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Fiction: Not the Jealous Type

Fiction: Not the Jealous Type
Author: S> Wynter
Fandom: Human Target
Disclaimer: I do not own Human Target in any way, shape or form and I am not making money off this story. Please do not sue me, sue the plot bunnies (for which my jorunal is named) they have much more money than I do and they are imaginary.
Pairing: Chance/Guerrero
Warning: I editted it, but that and a buck and get you something from McDonald's Dollar Menu.
Summary: Chance is protecting a former underwear model... Guerrero isn't too keen on the idea.

Guerrero tried to convince himself he was being stupid. He knew there was no way that Chance was going to cheat on him even he was guarding one of the best looking men that he had ever seen. Frederick Mason, former underwear model turned software mogul, got himself into a bit of trouble with a husband of an employee that thought he was having an affair with his wife. Mason declared his innocence of course, especially since he now only had eyes for Chance. Mason was physically perfect, long dark hair, sparkling green eyes and chiseled features a Greek god would have been wanted, but it was more than his inhuman good looks, he was sweet, polite, and intellectual, spoke three languages and was loaded. To make matters worse, he wasn’t exactly subtle in his overtures toward Chance. It took very ounce of self control Guerrero had not to break the bastard’s hand every time he touched him. Lucky for Mason, Guerrero had mellowed out in his old age or else he would have shot the bastard in the head by now. Man that would have been bad for business, but very gratifying.
So instead of hiding the bastard’s body he is stuck in the office with Winston, while Chance and Mason are holed up in a lavish hotel room, Chance pretending to be Mason’s new ‘assistant’. Mason treated Chance to a champagne dinner, a fancy brunch and a trip to an expensive winery, before the threat got arrested and his business partner came clean about his involvement. Just another fucking wonderful case that left Chance with some minor cuts, bruises and a few stitches; nothing major. Now if Mason would stop hanging all over Chance and go away the day would be complete.
If anyone was going to treat his Chance to anything it was going to be Guerrero. Instead they typically ate at Louie’s Diner and rented movies from the video store down the street, it’s what they did. It was their ‘thing’ for ‘date night’. Dammit! There is nothing wrong with that.
Guerrero sat at the kitchen table, eating the leftovers Winston brought as his lunch, hoping that food would somehow make him feel better. It didn’t. The tuna salad was too damn mushy. Someone really needed to teach Winston to cook. “Hey, there you are,” Chance said coming into the kitchen and sitting down across from him.
“Yeah, here I am,” Guerrero said.
“I was wondering if you were free tonight…”
“Oh, you don’t have plans with your new best friend?”
“Oh god, that guy is not my new best anything. He is absolutely annoying.”
“I second that,” he muttered in-between mouthfuls.
“Are you ok?”
“Fine,” Guerrero said, “just fine. It’s not everyday you get to hang out in a ten thousand dollar a night hotel room with a former underwear model, dude.”
“Oh,” Chance said, “yeah, well, it was a challenge.”
“I bet.”
“Mason thought he was Adonis incarnate and had issues with the hands to himself rule,” Chance explained and Guerrero jabbed the fork hard into the bowl, “I found the conversation boring, he was a self-centered bastard, I understand why his partner wanted to kick his ass. I was tempted to more than once.”
Chance put his elbow on the table, and his chin in his right hand, “All I wanted to do was to come home, change into something comfortable and non-color coordinated, and curl up on the couch with you.”
“Dude, now I know you are trying to pacify me.”
“Hell no,” Chance said, “you don’t care that I do not wear the color that is ‘in’ this season, you aren’t horrified that I do not know what a macrobiotic diet is and that thing you do when you are deep in thought is sexier than anything he could ever do…”
“What thing I do?”
“You know, where you lick your lower lip,” Chance said and then mimicked the movement very slowly.
“Oh that,” Guerrero smiled slightly and pushed the food away from him, “I’m glad you approve. Normally when I am in that deep in thought I am trying to save your ass.”
“And my ass appreciates it.”
“I’m sure.”
“So how about lunch, I’m starving. The food at the restaurant was so rich I could hardly eat it. Do you think if I ask Stella nicely she could round me up a meatloaf sandwich?”
“Only one way to find out,” Guerrero put the lid back on the container, stood up and put the fork into the dishwasher.
“Oh and by the way,” Chance said, putting his arm around Guerrero and turning him to face him, “if the roles would have been reversed for this case I probably would have shot the bastard.”
“It’s a good thing I am not jealous then,” Guerrero winked.