"Never know," Heath had said earlier in the afternoon. "I did really well in the last Battle Royal I was in... maybe this'll be my night."
Wade always finds Heath's unending hope ridiculous and attractive at the same time, but he's not sure it's going to go so well for him tonight. He had kept those thoughts to himself, however, sitting back and watching with one hand slowly stroking up and down Boodah's back while he lazes on the cushion next to Wade. "What do you think, boy? Heath gonna do ok tonight?" Boodah whines in response and Wade chuckles grimly. "Yeah, I agree."
Sure enough, he's eliminated quick and Wade winces when he hits the mat hard, laying there in a daze before a referee urges him to get up, get out. "Damn," he breathes out, waiting for the inevitable phone call as soon as Heath can shake off the well-meaning trainer.
When it comes, he answers calmly, letting Heath get the first word in, to gauge his mood. "Hey, Brit." His voice is low, glum. Not the greatest thing Wade's ever heard.
"Hello, Ginger." He sits quietly for a minute and then says, "Are you alright?"
"Not really. Guess I shoulda listened to you."
"Oh please, where has it ever gotten you, listening to me?" Wade smirks. "Just an off night, you'll be alright."
"I guess. I just thought maybe... I'd have some more luck on my side tonight but I guess not. It only works when you predict it, I guess."
Wade exhales, feeling bad for his significant other. "If it would work, ginger, I would predict world titles and winning streaks to rival Undertaker's just for you."
Heath pauses for a moment, then chuckles. "Thanks, Brit. Same here for you." He exhales, rubbing his hand over his face. "So how are things going over there? Boodah behavin'?"
"Yes, for once," Wade says with a smirk, glancing down at the dog.
"That's good." Heath still sounds a little sad, but there's only so much Wade can do about that over the phone. Just listen and be as supportive as possible. It's frustrating, but it's their life and he wouldn't change it for the world.
"When you're home, there's this new southern restaurant I think we should try out in the next town over. How's that sound?" Eating southern cooking with Heath goes one of two ways: he either loves it and declares that he has a new favorite place to eat at, or he spends the next few hours mocking it and making fun of weak spices, undercooked vegetables, and explaining how it 'ain't how mama used to cook'. Either way, it was something he seemed to enjoy, one way or another, and it amused Wade to listen to his rants on food, how passionate he got about it all.
"Hell yeah, I've been cravin' some southern cooking," Heath agrees eagerly. "Lookin' forward to it, Brit."
"Me too," Wade chuckles. The locker room is getting louder, he can hear voices and things getting thrown around, so he regretfully shifts to hang up. "Look, you're probably desperate for a shower right now, so I'll let you go. Call me back later and we'll talk some more before bed."
"Alright, that sounds like a plan. Give Boodah a headpat for me. I'll call you when I'm back at the hotel."
"Alright, I will," Wade sighs, making a face at the dog. "Talk to you soon."
"Yep. Love you, Brit."
"Love you too," Wade murmurs, a curling warmth growing inside of his chest over the fact that Heath never has a problem saying it, no matter how public a setting it is that he's at. He hangs up reluctantly and starts staring at the clock while waiting, patting and skritching around Boodah's head in the meanwhile.