Saving: Protecting: One Direction *UNDER MASSIVE EDITING*

SEVEN

SEVEN

--JACK--

Hot. Why was I so hot? The sweat was dampening my body, the uncomfortable heat dragging me from my unconscious. I woke up as I usually did-suddenly, in a panic, and wondering where the heck I was. The only difference was now there was an extremely heavy Harry Styles laying on top of me. "Harry-get-off," I mumbled, trying to speak without getting his curly hair in my mouth. Wiggling underneath him, attempting to get out from underneath him, and hoping I wouldn't be suffocated. He moaned incoherently, latching ever harder onto me. There was no way I could get him off me without seriously damaging him, which was exactly the opposite of what I was supposed to be doing. But as suddenly let out a sleep fart, I was seriously considering whether or not slamming him into the wall would really hurt him.

Frantic now, I managed to reach out my hand out to the left, searching, searching...until my fingers connected with what I was looking for. "Niall!" I said loudly, shaking his arm. "Where's the fire?" He grunted, jerking awake. Confusion radiating off of him in a way that I could practically touch, I knew he was staring down at me in bewilderment. "Why are you using Harry as a blanket?"

If the situation hadn't been literally strangling me, I would have laughed. "Oh you know, just got a little cold," How I was able to be sarcastic right now, I didn't know. "Please get him off, he's crushing my lungs." Niall shifted on the bed, and suddenly Harry was rolled off me. Gasping for breath, rubbing my rib cage, I sat up between the sheets. Harry laid spread out beside me, looking completely calm and innocent in sleep...the bastard.

"Thanks for that," I told Niall, pushing my hair out of my face. "No problem," He yawned hugely, offering me a sleepy smile. I glanced around the room-more out of habit than anything else-to see boys spread out practically everywhere. Harry was now taking up at least half the bed, if not more. Zayn was sleeping half out of the chair. Louis was lying on his back, feet somehow propped up on my nightstand. Liam laying like a cat, curled at the foot of the bed. Funny, I didn't remember him sleeping there when we went to sleep...

All of a sudden, Niall's stomach gave growled like a starving lion, clawing me from my inspection. I grinned at him, and he returned a sheepish smile. "C'mon, I'll make breakfast," I whispered to him, scooting over to the end of the bed. We got up together, and I quickly grabbed my gun and tucked it into the back of my pants before following Niall out of my room. The house was silent for once, as we padded to the kitchen, bare feet smacking against the linoleum. Early-but cloudy-- morning light shone in through the multiple windows, giving everything a slow sort of glow. But the windows were too big, too open, too easy for someone to properly aim a gun through.

Niall lead me into the kitchen, which was far more massive than the entirety of my tiny Virginian apartment. There were even more wide windows, that would without a doubt have to boarded up or in some way closed off. There were knives that were sitting out, knives that would have to be kept under a lock and key. A small door leads to the backyard from the kitchen. It would need a dead bolt and at least one more lock before I could deem it as safe. As much as I didn't want to think about those sort of things right now, it was impossible for my mind to stop.

Niall jumped up on the counter, watching me as I rummaged through the fully-stocked fridge. It didn't take long to find the eggs, and bacon. "You don't have to cook for us," The guilt was evident in Niall's voice. Searching the cabinets for a skillet, I didn't turn to look at him as I shrugged. "It's alright, I want to. We're away so much; I don't often get the chance to cook."

"What exactly do you do?" Niall asked, almost hesitantly as he got up to stand my elbow. "Putting it simply, I'm one of the FBI's top profilers. Basically, I tell them what type of 'bad guy' they're looking for-characteristic, age, and such. If they can't be caught, things surrounding them are getting out of control, basically so 'bad' that no one has a clue who they are or how to catch them, my team and I will go in to help catch them," I answered as I started putting the bacon on the skillet. "Whoa," Niall said, sounding much like an awed little kid. A small smile graced my lips.