Disclaimer: I do not own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
Author's Notes: I seriously had such a hard time finding my creative side. But alas it surfaced. I hope you all enjoy and thank you, thank you, thank you to those that read and review. It is much appreciated.
Cutting It Close
"Damn." He looked in the mirror attempting to view his injured shoulder. Christopher Chance didn't make a huge fuss about his own injuries, but this last one had him out of commission for quite awhile. Fighting bad guys was nothing new to him, but the last thug gave him a run for his money. Of course the thug paid for it in the end. The bruising and swelling had gone down, but the muscles were still very sore. He had spent the last few minutes trying to shave. Unfortunately for him, the injury was on his right shoulder. The one he shot with, wrote with and ate takeout with. Not the best place. He tried several passes over his three day old facial stubble. He knew he shouldn't have used his left hand, but his face was itching and the growth was out of control. Accepting defeat, he wiped his face and walked out to the top of his loft. He stared at the ceiling and took a deep breath. "Here we go."
Ilsa Pucci was clicking away on her computer. She was deep in paperwork and had no plans of moving anytime soon. Reports covered the desk, her purse was slumped over from an earlier search for lip stick, she had lost her shoes an hour into her work day, and the unopened cup of yogurt sat patiently, waiting to be consumed. She was focused and it mostly took an atomic explosion for her to turn her attention away. That, or a particular ex-assassin that would take time out of his busy schedule to walk in and disrupt her. The last time he got bored, he started throwing paper airplanes at her from the hallway. When they weren't in the middle of a mission, it was usually just the two of them and when he got bored, he got mischievous. The last mission however, had put him out of commission for a bit. Not to mention he was at odds with Ilsa over how everything went down. Their arguments had been less frequent, but when they both got set on their opinions, the silent treatment followed.
He approached the glass partition with caution. He knew that talking to her while in an angry state was like walking into a viper's nest. "Ilsa?" She never turned around and he knew she had heard him. This time, he spoke a bit firmer. "Ilsa." She still didn't turn around. He could see her reflection in the computer screen, so it wasn't like she was completely oblivious. After what seemed like a million years, she responded. "What do you want Mr. Chance?" He breathed a sigh of relief but was still unsure if she would respond to his upcoming request. "Um. I need a favor." She still kept her back towards him. Normally she didn't act like this because she always felt that turning your back to someone was extremely disrespectful. But the truth was that she was busy and she didn't want to argue any further with him. "What is it?" He walked a few feet into her office. "Well. I hurt my shoulder pretty good and I can't…I mean….I can't shave with my left arm." She shrugged her shoulders in slight annoyance. When she finally decided to turn around and address him, her jaw dropped.
His face had a few clean marks from where he attempted to shave and the rest was covered in a recently uncared for beard. She had to admit that he was sexy with the facial hair, but when she spotted the crimson trail near his neck, she stood up abruptly. Grabbing a tissue from her desk, she made a few short strides to him and placed them on his face. "Dear God Chance you're bleeding!" He raised an eyebrow. "Not the first time." She frowned at him. "Ilsa, I hurt my shoulder pretty good and I can't lift my arm to shave. I tried, but didn't have much luck." She dabbed the cut a few more times until the bleeding slowed. Without a second thought she carefully started lifting his shirt. "Let me see your shoulder." He wanted badly to crack a joke but he saw all business in her eyes. Gingerly helping him, they managed to get the shirt over his head. She inspected the large bruise and shook her head. "Chance, this should have been taken care of. You need to be alternating ice and heat or it's never going to get better."
She was forceful when it came to her teams health. When it involved Chance, it was worse. He was the backbone of the team and she didn't want him coming back injured or worse…in a body bag. When she met his eyes again, he looked like a child that just got scolded. "Look. Give me a few more minutes here. Go and shower then we can go to my place and I'll give you a proper shave." He raised an eyebrow. "You can't do it here? Why do we need to go to your place?" She sat back down and went back to work. "Because a commercial razor isn't the right way to do it. Now please, let me finish." He smiled knowing she agreed to help him then turned to leave.
When he was done with his shower and dressed, he went back downstairs. "Ok, I'm ready." She turned around gathered a few papers and her purse then stood up. They made their way to the elevator and rode down in near silence. When they got into the car he looked over at her. "Are we not going to speak?" She stared out the window as if the answer were somewhere out in the humid California streets. "I'm sorry. I think sometimes when we don't speak to each other it's better. Things will fix themselves." That was probably the worst explanation she had ever give to a person. Her of all people knew better that letting a problem go would only make it worse. Chance could only accept that answer from her so he just looked out his window and watched the outside world pass by.
When they got to her penthouse she motioned for him to follow. As they ascended the stairs, it had dawned on the both of them that he had never really been in there. Except for the whole Hector Lopez murder attempt. He admired the décor and attributed it to the taste of her international encounters. When they got to her bedroom, he figured cracking a joke might lighten the mood. "So…this is where the magic happens?" She turned and glared at him. "You'll want to take your shirt off." He smiled. "You at least gonna buy me dinner first?" He was truly uncomfortable at the fact that he had to ask her to help him do something as simple as shave. So he was attempting to stay as relaxed as possible. Ilsa liked to joke, but when she had a mission to accomplish, she was all business. "Look, do you want me to help, or shall I send you on your way?" He went to remove his shirt and he winched in pain. She noticed and remembered his shoulder was out of commission. She walked over and helped him. "I'm sorry Ilsa. It's a little embarrassing that you have to do this. Im trying to stay calm." She knew it was hard for him. As rough and tough as he was, being reduced to this state. She smiled and eased his discomfort. "Well I hate to see how you have been managing other personal issues." She took a quick glance below his belt then turned towards the bathroom. "Follow me."
He knew exactly what she was referring to, and he was much more at ease since she cracked the joke. He followed obediently and when he walked in, he was shocked. "Geez Ilsa, I could play football in here." She started collecting things from a nearby closet. "Well that was my whole goal. Buy a place with a bathroom big enough to play football." He smiled and walked around. It was stunning yet intimate. On one side sat a walk in shower decorated with stone. On the other was a full vanity complete with a salon chair. Apparently she had a stylist on demand for her charity events. At the very end sat an enormous sunken and jetted tub, complete with cascading spouts. It was decorated in neutral colors that captured the essence of who she was. In the middle of his admiration, he caught her eyes. "You know, us men only need a toilet and a toothbrush." She smiled and motioned to the salon chair. "Have a seat and relax."
He climbed into the chair and settled in. She rustled about with the things on the table, and then ran a towel under some hot water. She turned back and reclined the chair. "Let me know if this is too hot." She wrapped the towel around his face and he exhaled deeply. "Good?" He nodded. After a couple minutes passed, she gently rubbed oil on his beard. "This will help limit any nicks and cuts. Which you have managed to do already." He smiled while listening to her fuss with the bottles on the vanity. She started mixing lather with a brush and then turned back to him. "Have you ever had a straight razor cut Mr. Chance?" His eyes opened abruptly. "Oh..um no. So you're going to be using a straight razor? Do you know what you are doing?" She returned another signiture Ilsa stare.
"Would I have invited you all the way here if I didn't. You need to relax and trust me. I mean think about it, I trust you with my money, so you should trust me with a blade at your throat." He pursed his lips. "That's not funny." She finished lathering his face then pulled the blade up. "Close your eyes and stop talking. Just relax." He did as asked. When the blade hit his cheek the first time, he flinched. She stopped immediately and let him relax again. When he felt her free hand hold his head, he instantly released his tensed body. "Mr. Chance, there are a lot of people that think I am just a high maintenance woman that can't do anything on her own. Sure, I can't shoot a gun, or build a bomb or do all the manly things you men…or Ames can do. But I would say I am fairly versatile." She continued taking the remaining lather from his face, removing the overgrown stubble he had taken on. "Sometimes you just have to experience the other side of Ilsa. She isn't all that bad." He knew she didn't want him to speak so he was hanging on every word she said. Once complete, she grabbed another hot towel and placed it over his face, receiving the same relaxed sigh. "Feel good?" He shook his head. "Yes thank you. I will have to have this done more often." He moved to get up and she stopped him. "Not so fast, I'm not finished." He leaned back and looked at her. "There's more?" She nodded. "Yes. You still have stubble my friend. That's only the first layer. But if you're uncomfortable, I will stop." Relaxing more he looked at her. "Oh God no. That was amazing. Please keep going."
She smiled down and grabbed another bottled and mixed. This time, the mix was thinner. She rubbed it gently on his face and proceeded to complete his shave session. She went much slower this time, making sure she cleared every spot on his face. He cherished her fingertips lightly pulling his flesh tight as she ran the razor up his face. Every so often, he would look at her content and focused face. It would have taken a lot for her to break her attention to such detail. When she was complete, she placed a cool towel over his face and massaged lightly. The final step was a deep massage of peach mint oil. For her, he didn't mind smelling like a girl. He finally noticed she avoided the cut he sustained earlier. When she lifted the chair, she had a bottle of Neosporin in her hand. She dabbed a bit on her fingertip and gently rubbed it over the cut. He was in Heaven and wanted to stay there forever.
"Alright Mr. Chance. What do you think?" He looked in the mirror and turned his face. "That's pretty damn good Ilsa. Can I make another appointment?" They both chuckled and he winced a bit in pain. She knew it was his shoulder again. "Listen. If you're not in a hurry. You're more than welcome to soak for a bit in the tub." He wasn't sure where that offer had developed from, but he figured it wouldn't hurt. A nice relaxing soak might make his shoulder feel better. "Sure, that sounds good. I mean, I don't want to be a burden if yore busy." She shook her head and walked towards the tub. She turned on the water then picked up a bottle. "This will help relax your muscles. It's an herbal extract I got while on vacation. It really works." He walked over to her and held the bottle. "Well I'm glad you know because I definitely can't read whatever language is on the bottle." She laughed and then walked to the door. "Ill leave you alone."
Chance looked down at the tub filling up and quickly removed his pants. He was still a bit shocked that she invited hi to stay. But he figured most of it was because she was concerned about his injury. She knew well enough that he wouldn't care for himself. Once he relaxed into the water he closed his eyes and thought about the situation with her. They had an argument over his work and she felt for his safety, so they were at odds. Deep down, they cared for each other and in the end it was known.
He allowed the water to relax his muscles and he enjoyed the scented combination she put in the water. His shoulder was hurting him pretty well now and his muscles were tensing. He figured he would relax some but he wanted to enjoy the bath. So with slight hesitation, he called out her name. A few moments later, she opened the door and looked in. "Yes Mr. Chance?" He looked over from the tub. "Ilsa, can you please just massage my shoulder a bit. I can't get comfortable." She stepped in closer and saw his nude upper chest. She stopped in her tracks and tried her hardest not to make it too obvious. "Sure…I suppose I can." She sat back on the upper part of the tub and leaned over his shoulders. She could see him settle back into her hands and she started gently massaging. He instantly closed his eyes and exhaled. She could feel the knot in his arm and made quick work of it. They were both starting to realize that even when they wanted to yell at each other over frivolous things, this sort of comfort made it all go away.
"How do you know so much about shaving?" She continued massaging his shoulder. "When I was about twelve, my cousin moved in with us. My mom was busier so I tried to help as much as I could. Every Sunday, she would give my father a shave for church. Eventually I got enough courage to ask her if I could learn. It took her some time to let that happen, but when she did, both she and my father were so proud of me for taking the initiative. It really helped my mother on those mornings. I missed doing it, so I introduced it to Marshall." Chance hung onto every word in her story. He was honored to know a woman who had been through what she had, and still came out on top. He wanted to always be there and protect her.
After a few moments passed, he reached up and grabbed her wrist, pulling her to the side of the tub. Looking deep in her eyes, he willed her down so she sat on the edge of the tub. "You're absolutely marvelous you know. Just...everything about you comes as a surprise…and…I like it." She wasn't sure what to say to his confession. It wasn't often that she was complimented on something other than her generosity. It was especially wonderful because it was coming from him. "I…um…thank you Chance. It means a lot to me. It truly does." They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity until he broke the silence again. "Of course there's only one thing better than a kind hearted, attractive philanthropist." She gave him a questioning look. "What's that?" Before she could react he pulled her down into the water. Clothes and all. She tried her hardest to avoid it but he was too strong. Even with an injured arm he managed to settle her in his lap. "To answer your question Ilsa…the only thing better than an attractive philanthropist…is a wet one."
She could have been angry about the situation, but the truth was that she was more than happy to be soaking wet in the arms of her sexy partner. As she relaxed into his arms, she shook her head smiling. "Shall I send you my dry cleaning bill sir?" He raised a hand to caress her cheek. "I imagine the suit isn't cheap so I will need to ask my boss for a raise. She can be touch and go when another woman's clothing is involved." She rested her cheek in his palm then leaned forward. "Then I suppose we shouldn't tell her." With that, she kissed him deep. It was one of those lip locking sessions that made them both want more. After a few moments, they broke apart to catch their breath. "Well madam, should we move this to the bedroom?" She gave him a sinister smile. "Only if you promise to get me out of these wet clothes. He returned his trademark mischievous grin. "Oh trust me…there's no need to ask."