Title: Tiny
Fandom: Backstreet Boys
Characters: Jasmine, Tiny, unnamed man
Universe: N/A
Prompt: What?
Word Count: 350
Date finished: 04/04/2006
Rating: G
Summary: There's a question about living quarters...
Author's Notes: This is a stray scene written because I was reading a story I wrote some time ago, about a couple of girls running a charter boat - fairly large - around the mediteranian. The Backstreet Boys aren't mentioned by name, and in fact, the bodyguards aren't there in the original. Well, the second writing. The original was with Warrant (anyone even remember them?). Anyway, this is a small scene I thought of when I realized that probably, there would be bodyguards with the Boys.
Disclaimer: Backstreet Boys - and their bodyguards - belong to them.

Tiny

Everything was fine until Jasmine took the five bodyguards for a tour - no one had actually said they were bodyguards, but she'd seen enough royalty to recognize them, stated or not - and one of them stopped her on deck. "Where are you guys sleeping?" he asked, gesturing at Jasmine's partner, who was setting up chairs for the five guys who'd hired the boat.

Jazz regarded him with surprise. "Why?" she asked warily.

"Because we noticed we've taken all the rooms below."

She stared. No other charters had noticed when they'd put out the two girls. "We have cots up there," she stuttered, pointing at the wheelhouse.

Behind the already big guy who was talking to her, a hulking black man began to smile. It made her nervous, and the knowing smiles of the other three - not nearly as big - did nothing to help that.

"Who's in your cabin?"

Jazz wrenched her gaze back to the man who was speaking. "I don't know. It's the smallest one, pretty plain."

The man behind him smiled bigger, and Jazz stopped herself from stepping back. Barely.

"We don't want to put you out," the man who seemed to be in charge said, and Jazz looked back at him. "Tiny here…"

"Tiny?" she gasped, unintentionally interrupting. "How did you get to be Tiny?"

The hulking black man shrugged massive shoulders. "I'm the runt of the family."

"Good grief!" she said, and hoped fervently she never met the rest of this family.

"Anyway," the other man said with an amused smile, "Tiny here wouldn't mind sleeping up there; he has some experience with boats."

"None this big," Tiny admitted, "but I can read charts and help out if I'm needed at night."

Jazz just stared at him. "Um. I don't have a cot that will fit you," she said weakly.

He just smiled. "Blankets on the floor work fine, miss."

Jazz pulled herself firmly back into control. "All right, then, Tiny," and she gave a chuckle at his name, "lets go see how good you are at this, and see about making you a bed."

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