An Ames/Guerrero fic.


Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Human Target.


A/N: This story is written for Lizzy1313, who requested I write it.

A client starts hitting on Ames during a case, and Guerrero responds ... unpleasantly to it.

I hope you guys like this one, I know I'll love writing it.

As always, please read and review, I live for feedback!


Their current client, Archie Stevenson, was quite the handful. He came to them after his wife had put out a contract on his life, and needed their help not only to save him, but also to prove her involvement. Shortly after accepting his case, the team discovered why his wife had felt the need to have him assassinated. He was a dog. Well, no ... that wasn't the best way to put it. It was an insult to all canines.

He was a man-whore, to put it simply. Hit on anything with legs, and he currently had his sights set on Ames.

Archie was attractive and wealthy, something that Ames couldn't help be drawn to. Sure, he wasn't the commitment type, but she wasn't looking for a life partner. Maybe one wild weekend that ended in extravagant presents ... that would be nice.

No one noticed Guerrero's quiet steaming throughout the first couple days of the case, though Ilsa questioned him a couple times on his impatient temper and lack of communication - even less forthcoming than usual.

It all came to fruition when the case closed: the hit-man was captured, the wife was in custody, and the danger had passed. Archie came into the office the following day to thank them for everything they had done, and to ask Ames out for dinner.

"Well, I guess I owe you for saving my life, huh?" he began, leaning against the staircase railing as he spoke to her.

Guerrero walked swiftly past them, heading up the steps with a discrete glare that Archie didn't see, but Ames did.

Ames turned her attention back to Archie, giving him a wide smile. "Oh, come on, it's not like I'm the one who dove in front of bullets and dug up the evidence on your wife," she replied, thinking of Chance and Guerrero's contributions. She'd been the arm-candy that they'd used to enrage the wife enough to make her fatal mistake, contacting the hitman and offering him more money to speed up the process.

"Oh, I thought you were plenty heroic," Archie said, laying the charm on thick. "How about I take you out to dinner ... to show you just how thankful I really am?"

Ames was flattered by the offer, even though she'd expected it, but she felt something holding her back. She should be jumping at the idea of a young, rich man wanting to take her to dinner.

"Heads up," Guerrero called from above them, moments before a large duffel bag landed between them, nearly striking Archie in the head. At their surprised looks, he stated, "Slipped."

Ames followed his retreating back with her eyes, wondering at his behavior. "Sorry, Archie," she spoke after a moment, "what were you saying?"

He brushed off the incident easily, grinning at her, "I think me and you could have some good times," he told her.

"I see," she considered, distractedly. "What kind of good times did you have in mind?"

"Well, I thought we'd start with a few drinks, then maybe head back to my place," he suggested.

Above them, they heard the distinct sounds of a rifle being cocked.

Ames glanced up the stairs one more time, seeing Chance coming down the stairs with a grin on his face. "What's up with him?" she asked him with a quirked eyebrow.

Chance shrugged, clearly suppressing another grin.

"So, what do you say?" Archie asked her finally, drawing her attention back to him.

Ames blinked. "Sure, Archie. Pick me up at five?"

He nodded eagerly, leaning forward to plant a kiss on her cheek.

"Incoming," Guerrero's voice sounded again, and Archie barely had time to jump back before yet another duffel was dropped from the top of the stairs. Guerrero offered no explanation this time, just glared at the two of them and turned his back.

Archie said his goodbyes and left, no doubt to begin planning the evening that lay ahead of him.

After ensuring that she wasn't otherwise needed, Ames made her way up the stairs. She found Guerrero loading up a bag of weapons that were sitting on the coffee table, thrusting them into the bag one after the other, seemingly completely focused on his task. His brow was furrowed, and his heavy breath was flowing through flared nostrils. "What's your problem?" Ames asked him, crossing her arms over her chest as she perched herself on the arm of the couch in front of him.

"Right now? Chick who talks too much is asking me stupid questions." He didn't even glance up at her, something that troubled the brunette in front of him.

"Really? 'Cause you seemed upset before I came up here."

Guerrero paused with a blade in his hand, staring up at her. "I'm sorry if I was cramping your style. It's not my fault the man-whore got in the way of me doing my job."

Ames let the "man-whore" comment slide, adjusting her footing before she spoke again. "What exactly is it that you're doing?"

"Weapons need cleaned," he explained shortly. "And those damn cleaning fairies just don't stop by like they used to."

"Have I done something specific to piss you off?" she wanted to know.

Guerrero chuckled dryly, returning to his packing. "What you do on your own time is your business, dude. You wanna go screw the playboy, feel free."

Ames stared at him in surprise, sliding down onto the couch. After a moment's consideration, she spoke in a soft voice, "You're jealous."

Guerrero paused briefly, almost imperceptibly, but she caught it. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Oh, I think you're doing enough of that for the both of us," she responded immediately.

Guerrero was in front of her in an instant, pressing her back against the couch with the blade of the knife pressed against her throat. "Don't push me," he warned her.

Ames pointedly raised an eyebrow at him, willing herself not to gulp. "Maybe that's just what you need. Quit hiding behind your machoism and just say what you want."

"You got a big mouth," he commented, his eyes boring into hers.

Ames nodding slightly, careful of the knife that was still pressed firmly against her skin. "I know."

"You got balls," he added.

She grinned at that, but paused when the knife twitched with his hand. She was contemplating asking him if he was really going to cut her when his lips descended upon her slightly parted mouth. She didn't gasp in surprise, she didn't pull away, she didn't even ravish him in the way that she currently wanted to. With the blade still in his hand, she could only lean back against the couch, pinned underneath his frame, held prisoner against his lips.

When he finally pulled back - barely an inch - he met her eyes fiercely and dictated, "You're not going out with that douche bag."

Ames stared right back at him through half-lidded eyes, nodding her head slowly.

Guerrero removed the knife from her throat, pushing off the couch to return to his previous task.

Before he could get a foot away, Ames pulled him back towards her by the lapel of his thin jacket, taking a more dominant role in the kiss this time. It didn't last long, however, as Guerrero quickly responded in kind.

He gripped the back of her neck in his free hand, angling her head to better kiss the living daylights out of her.

Ames gripped his jacket with one hand, the other one curling around the back of his head to tangle her fingers into his hair.

A voice from the stairwell broke the spell that had settled over them. "Um ... I guess this is a bad time."

They both glanced over to see Archie staring awkwardly at the wall beside him.

"Archie?" Ames questioned, discretely wiping at her mouth.

"I wanted to see if Chinese was good with you ..." he began, not looking at either of them.

Guerrero ended the awkwardness for him, stating, "Dude, she's not interested."

"Well, I just -" He was cut off by the knife that was flung across the room, imbedding in the wall inches from his face.

"Go, now," Guerrero told him shortly.

"Leaving," Archie replied, turning and charging down the stairs.

They heard the sounds of him pounding the elevator button repeatedly before he gave up and dove for the stairway. Chance's laughter could be heard from the office below them, causing Guerrero to roll his eyes in annoyance.

"Well, that was a bit much," Ames commented, glancing at the knife still stuck in the wall.

Guerrero smirked. "It slipped." He stole one more kiss from her before he pulled away, stalked across the room to retrieve the knife, and then returned to his bag of weapons, packing them in slower and calmer, with a hidden grin on his face that only Ames could see.

"So ... pick me up at five?"


The end.

Well, what did you guys think? Like it, hate it?

I have another one kind of like this in mind, I'll try to get that up soon.

Reviews are appreciated, flame if you must, but constructive criticism is much more useful.

Until next time ...!