Disclaimer: I don't own anyone.
Rated: M
Warning(s): Slash, Threesome, Kidnapping, Threats, Possible Non-Con, etc.

Phil Brooks may not have been associated with The Shield when it came to the WWE Title, but outside of the squared circle, he considered Seth Rollins to be one of his closest friends. And, really, he didn't have too many of them after some of the stunts that he had pulled to keep that title around his waist. He had come to admire the man's talent when he was on NXT, and when he had won, the admiration had become a sort of fondness. And when Phil became the new leader of Nexus, he realized just how much of an asset Seth was.

As for Seth, that admiration was mutual. He had seen the evolution of CM Punk and had come to appreciate his determination to knock down the fourth wall. His unorthodox methods were meant to be respected. That one word, of course, had been what had sold Phil on the younger athlete. Respect. Both men pined for it. However, the respect that each man desired was on a very different level and had come about for very different reasons. This, of course, was the reason that Seth had come to Phil's hotel room. Respect.

Seth knocked on the door a few times, unsure of what else to do. It was late and, while he knew that Phil was an insomniac, he could also be incredibly volatile if he was woken from a deep sleep. "Who is it?" A hoarse voice rumbled from inside.

Seth's heart fell. Phil sounded so much like Roman when he was half-asleep, it almost hurt. "It's Seth. I'm sorry to come by so late, but I need someone to talk to…" he trailed off after that, silently cursing his own weakness.

The door cracked open. Phil peered out, and for a second, their eyes met. "It's late, kid. Shouldn't you be in bed?" He asked, before he broke off into a yawn. When Seth didn't answer, Phil frowned. "Well?"

"I… actually, I… I don't have a bed to sleep in." He forced a weak smile, his stomach churning as he remembered the physical altercation that he had had with Dean and Roman… well, mostly Roman. "I broke up with Dean and Roman earlier this week."

"Over the letters?" Phil asked. Seth nodded meekly, forcing the tears back. There was no way that he would allow himself to cry in front of his former leader. "Okay, kid. C'mon inside and show me what the latest one says."

Immediately, Seth obeyed. As soon as Seth was inside the hotel room, Phil shut and locked the door. Seth didn't really blame him. Phil had taken a lot of heat for his recent heel turn. Everywhere he turned, someone wanted to bite his head off. It made sense that he would be a little anxious. Seth would be anxious too if a monster like Ryback wanted his ass. But, when he went out to face the monster, he knew that Dean and Roman had his back. Phil, on the other hand, was utterly alone.

Phil took a diet Pepsi out of the mini-fridge, before he turned to Seth. "You want something." He continued to rattle off the contents of the mini-fridge, which held everything from little bottles of water to cans of Fresca.

"I'll take a bottle of water." Seth said. Phil reached way into the back and pulled a bottle out, before he tossed it to his friend. Seth caught it easily and unscrewed the cap. "Thanks, man."

Phil slid into the seat across from him and unscrewed the lid on his Pepsi. "So, tell me, what is it about this newest letter that has you so upset?" Phil knew the story from start to finish and, to be honest, was just as scared as Seth was.

Seth took it out and passed it across the table so that Phil could read it. "I broke up with them on New Year's Day. I know for a fact that almost the entire roster, save The Shield and you, were drunk or out drinking. Yet somebody found out."

"It could have just been obvious. You have been acting differently around them lately." Phil pointed out.

"You think so?" Seth asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Oh, if looks could kill…" he trailed off as he continued to read.

His face was deathly pale as he finished reading the letter. With a sigh, he tossed it down onto the table and rubbed at his tired, swollen eyes. He reached forward, unscrewed the lid on his Pepsi, screwed it back on, and then just stared at the table in total bewilderment. Phil was an extremely intelligent man, but it was obvious that this stalker, of sorts, was always one step ahead of them. It was almost scary how he knew stuff that even their closest friends weren't aware of yet.

How did this man (or woman, for that matter) know that Seth had broken it off with his boyfriends? How did they know that he had insecurities about the way that he looked? How did they know that he had been in a bad relationship before? This wasn't the kind of information that you found on Wikipedia. Someone would have to have a constant, in-depth look at your life. They would have to follow you everywhere, to the point of knowing how to access your hotel room, your locker room… everything. Seth should be scared.

After a moment, Phil was finally able to form words. "Did you tell Dean and Roman about the letters?" Phil asked. "I know that you're not on the best of terms with them, but you could use more people in your corner. More people that know."

"But I can't tell them." Seth countered. "I don't even know if I can trust them anymore." He stared down at the table and, much to his dismay, the first tear rolled down his cheek. "I got into a fight with them and almost knocked Dean out."

Phil's eyes widened, but he tried not to let this sway him. "What was it about?" He asked.

"It was over something stupid. It was so stupid that I don't even remember it." Seth said softly.

Phil knew that that was a lie, but he didn't push it. "Okay." He said softly. "All I can recommend is that you show these letters to Vince."

Seth's eyes widened. "What? No! I couldn't do that…" He trailed off uncertainly.

"Why not?" Phil asked, honestly intrigued.

"You and I both know that wrestlers like us are little more than liabilities. Vince can't trust us as far as he can throw us. If I showed these to him, he'd think that they were a hoax. He wouldn't take me seriously." Seth whined.

"Would you like some dinner with your whine?" Phil rolled his eyes. "Yes, I see your point. So Vince is out of the question. And Dean and Roman are too, because of some fight that you had that you don't even remember."

"Correct." Seth nodded firmly.

Out of the corner of his eye, Phil saw a slim, white envelope slid under the door. His heart sank when he realized what it was. Even now, this insane man that had left all of these letters had managed to find Seth. Reminding himself of the fact that he had locked the door and checked it twice, he slid the letter across the table. Seth took it and folded it into a little square, before he tucked it into his shirt pocket. He looked around nervously, like someone would come from the darkness and attack him.

"I have a spare bed that you can use tonight, okay? I don't want you to have to spend the night by yourself." Phil said. "We'll worry about this mess after the Royal Rumble, okay?" He asked.

Seth nodded. "Yeah. I don't want to worry about it too much. I'll worry myself sick." Seth chuckled weakly. He sounded sick to his stomach. And he couldn't help but think: I hope I make it to the Royal Rumble.

You think that you can hide from me? Seth, I always know where you are. There isn't a moment when I don't know you're exact whereabouts. In fact, you're almost a little too predictable, Seth. You like to sleep in late, curled in-between your lovers. Or, rather, your ex-lovers. And then, you'll head downstairs to the hotel gym and work out for an hour. After that, breakfast. And then, like a love-sick puppy, you'll follow you're two men around – sorry, the two men that used to be yours – until your horny and desperate and begging them to take you to bed.

I have a theory. Would you care to enlighten me? Who was better in bed? Was it Roman? I bet he's a real little man in bed. He makes up for it in the ring, certainly, but that doesn't help when it comes to matters between the sheets. And Dean, well, it doesn't really matter how hung he is, he doesn't seem like he would share well. But that leaves you. You're a natural born submissive, Seth. You were born to be dominated. And I can't wait to see you submit to me. It won't take long for me to break you, I'm sure of it.

A tremor shot down Seth's spine as he sat on The Shield's tour bus. Dean and Roman sat on the other side of the bus, playing a casual game of strip poker. Of course, under normal circumstances, Roman would never play strip poker. That was why Dean had slipped a little rum into his Coke and, after the third glass, Roman was butter in his hands. A drunken Roman was also easy prey. Dean was winning by a long shot. Roman was down to his boxers and his military-esque boots. Dean had lost his shirt.

Vince didn't know about their break-up, and even if he did, he wouldn't really care. He didn't exactly endorse homosexual relationships in the WWE. It wasn't like they could ever come out to the world and put it on posters, sell it on pay-per-views, or the like. So long as it didn't interfere with their work, he didn't care what went on behind closed doors. It was only when it started to interfere with their ability to wrestle that he was forced to step in and fire someone. Usually, they would move to TNA. That was what had happened to Jay and Adam.

Somehow, someone had found out about their threesome. And, as much as Seth didn't like Dean and Roman right now, it didn't mean that he wanted to sit around and let someone talk trash about the two men that he loved more than anything else in the world. His hands trembled as he crumpled the note into a ball and tossed it on the floor. He wouldn't allow the sick bastard the satisfaction. He only wanted to get under his skin, right? So, that meant that the best course of action was to just ignore him.

"You okay over there, Seth?" Dean asked, not taking his eyes off of Roman as he slid out of his boots and his socks. Seth couldn't look over, because if he did, he would be the slut that everyone apparently thought that he was.

"Hmm…." Roman grunted, unable to say much more as he downed another rum-and-coke. His eyes were hazed over and Seth wondered if he had tipped the drink a little heavier toward the alcohol.

"I'm fine." Seth mumbled softly, burying his face in his hands. "I just want to be left alone, okay? Ogle at Roman for a while." Seth said. He couldn't hold back the tears that trickled from his eyes.

Dean didn't look convinced, but he nodded. "Okay. But we're here if you need to talk. Or, we will be, as soon as Roman sobers up…" Dean frowned as he watched Roman fall unconscious over his cards.

"I don't." When, deep down, all he really wanted was for them to take him in their arms and hold him.