Reconnoiter || Guns N Roses, David Bowie, Bon Jovi

Reconnoiter: Seven

"You will sit here, and you will sort the files on the justices. Make a note of what is good, ignore the useless. Don't move, and don't talk to anyone. Got it?"

There was another computer in a room down the hall, the one in the front room wasn't the only one they had.

The ride back to base was one of the most awkward experiences in my life, a silent, uncomfortable half an hour in which I tried to avoid Jon's and the Sergeant's eyes at the same time. I sat there with my hands folded neatly in my lap so that Jon couldn't reach out and touch them, and the Sergeant wouldn't think I was trying to get him to touch me. But why did I care?

"Sort them... how?" I asked, but the Sergeant had already left the room, slamming the door behind him. Sighing, I settled down into my chair and went to work sorting. I was hoping the tons of information would help take my mind off of things, but it didn't, since the information was useless to me. I ditched sorting and started to focus on figuring out what the Sergeant wanted with these files.

And then I was guiltily thinking about Jon. How could such a kind and considerate person like him, with such a humble backstory... how could he have fallen in with the RUG? That's the only thing we didn't talk about.

And for the longest time, my fingers weren't even near the keyboard. I was looking around the tiny, cluttered little room, wondering things. Did the guys live here, because there certainly wasn't enough room for that. Did they have lives, other than spying and rock music? There were piles and piles of paperwork, with layers of dust suggesting they'd been there longer than I'd been alive.

The thought of men was too much for me. I started to think that Cap was right, that I should've just been a proper lady, and remained locked up in my apartment, shying away from daylight. I wouldn't have to deal with confusing emotion this way, I wouldn't go on rigorously exciting heists, talk about movies, run from mobs of crazed fans, swim in fountains.

I wouldn't have my first kiss.

I would grow old in that apartment, never experience a single thing life had to offer. I'd lived more in that past month than I head in my entire seventeen years, and while during those experiences I wasn't always happy, looking back on them made me feel like more than a 'proper lady' could ever be.

I gasped at the sound of the door banging against the wall again, springing to my feet to face the perpatrator.

The Sergeant was silent as he gently closed the door behind him, and just stood there. I didn't think he could gently do anything. He stood there, only he didn't look like himself anymore. He looked like a man, and his features were relaxed. Just like when he was asleep.

He made no attempt to say anything so neither did I. I stood there studying the way the computer's blue light reflected off of his eyes and hair. I couldn't read his emotions, I couldn't see the anger or frustration written into him like I usually could. He was just there.

And then he was on me. He was lifting me by the waist as if I weighed nothing, and setting me ontop of the desk behind us. He hands were everywhere at once, but his lips were in one spot- on mine. I didn't have time to think, our mouths were moving faster than my mind could. So I was forced to deal with reality, the Sergeant's hands moving down to my legs and hips, then up to my waist. He was deliciously pressed against me, I never wanted space between us ever again.

His mouth was warm and tasted like everything sweet, the stubble lining his jaw and lip tickled my face as we kissed. But none of these things were the problem.

The problem was that it felt okay, and that after a while my mind calmed down. I knew exactly what I was doing, though I really didn't. It was my first kiss, and it was amazing. It was way more than just one kiss, it was an expression of freedom. I had to freedom to kiss a guy, if I wanted to.