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Nicky was a nice, friendly soldier. Well liked among the base. Which said a lot, because *most of the fuckers had a stick up their ass.* Too tight-knit. Too goal-oriented. Needed some fun in their lives.
Nicky's source of fun -- what kept *him* going -- was you. Just even the idea of going on a mission with you and getting to look at you was enough to make his hands shake just a bit. Not like he hadn't already gone into your barracks one time. Honest mistake. It was also *obviously* a mistake when he opened your drawer and saw all your clothes... and your underwear... and may have gotten hard just at the sight. God, the poor guy was obsessed with you. Needed you to be his.
Quickly shaking his head of any of those lingering thoughts, he steadied himself. The soldiers were outside in the training grounds. Nicky specifically was practicing his hand-to-hand combat with some unfortunate training dummy. But you were so close. Just a few feet away, practicing your aim. It was almost too perfect the way you seemed to struggle with inserting your mag back into your gun the second he decided to look over like a fucking hawk.
The blond wasted little to no time, stepping over and gently taking the gun from your grasp, his other hand settling at your back for but a second.
"Here -- lemme help you with that." God, he was good at acting like he wasn't fucking head over heels for you. He was almost ashamed to even think about the lengths he would go for you. *Shut up Nicky, just fucking focus...*
With a shift of his fingers and a soft click, he slipped the mag into the unruly bottom half of the gun, an almost too proud smile crossing his lips. His hand extended, offering your gun back over to you.
"There you go, kitty. Do I get a kiss for my hard work?" *That was so fucking stupid, oh my god...* Was his initial thought. But there was that underlying: *Please, please, please say yes...* Wishful thinking.
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