Chapter Four

Anarchy. Pure fucking anarchy. There's no other way to describe the backstage area right now, and the smell of sweat, sex, and testosterone in the air are cloying at best. How in the hell he manages to work in this environment on a daily basis, Rob honestly has no idea.

He's just glad it's not him. Never has been, never will be, and so the bitches going into heat or the dominants going into rut will never be a problem for him. For whatever reason, maybe having to do with genetics or magic or something in-between, some pack members just never experience either and he's convinced, at this point, it truly is a blessing. Especially when he realizes just how far gone some of his fellow wrestlers really, truly are.

There's the fact he's half-convinced he just walked by a closet and—though he really has no idea because he certainly didn't want to open the door—he's pretty sure he heard John and Bray in there. Not really something he wants to spend much time thinking about (the positions). He knows Hunter and Randy left some time ago with the Shield and he just really hopes the younger guys are going to be okay because Rob knows how hard it can be for the younger bitches when it comes to the older dominants. Not that the three of them are the youngest… At least, he doesn't think they are but he has stopped caring about age for years so he might be wrong in that aspect.

Walking backstage is still perilous, though, because the bitches seem to enjoy giving chase and some of the dominants are just too large for that to be safe. He almost died when Ryback and Axel shoved past him a few minutes ago and he's very glad the cameras are off because he can only imagine who the two of them smelled to be running that fast. That wouldn't be PG at all.

At least he has experience with this. Being in this company for so many years has taught him how to evade the troubles that often come with working in such a tight-knit pack. He's glad to be a member and Hunter is a damn good alpha when it comes right down to it, but sometimes it gets hectic. Having so many protective dominants is certainly a good thing, and bitches like Reigns are more than capable of defending the pack, but when all of those dominants clash?

It isn't pretty. Some of them need to be gone in Rob's opinion, and at least some of the others must agree because there's been some circumventing going on backstage in order to keep some of the bitches safe. At least the cruiserweight division is markedly smaller—it had been hell when it was large because having to defend so many smaller guys put a strain on pack dynamics. No still means no and the average dominant at least has the intelligence to ask permission first.

From what he understands, old ECW had the best policies of dealing with dominants who took it too far because the place was full of weapons and a bitch could lay hands on everything from steel chairs to baseball bats wrapped in barbed wire. Self-defense was much easier then because while no might not get through someone's thick skull, a steel chair certainly would. Not to mention a barbed wire shot to the groin. That'd take down damn near anyone no matter the size.

He also gets rammed into a wall when Big E slams into him, his quick footing the only thing that keeps him from hitting the ground. "Hey, I don't care how horny you are. Watch where you—"

"Shit, Rob, are you okay?" Big E hauls him back to his feet. "I didn't even see you there."

"That's because you weren't looking. Who are you chasing after?" Because he might as well ask if the man is still in his right mind. Might make for some interesting conversation at any rate.

Big E looks uncharacteristically uncomfortable with the question but clears his throat and answers anyway. "Thought I smelled Barrett somewhere back here."

Rob so didn't want to know but it's too late to not know because he didn't know he didn't want to know until it was too late—and now he knows. In the back of his mind, he can almost hear his sanity screaming its last because he's just been forced to compute that the strong, domineering Wade "Bad News" Barrett is somewhere back here. In heat. Waiting for a dominant to come find him and—No. No, no, no. Not tonight. I am getting too fucking old for this shit. Time to go back to the hotel to wait until morning when, hopefully, this is over. At least they're supposed to be here tomorrow night to do Main Event and SmackDown. Hogan's going to laugh his ass off.

"Are you looking for Barrett in particular or..?" Sue him, he's curious and he wants to know just a little bit more. But not a lot more because he still needs to be able to sleep tonight and he can't do that if his mind absorbs so much outlandish material it just cracks into pieces.

"I am, actually, yeah. Just haven't been able to find him. It's, ah, pretty messed up back here." Which is an understatement if there ever has been one, but Rob can give the poor guy points for trying at least. "Can you just help me find him? I promise you don't have to watch or anything, but it'd be nice to just get a little bit of help so I can find him, nail this, and get on with it."

Well… Might as well, really. It's not like this is anything new for him. He sighs and even though he should just go back to the hotel to wait out the end of this shit storm, he nods and gestures for Big E to lead the way. His nose might be good, but he doesn't really pick up on the scents of heat and rut to the extremes that dominants and bitches do so he's not even going to pretend he can just sniff Barrett out. Big E should do the honors anyway since this is technically his bitch.

"Which one of you started this disaster?" he asks while they start down the hallways.

Big E glances at him curiously, then nods to himself; he probably just remembered that Rob doesn't know automatically. "Roman Reigns. Guess he was really close to his heat cycle or just started it or something because Evolution almost killed each other chasing the Shield down."

"And I missed that. I can't believe I missed that." Rob shakes his head and wonders if there's a way for him to get his hands on the footage. He has connections, so there probably is. "Hope they realize Ambrose is taken. Regal won't take kindly to anyone interfering with his bitch."

"I sincerely doubt Hunter and Randy were after Ambrose. Actually, I'm damn sure that Hunter was after Reigns. Can you just imagine the pups?" Big E wrinkles his nose and Rob has to chuckle; the things would be über dominant little disaster creators who got into everything.

They're nearly knocked over by Naomi of all people, and she just gives them a dismissive glance before stopping and actually looking at them. "Sorry, didn't see you there. Have you seen Jimmy? I haven't found him yet and I don't feel like getting into a huge fight tonight."

"Haven't seen him," Rob admits, and he wishes he had because the young married couple doesn't need this kind of drama right now. "But if you need help kicking any ass—not that I think you do—I'll be around for a little while longer and I'm willing to help."

"I'll find him on my own. Just don't get into trouble." She's off then, and he barely has the time to realize he should be offended at being so offhandedly dismissed when he has higher stature in the pack than she does before Big E is off again and Rob is forced to keep up with him.

Barrett better be close because he is really too old to chase down bitches in heat like a kid.

Oh God, what are they even going to do if this goes down at the NXT arena? Or, shit, what if it goes on during Takeover? There's no guarantee it won't if this is going down during Raw, and Rob makes a very loud mental note to warn Hunter so they can hopefully be more prepared.

"He's close by. I can smell him," Big E says, and he sounds very, very excited about this.

Rob just thanks God they don't have to go much farther because he isn't cut out to chase down anyone like this and he plans to not do this in the future ever again. No, the big boys and girls can take care of themselves and he is not about to play babysitter to any of them ever again.

Unless Hunter tells him to, in which case he has to, so his resolve to let them all do their own thing is really just paper thin and he knows that quite well, thank you. Fucking pack structure.

Barrett, as it turns out, has hidden himself away in one of those negative space alcoves where nothing ever seems to fit because the space doesn't accommodate anything bigger than people. And up this close, even Rob can smell him and he does smell desperate for release, for touch, for anything. Poor thing's probably hiding out here so no one will find him—which makes Rob wonder if it was a good idea to help Big E find him. Of course, now at least Barrett isn't alone.

He's about to ask if Barrett will be okay with Big E or if Rob needs to drag the headstrong dominant away when Barrett glances up at them, his eyes widening noticeably. Out of all of the bitches in their pack, Rob's a big boggled that Barrett is one of them even though he knows he should already know that. He's older, though, not as functional as he used to be and he's been making assumptions based on what the guys and ladies look like instead of what they are.

But he's not prepared for the thankful sound or the way Barrett launches himself at Big E, the other man catching him neatly despite the fact Barrett is a rather big guy. And he packs a lot of power just throwing his body around like that, but the moment Big E catches him, Barrett is an octopus, arms and legs wrapped tight around him while he nuzzles against Big E's face.

Logic dictates he just walk away since it's pretty obvious these two are happy to see each other—something he wouldn't have guessed considering their rivalry over the IC title and what he thought was genuine dislike—but he doesn't. Instead, he lingers for a moment and just kind of watches Big E lift Barrett a little higher up, hands on the bottoms of thighs left bare by the fact Barrett is wearing a t-shirt but wrestling trunks, not jeans. Eh, he can make it work okay.

"Thank fucking Christ. I've been avoiding the bloody roster for ages waiting for you to show up." Barrett makes a thankful noise, half-whine and half-growl, and Rob bites down on his tongue because he's damned sick of the younger people in the pack acting like idiots. "You took your sweet time getting here. I hope you enjoyed your goddamn stroll back here."

Big E growls, the sound more possessive than chastising, and Rob doesn't honestly believe Barrett can be chastised in the first place because it's Wade motherfucking Barrett, the guy who used to bare-knuckle box and who has a scar from a knife wound. He's not someone to fuck with or something who takes kindly to being fucked with. "I got back here. Rob, I'm good now."

"Might want to find some kind of room for a little bit of privacy," Rob suggests.

"My dressing room isn't far from here and it locks. No one can interrupt us and there's a couch in there." Barrett gestures down the hall, then looks back at Rob almost uncertainly for a moment. "Mind walking us down there? Not much like E can take anyone on with his hands full and I'm not about to fucking deal with some rut-addled idiot who doesn't understand I'm not available."

Rob nods. "Not a problem." He tags along behind them, not sure what the rest of the roster is doing and equally unsure he wants to know. Tonight is just too surreal and he just wants to get these two behind a closed door so he can go back to his hotel room and sleep the night away.

Luckily, Barrett's dressing room really is close and Rob opens the door for them, leaning in to flick on the light as well. Big E carries Barrett inside and dumps him roughly on the couch, and if Barrett's legs fall open extremely suggestively, then Rob certainly doesn't see that at all.

"Thanks," Big E says, and he offers his hand, which Rob doesn't hesitate to shake even though it was just on Wade's bare thigh. "I owe you one for helping us out. Have a good night, man."

That's not even fucking possible at this point. "I'll try my best. Try not to strain any muscles."

Both Big E and Barrett chuckle, and then Big E closes the door and Rob backtracks so he can hit the locker room, throw on a t-shirt, and grab his bag so he can leave for the evening.

He needs to get away from here far and fast because it's steadily becoming pure chaos.

When he bypasses the Usos' locker room, he hears very distinct male moans with an undercurrent of female growls—apparently Naomi found Jimmy, then. Good on her. She's one of his favorite dominant women, and he's sure one day she'll be very high up on the food chain.

Another door offers a very heavy, Scottish accent and a Mexican one under it and just no. Nope, he's done. He's done his bit for tonight and at this point, his head is legitimately starting to hurt and he doesn't want to think about this anymore. Time to worry about getting back to his hotel room so he can get some decent sleep and think about tomorrow and the anarchy that will come.

The locker room is eerily empty, a sigh that everyone has ditched it in favor of somewhere else, and he's thankful for at least that as he finds his bag and digs out a t-shirt. Maybe it would be a good idea to change out of the singlet since he's going to the hotel, but he's too tired and he can change at the hotel. Besides, the sooner he gets out of here, the better. He loves his pack, he does, but this is the kind of drama a man of his age and experience is no longer cut out for. Instead, he should be back at the hotel and making sure to take notes on what he's seen thus far so he can tell Hunter about it in the morning—assuming Hunter isn't still fucking Reigns by then.

The fact he didn't see it coming is annoying. Of course Roman is with Hunter. Even if Hunter will never admit it, the alpha had his eyes on the eye-catching Samoan bitch the moment Roman joined the company and, by association, the pack. He's big, he's pretty, certainly sensual to look at and probably good in bed. And Hunter's going to lay claim to him if he hasn't already because the alpha wants that pretty bitch and as far as Rob knows, he now has him.

He sighs, tightens his ponytail, and shoulders his bag. Time to get the hell out of dodge.


A/N: A non-sex update. I'm going to vary it up a bit with these poor bastards who aren't getting any sex during this sex-a-thon. For those of you who like NXT, there's also going to be a Takeover edition of this, so watch out for that following the conclusion of this. Also, let me know what you guys think is going to happen next. Throw out some names and couples, see if any of our thoughts gel together or what.