Disclaimer: I do not own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
It didn't start at Christmas, when "tis the season and all" clouded their better judgment.
It didn't start after a job almost gone south, when a sky high adrenaline level called for stress relief.
It didn't start on one of those dreadful anniversaries – Katherine's date of death, Marshall's date of death…
None of them was injured or in an otherwise vulnerable state. It was a perfectly normal day.
As far as "normal" goes for an ex-assassin and a high society billionaire doing business with said ex-assassin.
The night before Guerrero and Ames had put in some overtime, hacking into a shady insurance company's database. Between the two, not many of the kitchen's food items had seen the break of the new day.
Ilsa buried herself under paperwork all morning, but early in the afternoon the pages started swimming before her eyes. Only then she discovered the office's raided kitchen. Just when she was ready to set up a meeting to discuss new rules regarding food consumption and replacement, Chance came out of the elevator with grocery bags.
Grinning boyishly, he showed her what he had bought.
"La Tortellini", he said.
And tomatoes, onions, carrots, herbs.
He took care of the vegetables, she worked with the pots and pans.
Maybe it started because nobody came in and commented on his "great knife work", evoking unwelcome connotations, and then started to bicker with another intruder.
Maybe it started because nobody skipped past them, hopping to some awful music on her mp3player and sticking her finger into the sauce.
Maybe it started because they were alone with each other for a change and no heavily armed thugs in short pursuit.
Just the two of them, eating pasta and freshly made tomato sauce with chopped herbs.
A tiny speck of sauce landed on her face and he reached out to wipe it off.