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An Ames/Guerrero fic.

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Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Human Target.

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A/N: This one is similar to my fic, "Pick Me Up at 5", but instead of a client hitting on Ames, it's just a random guy in a bar, and it's not quite as funny.

I'll see what I can do about making this one longer, I know I'm getting a bit tired of the drabbles, and want something more in-depth. We'll see how it goes!

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

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

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"Remember, Ames, we'll give you the head's up when the target arrives," Chance's voice slithered in through the earwig hidden in her ear.

"Yes, thank you, I got it the first three times," she replied, covering the words with her drink in front of her mouth.

"And go easy on the alcohol," Winston chimed in. "The last thing we need is for you to blow this by getting yourself wasted."

Ames rolled her eyes, deliberately swallow a generous amount of her vodka tonic. "I can hold my liquor, Laverne. I'm telling you, I got this." She was surprised that Guerrero hadn't put his two-cents in, seeing as he was closer than the others. They couldn't risk Chance's cover being blown, so Guerrero was planted at the bar - rather, behind the bar - to watch Ames's back, in case things got out of hand. She was there plant a tracking device on the target, so that he would lead them to his operation. She chanced a glance at Guerrero, to see that he was watching her right back, poised like a panther ready to attack. At least, that's how she saw it. To the casual observer, he was just cleaning out a dirty glass to put away for another customer, and ogling his fill of the bar-ladies as he went. Ames knew better than to assume he was staring at her because he was attracted to her. Really, he was just doing his job.

A voice to her right pulled her attention away from Guerrero. "Looks like that drink is just about done. Can I buy you another one?"

She flicked her hair over her shoulder, observing him briefly. Not the target. "I'm good, thanks. I'm actually meeting someone here."

He seemed to have a moment's pause, but her unwavering stare convinced him of her polite rejection, and he nodded briefly before continuing on his way.

Ilsa's voice rang in her ear next. "You handled that well. I take it you've had some experience in this area?" The woman was adamant in getting a first-hand experience of the work that they did, so she sometimes joined Winston in the surveillance van, when she wasn't attending to other matters to do with her foundation. They were both still getting used to working together.

"Well, I don't want to brag ..." Ames replied quietly, fiddling with her hair as she spoke. It wouldn't do for their target to see her talking to herself.

"Maybe we could keep the chit-chat to a minimum?" Guerrero suggested forcefully.

Ames flicked her eyes up to look at him, not entirely surprised by his tone, but still slightly put off. "Okay, kill-joy."

Every few minutes she took a small sip of her drink, brushing off a few more inquiries as the minutes went on. She didn't blame the men, as she was clearly dressed as a woman on the prowl. Deep blue, skintight, strapless dress, that came to her mid-thigh sitting down. Strappy heeled shoes that matched the dress bobbed back and forth on the stool, as she was grew steadily more restless. Her hair fell around her shoulders, the recently trimmed edges providing a sharp look that she enjoyed. Her makeup was applied to attract attention, which she was apparently succeeding at. Just not the right attention, so far.

"I don't think I've seen you in here before," a new man stated, sitting on the barstool next to her.

Ames sighed, turning to glance at him. "Not interested," she said for the seventh time that night.

He smiled cockily, leaning towards her. "Now, how do you know that if you haven't given me a chance? For all you know, I could be the love of your life."

Ames gave him a once-over, taking in his overly accentuated, tailored outfit, fake Rolex, and poor manicure. His hands told her that he was probably a business man, someone who rarely used his hands, or "got dirty". She flipped her hair back over her shoulder, toying with her finger around the rim of her glass. "Thanks, but I'll pass."

"That's not very polite," the pushy man stated, leaning towards her with a glower.

"Excuse me?" she asked him, her female senses tingling at the tone in his voice, and the look on his face.

"A girl like you, in a place like this ... you're obviously looking to party. I'm not sure you be too picky about your clientele," he insinuated.

Ames's eyes widened. "You think I'm a hooker?" she asked him, affronted.

He snorted in derision. "Don't pretend with me, sweetheart. I know your kind."

Ames could feel a flush beginning to crawl up her body, her anger rising along with her embarrassment. But, before she could refute the man's beliefs about her, Guerrero spoke up.

"Pretty sure she said she wasn't interested, dude. I'd back off if I were you," he warned the man.

"This isn't any concern of yours pal," the man brushed off.

In an instant, Guerrero took the glass in his hand and slammed it upside down on the man's hands, trapping his fingers at the last knuckle with the pressure he was exerting on the glass. "If I push down just a little bit harder, one of two things will happen: 1) the glass will break, and the shards will imbed deeply into your hand causing painful, if not permanent damage. 2) The glass won't break, and your fingers will be severed at the joint from the rest of your hand. Which would you prefer?"

The man attempted to pull his hand away, but Guerrero increased the pressure dangerously. "Okay, okay, I get it!" he forced out in a hurried voice. "I'll leave."

"Say you're sorry," Guerrero added, twisting the glass slightly.

"I'm sorry!" he choked out.

"Not to me, genius," Guerrero told him, tilting his head pointedly at Ames.

The man looked as though the idea repulsed him, but after another wince-inducing twist, he said, "I'm sorry, lady. I didn't mean it."

Ames kept the grin off of her face long enough to sneer at the man in petulant annoyance. After he stalked away, Ames smiled toothily at Guerrero. "Thanks."

"That's why I'm here, dude," he told her simply, pulling the glass away and staring at it with distaste. Sighing, he dipped it back in the cleaning water to soak.

...

It was nearly another hour before the target showed up. Guerrero had been giving Ames water for the last half hour, in place of Vodka, just in case she was lying about being able to hold her liquor.

"Target just walked through the door," Chance informed her.

Before Ames could even begin to sneak a look, Guerrero cut in, "Dude, don't look. You'll blow it."

Ames rolled her eyes, but did as he requested. Chance let her know when he was closing in on her position, less-than-patient for her to make her move. "He's four feet away, Ames," Chance relayed.

Ames slid the tracking device that she was meant to plant on him out of her purse, holding it delicately in her fingers. "Man, do I gotta pee," she stated with a slur, turning to slide off her stool. She dropped her purse in front of the man she was aiming for, lunging after it with an exaggerated fall. Her hands collided with the man's hips on her way down, discretely hiding the thin, sticking device on the cell phone in his pocket. "Oh! Wow ... sorry!" Ames babbled out, glancing up at the man from her position on the ground.

"Next time, watch where you're going, skank," he replied, pushing past her.

Ames narrowed her eyes at him in annoyance, watching him leave. "Tracker's in place," Ames muttered into the COMM.

"Good job," Chance told her.

Sighing, Ames began collecting the items that had fallen from her purse. Her make-up, cell phone, keys, and various other items were scattered on the floor, and she picked each with up with a grumble.

"That was pretty rude," a voice commented, crouching down to meet her at eye level.

Ames, expecting another class act to treat her like a prostitute, but instead saw a handsome, young man helping her pick up the fallen items. "Yeah ... thanks," she replied.

"No problem," he replied, handing her the items he'd collected. "You okay?"

Ames glanced at him strangely, wondering if he was working an angle. "I'll be fine."

"I'm Jesse, by the way," he introduced himself, holding out a hand to help her out.

Ames held her purse in one hand, glancing at him warily before accepting the hand. "Ames," she replied, standing up.

"So, can I buy you a drink?" he asked her. "Maybe find a booth somewhere?"

Ames smiled softly at the offer, ignorant of Guerrero's pointed looks at her. "Sure. Scotch, on the rocks," she told him.

He grinned at her choice, turning towards who he thought was the bartender. "Scotch on the rocks," he told him. "Make that two?"

Guerrero eyed the younger man. "ID?"

Jesse paused, but pulled his wallet out of his back pocket to show Guerrero his identification.

Ames flared her eyes at him, wondering what he was doing.

Guerrero ignored her, surveying the ID and memories the guy's information. He handed it back to the kid, preparing the drinks.

Ames, brushed off Guerrero's strange behavior, and turned back to look at Jesse. "So, what is it that you do?"

"I'm an assistant to an executive assistant editor at a publishing company," he told her. "So, basically a slave."

Ames laughed at that. "What's your favorite book, then?" she wanted to know.

Jesse opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by the feeling of a cool liquid seeping into his clothing.

"Oh, man, sorry about that," Guerrero interrupted, picking up the glass that he'd dumped.

Jesse moved back from the bar in surprise, bumping into a couple as they were leaving the bar, and nearly getting knocked onto his ass. "Ahh, dammit," he exclaimed, holding his light blue shirt away from his skin.

"Yeah, you're gonna wanna soak that right away," Guerrero told him. "Here, have a club soda on the house," he offered. "Bathroom's that way."

As soon as he was out of earshot, Ames rounded on Guerrero. "What the hell was that about?"

Not bothering to answer her, Guerrero jumped over the bar and grabbed her arm, leading her out of the bar.

"Where are you taking me?" Ames wanted to know, pulling at her arm.

"Guerrero, what's going on?" Chance wondered through the COMMs.

"Sorry, dude, going offline," he told his friend, taking out his earpiece. He told Ames to do the same, and she slowly did, handing it to him. Guerrero led her to her car, putting her in the passenger seat and then moving around to get into his own side. Without looking at her, he put the car in drive and headed for his apartment.

Ames opened her mouth several times on the ride over, but couldn't make any sound come out. She wasn't sure what she'd done wrong, but she figured asking him a bunch of questions would only make the situation worse.

When they finally pulled up in front of Guerrero's apartment, he commanded in a forceful tone, "Out," before opening his own door and getting out of the car.

Ames swallowed heavily, getting out of the car. He locked it behind her, pulling her towards the building. "Can I have my arm back?" she asked him finally, but closed her mouth again when he fixed her with a quick glare.

The trip up to his apartment was eerily quiet, and she was beginning to wonder what he had in store for her. She'd never been to his apartment, and honestly wasn't sure she'd survive the trip.

He pulled her into the apartment, closing and locking the door behind her. He set down his keys by the door, kicked off his shoes, and peeled off his jacket, all in silence.

Ames stood quietly by the door, watching him warily.

Guerrero planted his hands on his hips, walking slowly around the front entranceway, thinking in silence.

"Are you at least gonna tell me why am here, or do I have to guess?" Ames asked him, hoping that he would just get annoyed with her and tell her to leave. Anything but this silence.

Guerrero was in her face in an instant, his forefinger from his right hand settling firmly over her lips, preventing any further sounds from coming out. He had her pressed back against the door, his body only inches from hers, though their legs came into contact when he pressed her backwards.

Ames blinked several times, looking between the hand at her lip, to the face so close to hers. There was something in his eyes that she hadn't seen before - at least, not in his eyes. She'd seen anger, annoyance, frustration, humor, and murder in his eyes ... but not this. This was similar to how most men looked at her. The difference was, Guerrero wasn't most men. She thought back to how Guerrero had acted when Jesse was hitting on her, and to how he'd slammed the glass down on the other guy's hand. He'd tried to brush it off then, but she gleaned a whole new meaning from it now.

"Oh," she whispered out, despite the finger over her lip, realization sinking in.

Guerrero knew that he'd been found out. Between backing off and acting like it hadn't happened, and going in for the kill, he chose the latter. Taking the final step to bridge the distance between the two of them, he replaced his finger with his lips, crushing them down onto hers.

Ames's eyes widened briefly, but she didn't tense up or try to push him away. This was something she'd wanted from Guerrero from day one. She'd meant it when she'd said the tough guy thing was hot. It was cliché, and a little bit unhealthy, but bad boys made the best lovers, and she was more than eager to see if Guerrero was no exception.

Responding quicker than the man in question would have thought, Ames tilted her head, leaning into the kiss and parting her lips for him.

He took the invitation swiftly, darting his tongue into her mouth as his hands slipped between her and the door, pulling her hips flush against his. The groan that erupted from her throat at the feeling of him pressed against her was only the first of the evening. Guerrero drew her dress up to her hips, hoisting her up until she locked her legs around his waist. Planting one hand on her hips, and the other on her back, Guerrero navigated his way through his apartment, all the while with Ames's lips pressed against his neck, nibbling excitably on the skin there.

He reached his bedroom quickly, slamming the door behind them and dropping her down onto the bed. With her legs gripping his waist so tightly, he went with her, landing comfortably on top of her slim, enticing body.

Ames grinned up at him, meeting his mouth as he captured her lips once more.

With her legs still wrapped around his waist, Guerrero reached back and began undoing the straps of her shoes, sliding each off in turn. He felt her fingers clawing at the hem of his shirt, and assisted her in removing the garment from his body.

Ames rolled them over the bed, grinning down at him wickedly.

Guerrero's hands settled underneath the fabric of her dress, gripping the thin straps of her underwear and her slanted hips.

Ames crossed her hand over her hips, pulling the dress up and over her head. She threw it down on the floor beside the bed, planting her hands on his bare chest when she was done.

Guerrero hungrily took in the sight of her half naked body, sitting up and changing their positions. He pulled her forward by her hips, settling her comfortably in his lap as he pulled at her flimsy underwear, snapping the material in two.

"Those were my favorite pair," Ames grumbled, glaring at him.

Guerrero rolled his eyes. "I'll buy you a new pair," he replied, before giving her bra the same treatment. Before she could protest to that he sealed his mouth over hers, dueling with her tongue almost immediately.

Ames sighed into the kiss, her tattered undergarments forgotten. He was certainly talented in this area, she admitted internally.

After he showered nearly her entire body with his arousal and affection, he peeled himself out of his remaining clothing, settling over her on the bed. Ames pushed herself up on her elbows, scooting back and watching him slink towards her, like an animal on the prowl. There were fight sights that were as sexy as the one that he made. Guerrero placed his palms on the thighs, spreading them lightly for his entrance.

She happily accommodated him, dragging a hand through his hair as he settled his mouth over one breast. Ames moaned aloud as he worked the area over, and then again when he repeated the process on the other one. By the time he was ready to enter her, she had a light sheen of sweat covering her body, along with a red tinge and accentuated her arousal.

Guerrero thrust into her in one clean swipe, knocking her off of her elbow and pinning her to the bed. His mouth found the pulse point on her neck, suckling on it as he moved within her.

Ames saw fireworks from that point on, gripping his shoulders and hanging on for dear life. He would never admit that he was jealous, and she would never admit that she enjoyed making him squirm with every guy that flirted with her. No one really understood the balance that the two had with one another, but they didn't care. At the end of the day, whether they were leaving together or separately, going to his place or his, all that mattered was that no one had ever made them feel more alive than the other. No one ever would, if either of them had anything to say about it.

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The end.

Well, what did you guys think of that one? Like it, hate it?

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

Until next time ...!