It's dark and quiet in the apartment, late at night. Heath had been trying to sleep for awhile, unimpressed that of course this would be the one night Wade's insomnia doesn't seem to be bothering him. Which, he's glad that Wade's sleeping, but it means that Heath's left all alone, staring up into the darkness and considering what Titus had said earlier, during Raw.

Getting up, he walks into the hall and opens the closet that has the full-body mirror in it, turning to look at himself. Same pale skin, same orange hair, same dark eyes... but he'd never been overly toned. Even in his basketball days, and his boxing days. He was muscular, sure, but lean wasn't really a word he'd use to describe himself. Abs had never really been in his dictionary. He exhales and stares at himself, Titus' voice echoing in his head once more. Fat country boy! "I'm not fat," he mumbles to his reflection, poking and pinching here and there with a grimace. "I'm not."

He's about to give it up as a lost cause and go sit out in the living room, watch some TV as quietly as possible- he tries to remember how to turn on the closed captioning with a grimace... Wade's so much better operating the remote than he is...- when the light behind him flicks on, causing him to yelp. He's still standing there, struggling to catch his breath when arms snake around his waist and squeeze, Wade staring at him. "What are you doing, ginger?" he mumbles, voice rough and warm with sleep. "Hm?" He kisses Heath's shoulder and waits, eyes drooping as Heath stares at him in the reflection.

"Just, uh, thinkin'," he sighs, looking back and forth between himself and Wade with an unhappy grimace on his face. "It's nothin', you were sleepin' good for once so you should, y'know, go back to bed..." He pats Wade's arm and tries to move away just to realize that Wade's wrapped him up even tighter. "Brit, c'mon-"

"What are you doing out here?" he repeats with more than a little tension in his tone. "Staring at yourself in the mirror, muttering and pinching at yourself... what is it?"

"I guess you missed the backstage video where, uh, Titus called me a fat country boy." Heath gnaws on his bottom lip, realizing that Wade's grip on his waist is tightening. "I just, couldn't help but think about it."

Wade stares at them in the reflection of the mirror, his hand pressed against Heath's stomach. "You're not fat," he says vehemently. "You know that, right?" Heath says nothing and Wade grunts. "I've watched you at the trainer's getting weighed, you're perfectly fine for your height."

"Fine, maybe, not... great." He continues poking and prodding at himself until Wade grips his hands, Heath's shoulders slumping as he frowns at himself in the mirror. "That's prolly why I get nowhere in this business, I'm just... average. Meanwhile there's a bunch of you tall, muscular guys who I ain't ever gonna hold a candle to..."

Wade pulls him closer and presses a kiss to his lips before turning back to the mirror. "So. What would you do about it then? Hm?" His hands are warm against Heath's skin and Heath shivers. "Have the reduction surgery you talked about? I know of some supplements that could help perhaps. We'll have to clear it with WWE, of course, you're not getting another suspension on my watch..."

Heath hums, staring back at him. "I guess, yeah. I mean, it's a game plan, at any rate, right?" He rests his hands against Wade's and exhales gustily. "I dunno what to do if it doesn't work though, if I do all'a this and nothin' comes of it..."

Wade shrugs, leaning in and resting his chin on Heath's shoulder. "Then at least you'd know you've done all you possibly can, and that's all anyone can really ask of you." They stand there quietly, staring at each other, before Wade nudges him lightly. "Right?"

"Yeah, I guess," Heath sighs. He groans. "I'm sorry, you were sleepin' for once and my dumb drama-"

"Hey, it's fine," Wade says briskly. "I'd rather be awake and talking you through this than getting up in the morning to find you'd worked yourself into a panic attack or something."

"I do not-" he blustered, this pauses. "Thanks, Brit."

Wade chuckles, kisses the side of his neck. "Yeah, sure. Can we go back to bed now? Even if we don't sleep, it's more comfortable than staring at myself in the mirror for ten minutes."

"I thought that was your favorite hobby," Heath teases, then yelps as Wade swats at him.

"Absolutely bloody not," he grumbles, laying down next to Heath and curling an arm around him. "Good night."

"Good night," Heath mumbles back, eyes slipping closed as he gives in to Wade's warmth and reassuring words.

Wade listens to him slowly fall asleep, trailing his fingers up and down his ribs soothingly. He may not fall back asleep tonight, lost in thought about what he'd like to say and do to Titus when he runs into him again, but that's ok. He's just fine right here, right now, knowing that Heath's sleep is deep and steady.