A/N This is dedicated to... well, you know who you are. This is serious business.
He slapped at the mosquito, grimacing when he lifted his hand and saw the smear of blood left behind. Whether it was his blood or the insect's last victim, he didn't have a clue. The forest was hot and muggy, and the relentless buzz of insects assaulted his ears as he took his fingernail and irritably flicked what was left of the bug off his arm.
Taking a deep breath he rose from the rotten log that had been his perch for the past hour, brushing remnants of bark and dirt and beetle dung from the back of his jeans. This job may pay a shit ton of money but there was no question about it – it sucked.
There was a time he's have jumped at the opportunity to get away from the streets of LA, away from the crazies and pierced and tattooed and even better, away from the celebrities that paid so well for him to guard them while ignoring the alcohol, the drugs, the cheating, their belief fame and illusion and money meant they could do or be whoever the fuck they wanted.
This didn't include The Boy. He'd watched him grow from being a good kid to the beginnings of a good man. Dean nodded to himself, thinking back to those days. It was a pleasure to keep the insane away from him, to help him try to lead the normal life he craved, to protect him and his budding relationship from the worst of the worst.
Slapping at another mosquito he smiled. The Boy was on his own, back in the UK with his lady and his family, local cops believing they could keep an eye on them both. The Boy had given him his freedom, promising employment was the only thing that ended, that the friendship would last forever.
But now The Boy didn't know where he was… no one but his employers knew he was buried alive in the ass end of Washington State. No one had a clue he'd been hired by a local doctor to protect his son and daughter in law.
He was now bodyguard to Edward and Isabella Cullen, and it was serious business.
The call came out of nowhere. Some dude with the ridiculous name of Jasper Whitlock had called and asked to meet with him. Who the hell named their kid Jasper? It was a name that made him think of the deep south or the Appalachian Mountains, so Dean was shocked to open the door and find himself shaking the cool and steady hand of a young guy in expensive clothes. The face was intelligent - blonde hair, the oddest eye color he'd ever seen but a comfortable smile on his face. Dean let out a breath and let himself relax – this looked like a real job and not just one more ploy to meet the man who guarded The Boy for years.
Yeah, there was a lot of that – too fucking much time wasted driving all the hell over LA only to find a group of giggling teens at the other end of the meeting or, even worse, a passel of pudgy and middle-aged women who'd be a whole lot more interesting to him if they weren't reliving their youth. They were the older cousins of Tiger Beat teens who forgot to grow up.
No, this Jasper wasn't anything like that. The two men sized each other up, both sitting at the same time, leaning forward, hands clasped in front of them.
A/N Yes, there will be more. No, it won't be quite a drabble, but to make this work (around work) the chapters will probably be short. And yes, I will finish Collapse the Universes.
I was inspired to do this for all the unsung heroes out there, and for the few who are actually sung. This is serious business, with tongue firmly planted in cheek.
Get your minds out of the gutter.