Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target.

Summary: After not-so-careful contemplation, Guerrero figured that Ames would be the death of him in those tiny little shorts. GuerreroAmes, oneshot

Just a fun little idea that I had. I thought I'd try to write it on paper and do them justice. I think this will be a fun thing to write, so I hope that y'all would enjoy reading this! It's pretty short, but I think it suits it. Haha.

Look, Don't Touch

She was doing it again.

Ames obviously didn't realize what she was doing - which was slightly shocking, being as she loved to tease him for no apparent reason - and it made him that much more uncomfortable about his current situation.

She was sitting just near him, at the table, a glass of orange juice in one hand and a bagel in the other, propping her feet up on the kitchen table. Of course, there would be nothing wrong with this picture except for the matter of her shorts.

Tiny little things, looking like she'd have to paint them onto her body. Obviously made for sleeping purposes, since it was rather early in the morning, and they had pictures of monkeys on them. It was a very distracting thing to see, and he couldn't think of another time when he'd ever been so...unfocused. He also couldn't think of a time that he wanted to be a monkey - other than when he was five years old.

Usually, women didn't get to Guerrero. Only a very rare few times had a woman been enough to make him lose control of his impulses, of his senses, making him impulsive in his actions. And despite the fact that she was sometimes enough to annoy the paint off the walls, he found Ames to be in that category. It wasn't something he'd admit to anyone, of course, except himself.

Guerrero sometimes wondered if Ames knew it too - that could be the only reason that she had a satisfied smirk on her features as she practically waited for him to squirm visibly. He wouldn't, she should know this already, but he knew that she just couldn't help but grin at her apparent control over him - he had to keep reminding himself that she had none whatsoever.

Ames had taken to wearing very skimpy clothing around the place. Of course, she had always been a fan of showing skin, it seemed to be very bad as of late. She would show up wearing low cut tops, the barest hints of a lacy bra peaking out - or sometimes, nothing at all underneath. That had been a particularly hard thing for Guerrero to shake. She would wear midriff-bearing tops, and sometimes nothing except a sports bra.

The most common culprit of her skin-a-thon were her shorts.

She seemed to have shorts for every occassion. Blue jean shorts, bathing suit bottoms, shorts made out of silky material, different colors, different lengths and sizes. It was insanity for Guerrero to even keep up with the amount of shorts this woman owned. The fact that he was even making a tally of how many times he'd seen her in shorts was insanely dangerous for his cred. He hated to think of what would happen if someone ever found out that he was so...distracted by the thief.

So, that brought him to his current predicament. Which, in all actuality, wasn't a big deal. He'd seen his fair share of women in skimpy clothes, but none of them had caused him this much strife before. He could only sit there and wonder what it was about her that made him act differently.

Of course, Guerrero would never show the fact that she made him uneasy in her skimpy shorts. That would be too easy. He'd like to think that he was in perfect control of his so-called impulses, but he wasn't. Ames was aware - she might play the fool at times, but she knew exactly what she was doing to him at the moment. She knew it all too well.

Ames looked at him with smirking eyes, those eyes were the only thing that gave away any of her knowledge about the current problem.

Guerrero watched as she uncrossed her ankles and placed her feet on the floor, hiding her impeccable legs from view. If Guerrero wasn't a leg man before, he certainly was one now.

She rose from her seat and walked to the trash can, but before she could get there, the bagel "tumbled" out of her hand. And if Guerrero was a betting man, he would bet it all on the fact that she did it on purpose. Just so she could get a reaction out of him. But she wasn't going to, he was determined to win this current stand-off of theirs, if anything.

Ames bent over to retrieve the fallen piece of bread, and doing so, her bottom was in prime view. Unknown to her, Guerrero clenched the glass of orange juice in his hand that much more tightly which shamelessly roaming his eyes over her firm backside.

She rose from her crouch, slowly, and turned to face him, "Oops."

I hate you, he thought venomously.

A grin spread across her features, innocent and mischievous all at the same time, and she turned to toss the bagel in the trash can and dump out the contents of her cup into the sink.

The whole situation seemed to take less than a few seconds, but it felt to Guerrero like several lifetimes.

"See you in a few," she called over her shoulder as she walked out of the room.

Guerrero watched her leave, watched her walk away in those ridiculously short monkey shorts.

After she left the room, it was then he saw the large crack in the glass clenched in his fist.

Guerrero decided that Ames would be the death of him in those tiny, tiny shorts.

End.

And there ya have it! My latest Human Target fanfic. I just thought this was a fun idea and since Guerrero is like amazingly hot in all ways imaginable, I thought it would be interesting to seem him kind of...crazy. Hee hee. Yeah, anyway, I would love to hear everyone's reviews on this. It's not too long...just a fun little fic I thought I'd write. Please R&R!

Thanks for reading!