Disclaimer:I do not own Human Target. At All. If I did, they'd still be playing the damn show and I'd have changed up some things here and there ^^ I do, however, own any new characters that pop up in my stories... And my imagination when it lets me rule it.

Authoress Note:These are just basically a bunch of one-shots and ideas that come to my mind. I am doing this for the couple that has taken a place in my top five fav couples for this fandom, so yes these will all be about a single pairing. Please enjoy~

Extra Note: Based on me watching "Hannibal" and randomly thinking of how Ilsa would feel at having to watch something like it with Chance and Guerrero. Nuff said :P

Movie Night

Oh she hated films like this! Why had she let Guerrero pick the movie? She should have knew better. Should have known he'd pick a rather disturbing pieces to watch and this one was exactly that; rather disturbing! It was psychologically disturbing and some of the imagery made her cringe – He was eating another mans brain for bloody sakes!

Ilsa covered her mouth to keep from vomiting. How could they be eating popcorn through this? She glanced to her left where Chance was lazily sprawled out, feet propped on the table – much to her distatse – and a bowl of popcorn on his lap, which he carefully passed above her to Guerrero who sat on her right, lazed back , legs stretched, and ankles crossed under the table, boots kicked off.

It amused her how at ease these men could become with each other. There was trust evident in their activities like this – more so when they had each others lives on the line – that Ilsa found fascinating and almost heart warming. Guerrero would kill for Chance without a second thought. And Chance, though it would come back and naw at him later, would do so for Guerrero. Ilsa was almost jealous of their brotherhood. But they had been through a lot – through years and years of drama – to get them the way they were now.

"Still say he could have just cut the link, man," Chance commented, eyes on the screen as the heroine – as Clarice Starling – stood outside the house and stared out at the water, tears in her bright blue eyes. To her right Guerrero scoffed. "Dude, no way. The feds were about six minutes away. Would've taken at least ten to cut through that. Real cuffs, dude." Ilsa wanted to laugh at how casual they were arguing over this logic. They didn't care about the dark romantic undertone or the slight gore – they cared about the escape and accuracy of Hannibal Lecter – a fictional villain in a fictional movie.

"He has more strength than a normal man his age does," Chance argued back as the movie came to an end and he was messing with the remote to put it back on simple satellite – choosing some sports channel – and grabbed the popcorn back from the shorter male. Guerrero didn't reply as he watched the game. Ilsa had a feeling he could argue this out until the sun came up, but he seemed content to just laze back and watch the football game on the television.

She rolled her eyes at the two as she slid her legs up and curled them under her on the couch. She was tired of sitting all leaned back, changing her position to warm her slightly cold feet and get comfortable again. She sat and tried to watch the game with them – though she understood nothing of what was going on – as she began to relax, her body beginning to loosen as she yawned.

It had been a long day today. Two missions involving kidnapping had been dealt with without much of a hitch – save for Guerrero getting slammed through the third story window of an office building with Chance and a man he was fighting, landing in a trashcan, making both men smell fairly ripe – was a nice change, especially after both men got a shower in. While they'd been switching off, Winston had taken Ames to the hospital before heading home, after the young brunette had been knocked unconscious for a few minutes by an office chair and needed to be checked for a possible concussion.

Guerrero had been rather annoyed by that, seeing as Ames was suppose to be his and Chances lookout. Her spacy act had gotten them knocked out into the trashcan and the reason him and Chance were both left in boxers, sweatpants, and socks. Their clothes were being washed by Ilsa – to which she insisted on doing herself. When she had thrown their clothes in the washer, it hadn't fully clicked that she had made both men practically naked until she was sitting on the couch with them. When it did click, she was slightly uncomfortable.

When she'd been able to calm her nerves down – to which she felt childish about having in the first place since she was a grown woman! It wasn't like she hadn't seen a man shirtless before – She'd been able to take in the differences between the two with slight fascination. Both sported similar tattoos on their right deltoids, both had multiple scars on their body, and both were very in shape. Yet they weren't built the same. These men had been through a lot of the same trouble together... But they both held different forms.

Chance was muscular and rounded. His muscles were large, intimidating, and it was rather amusing to put a man of his build in the suits and dress shirts he would put on. It was almost comical. Ilsa was glad she had him come with her to get some more form fitting outfits. But while Chance was bulged and rounded in muscle, Guerrero wasn't... At least not bulged.

He was a smaller male, but like Chance he had his muscles. They were simple compact and hardened. When he had his shirt off, which this would have to be the second time she'd ever seen him without one, she couldn't help but be slightly captured by the way they rippled when he moved his arm to move something. His back was even refined and angled... With an odd blue butterfly tattoo on his shoulder. That one tattoo was out of place on his body. It was curious to look at, but she felt she shouldn't. So she did her best to forget about it. She'd ask Winston or Chance or even Ames later.

Blinking out of her trackless thoughts, Ilsa stared back at the screen and yawned once more. She wasn't a fan of sports and she was rather tired now. She had no idea what time it was, but she was sure it was late. Scooting down into the couch, Ilsa tucked her feet tighter and turned at an angle so her head could rest against the back of the couch as she distantly watched the TV, her sight blackening in and out.

-0-

Guerrero rolled his eyes at the misplay his team had just done, grunting as he heard Chance laugh as he got up to go make more popcorn for them, both actually kind of forgetting Ilsa was tehre. She was being quiet and now that Guerrero thought about it, that was a little weird. She'd been protesting and gagging throughout the film, so the fact that she wasn't huffing about being forced to watch sports was odd.

Glancing over to look at her, he pulled back, though not fast enough, as Ilsa slowly fell to her side, her head landing on his shoulder and her legs stretching out a little to place her feet where Chance had been seated. He grumbled and tried to shift his shoulder to wake her, only for hr head to fall forward and her cheek land on his leg, her hand gripping at him like he was a pillow, before she sighed in content and her breathing evened out. Her hair tickled his stomach as he stared down at her, brow raised. She was really asleep. Damn.

He sat back and shrugged. He wasn't going to move. He was comfortable and the game was still on. So when Chance returned and gave him a "What the hell?" kinda of look, he simply shrugged and snatched the popcorn, making sure none fell on Ilsa as Chance found a new chair to sit at.

All the while, Ilsa smiled softly in her sleep, dreaming a forgettable and lucid dream.

R & R Plz

Also yes I said that the next piece would be longer and the last one, but I guess I change my mind cause I have a few more I'd like to post. Perhaps, if this goes to twenty chapters, that'll be the last one I post. Or I may just post it as an individual fic. Eh. We'll see ;)