The Sport Was Quidditch
Dean sighed dejectedly as he flew in the seemingly random patterns Kevin had shown him. Being the seeker was just so boring during most of the game. The cheers though, especially when he caught the snitch, made up for all the time wasted circling the sky looking for the bloody, stupid, little thing. At least he was up in the air more now that Kevin Tucker was retiring rather than having to be bored sitting on the bench. Everyone knew that he would be taking over for Kevin and that meant more attention.
Soon Dean knew he was going to have to hire another agent to replace the one that had been killed playing with dragons. WWW wanted him to take over the spokesperson position and advertise their new product line. Rumor had it that Oliver Wood, their last spokesperson, lost the job for dating the owners' sister. He couldn't blame Oliver for that. Redheaded minxes were hot! Too bad she was too old and already had a couple of kids. Dean knew that he was perfectly capable of looking over the contract himself, but that was what agents were for.
That twisty Slytherin, Heath, would have been the perfect agent, except for the small fact that Phoebe hated him. Dean didn't want to get on her bad side any more than he already had for fumbling the snitch that one game. She owned the team, after all, and more importantly threw a mean hex.
Oh well. He'd have to figure it out later. A snitch had been spotted, and he would be the one to catch it no matter what.
There's One In Every Fandom: A Band AU
"Really Kevin, did you have to abandon that dear old man as your manager and hire that irritating Heath?" Phoebe pouted at her brother-in-law. "He's such a pain to deal with."
"You know I did," Kevin snorted at the innocent act Phoebe was attempting. "You walked all over him last year and he didn't get us a good contract for the tour. I wasn't going to have that happen again. I like working with you and Stars and all, but not enough to get less than the band's worth. We could always head to L.A or Nashville. They'd welcome us with open arms anytime."
"Like I'd let you do that, and there's no way Molly would either." Phoebe settled back down now that the posturing was done. "How is Heath working out? Has he gotten you any good sponsors for the next tour? Once you guys get done with that one, I'm thinking next spring we'll have you on the road with The Headless Beavers. They need a bit more seasoning and their lead guitarist needs to realize that they aren't the best things since sliced bread. If for some reason they fall apart before then, I do have a couple of up-an-coming bands that could warm up the crowd for you." As Phoebe listed the bands available from her leading indie label she kept count on her fingers.
Kevin interrupted Phoebe. "I like The Headless Beavers and think they're the best choice of what you've got there. Yeah, they're a little young, but they're going to go big if they don't crash. You've developed a good eye for up and coming bands. Once the other members get a bit more polish and experience, they have the potential to really take off. Dean did an excellent job putting that band together and he's smart enough to know that he's not a solo performer."
"Whatever, you guys better have a great album ready for me soon. I will not have Molly supporting some poor washed up old rocker her entire life." Phoebe smiled brightly and got up to leave. "I've got the check. Heath did mention something about broke rockers in our last contract negotiation. I don't want you to have to work in the kitchen to cover the bill. Have a good day!"
That Time They Wanted To Be West Wing
Something in Heath relaxed when he was hired by Kevin Tucker to be the Public Affairs Manager of his gubernatorial campaign. If Kevin had accepted him, he really had made it to the big time. Not even the disapproval of Kevin's sister-in-law, and incidentally, the head of Chicago's democratic party could keep him from his dreams now. He memorized the feeling of signing the employment contract and the smile on Kevin's face when he introduced Heath to the rest of the staff. This was a guy his instincts said to watch.
He'd already knew about the rumbles in local Democratic circles predicting that when Kevin got some experience under his belt, he could only go up. Kevin was going to have an excellent chance at the Presidency, Heath knew. He had the money, the beautiful wife, and the connections that would be required of him, and Heath was determined to be the driving force that would make it happen. Heath was not going back to the trailer parks he had crawled out of, or the interminable years of working with narrow-minded local politicians whose only concern was sticking one to their neighbors. Kevin was going to go far, and Heath was going to make sure he went up with him.
Tucker, Kevin Tucker
Training his replacement was harder than Kevin had expected. It had nothing to do with Dean himself. Dean was an excellent student who picked up quickly on all the ins and outs of their job, who to kill, and how to steal. It had to do with what it meant, old age, out-lived usefulness, untimely death. How could you not get depressed about no longer being capable of doing things that had saved your life once upon a time?
Kevin knew he was lucky; he had a lovely wife to go home to after every mission and still would when he was forced out. Kevin figured that would happen shortly. It was more what was he going to do with himself once it happened. Golfing all-day or writing "A Memoir: The Life of the Spy in Common Era 2000" sounded like hell to Kevin. There was no way he was going to spend his so-called "golden years" doing nothing. He would just have to figure it out latter; right now he had an apprentice to train and mentor. Dean was coming along, but he had a long way to go before he could beat Kevin at the game.
The Magic Eight Ball Says:
"Why in the world would I want to join your book club?" Dean laughed at his two best friends. "I've heard you guys complaining about it way too much to want anything to do with it. "
"Fine!" Heath growled. "If you join the book club I'll reduce my rates by one percent as long as you remain a member."
Dean lounged on the couch, all sun kissed surfer boy. "Make it two percent and you have yourself a deal. Why do you need me to join the book club anyways?"
"Give it up, Heath. You know very well that he's a better haggler than you are. Just take the two percent and consider yourself lucky that he didn't ask for more," Kevin counseled. "Dean, we need you to join because we need more people to do anything more than play golf. If you join we'll have enough people to play 5-on-5 basketball for a change."
"Basketball? You want me to join the book club from hell just so you have enough people for basketball? At least make it football, and Kevin, you're not getting off scot-free either. You want me in, you need to pay the price too. From you, or rather your wife, I want permission to use Daphne the Bunny and her crowd to advertise my mother's line of children's clothing."
"I'll ask Molly, but Daphne is her's and she's the one making the decisions there. If you can accept that, we have a deal. You good with it Heath?" Kevin asked, grinning at the grumpy sounds coming from his friend at having been played by Dean yet again.
"Yeah, yeah, two percent. Remember that's only good for as long as you're in the club, Dean. The next meeting is the 14th, and Annabelle chose the book. Make sure you read it. Somehow she always knows if you don't."