This was supposed to be so simple. Get in, develop complicated feelings for the girl, establish a relationship after a dizzying number of back-and-forths designed to produce the maximum amount of sexual and dynamic tension, then never get out. I was only supposed to fall in love. Wanting to protect her — that was never part of the deal.
I was just supposed to discover I had feelings for her. I never expected that I’d find myself wanting to do my job.
Get in, never get out, stay forever: that was the plan. But plans sometimes change.
I’m a professional. I’m supposed to receive my assignment, then fall slowly and irrevocably headfirst into love with that assignment. That’s it. Simple, easy, clean. No muss, no fuss, just eternal and unswerving devotion.
So why do I feel this way? Why is it that whenever she turns her trusting, grateful face towards mine, all I can think about is how badly I want to do my job at her?
There are times — Christ, there are times — when I’ve got my strong, sinewy arms wrapped around her, and I wish it was because I was teaching her how to discharge a rifle, not because we were making love.
There are times — God and his angels in heavens, there are times — when I hold her door open when we get into the car, and I wish I could push her inside while looking coolly and perceptively in every direction, instead of asking her where she wants to go for dinner. Then when we get to dinner, I wish I was picking idly at half of a cold sandwich in an alley while she takes a nap, instead of sharing an order of osso bucco with her at a table.
There are times — times that I don’t want to acknowledge, even to myself — when I’m cradling her tenderly in bed and I think, What if. What if I left her cold and alone in her bed and huddled bravely outside her door, periodically jamming my fists into my biceps to stay warm and awake, scanning the horizon for an enemy that might never come?
I know that can’t happen. I know I’ve been assigned to love her, and I’m going to do that, even if it kills me. But there are times at night, when all the world’s asleep, that I slip out from under her arm, army-crawl out into the hallway, lean against the doorway, and I protect her. Goddamnit, do I protect her.
Tags: bodyguards, heroes, humor, love
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Following the plan…was never part of the plan.
Amazing
*slow clap*
Sansa + Hound 4lyf
They can be like Queen Victoria and John Brown, once all the men have blustered themselves away and Sansa sits the throne, beautiful and terrible as the dawn
Despite the twin triumphs of Robin Hood and the Bodyguard, I will always be perpexled about Kevin’s ‘hunky’ status. I would have thought whatever I was missing would be made visible in either of these masterworks, but nope. If anyone can explain I will post you a biscuit.
Watch Bull Durham, then you will understand. Plus, it has Susan Sarandon.
I grew up with my parents making it uncomfortably clear that Bull Durham roleplay is a cornerstone of their sex life.
I … I can’t explain. But I feel it. I wish I didn’t. But I feel it.
You know how Mallory’s writing jumps right in but also sets-up and leads up to that first real gut punch of a good joke?
Case in point: “when I’ve got my strong, sinewy arms wrapped around her, and I wish it was because I was teaching her how to discharge a rifle, not because we were making love.” I mean “do my job at her” could be that moment too but the former steps it up a notch for me.
I was going to say something about that one, too. I happened to be kind of scrunched over when reading this, and “not because we were making love” was so unexpected that I got a cramp, like, over my ribcage from laughing so hard.
Some jokes suffer from being explained. Not this one. It paints a picture of a gun enthusiast who, again (sorry for the repetition), fantasizes about discharging a gun during sex. hahaha wait…Oh.
“army-crawl out into the hallway”
*dying*
That would be low-crawl, thank you!! 😛
*also dying*
She can never know… how deeply I protect her.
Actually crying in my cubicle.
When I saw the headline I thought this was going to be about Mallory wishing she could protect Brittney Griner.
I want to print this out and…protect it. Protect it so goddamn hard.
This had me thinking of the Anime “Full Metal Panic” where a teenage soldier (an orphan trained by some top-secret agency) has orders to protect this Japanese high school girl who has some knowledge of some top secret mech (obviously has to be a giant robot). There appears to be some love brewing between the two, but besides he being so military, and she thinking that he’s a total nut case, you want something to happen between the two.
<img src="http://38.media.tumblr.com/3e1e1fc155bbbc3206a1dd30804f4990/tumblr_mntsmzH6Uh1qdyjvro1_250.gif">
This is a premise with limitless potential. I’m looking at you, cop buddy films…