A/N: Continuation of #45 Why Did You Kiss Me?

To and Fro

Why did you kiss me back?, read the note in his neat handwriting, almost making her laugh out loud. Because damn him and his adorable awkwardness when it came to human relationships – did he really have to ask this?

It seemed like he did.

She quickly made herself a mug of coffee, then sprinted back to her bunk, eager to reply to his message.

Hacking into his laptop was easy – finding a picture to set as his wallpaper was not. In the end, she didn't even find one that was funny enough and conveyed the right message, so she simply picked out a background of pink roses (because why not? Go big or forget that whole thing, that was her philosophy), and wrote on it in black: You have to ask? Maybe you should kiss yourself, and then you'd know the answer.

She heard him laugh out loud in his bunk about an hour later, assuring her that he got her message.

She had training with him that morning, but they didn't talk about their little exchange (or the kiss, that spectacular kiss the day before), only did business as usual, with their customary little snark, and the only thing that hinted that something had changed in their relationship was a little, significant glance they shared as he checked her hand wrappings. But when she got back to her bunk later, there it was – a post-it stuck to her door. She didn't even read it at first, just plucked it from the door, held it close to her chest and ducked into her bunk before anyone could have seen her. Only when the door slid closed behind her, did she dare to take a look at it.

I'd rather kiss you (if that's okay?)

If anybody asks nothing like this happened, but when she read the note, she flung herself on her bed, burying her face in her pillow and letting out a girlish squeal (honestly, she was no preteen anymore – she shouldn't have gotten so worked up over a crush).

But really, thinking with a clearer head about it… He was adorable, she thought, pondering over the note. First he stated confidently that he wanted to kiss her (good; so he could flirt if he wanted to), then added self-consciously that he'd only do that with her consent, which was about the cutest and most gallant thing a guy has ever done for her (gosh, she really needed to find some better guys to date).

(Like Ward. He seemed like a good candidate.)

Too excited to bother about petty things like hacking into his laptop once again, she simply picked up her phone and fired him a quick text.

Name a time and place.

And he did. Within five minutes.

Three days later, on the morning following a spectacular first date (her best so far, if she could say that), she found another note, this time attached to the foot of her hula girl figurine:

When we first met I honestly had no idea that you would be so important to me.

And a smiley. A freaking smiley. A colon and a bracket making a sketchy, smiling face. Drawn by none other than Grant Ward.

Barely keeping herself from giggling like a schoolgirl, she hid her grin behind the palm of her hand, looking down at the note.

"Well, look at that," she whispered to herself. "In the end I'll end up frying his circuits."