Title: Always Have Protection
Summary: An anthology series of drabbles based around Dom, Hobbs and Rome owning their own security/bodyguard company.
A/N: Honestly, I don't know. I have to stop watching Criminal Minds and SVU.
Part I: Toretto
Honestly, she was a bitch, and if it weren't his job to protect her, he probably could have killed her himself.
She was the wife of one of his most respected clients, Owen Shaw. Dom honestly wasn't one-hundred percent sure what it was that Shaw did for a living, but he made enough money and enough enemies to feel like he needed THP Protection Services.
His wife, Letty didn't like Dom being around all of the time. Except when she was drinking, which wasn't too often, but just often enough for Dom to leave an AA pamphlet in her car once.
He knew it was a dick move, but she'd thrown one too many insults his way. And payback was so, so sweet. She'd flipped her lid when she saw it, and the entire ride to her destination, he just grinned as she slung profanities from the backseat.
It was sometime in late March that Shaw had flew back to his home country to check on his parents. Letty, who Dom had figured out was hated by Shaw's mother, stayed behind. Dom walked into the living room to find her sitting in front of a blazing fire, drinking from a glass of clear liquid. A bottle of top-shelf vodka sat beside her on the floor.
Clearing his throat, startling her. Letty's dark hair, tied up in a messy bun, whipped around. She looked at him accusingly before her features softened and she turned back around.
"Oh, look," she deadpanned, "it's the brawn. Tell me, is the brain sold separately?"
"Cute. Did you come up with that by yourself or did you have to pay someone to do it for you?"
"That one was free."
"Unlike you."
"Sorry, did you just call me a prostitute?"
"Did you hear that come out of my mouth?"
She scoffed and poured another drink. Without another word, she held it up and over her shoulder. His brows raised and he stayed where he was. She finally looked over her shoulder.
"It's rude to make a lady drink by herself."
Dom finally crossed the room and took the glass from her. He sat beside her in the floor, knees up, and forearms resting atop them. She grabbed the bottle and took a swig.
He stared at her and when she noticed, her brows furrowed. "What?"
"I don't think I've ever seen you this," he searched his brain for the right word, "casual."
"Is casual code for sloppy?"
"Why are you always so defensive? Take a chill pill. Let your hair down. Relax a little."
"I'm always defensive because I have to be."
"Still, you should learn to take people at their word. Casual means casual. You look like—. I don't know, you. Like how I'd picture you if you weren't such a bitch."
Letty laughed. "You think I'm a bitch?"
"Well, I don't think you're the nicest person."
"Then you really don't know me."
"You're right. I only know the façade. Maybe if you were the real you," he gestured up and down at her, "like you are now, I could."
Letty appeared to consider this. "Fine." She pulled her hair from its tie and shook it out. "This is me, taking my hair down."
"I meant figuratively, but literally looks good, too."
She smiled. It was genuine and damn if it didn't stop Dom's heart for a moment.
Letty held up the half-full bottle of liquor. "Cheers?"
He tapped his glass against the bottle and smiled, shaking his head. "Cheers."