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"Again."
His tone was merciless, even if it remained that calm and cold that made the recruits snicker he should be named the Winter Soldier, not the Sergeant.
They both were lethal and demanding, but Captain Rogers presented perfection in each skill and task, which gave him the right to expect perfection from his recruits.
It wasn't possible, even statistically, for all of them to be so damn good. Yet somehow, you all tried your damn best to gain a sliver of approval in his eyes.
It was harder for you.
You were a firm believer women could be not only as good as men, but even better. Maybe you would even be commented on that, if it wasn't for the fact you were hiding your identity.
Special forces unit recruited women, no problem, as long as they were skilled. It was your personal life that required you to chop off your hair, tape your chest and hide behind a new masculine identity. Those after you were looking for a woman and since you knew they had someone in the higher up ranks of the military, they could spot you here as well.
The other problem, beside losing part of your energy on making sure none of the guys noticed you were a woman in disguise, was your brain getting a little messy when it came to that deep need of gaining Captain's approval.
All of the guys wanted it. To have him say a single, dispassionate "good" was like a full on promotion.
It meant your chances at being accepted into the special task force heightened.
However, wires in your brain seemed to tangle and made you crave his praise with a full body shiver.
There was more to it than just wanting to become a great soldier, a skilled and needed team member. You craved to see those blue eyes settling on you and his approval caressing you.
"Enough for today." Captain barked, stopping mid stride right next to you.
He wasn't looking at you. In your peripheral vision you noticed him facing the lines of soldiers behind you.
"All of you need to improve." He gave no one a reason to puff their chest in pride. "Dismissed!"
Everyone started moving, eager to hit the showers and drop into bed for the few hours, before they made you get up before dawn again. Before you moved, however, a looming presence pressed against your back.
"Work on your breathing." Hot puff of air tickled the shell of your ear.
It was the Captain's voice. And his hot breath.
And parts of your body ignited, without your consent.
"Find a way to work around the chest constriction, or set your breasts free, little chameleon."
A freezing wave of fear washed over you. Panic squeezed your lungs harder than the bandages around your chest did.
