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fluentmoviequoter · 6 months ago

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The Safest Place is With an Angel

Requested Here!

Pairing: bodyguard!Deacon Kay x fem!singer!reader

Summary: The bodyguard you never wanted quickly gives a new meaning to the City of Angels. After he saves you and helps you sing again, all of your fears disappear in his safety.

Warnings: quick seduction joke (clean as always, guaranteed), angst, fights, brief depiction of injuries, threats, (poorly) attempted abduction, banter, fluff and comfort

Word Count: 4.2k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

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“Buck!” Hondo yells from the ring. “Good to see you man!”

“Hey, old timer,” Luca adds. “How’s it going?”

“Good, good,” Buck answers, looking around. “Where’s Deacon?”

“Choosing favorites again?” Street inquires.

“Something like that,” Buck replies. “Where is he?”

“Locker room,” Street says.

Buck nods once in thanks then walks away to find Deacon. The rest of 20 David Squad watches him go, then quietly debates why he needs to see Deacon. They quickly decide that it’s either a security business thing or an intervention, which they are offended to be excluded from.

“Sergeant Kay,” Buck greets as he enters the locker room.

“Buck Spivey,” Deacon answers with a smile. “Did I miss a meeting?”

“No- well, not exactly. We had a potential client drop by unexpectedly. He’s looking for an executive protection agent for-“

“A bodyguard?” Deacon clarifies.

“Yes, Deacon, a bodyguard. He’s a music producer and one of his new artists is coming out to LA for a few days to record an EP - whatever that is. She needs protection, and, we’ll just say he liked the appeal of an active-duty police officer on our staff.”

“And you want me to take time off of SWAT to be a bodyguard for a few days?”

“For $50,000, yes.”

Deacon’s eyes widen when he hears the amount. He won’t see all of that, obviously, but it would more than cover his time off work.

“Buck, tell me straight, why me? None of the ‘he’s a cop’ stuff,” Deacon requests.

“She’s a singer, Deac. Not all of our men can be trusted one-on-one with a woman like that.”

“You’re picking me because I’m older and less likely to seduce her?”

“Or be seduced,” Buck adds, playfully agreeing.

“Fine, yeah,” Deacon agrees with a smile. “Let me run it past Hicks.”

“I already did that.”

“Buck,” Deacon sighs.

“I know you, Deac, so I just got a head start for you. You’re welcome. See you in the office!”

“Thanks, Buck.”

After Buck leaves, Deacon sits on the bench in the locker room. Fifty grand, he thinks, she must be a good singer.

“What was that about?” Street asks as he barges into the locker room.

“I’m taking a few days off to do an assignment from Buck,” Deacon answers.

“It wasn’t an intervention?” Luca inquires.

“For what?” Deacon questions.

“What’s the assignment? Private security instead of public?” Hondo jokes.

“Executive protection,” Deacon says.

“You’re a bodyguard?” Street exclaims. “That’s awesome!”

“For whom?” Hondo asks.

“I can’t answer that.”

“I knew we needed an intervention,” Luca sighs.

“Good morning. I’m Buck Spivey, and this is David Kay, your personal executive protection agent during your time in Los Angeles,” Buck presents. He turns to Deacon to introduce you as well.

As you shake hands with the man who insists you call him Deacon, you wish you were going to be in LA for longer. He’s incredibly handsome, and you could practically fall into his deep brown eyes. He’s the kind of guy you write songs about, not hide behind.

“Nice to meet you,” you say, smiling as you reclaim your hand from Deacon’s warm one.

“You, too.”

“I’m going to go over everything with Mr. Spivey, but Deacon has your schedule. I’ll see you at the studio, listen, not a moment before you’re scheduled,” your producer, Alex, says. “Thanks again, gentlemen.”

Deacon smiles and nods at Alex as he follows Buck out. You watch them leave, then drop your shoulders and shake your head.

“This probably isn’t your ideal job,” you begin, “but thank you, seriously.”

“Of course. Your schedule for today is pretty open, so where to first?”

“That’s the other thing. I know that Alex hired you to stay with me every waking moment, but no one knows who I am, so feel free to come and go as you want. You’ll still get paid the same.”

Deacon’s brows furrow as you speak. Buck made it seem like you were a big deal and the album you came to record was already getting massive attention. Your willingness to go out alone into, in Deacon’s opinion, one of the most dangerous cities in the US is unexpected.

“Look, it’s my job, and I do enjoy it, so I’m going to go where you go,” Deacon explains.

“Is that necessary?”

“It is. Not just because your producer paid for it, but because your safety is my top priority this week.”

“Fine,” you agree. “I wanted to go sightseeing today, but I have no idea where to start.”

“Then it’s a good thing you have a bodyguard who knows every inch of this city,” Deacon replies. “Let’s go.”

“Yeah,” you mumble as you follow him. “Great.”

Standing on an overlook off Mulholland Drive, you feel invisible and weightless. It’s the best you’ve felt in months. You close your eyes before you take in the view again. Standing behind you, Deacon surveys the area for potential threats, but his eyes keep returning to you. Something is going on, more than you simply not wanting a bodyguard.

“You were right,” you cheer as you return to him. “It’s way prettier up here. Where are you taking me next?”

“Um, look,” Deacon begins. “I know I’m only here for you in a professional capacity, but if you need anything, I’m here for you.”

Your phone buzzes before you can reply to Deacon’s offer. It’s probably for the best because you don’t want to acknowledge that there is more going on than what you let him see. The message from Alex is short, but you groan regardless. Deacon receives a text, too, and you know lying to him is not an option.

“There’s an event for songwriters at the Walt Disney Concert Hall tonight,” you tell him. “Alex wants me to go.”

“You don’t want to?” Deacon reads into your phrasing.

“It’s not that, just… I thought I’d get a break and get to do what I want instead of what Alex thinks I need to do. He’s a great producer and he’s one of the nicest guys in the business, but I think he forgets that we’re human too sometimes.”

“Then don’t go.”

You laugh and reply, “Yeah, that would go well. It’s fine. I need to go back to my hotel and get ready.”

Deacon waits a moment before he nods and gestures for you to walk before him. Most other men would make you feel uncomfortable, out of sight at your back, but you feel safer than ever with Deacon Kay with you.

Deacon raises his hand before your waist as you enter the hotel lobby. You bump into him as you stop, and he looks around before he murmurs for you to go.

“You seem on edge,” you muse as you board the elevator.

Deacon shakes his head and apologizes to someone else trying to get on. When the door closes on just the two of you, he sighs.

“I’m not supposed to tell you this, but I’m a cop, a SWAT officer, and I guess maybe that gives me a sixth sense,” he says.

“And?” you press.

“Something feels off.”

“It’s probably just the schedule change.”

Deacon glances at you from the corner of his eye. You’re different, another in a series of sudden shifts has altered your behavior. At the office, you didn’t want Deacon to come with you, then you were open to sightseeing with him, and now you seem annoyed by his presence again.

“Wait,” he instructs as the elevator door opens.

He looks up and down the hallway, then holds the door for you to exit. When you reach your room door, he takes your key from your hand.

“What are you doing?” you ask shortly.

“I need to clear the room,” Deacon answers simply.

“Deacon, there’s no one in my hotel room. I think you’re overthinking the ‘bodyguard�� thing. You don’t have to go everywhere with me!”

“I’m not letting you walk into a room when I don’t know what’s waiting behind the door,” he argues.

“It’s a locked hotel room! Do you need to sit beside the tub while I shower, too?”

“Just let me go in, make sure it’s safe, and then I’ll come back out.”

You reluctantly hand the keycard to Deacon, and your body language is enough to tell him you are not pleased with this arrangement. When you cross your arms tightly and straighten your shoulders, Deacon assumes that you’re not worried about having left clothes on the bed or anything, but a deeper problem with having him so close.

“I’ll be right back,” he promises.

You blow a breath out of your nose in response, and Deacon reminds himself not to look at your face for too long. Buck had said you were pretty, but that did no justice to your beauty. Even when you’re annoyed by him, Deacon can’t help but be enraptured by every piece of you.

He slides the card into the door handle and then pushes the door open carefully. As it closes behind him, you drop your arms and lean against the hallway wall. A sudden noise makes you stand up straight again, and the following crash sends your heart to your stomach.

“Deacon!” you yell as you bang the side of your fist against the door.

Something breaks inside and the shattering echoes down the hall. With each sound, you become more desperate to get inside and ensure Deacon is okay. You have nothing against him, in fact, you’re actively trying not to write a song about him. He has to be okay.

“Deacon!” you yell again as someone grunts.

“Move!” Deacon demands.

You assume he’s talking to the person inside, but you step out of the doorway, regardless. The door opens quickly and as someone is shoved out harshly, you’re pulled inside. Deacon pushes you toward the bed as he locks the door and secures the deadbolt. He doesn’t look toward you as he pulls his phone from his pocket and begins typing quickly.

“Deacon,” you whisper as you stand. He doesn’t answer, and you continue walking to him. When you’re directly before him, you push his phone down and look at his face.

“I need to tell Alex,” he chides.

“You’re hurt.”

Deacon freezes when your fingers brush his jawline. Slowly, he drags his eyes from his phone to your face. The concern is evident in your eyes, and as they grow wet, Deacon can’t decide whether to push you away and keep working or wipe your tears away with kisses. He startles slightly at the idea; it’s completely unprofessional, but now that he’s thought of kissing you, he can’t stop.

“Uh, can you…” You exhale to keep yourself from rambling before you ask, “Can you sit down? Please.”

Deacon nods and moves to the foot of the bed. He presses send on the message to Buck, then sets his phone aside and waits for you. You return quickly with a wet cloth and a small first aid kit.

“I never travel without one,” you explain when you see Deacon’s eyes on it.

You press the cloth to his face, and Deacon doesn’t flinch. You're gentle and slow, but even if you weren’t, Deacon doesn’t think he could focus on anything other than you right now.

“You’re an idiot,” you say, pulling him from his admiration of you.

“What?”

“Why did you do that? You could have gotten killed!”

You turn to get a bandage, and your breathing changes suddenly.

“I helped you!” Deacon defends. When your face is squared with his again, his voice drops. “Whoa, are you… you’re crying.”

“I didn’t know what was happening in here. Don’t do that.”

“I’m sorry,” Deacon offers this time. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

You purse your lips as you place a flimsy blue bandage on Deacon’s hand. He knows it won’t stay on his knuckles, but he’ll stop moving if it will help you feel better and keep you beside him longer.

“I know it’s your job, but I’ve never had anyone protect me like that before, so, thanks,” you add.

“It is my job, but it doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad for upsetting you. Like I said before, I’m here for anything you need.”

“You’ll be with me all night?” you clarify.

“As close as you want me.”

Deacon changed into a suit after he saw the dress you prepared to wear to the concert hall. He may be there for you and you alone, but that doesn’t mean he has to look like a bodyguard. You certainly didn’t argue once you saw how the well-tailored jacket fit across his muscular back and the deep blue drew even more attention to his eyes.

“I’m nervous,” you admit. “I know I’ve been pushing you away all day, but it wasn’t because of you, Deacon.”

“We don’t have to do this right now. I get it,” Deacon says.

“Maybe you are the break I was looking for,” you say softly, more to yourself than Deacon.

“Take it slow,” he encourages. “We’ll leave whenever you’re ready.”

You nod, but your eyes are constantly moving. You’re still unsettled after the run-in at the hotel, but there’s nothing more Deacon can do. Not in the public eye, at least. His words will have to get you through for now.

“There she is!” Alex cheers when he sees you.

The woman on his arm scoffs and mumbles, “Not much to her, is there?”

“What’s your number one?” another guest asks.

“Oh, I haven’t released any original songs yet,” you answer softly. “I’ve been writing and I’m here to record-“

“Alex,” the woman on his arm drawls. “You rejected my proposed artist for a no name? What drew you in, her pretty face?”

“Her songs,” Alex answers firmly. He may not give you the freedom you desire, but he also knows your worth and refuses to let anyone talk down to you. “Your proposed artist sounded like an Adele wannabe who got her finger pinched in the mic stand.”

Deacon stifles a laugh behind you, but you’re only growing more uncomfortable by the minute.

“Maybe I should just go,” you tell Alex.

“I agree,” another woman calls.

“Absolutely not,” Alex answers, freeing himself from the women around him. “You’re here as a songwriter. Let’s get away from these people living vicariously through their stars.”

Alex leads you further into the venue, but you watch over your shoulder to ensure Deacon is still with you. He nods in reassurance as he follows, his eyes on the move to spot anything before it can become another threat.

“Buck told me about the incident in the hotel,” Alex says. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you answer.

“What incident?” Serena, one of Alex’s other artists, asks. “Babe, are you alright?”

“Just shaken up,” you admit.

You look back at Deacon again, but his attention is on the stage.

“Wait, so what happened?” Serena whispers to you.

“There was a guy in my hotel room. Deacon took care of it.”

“Deacon? You mean that jaw-droppingly gorgeous man who hasn’t taken his eyes off you since you walked in? Babe, you’re on a first-name basis with your bodyguard.”

“Watching me is his job,” you deflect.

“Serena, sorry to interrupt,” Alex says. “There’s someone here who’d like to meet you.”

“Tell me everything later,” she whispers as she’s pulled away.

Alone again, you take a deep breath and rest your hands on the back of your chair. Deacon steps closer to the table before he pauses.

“Please,” you say.

He closes the distance and stands beside you, close enough to touch if you were as open with physically showing your feelings as you are bearing them for all to hear in song lyrics.

“Excuse me, my name is Rydell. I’m Alex’s biggest competitor,” a man introduces before he laughs. It sounds forced, and you find yourself stepping closer to Deacon. “You must be Alex’s newest client, the one he was so excited to show off.”

Deacon moves his arm so he can feel you behind him as he replies, “Actually, I’m-“

“No, no, please don’t try to undersell yourself. Here’s what we’ll do. I’ve got a private suite back at the Ritz. We’ll head there, order some champagne, and maybe you could give me a private performance of your new songs.”

“Sir,” Deacon begins again.

“Oh, and Alex doesn’t need to know a thing about it. I’ll have you back by morning.”

Deacon’s brows raise as he asks, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Deacon,” you murmur.

“Rydell, is it? I have to applaud your effort, however sleazy it may be, but you picked the wrong target. I’m not the singer you’re after, I’m her bodyguard.”

Your heart races when Deacon refers to himself as yours. When the man blubbers as he tries to find an acceptable answer about why he wanted to take you away from everyone, you are harshly returned to reality.

“Get out,” Deacon demands.

Rydell nods and scurries away. Your eyes remain on Deacon and the dark look in his eyes that matches his clenched jaw.

“Was he trying to kidnap me?” you ask.

“I can’t be sure,” Deacon answers carefully.

“But you think he was.”

Deacon turns when he hears the strain in your voice.

“I should just go home. Singing has always been my dream but between the guy at the hotel and him hurting you, then this, I can’t-“

Deacon silently takes your hand, and your sentence ends abruptly. He strokes his thumb over the back of your hand as he leads you away from all the people. After he finds a quiet, dimmed hallway, he stops and turns toward you, keeping your hand safely in his.

“Take a few deep breaths,” he instructs. “I’ve got you.”

“How am I supposed to keep doing this? I haven’t even released anything and already people are doing crazy things,” you express.

“Well, the women at the door felt threatened. Rydell was misinformed about how strong and independent you are, and the man at the hotel was just an idiot trying to do something stupid.”

“But what happens when there’s more of them?” you whisper. “I don’t think I can do this.”

“You can. You can,” he repeats. “I’m right here to keep you safe.”

“And when you’re not?”

Deacon nods; he understands what uncertainty and fear are like. There’s no easy way to answer your question, but he can help you feel safe for the rest of the night and the remainder of your time in Los Angeles. No matter what it takes.

Standing in the recording booth, you freeze behind the microphone. Singing is an emotional experience, an outlet; right now, you only feel nervous and uncertain. Your future relies on this album; if this is the future, you aren’t sure you want it.

“Let me go in,” someone says faintly through the speaker above you.

Several people are waiting in the sound booth beside you. Alex, the audio tech, Deacon, and two of your best friends and fellow singers. You’ve forgotten about them easily, so you know this isn’t stage fright.

Someone knocks on the door, and you look up from your lyrics as Deacon steps inside.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

You look toward the one-way glass, worried about expressing something you shouldn’t in front of your friends and colleagues.

“They’re gone,” Deacon assures. “I asked for some privacy, thought you could use it.”

“Thank you,” you reply. “I just- everything is a mess, and I don’t know where to start.”

“I heard the music while the tech guy was setting everything up. It’s really good.”

“I appreciate that. Lyrics come pretty easily, but finding the music to express the same stuff as the words is harder.”

“Yet the best artists make it look easy. Like you.”

You suddenly remember something. While you showered this morning, you asked Deacon to sit in your hotel room. Through the thin walls of the bathroom, you heard him humming. Deacon can sing.

“Would you… Will you sing with me? Just to help me get started, I mean,” you ask softly.

Deacon smiles as he happily says, “Of course.”

You step to the side so Deacon can stand beside you and see the sheet music with the lyrics printed on it. It’s not your preferred method of recording, but right now, you’re glad to have it. After you press play on the computer beside you, music fills the room, and you and Deacon begin singing together. He’s better than you anticipated after hearing his humming, and he smiles brightly during your performance of the bridge. You fail to remember what life was like without Deacon. Not that you’d want to.

The music fades and you throw your arms around Deacon’s neck to hug him tightly. He chuckles as he returns the hug, his arms tight around your waist as he tucks his chin against your shoulder.

“You’re amazing,” he applauds.

“Me? I should sign my record deal over to you!” you argue. “You sound like an angel! You are an angel, aren't you, Deacon?”

“Please don’t trade yourself in without my permission,” Alex says through the mic system.

“Alex,” Deacon groans.

“You asked for two minutes, Sergeant. I gave you two minutes. Besides, if I hadn’t come back, we wouldn’t have that performance recorded.”

“I think I’m ready,” you interrupt. “But can I do track 8 next?”

“Anything you want,” Alex answers. “And thanks again, Deacon.”

“For what?” you ask, speaking to Deacon rather than Alex.

“His contract is over. He didn’t have to come with you today,” Alex says.

“Why?” you ask Deacon.

He steps away from the microphone and brushes his fingers along your arm as he whispers, “I didn’t want to walk away yet.”

You lift your eyes to Deacon’s and smile in the proximity. He taps a knuckle against your hip, and you glance down as he makes a phone signal with his hands.

“I do have to get to work,” he says. “But I’ll be watching for that album.”

“Thank you, Deacon, for everything.”

Deacon winks before he exits the studio. You breathe out through your newfound permanent smile and flip to a page of scribbles.

“Does he know?” Alex asks. “That the album only had seven songs before you met him?”

“I think he will,” you answer. “Let’s go.”

“Oh my gosh!” Chris yells. “Am I fangirling? Is this what it feels like?”

“What are you talking about?” Luca inquires.

She points excitedly and explains, “She has the best cover of my favorite song I’ve ever heard. Why do you think she’s here? Would it be wrong to ask for an autograph?”

“Just ask Deac,” Street says from inside the situation room.

Chris, Luca, and Hondo turn to face him, and he sighs as if being the smartest guy in the room is exhausting him daily.

“Ask Deac what?” Chris asks.

“To introduce you. He’s been listening to her music nonstop.”

“He listens to covers?”

“When he’s in love with the girl that sings them, yeah. Am I the only one who pays any attention around here?”

“Easy,” Hondo warns. “What aren’t you saying?”

“Connect the dots, Hondo. He leaves to be a bodyguard, and comes back all soft and sappy, listening to cover songs every minute he can. She was the body to be guarded, and David Kay liked what he saw.”

“What did I see to like?” Deacon asks as he enters.

Chris wordlessly points to you, and Deacon’s eyes light up as he rushes through the situation room to reach you.

“Well, Street was right,” Hondo muses. “For once.”

“Whatever, old man,” Street grumbles.

“You’re here!” Deacon calls. “Why are you here?”

You smile as you reach up and hug him. “I, um, I couldn’t leave.”

“But I thought-“

“That I had excessive doubts about staying in LA and being a singer?” you finish for him. “I did. But then this great, really attractive bodyguard held my hand and told me everything would be okay.”

“And you believed him?”

“If you could see his eyes, you’d understand that I had no other choice but to fall for him.”

“Oh,” Deacon replies. “So…”

“Do you want to go on a date with me?” you and Deacon ask simultaneously.

“I think that translates to yes, from both parties,” Street says as he walks by with a tablet.

“Who is that?” you ask Deacon.

“A fan in the making,” he answers. “Speaking of which, my teammate Chris wants an autograph. Are you sure LA is the right choice?”

“There’s only a few months until the album releases, so the back and forth wasn’t worth it. Plus, that bodyguard I mentioned kinda lives here.”

“Well then,” Deacon murmurs, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you against his chest. “Let’s make sure LA’s prettiest, best-voiced resident feels safe.”

“I’m not trained to do that for you,” you joke.

“Just keep that cute little band-aid kit around and I’ll handle the rest.”

“Don’t get hurt for me again,” you warn. “Because I can’t-“

Deacon cuts you off with a kiss, and you melt against him as your fingers brush across his jawline.

“You can’t what?” Deacon asks against your lips.

“Just kiss me,” you answer, though your voice is muffled against him. “I’m safe right here.”

“Deacon!” Chris yells when you pull back. “Did you ask about the autograph?”

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