Title: Holding on
Author: AnitaB
Author's notes: I'm not the only one overjoyed at the show taking steps towards Chance/Ilsa happiness, but then my Chance said there was no way in hell he was letting her have any regrets in the morning. But neither is he letting her out of his sight, or out of his arms. It will be M, but isn't there just yet. Chance/Isla romantic smut ahead.
I own nothing from Human Target. No infringement is intended and no money is made.
Holding on
By AnitaB
Chapter one: Seeing it coming
He should have seen it coming. He should have figured it out the first time he couldn't say no to her. Chance was good at making people do what he wanted them to do. He convinced people to stand still in front of loaded guns. He made people jump out of perfectly good planes and risk their lives on only his word that it would work out.
So why was it that he couldn't say no to her? And why in the hell didn't he figure out why before this? Harry, of all people, knew it first. Mr. Bad Luck go Boom had to put those words together in a string and change the way Chance saw the world just before the woman in question stepped in the door.
/Ilsa,\\ He was staring at her like he'd never seen her before. And somehow he hadn't really. /Goddamnit all to hell, Harry's right. I have feelings for Ilsa.\\ Gunfire and explosions do tend to help one focus. They were safe. Chance knew exactly what to do about the men with weaponry. He had no idea what to do about the stubborn, ridiculous woman here to rescue him.
But eventually the emergency was over and he didn't have the danger to hide behind. Sometime after the bullets had stopped flying, Ilsa had disappeared. It was a good idea to keep the famous name and money line out of the police report… but Chance didn't like that she was out of his sight. Ever.
The first time his fingers dialed her number without permission from his brain, he tried to tell himself that he was just watching her back like he would for any person on his team. The fourth time he listened to her voice doing the 'leave a message' line he was already in the car on the way back to the office. It had been a difficult job for all of them. Besides, she probably still had the dose from the wine in her system. Someone should check on her.
Of course that was the only reason he was nervous and worried. It wasn't because he had feelings for his boss. Not really.
Chance saw the lights and smelled the alcohol before he took a single step out of the elevator. He knew what she'd be staring at before he leaned on the door jamb and shoved his hands into his pants pockets. For the first time in his life, he didn't trust his hands to do what he told them to.
The sniffle in her voice and the redness in her eyes made him want to reach out to her even more. So he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and tried to make the words do what he shouldn't or couldn't. Harry was more than right. Chance was falling for Ilsa. He couldn't help but point out that Marshall was an idiot for even thinking about cheating on a woman like her.
He really should have seen this coming. But her lips were against his before he could react. And his hands finally escaped his control completely. /Ilsa,\\ Chance helplessly kissed her back, his fingers finally running through those soft black curls. She tasted of alcohol, warmth and just a hint of salt from crying. Warm hands gripped his shoulders, rubbed along his jaw and neck as Ilsa pressed closer against his chest for another kiss. And another.
When she pulled back and touched trembling fingers to her lips, Chance still wanted more. That was the only word left in his mind other than her name. The want written in those beautiful dark eyes made all his self control seem to melt away. "Ilsa," He cupped one hand around the back of her neck and slowly pulled her into the circle of his arms, giving her as much time as he could to pull away. She didn't. /More, please.\\ The warmth of her lips opened against his and Chance got drunk on her taste. Rum, the sweetest warmth and that hint of salt. Ilsa made a soft hungry sound in the back of her throat, her arms tightening around his neck, inviting him deeper.
There was nothing he wanted more. Chance buried one hand in her hair and wrapped his arm tight around her waist. He groaned low in his throat and danced his tongue against hers. The rum was stronger here, but so was the salt. It was too strong for tears.
/Ilsa drank the wine… oh fuck.\\ He had to stop this. He had to stop this right now. She was drunk and emotional on top of a dose of sodium thiopental. Chance could not hurt her like this, take advantage of her. But pulling back from the grip of her hands and the best kiss he'd ever had wasn't easy. And Isla wasn't making it any easier with a desperate little moan and the invasion of her tongue in his mouth. "Ilsa,"
"Chance," Dark eyes lifted to his filled with heat. Shaking fingers cupped his jaw as she leaned closer, reaching for his lips with her own.
/Christopher Chance, stop it right the fuck now.\\ He forced both hands open and braced them hard against her waist. "Ilsa, we shouldn't… I can't." Unwilling arms pushed her back, but only managed a few inches. It wasn't nearly far enough to keep her safe. Not from him.
"You can't what, Mr. Chance? You can't touch me. You can't hold me." Ilsa pulled back, coming to her feet, shaking just a little on her high heels. "Do not even try to tell me that you did not feel that, that you do not want me… just as much as I want you." Her hands balled into fists at her sides and he almost welcomed the punch. It would hurt so much less than the look in her eyes.
"I can't hurt you, Ilsa." His hands were cold as he stood to move closer. Chance wanted her heat against his skin, wanted to strip her out of that dress and feel every inch of her skin against his own. But he'd shoot himself in the head before he'd add one more ounce of pain to the hurt in her face. "You're drunk, you're in pain, and you're still dosed from the wine. If I took you right now, you'd never forgive me. I'd never forgive myself. I won't hurt you, Ilsa, I can't."
She looked like he'd slapped her in the face. Her arms wrapped around her waist and her eyes locked on the floor. "If that is how you feel, Mr. Chance, if I am no more than one of our clients to you, than I will go. This…" Her hand waved in the air between them. "… never happened. We are… merely associates, nothing more."
/No,\\ The pain in her voice, the sudden hesitance in her face, her body. He couldn't let her out of this room, out of this building like this. He couldn't let her go. "No, Ilsa, that's not how I feel." Before she managed two steps towards the door, Chance found his arms tucking her in close against his chest, his chin resting against her hair. "I want you, you have to know that. But I can't touch you like that until you're sober enough for consent." Her arms stopped pushing at his chest, slowly circling his waist as her body relaxed a little into his hold. "I want you, Ilsa, not the alcohol, not the mush drug, and not as some payback for Marshall's affair." Her hands caught in the back of his shirt, her arms pulling him closer. "I want you, Ilsa, but I cannot hurt you."
Her breathing hitched, slowly evening out against his shoulder. "Can you… hold me?"
/Ilsa,\\ His arms tightened on their own, every nerve in his body demanding he say yes. "I can do that." He wanted to hold her, he always wanted to hold her.
000
She stood there in his arms, letting the hug and the words slowly fill her with warmth like the bottle of rum hadn't been able to. But even now, Ilsa wanted more. Even knowing he was absolutely right about sex being a truly terrible idea at the moment, she was still thinking about it, about his kiss. She remembered watching him fight, that rush of heat through her blood at the sight of him in action. Remembered clinging to his waist on horseback, the feel of his muscles moving under his skin.
But somehow, this, right here, was so bloody much hotter she almost couldn't breathe. Chance was holding her. She could feel the need shaking through his hands and her own. But he'd meant it, Chance was a man of his word. He would not touch her in any romantic way until she was fully capable of consent. No one had ever cared that much about her before.
"Come with me." He moved to let go and she wasn't ready yet. Ilsa wasn't ready to face the chill outside his arms. She tightened her arms around his waist and refused to let go. "Come on, Ilsa. Up the stairs."
Chance shifted her enough to tuck her against his side without letting her out of his arms. It was a compromise she could live with. "Where are we going?" He just shook his head and led her into his inner sanctum. Ilsa hadn't been in what she privately called his lair before. Even when she'd been in charge of the workmen remodeling their headquarters, she hadn't gone into his apartment. Now he was leading her there, guiding her down to sit on the edge of his bed.
Now he was the one kneeling at her feet, but she knew he wasn't going to start up a kiss like she had. But he did put those big, strong hands on her face, rough fingers gentle against her skin. "I don't think you should be alone tonight, Ilsa. But we aren't going to do anything, not more than we have. I'd like to hold you tonight."
Now she was warm, shivering under his touch. /Yes, hold me, tonight at least.\\ Ilsa bit her lip and some part of her thrilled at the way his eyes heated and followed the motion. "Yes, Chance, I would like that very much." She found herself watching the relieved smile on his lips. They had already kissed. Another one would not be more than they'd already done. "Chance…"
"Good," He pulled back before she could close the distance and reclaimed his lips. Chance sank back on his heels and pulled her feet into his lap. "Let me…" The words faded off but his hands took over. Warm, rough fingers stroked down her ankles to gently remove her shoes and rub warmth into her toes. "Stay here." Then he was completely out of reach, standing across the room to pull clothes out of a drawer. Chance returned with a t-shirt and a pair of draw-string pants. "Bathroom's through there."
She didn't know if her knees would hold her, but they would have to manage. That was the only way she was getting back into his arms. Clutching his clothes to her chest, Ilsa came to her feet and gave him her back. "Can you unzip me?"
He made a sound somewhere between a chuckle and a groan. Then it was her turn to gasp when his hands gripped her waist to turn her a little further. Ilsa closed her eyes focusing every nerve in her body on the heat of his hands. Fingertips brushed over the back of her neck and down her spine to the top hem of her dress. He dragged the tab ever so slowly downward, one knuckle following the widening gap with a brush of heat. It was so hard to stand still when she desperately wanted to turn in his arms and take him. Then his lips pressed against her shoulder in a hot, simple kiss. His hands tightened on her hips as the space between their bodies disappeared. Ilsa could feel his breathing go ragged in the movement of his chest against her back. If she pushed him right now, she might not need the workout clothes in her arms. If she pushed him just a little bit, she might get to feel those strong hands on her skin with nothing in the way. /I'd never forgive myself. I won't hurt you, Ilsa, I can't.\\
She couldn't put another load of guilt on his already overburdened conscience. When Ilsa claimed him, she wanted it to be for both of them. No pain, no questions. "Thank you, Chance." Fighting to keep her own breathing even, she slowly walked into his bathroom without looking back. One look at the heat that must be in his face right now and she'd do something that he'd regret later.
With the door closed at her back, she let herself hurry. The dress was one of the last things keeping her out of his arms. Slipping the shirt on over her head, Ilsa dragged in a deep breath. Under the fabric softener, she could still smell his cologne. Cinching the sleep pants around her waist, she tied a hard knot in the drawstring.
It didn't have anything on the hard knot in her stomach. Between the rum, stress, flying bullets, crying jags, and sudden changes of late, Ilsa was torn between being far too wired to sleep and being able to pass out right here on the tile floor. Chance was just on the other side of this door. He could make all this okay somehow. It was what he did.
She peeked around the edge of the door before opening it wide. If he was bare at all, she wasn't going to be able to hold back. Luckily, Chance had dressed in another t-shirt and some drawstring pants, covered from neck to heel in soft cotton. The only skin available was on his arms. She simply could not wait for those arms to be around her again. "Chance?"
"Come here, Ilsa." She wanted to run to the hand he held out to her. But she didn't, barely. Strong fingers closed on hers, bracing her for the climb under the blanket he held up in invitation. She could smell him on the sheets, the pillows, and the knot in her stomach started untying. And he wasn't even in the bed with her yet. He was turning off lights and standing at the edge of the bed to watch her a moment. "I… Ilsa… I can sleep on the couch if you…"
"Stop, Chance, right there. I want you to hold me. Come here." Now it was her grip on his hand leading him under the blankets until he was close enough to touch. It should have been uncomfortable, but it wasn't. It felt perfectly natural for Chance to curl his arms around her waist and pull her body tight against his chest. It felt so good to rest her cheek against the strong line of his shoulder and listen to his heartbeat. His fingers running through her hair finished the relaxation process, leaving her feeling warm and safe in his arms. Ilsa tightened her arms around him, pressing closer for just a little more of his warmth on her skin.
"I've got you, Ilsa, you're safe here. Sleep." His lips brushed across her forehead before he pulled her just a little bit closer and tucked the blankets up against her chin. "Goodnight."
"Only if you sleep too. It has been a long couple of days for the both of us." Strong arms held her tight as sleep slowly overtook her. It had been so long since she felt warm and safe, and even longer since she'd slept in someone's arms. "Goodnight, Chance."
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