Slight re-write, and I added a new chapter! Still a work in progress ... Feedback welcome of course! Please comment and let me know how I am doing with their chemistry

Sniper stood awkwardly a moment by the window. His rifle sat idle on its bi-pod, stock resting on a crate. He gestured to the outside world, "Well, not much to explain really, they come an' go over there, and I keep an eye on em' from here." That was it really, the briefing he was supposed to give the new sniper. What else was he supposed to tell her? What will they talk about for the next two days of this training? Why did the administrator think it would take that long? He felt like he was entertaining a guest in his first crummy apartment, with no chairs and nothing to offer to drink.

He shuffled his hat on his head and pushed his shades up the bridge of his nose. He cast around for a next step, then threw a quick wave to the chair positioned near the gun's oculus, suggesting she sit.

She took her position and gently lifted the weight of the stock. She could feel her every slightest movement playing down the perfectly balanced tool with graceful precision. "Ahh," She sighed, impressed, "I could hit a fly with this."

He smiled with a proud glow. "Yeah, she's a beaut'." He kicked a small crate closer to her to use as a make shift chair. He watched her as she scanned the enemy base, pausing briefly on notable doors, windows, and points of cover.

Her hair was woven back in a french braid, maybe due to the heat, maybe to keep it out of her vision. A practical look, he appreciated that. It did not look half bad on her either. Not at all. He realized he had been staring awhile and looked away at nothing, clearing his throat. He removed his hat to fidgeted with it. Something else to focus on.

"Maybe you can have a look at mine. I zeroed her before the flight here...could use a second look though," She said, lifting the strap that held her weapon on her back over her head. It was still wrapped in its fabric case. She lay the bundle on the crate that was serving as his rifle's perch, and unzipped it with care.

He watched her lift the heavy instrument with one arm as she set the bi-pod. He enjoyed how it made her slighter, feminine biceps and forearm flex, and her shoulder tense to support the load. She was strong, in that lady way, he thought. That surprising way. Something small that packs a big punch. As she leveled the gun, he caught his stare lasting noticeably long again. He looked down. Back to hat-fidgeting.

"Wanna have a look?" She stood and offered her chair to him.

"Uh, sure, sure." He shuffled awkwardly past her as they traded places. He settled into the scope. Her gun was slightly smaller and much less battle worn. It reminded him of an earlier model he had owned. He had long since upgraded, as finances had allowed. He was sure as soon as her first generous paycheck from Mann co. rolled in, she would be eagerly shopping for her next step up. He swung the cross-hair to a target he had stapled up on some plywood far afield for exactly this purpose.

Her gun looked so much smaller in his hands, she thought. She watched him expertly slide a single bullet into the chamber without looking, slide the bolt shut and steady his breath. "Firing." He stated. She covered her ears.

The shot rang out, cracking and echoing against the metal structures and rocks of the battlefield.

"Hey! It's ceasefire you lunatic!" a scout shouted from somewhere.

"Just tuning up!" He boomed back, though without much effort, as he really didn't care if the Scout heard him or not. His guest laughed lightly. The discomfort of this social interaction began to lift at last for him.

They chatted more easily as he made small tweaks to her equipment and fired a few more tests. Their shared enthusiasm for the tools of their trade generated a giddy energy to the conversation. He watched her describe a masterfully engineered rig that she had read about and clearly coveted. She was smiling, and gesturing passionately. He started to loose track of the meaning of her words, as a thought wandered through him, are we flirting?

The afternoon crept up and he found himself in need of a smoke. He leaned on his shoulder against the window frame, unlit cigarette poised in his lips. She watched him tilt his head in a way that showcased the angle of his jaw and the muscles of his neck as he lit up. The smoke curled lazily out the window, creating a golden haze between them in the dark room as it caught the desert sun.

That stubble. That notch in his neck just above the collar of his shirt. The hair on his forearms. The thickness of his hands, with all their interesting angles of flexing tendon and knobbly bone. She suddenly became self conscious of how long she had been inventorying his masculine features. Now it was her turn to fidget and pretend she had not just been ogling him.

As night fell, they sat nearly shoulder to shoulder, each looking through their respective scopes. He had brewed up some decaf, and the silence was only broken by the occasional soft sip. The opposing team was not up to much of interest during ceasefire. He watched a soldier unload heaps of sacks of bread from a truck and carry them into the base by the armload. God knows what he was up to. But his attention was hardly on that.

He could feel the heat of her arm now. Was she really that close? He looked out the corner of his eye, trying not to move his head much. She was that close. And, she had great peripheral vision apparently because she caught him looking in seconds.

"What?" She asked. The slight laugh in her word told him that she already knew exactly, 'what'. He admitted his embarrassment with a short laugh at himself. More of a smirk than a sound.

"Sorry Miss." He said genuinely.

She smirked, amused at his sheepishness. She turned to face him, picked up her mug, and watched him with suspicious eyes through a long sip of coffee. Not responding. Keeping the pressure on him to explain himself.

"I uh...do you want more coffee, luv?" He attempted to deflect. She shook her head, her smirk grew. It was a contagious smile.

"What?" he asked back, nearly laughing,

"hmmm?" She shrugged grinning.

Definitely flirting. He finally confirmed to himself.

"Look...I...you're..." He paused to laugh because each word from him had earned an eyebrow lift or head tilt of exaggerated interest from her.

"Go on..." She encouraged with a teasing lilt, inching closer to him, flustering him further.

"..." He opened his mouth with intended words but decided against them. Her glittering playful eyes, her delicate facial features, all of her smoother, smaller, softer,... feminin-ness, was just magnetically, overwhelmingly, right there. With locked eyes, they shared a brief tension.

What to do next became much clearer than what to say. He kissed her. Or she kissed him? It was not clear to either of them. All they knew was, the next moment was filled with the softness and warmth of their lips meeting perfectly. And it felt too right to stop.

But, he did, after a few seconds, to check her for a smile of approval. She gave exactly that, with a small nod, understanding the question in his mind. He bowed his head, breathing a sigh of uncoiling tension, and traced his thumb across her soft cheek.

"So," She broke the silence softly, "What's the lesson plan for tomorrow?"

"hmmm, well" his voice was relaxed into a deep, affectionate rumble, "You don't need me to teach you how to shoot...You're gun's all honed in...had a look at the enemy..." He met her eyes with a smirk that rivaled hers from earlier, "I'm sure we can come up with some way to pass the time." He quirked an eyebrow.

"Ooh, you're good. You should write a porno," she teased. They both chuckled at this and leaned in for another mutually initiated kiss. He smiled and hummed contentedly through the kiss. He couldn't believe how natural it felt with her. It was like they could read each other's minds.

"Oh!" She interrupted the tender moment with sudden excitement, "the best spots?!" she said without explanation. Sniper was confused by the abrupt change of subject. "You'll have to show me the best spots on the battle field to camp!", she elaborated.

She was actually talking about work. That's right. He had a job to do. He had nearly forgotten.

"Blimey, you're right." He dragged a palm down his face, sobering from the daze that their physical contact had left him in. She was packing up now.

"See you tomorrow, mate," she said with a wink. She grabbed the brim of his hat and tugged it down over his eyes flirtatiously, and with that she was gone, taking her spritely energy with her.

He pushed his hat back, and sat a moment alone in the dark.

"Yeah,...see you tomorrow, luv," he said, mostly to himself.