably just as well that you didn't, ginger. He would've gone running to the police if you'd even scratched him." Heath chuckles and Wade rubs up and down his back, helping him to relax even more. "I'd rather not have to bail you out, though it would be convenient that you're in the state at least."

"Haha," Heath says dryly before leaning in and kissing him. "So how was the food I left for you?"

"Fine," he says. "Your mutt ate half of it though."

Heath rolls his eyes. "Yeah, right. You mean you fed him a few bites and then wondered where you went wrong with your life."

Wade makes a face at him before rolling his eyes. "How do you know me so well?"

"Because I know you like my dog more than you let on," Heath chuckles, settling in and relaxing against Wade. "Just like I knew you liked me more than you let on."

Wade grimaces and pinches his hip lightly. "Bloody git," he says fondly. "G'night, ginger."

"G'night, Brit."

Wade waits and watches until Heath's fast asleep, his breathing steady and soft, before allowing himself to fall back asleep as well, a small smile on his face.