Phillip Graves | 3.8k | fluff
You had no business looking so good in black (p1) (p3)
You indeed didn’t say you’d call.
In hindsight, Phillip was silly to even think you were going to. Yes, his little visit was fun, but you weren’t interested, probably even had someone at home. You looked like someone who wouldn’t have shortage of suitors after all.
Regardless, he wasn’t going to play games with the time he didn’t have. It was all kicks and giggles for you, like it was supposed to be for him too.
Two weeks later, he’d almost forgotten about you. But then you finally sent him a text, and whatever he told himself to cope fled him real fast.
Wanted to thank you for the help. Does Saturday lunch work?
He didn’t mean to smile so wide. He didn’t even check his calendar. Depends. Is it a date?
It’s not. Never mind if it’s a bad time.
Fucking hell. How embarrassing was that. His attempt did not land. In fact, it belly flopped spectacularly. He was just thankful you weren’t there to witness the shade of his damned cheeks.
Saturday works
Casual. He could do casual. It didn’t have to mean anything more than friends. He had a working brain up there after all.
Yes, you were wildly attractive – in a strong, deliciously intimidating way that he was growing addicted to, but he wasn’t trying to escalate this. The life he led wasn’t made to keep anything long term. You’d know this of all people.
Still, he was presentable in his light blue polo and jeans. You’d rejected his offer to pick you up, which he’d predicted. He’d expected you to be on time, and of course you were.
Phillip smiled as you made your way over, comfortable in your fitted tee, cargos and baseball cap.
“So-“ you glanced at his foot with a grimace- “How’s the knee? Sorry for kicking you.”
“Never better,” he assured. “Your arm?”
“Healed.”
“Good. It looked pretty bad.”
The server came over with the menu, and you, in innocent joy, lit up as you ordered the seasonal items: pumpkin fries to share, black pasta and some glittery purple drink. He let out small chuckle as he ordered the same.
“Thank you for making it today,” you said when the server had left. “I wanted to thank you properly, for the help.”
“Just doin’ my job.” He grinned. “So this really isn’t a date?”
You gave an amused smile. “Don’t make this weird, Graves.”
Alright, he’d admit he was kinda pushing it, but would you blame him for shooting his shot? He kept his manners intact, didn’t he? “I like to double check.”
“People like us don’t have the privilege to say what we don’t mean, do we?”
His lips puckered to one side in thought. “Hm. Sounds personal.”
You shrugged. “Just too old to play games.”
“I respect that.” Phillip held his hands up. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable after all. “Y’know, I didn’t realise it was Halloween.”
“Why, would you have dressed up for the occasion?”
He laughed. “Yeah, with my boys too.”
“Oh, you got kids?” Your eyes softened. “How many?”
“No, I meant-“ he chuckled, shaking his head. He was thinking of his Shadows. Some would be more than happy to dress up, he was sure. “No, no kids. Don’t think having a relationship in this line of work is very responsible.”
“My sentiments exactly.”
“You know what they say, if the Corps wanted you to have a wife-“
“They’d issue you one- yeah, yeah. That’s the oldest one in the book.”
“I mean-“ he shrugged- “at this point you gotta admit there’s some truth to it.”
You smiled. “So you were married?”
“Nah, never got that far at all. Only have so many hours in a day.”
You nodded. You knew what he meant.
“I hit 30 and thought fuck it. If no one understands what I’m doing, so be it. I’m not gonna be someone I’m not.”
The conversation was interrupted by the server as he placed the drinks on the table. You might not mean to show so much excitement, but it made him smile nonetheless.
You took a sip and he followed. “Tastes good,” he commented.
“I come here every year, just for this.” You stirred the purple concoction with a small smile. “Will probably be what I miss the most when I change stations.”
“See, that’s a common deal-breaker for civilians: moving around every few years for your partner.”
You leaned back in your seat. “Like it isn’t enough of a hassle for us having to restart every few years.”
“They just don’t get it, and end up becoming another thing for you to worry about.”
“Easier to do your job when no one’s missing you.” You took another sip.
“True. But probably would have been different if she had a military background, or was a Shadow…” he trailed off, the corner of his lips pulling.
You blinked.
“Ya know, short deployments with a better pay and no relocations-“
You set your glass down. “Graves, I swear if this is a recruitment pitch-“
Phillip barked out a laugh. "No, I like you in MARPAT. God knows you’d look better in black than me. Can’t have that.” He leaned in. “But if you’re ever interested, I’m sure you’ll feel right at home. We got plenty of Marine vets.”
You smiled. “That was definitely a pitch.”
It was a force of habit. It’d been a while since he’d had a meal out in a non-business setting. Even with his men, it was hard to not talk about work when there was nothing else but work.
The pumpkin fries arrived and the conversation turned to his time in the Corps and how he made Gunnery Sergeant at 30.
“You got tips for me to rank up?”
The hopefulness made him pause. “You don’t need tips from me.”
“Well, maybe I do,” you countered, an edge in your voice as you dipped a fry- “I was passed over. There will be a vacancy next year-” and popped it in your mouth.
“That’s normal for NCOs, especially as you climb further up. It is competitive.”
You averted your gaze, and he didn’t miss the way you clenched your jaw.
“I don’t think you got much to worry about with your track record.”
Your eyes flicked back to his. “You’ve never been passed over, have you?”
He shook his head.
You laughed, the playfulness back. “Of course. Coz that sounds like something someone who’s never been passed over would say.”
Phillip understood your concern. The military had an “up or out” policy. If you were passed over for a promotion twice, you’d probably be terminated. But he meant what he’d said – your dossier was impressive.
“You know your priorities. So it’s just a matter of time for you,” he reassured, reaching for his glass. “I know.”
You smiled back with a knowing look, and for a second it seemed like you believed him. “If you say so-“ you took another fry- “Golden boy,” you teased instead.
The main dish was served and you loosened up more over the delicious meal. You ordered another round of the purple drink for the table before asking about the latest tech advancements in the industry, and please excuse him for nerding out- but you did ask, so he had to tell you all about the new toys he got on base, didn’t he?
He appreciated how inquisitive you were, not shying away from each opportunity to learn. He didn’t understand your concern about getting passed over again. You were exactly the kind of personnel he’d vouch for. If he was your superior, he’d have you promoted the first chance he got.
You twirled the last bite of your black pasta. “I kind of want to see myself in black now.”
“Damn, the pitch worked?” he joked, mostly in disbelief.
You covered your mouth to stifle your laugh before swallowing. “God, that ego of yours.”
“Well, it is Halloween. No better time to play dress up than today.”
You stared at him. “You know what, put this on.” You took your blue baseball cap off and offered it to him.
“Careful, where I’m from this is a pretty big deal,” he said, but put it on anyway.
You snorted. “You look like Fix-it Felix.”
His brows furrowed, but your amusement was contagious. Between laughter, you pulled up a photo of a cartoon character, a blond handyman in a blue blouse and cap, holding a golden hammer.
He threw his head back. “We’re halfway there. We should dress up. Go bar hopping.”
You glanced at your watch. “Screw it. Let’s go.”
The both of you finished up and Phillip meant no disrespect at all whatsoever when he put down his card on the bill holder – it was a force of habit. He chuckled when you smacked his hand away. He led you to his grey Rover outside and drove to his place to get your outfits together.
“You sure do get your bills paid to hell and back,” you said as he pulled into his driveway past the automated gate. “How many people live here?”
“Just me. Not even here as much as I want to, unfortunately.” He cut the engine and led you into the house.
You hung back in his living room, looking out the bifold glass doors at his pool while he fetched you the outfit from his closet upstairs. His combat shirt and trousers were there, but it took some digging before he found his old tac vest and versipack to finish the all-black look.
By the time you came out of the guest bathroom, he’d swapped to tan boots and put on a matching versipack and gloves.
You snorted. “I’ll have to start calling you Felix.”
He smiled, giving you a once over. “And you’re an insignia away from being mistaken for a Shadow.”
You looked yourself over. “Gotta admit, it looks real sweet.”
And you had no business looking so good in black. In his clothes.
He gave you a bag for your folded clothes and headed back to the car. Through the neighbourhood, he drove past groups of laughing families dressed up for trick or treating.
“How about we give out some candy first?” you asked, smiling out the window.
At the nearest supermarket, Phillip carried the basket full of sweets to the check out before you stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
“You know what would be fun?” you asked with a mischievous smile. “Crayons.”
He laughed, turning towards the stationery aisle.
You strolled in his neighbourhood as you munched on a chocolate or two while giving away candy (and a small pack of crayons to the little ones). You were all smiles when you complimented the kids’ costumes, making small talk about their outfits – not a sight he imagined involving the wounded sergeant in the abandoned hospital he met weeks ago.
The blond boy in the pirate costume piped up, “If he’s Fix-it Felix-“ he gestured at Phillip- “Does that mean you’re Sergeant Calhoun?”
You smiled, crouched in front of him. “I guess I am.”
He lit up. “I love her. She’s such a badass!”
The boy and his parents thanked you again, and you continued the walk while Phillip glanced at you. “Who did he say you were again?”
“Sergeant Calhoun. They got married at the end of the movie.”
He opened his mouth to crack a joke, but stopped himself when another family approached. He never realised how lively his neighbourhood was on Halloween, probably because if he was home, he’d be cooped up in his office anyway. It was a waste to live in the area if he didn’t get to enjoy it.
“You do this a lot? Trick or treating?” Phillip asked.
“Not at all, but I did dress up a few years ago.”
“Yeah? As who?”
You turned to him with a smile. “A crayon. We dressed as a pack.”
He thew his head back in laughter. “What colour were you?”
“Red, of course.”
“My favourite.”
“You? When was the last time you dressed up?”
He looked up in thought. “God. I don’t remember. Definitely not as an adult. Middle school, maybe.”
You turned to him. “Seriously? Not with your buddies on base as a private?”
He shook his head.
“Not even in your own uniform pretending to be your sergeant?!”
“Nope.”
“You’re no fun, Graves.” You shook your head, looking genuinely disappointed. “No wonder you were the golden boy.”
He laughed. “Maybe we need to celebrate at HQ every year. Best costume gets a week off,” he said. “You’re invited.”
“You’ll be the best boss they’ll ever have.”
Your generous stash of candy depleted fast. The group of little Disney princesses (you seemed to have been genuinely impressed by their glittery dresses and tiaras) took the last few bars before the both of you even made it halfway through the neighbourhood.
“Time for drinks?” You looked up at him from the empty bag.
The sky was turning dark, but he could tell how much you were enjoying this. “We have time for another trip to the store if you want.” He gave a teasing smile. “And I know you like showing off your costume.”
You laughed and turned back towards his parked car.
Maybe Phillip had been ambitious with the size of his second candy purchase (seeing how sweet you were with the kids made him feel some type of way, okay?), but you didn’t get to finish it in the neighbourhood.
And so you walked further and further out to find more kids until it was well past dinnertime. It didn’t feel like much time had passed for him though, especially with your company. Being out was a nice change of pace, talking about random things. An excuse to get away from all the work that always occupied him.
Still with a few chocolates in your bag, you slowed down in front of a pizza shop.
You turned to him. “How about we call it a day?”
As if on cue, his stomach rumbled despite the handful of sweets you’d shared throughout the walk. He ordered 2 slices for each of you. Which later turned into 3, and eventually 4 for him – bar hopping long forgotten as you made each other laugh and laugh at that small table in the quiet corner of the shop.
He turned towards the kitchen door again. “God, that creak is really grinding my fucking gears. If I could just-” he balled his fist with an exhale- “give it a little jiggle.”
“How did you even survive the Corps? Everything creaks.”
“Nothing much I can’t fix.”
You laughed. “Alright, Felix.”
“I don’t know what to tell ya’.” He shrugged. "Might not have had a lot of friends as a kid, but WD-40 and duct tape were always there for me.”
“Might want to dress up as WD-40 next.”
He smiled. “If you’d be the duct tape.”
It was easy talking to you – too easy, when you could coax these silly bits out of him. It almost felt like he’d known you forever, like you actually knew him, not just the commander he was.
It wasn’t just him, was it? With the way your eyes lit up, he was starting to think maybe you’d had a change of heart about what today was. Even if you didn’t, well, maybe the next one wouldn’t just be ‘wanted to thank you for the help’.
And oh, Phillip didn’t want to be hopeful. You’d said what you’d said, and he was a grown ass man who could take a no, but… Maybe if he could just keep you smiling like that. He shouldn’t want to look at you so much.
The staff started closing for the night, and you didn’t pay your watch more than a glance - you still had a few minutes. But when a group of rowdy young men walked past, you straightened up, turning towards the wall. He paused, following the group with his eyes. Early 20s. Athletic.
When the door closed behind them, he turned back to you. “You okay?”
“We should go. They’re closing.”
You stood and he followed suit. “I’ll drive you home.”
“It’s fine. I can just order a ride from here,” you said, already pulling out your phone.
“But your clothes are in my car. So I might as well.”
The drive to yours was much shorter now that the traffic had simmered down. You’d grown quiet since leaving the pizza shop, but Phillip chalked it up as tiredness from the day. With a soft smile, he stole a glance at you looking out the window. No matter. He liked your company regardless.
He pulled up at the entrance and turned to you. “You can keep my uniform if you want.”
“No.” You unbuckled the seatbelt and reached for your bag of clothes in the backseat. “I’ll get it washed and mail it to you on Monday.”
“No rush. I can pick it up next weekend, or whenever you have the time.”
“I’ll be home tomorrow so that’s when I’ll do the laundry,” you said. “Which means I’ll return your uniform on Monday.”
He chuckled, holding his hands up. “Okay, you’re the boss.”
You gave a polite smile. “Thanks for today, Graves. You take care.”
He didn’t have to, but he waited until you got in your apartment before he drove off. He would have loved an excuse to see you again, but now that the ice had been broken, he could always be the one asking next.
Still, his stomach didn’t have to flip at the thought, did it?
What sort of sign from the universe was it that your cap was on the floor of Phillip’s backseat the following morning?
When you got in his car after the pizza, you’d taken off the vest and versipack while he (vaguely) remembered tossing your cap on top of your open bag of clothes. It must have fallen out during the ride. He was going to grab breakfast nearby, but maybe it wasn’t a bad idea getting something with you instead. It was a slow Sunday after all.
Your cap’s still with me. On my way to yours, he texted.
By the time he got to yours, you still hadn’t replied. Deciding it would have been rude to go up to your door, he called instead.
There were many rings before you picked up with a hoarse voice. “Graves?”
“Mornin’. I’m downstairs.”
“What? Why?”
“I texted you. I’m dropping off your cap.”
“You did?” you said, fading out as you pulled the phone away from your ear, he assumed to check the text.
“Should I come upstairs?”
“No,” you said, groaning. “Meet me in the laundry room. First floor, far right.”
You were the boss.
Phillip made his way there and waited, leaning against one of the machines with his arms crossed and your cap on. Moments after, you opened the door in a faded, oversized shirt and shorts, a hamper of laundry on your hip, your hair still unruly.
He didn’t mean to wake you, but it was hard to feel terrible when he could see you like this. Why did he like your messy hair so much? It felt like it wasn’t something he should be witnessing: you at home being you.
This was unprofessional.
Like it ever was ever since you wore his uniform yesterday. Looking that good in it too.
“Damn it, Graves. It’s barely 10,” you said, barely acknowledging him, as you turned to the nearest machine, your back to him.
He laughed, approaching you. “Sorry. Thought you said you’d be home all day.”
“Yeah. Sleeping,” you replied dryly.
Leaning against the machine next to you, Phillip kept his eyes on you as you unloaded your hamper. God, what was it with you? Something about you made him want to stare endlessly, even if you were just putting detergent in the drawer with that little frown.
When you popped in the last coin, he pulled your cap off his head and put it on you. “How about some brunch while we wait? What’s good around here?”
You took the cap off and placed it in the hamper before turning to him. “Look, Graves. We can’t keep meeting like this.”
He looked at you expectantly, but you didn’t elaborate. “Like what?”
“Like this-“ you gestured at the room- “Non-professionally. People on base know who you are. It’s not a good look if it reaches the officers.”
Was that why you turned away from the group of men at the pizza shop? “I don’t see how that’s any of their business.” He shrugged. “Ain’t nothin’ illegal.”
“I can’t be-“ you sighed- “associated with you past what the job requires.”
He chuckled. “What about yesterday? It can’t have been more professional than this.”
Your jaw ticked, finding no humour in this. “I was thanking you. For your help. And now that’s done,” you declared, eyes narrowed. “I know you don’t get it, but I need to rank up. Can’t afford to get passed over again.”
Phillip pressed his lips to a thin line as he straightened up.
Right. So this was your excuse: you didn’t need a distraction. You’d been upfront from the start; never hinted let alone promised anything, and you kept your end of the bargain. He couldn’t blame you – he’d been in your shoes too, but it didn’t mean disappointment didn’t rear its ugly head.
He shrugged. “Well, that’s a shame. Thought we had a good time.”
“We did, but that’s not the point,” you countered. “Look, it would be different if you weren’t PMC, but some of the officers aren’t a fan of yours, and I don’t want to be on their bad side.”
He snorted. “Wait, you think they don’t like me?”
“They don’t,” you deadpanned.
“Oh, they do,” he said, matter of fact, unable to help his pleased tone.
You blinked, doing your best to not look like you thought he was fucking stupid. You opened your mouth and closed it again, tilting your head in consideration before moving towards the door.
He didn’t budge.
“I’ll mail your uniform tomorrow.” You looked over your shoulder. “You take care, okay?” you said, softer now, like you meant it more than you should.
Phillip straightened up, smile widening. “You sure are making it sound like you’re not going to see me again.”
“Unless I need another rescuing, which I really hope I don’t-“ You yanked the door open- “Don’t think I will,” you said before walking out.
The next part is linked above if already up
Masterlist
Phillip Graves | 2.9k | fluff
A Fix-it Felix and Sgt. Calhoun retelling (p2)
It was a rescue mission. A Marine Corps Sergeant.
She and her team were tasked to raid an Al Qatala cell in Al Mazrah and secure the hostages held. However, they were ambushed during exfil and the Sergeant stayed behind to protect the extraction plane from the heavy enemy fire. She ordered the pilot out of the battle zone.
Her comms went silent soon after. Her men promptly asked for a retrieval team, but under the circumstances, her CO deemed the recovery too risky.
It was subordination, but her men reached out to General Shepherd instead. 12 hours later, Phillip Graves, his Shadows and her men got off the SUVs at her last known location to no trace of her. The unit split up and widened the search area.
It didn’t look promising. Her life was in an hourglass and it had been many, many hours. If she had survived, she’d have found a way to make contact back home. But she hadn’t, and that usually only meant one thing, no matter how lethal she might have been according to her dossier.
But Graves wasn’t a quitter - he was going to try his best to find her. He would have wanted his men to do the same for him if he was the one missing, and her selflessness to finish her mission wasn’t going to be unrecognised.
He and two of his boys reconed an abandoned hospital, the one he’d shot up to hell and back a few months ago on his AC-130 when giving air support. Combing through the building silently, he made it to the top floor, and a few steps into the room- a sharp strike to the back of his left knee, and he fell to his knees.
“Identify yourself,” the woman commanded, metal pressing against the back of his neck.
He dropped his rifle and held his hand up, ignoring the flare in his knee. He scanned the room, the pack and the Marine uniform on the floor in the corner all too familiar.
“Are you the Sergeant?”
“I said-“ she jabbed the sidearm harder- “Identify yourself.”
“Shadow PMC, here to extract you.”
You took a beat before exhaling, retracting the sidearm. “Took you long enough.”
“Well, you didn’t make it easy to find ya.” He began to stand, planting his foot in front of him.
“That’s kind of the point.” You holstered your weapon as you circled and studied him.
He froze at the way you towered over him. Yes, he’d got a hold of your dossier. Seen your photo, where you were from, your birthdate and height, but he didn’t expect you to look like that. The unruly hair and the grime smudges on your face only made you more gorgeous.
You folded your arms across your chest. “What are you looking at?”
He cleared his throat and got up on his feet while snatching his rifle from the ground. “You got shot?” he gestured at your bandaged left arm before meeting your eyes.
Phillip wasn’t short by any means, but this close, the few inches you had on him were in full effect.
“Just a scratch.” You turned towards your pack and pulled your uniform over your green skivvy shirt.
A scratch wouldn’t bleed enough for it to seep through bandages.
“Did my men make it?”
“They did. Mission was a success.”
“Good.” You buttoned your blouse down. “Where’s the exfil?”
He reached for his radio. “Shadow-1 to all stations. Found ‘er, need medical. RV outside.”
“Gold Eagle Actual to Shadow-1. Roger that, Graves,” the General’s voice crackled through the comms. “Knew you’d find her. Report back when you’re RTB.”
“Out here,” he replied.
You got to your feet and fastened your pack. “What’s your name again?”
“Phillip Graves. Ya know, I think we might have crossed paths before.”
You hummed. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“I’ll take point,” he said, turning to the door.
With your rifle drawn, you followed behind him. “Hey, watch your ste-“
You didn’t even get to finish your sentence when the ground crumbled under him. With a gasp, you scrambled to get a hold of something but lost your footing all the same. It was second nature to pull you close to shield you as you fell on top of him onto the floor under. He blinked up at you and for a stunned moment you both froze.
“You broken?” he croaked.
You pushed yourself off him. “Never,” you said, turning away.
“Commander,” the comms crackled alive. “You heard that?”
“Yep, that’s me. Fell through the floor. Watch your steps, boys.”
“Rog.”
He sat up, some sort of starstruck as he stared up at you dusting the front of your uniform off. “You’re bleeding again.”
You inspected your arm and tsked. “I’ll live,” you said before observing the room.
The rubble had blocked the door out. You tipped your head up to the massive hole in the ceiling you both fell through.
“I got a hook, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to climb up with how weak the structure is.“ You turned to the collapsed window. “Suggest we rappel down instead.” With no answer, you turned to him again with a frown. “You gonna get up or what?” You offered him a hand.
He cleared his throat and took your hand. Your grip was strong and warm as you pulled him to his feet, but white-hot pain shot up his leg and his knee buckled. The same one you’d kicked minutes earlier.
You gripped his arm to steady him. “Aw, shit. Did you fuck up your leg?” You zeroed in on your rifles tossed a few feet away from the fall and handed it to him. “Let’s get out of Dodge. I’ll set up the line.”
He hopped away from the rubble to follow you.
“DON’T! I’m not falling down another floor!” you scolded, whipping to him. “Just hold onto me.”
With his arm around your shoulder and yours around his waist, you led him to the solid wall near the opening.
From your pack, you pulled out a coil of rope, and the buddy strap which you tossed towards him. Next, you secured the line around the corner structure with practiced hands before tossing it out through the shot-up wall. Phillip could only watch you get shit done in awe.
“Ma’am, I just gotta tell ya. You are one dynamite gal.”
You paused before looking up at him with narrowed eyes. “Don’t call me ma’am,” you countered.
He grinned. As a Marine NCO, he never liked getting called sir either, even then as a commander, but it was always fun pushing a button or two. And he wanted to see you smile.
“A Gunny should know better.”
“So you do know me. My last rank?” He chuckled. “I’m flattered. What else do you know?”
“Shut it, Graves.”
The smile only widened. “That an order?”
“You sure talk a lot for someone who isn’t helping.” On your knees, you zipped your pack back up.
He hobbled over. “I’d love to help, but you have everything under control.”
You held your hand up. “Just put on the strap.”
“Case in point.”
You rolled your eyes.
He shouldn’t be having this much fun with you, should he? With a chuckle, he followed your order before speaking into his comms, “Erikson, give us overwatch. North side wall. We’re rappelling down.”
“Rog,” he replied.
You put your pack on him, and with your back against his chest in a squat position, pulled the buddy strap over your shoulders. “Who contacted you?”
“Your corporal, via General Shepherd.”
You straightened up and pulled the straps tight, securing him to you. “You mean my captain?”
“No. Corporal Boyle.”
You stilled. You knew what that meant.
Phillip grimaced. Maybe he shouldn’t have told you. “Your men have enormous respect for you. The kid fought tooth and nail to get you back.” He might be staring at the back of your head, but he could imagine you pressing your lips into a thin line.
“It’s nothing personal,” you dismissed, stepping over the two ropes and brought the sides over your hips for the makeshift harness.
It wasn’t his first time being carried at all, but by you, and so effortlessly? It wasn’t everyday someone as gorgeous as you helped him. He couldn’t help the flare in his cheeks. Was it his knee making him delirious? He latched on, legs around your waist before you stepped backwards towards the edge of the building and off it.
“Graves, is that you?” Erikson called.
He turned to his men on the ground staring up at the both of you.
Dipaolo snickered before piping up, “Thought you meant the medical was for the Sergeant.”
“Not a word,” he warned.
When you made it to the ground, you set him down gently and turned to him. He looked up at you, eyes wide, face impossibly hot. “T-thank you,” he muttered.
The beginning of a smile -the first one- flickered on your lips. Until giggles rang behind him.
You scowled, gaze moving past him to his boys. “Alright, enough with the goo goo eyes.” You drew your rifle. “Let’s head back. Your commander looks like he might be having a fever.”
Oh, it was just the awful, awful honey glow in his cheeks.
Erikson drove and Dipaolo tended to your “scratch” while Phillip filled him in on his knee, which thankfully looked like it only needed a few days of rest. You were quiet on the ride as you hydrated and had snacks. Poor gal, you must have been exhausted having been on the run all alone.
When the vehicle pulled up at RV, your men jumped to their feet.
“Appreciate the help, boys.” You clapped the back of Erikson’s seat and nodded at Phillip. “Graves.”
He smiled, but you’d turned and stepped out of the vehicle.
“Sergeant! We assumed the worst!” the corporal exclaimed as the group jogged to you.
“Likewise. Good to see you boys.” You smacked Boyle’s shoulder.
Phillip held onto Dipaolo as he helped him to the building. “Your ride’s waiting. Take care boys.”
“Aye, sir!” the men answered.
He might have rounded the corner, but he still heard the suppressed laughter.
“Oh shit. Why’s he limping?” “Sergeant, did you kick his ass?” “He must have called you ma’am.”
“Park it,” you ordered. “Let’s head home.”
Shadow stayed back and finished their business in Al Mazrah before heading back to HQ the following week. It didn’t use to matter where Phillip was, with no one waiting for him at home, but this time, it was different. There was something he was looking forward to.
It was a pleasant surprise your base and his were in the same county. Okay, it wasn’t a surprise. He’d known this having read your dossier, and it was the last base he was stationed in, and it just happened to be that you were there too. It was a coincidence, but what good was a coincidence if he didn’t do anything about it?
It was Thursday when he pushed the door into the open office. There you were, scribbling away at your desk when everyone else was in the chow hall.
He walked up to you, but you didn’t look up. He waited. A chance to look at you freely: your creaseless uniform, your hair combed – not a strand out of place. Was it bad he thought you were just as gorgeous the last time he saw you?
“If you have nothing to say you can leave,” you finally said.
“Nice base.”
That got you to whip up to him. Your eyes widened for a split second. Did you like him in civilian clothing? He did try to look good in his jacket and jeans.
“Ain’t mine,” you countered. “The general’s not here.”
“Well, I’m not here for him. Here to see ya.”
“For? Hey, how did you even get clearance?”
Phillip chuckled. “Wanted to see if you’re free this weekend.”
“And why would that be any of your business?”
“Oh, I don’t know-“ he shrugged, looking away playfully- “Maybe because you owe me one. As I recall I found you in Al Mazrah, and you kicked me behind the knee.”
That got a smile out of you. “And what about the fact that I had to buddy rappel you?”
“Which is exactly why I owe you a coffee.”
“I’m good.” You chuckled, going back to your papers. “Don’t need any more coffee in my system.”
His blue eyes slid down to your ring finger. “Well, will someone get jealous if I called it a date?”
You failed to hide that amused smile.
“How about we settle it in the range? If you win, I don’t ask again.”
You paused before meeting his eyes. How much was he allowed to enjoy having you look up at him for a change?
“You know what, I think I do need to shoot something.”
He grinned. “We have time.”
You led the way to the range. Not because he didn’t know his way, but because if he hung back he had all the time in the world to eye your strong shoulders, square as you walked with your boots thudding assuredly.
“This was my last base,” he said with a fond smile, taking in the halls. “Place hasn’t changed much at all. Some people still recognise me too.”
“You’re infamous. Everyone knows you.”
Phillip smiled. “Not you though.”
You sucked your teeth playfully. “I’ve only heard of you. But I think I was already here before you left.”
You were, according to your dossier. It was very possible you’d met years ago but were none the wiser.
He quickened his steps to be next to you. “Am I really infamous?”
“The verdict is split. Some think it’s not very Marine of you to do it for the money. And some think…” You let out a light chuckle. “Well, bills don’t pay themselves.”
He barked out a laugh. “And which camp are you in?”
“As long as you’re fighting for the right cause, it doesn’t matter which colour you wear.”
He nodded. “Well said.”
“Why did you leave?”
“I don’t like getting told what to do-“ he shrugged, turning to you- “Very pedestrian, huh?”
You laughed, loud and open.
That resonated with you, didn’t it? The sight made him smile. “I’m not complaining about the bills getting paid though.”
“At least you’re honest, Graves,” you said, a glint in your eye.
At the training facility, you unlocked the weapon’s locker and gestured at the line of handguns. “Pick your poison.”
With Phillip’s choice in hand, the both of you headed to the outdoor range. You stopped at the 7-yard lane.
“10 rounds. You go first,” you said.
“Yes, ma’am.” He stepped up and pulled back the handgun’s slide.
“Thought you didn’t like getting told what to do,” you teased.
He assumed his stance. “Thought you didn’t like getting called ma’am.”
“Touche.”
He aimed down range. “I don’t mind you telling me what to do.” Bang. “I’ve always been pretty good at taking orders after all-“ he glanced over- “ma’am.”
“You can call me that if I get to call you sir.”
Bang. He didn’t mean the smirk. “Threatening me with a good time?”
“God, you’re impossible.” You rolled your eyes, but smiled all the same.
He didn’t want to be cocky, but he wasn’t a bad shot at all – wouldn’t have challenged you to it if he was. But you took your shots with so much poise that he frowned. Were you going to beat him after all?
The both of you walked up to the board for the score. He got 89 out of 100. Respectable. You, though, got 91.
“Fuck me,” he muttered. He didn’t mean to.
You laughed. “Sorry, Graves,” you said, not looking sorry.
He huffed. “Well, you sure are one dynamite gal.” He was going to honour his promise, but it didn’t make it any less disappointing.
You put away the pistol and headed back, Phillip silent next to you. Personnel had started to return to their stations from the chow hall, greeting you as they passed.
“Oh, come on! Don’t go sulking now.” With a chuckle, you bumped his shoulder with yours as you approached the building. “It’s just 2 points, was probably home-court advantage.”
“Do I get a rematch then?” he teased. “My base is just an hour and a half away.”
You smiled.
He couldn’t help returning it. “Joking. Well, you got friends nearby, if you ever need any help. Corporal Boyle knows how to reach me.”
“I don’t.”
He turned to you, brow raised. “Are you asking for my number?”
“How am I going to call you otherwise?”
“Will you?” he challenged.
You shrugged. “I don’t know yet. You’ll have to find out.”
He laughed to himself. You were having too much fun now. He liked seeing you so. He placed his phone in your open hand and you texted yourself.
“I’ll be waiting for your call.” He slipped his phone back into his pocket.
“Didn’t say I would call.”
“Oh, but I think you will.”
You smiled. “Right, now get out of here. Don’t need people talking about this.”
It was embarrassing the smile Phillip wore the whole walk back to his SUV.
The next part is linked above if already up
Masterlist
It was one hecc of a bullet that went through my chonky hindleg in Las Vegas.
I didn’t want to cry or be a bad boi for not protecting Hesh, but I couldn’t even stand that Logan had to carry me as the team fought their way to exfil. Nothing had ever hurt so bad.
On the helo ride back as Hesh patched me up, he said Papa Walker was gone. I whimpered. The last time I saw him was in the safehouse, when we were ambushed and he commanded me to hide.
I never liked those prickly things they had at the vet, but I was too tired to fight Hesh when he jabbed it into my paw. I was my first time seeing his eyes wet. With the little energy I had left, I licked his hand before my eyes were too heavy to open.
The Ghosts continued with their mission in South America and with a ‘mwah’ on my forehead, Hesh left me with Uncle Merrick, now the captain as he replaced dad. It was probably for the best. I was still so tired and couldn’t stand for too long yet.
Almost a week later, Hesh came back in pain. Something was wrong with his chest, wrapped in white strips like my thigh was. I climbed up onto the bed, resting my head on his thigh and stayed until it was dark outside. When Logan came to get me, I whimpered. I didn’t like being away from Hesh because I couldn’t protecc him.
“It’s okay, Riley,” Hesh said, patting my head. “I promise to not get hurt anymore.”
We didn’t get to see each other much while he recovered because he was in bed most of the time and couldn’t take care of me. They called it ‘out of commission’, like I was.
“Sorry, buddy,” Logan said, as he locked me in my crate after tending to me.
He kept me there most of the time and didn’t let me play with my K9 frens while my wound healed. I promised to not lick it, but he put a heccin lampshade on me anyway. He knew it made me stupid, rendering my whiskers useless that I kept bumping into doorways and stuff. Traitor.
I liked him a lot though. He’d wrestle me and gib delicious hooman food, but when I finally got this satellite dish off, I was going to steal his noms.
“Two don’t technically make a gang, but we’re Logang, okay?” he said, booping my paw with his.
I turned to Hesh, smiling in his bed.
Logan turned my face back to him. “No, he’s too old to be included.”
But he always said we were a pack anyway. Papa was the old Walker, Hesh was the big one, and he was the medium one. I was the smol (and furry) Walker. I liked that. I liked having a pack, because that meant no one would be alone.
Sometime after Hesh and I got better, we moved out of the base to an apartment near a park. It was nice. I’d missed him a lot. No one gave better scratches than him.
But he was different, and I didn’t know why. At night, he’d look out the window for a very long time. I also liked looking out windows, but only during rides (especially in cars with a round hole in the roof I could stick my head out off) because I liked the wind in my face.
He never did this back on base, probably because we were rarely alone and he was always doing something. Hoomans thought a lot. They talked about these things I didn’t understand, and sometimes didn’t talk at all for a long time. Us doggos, we preferred to nap, but I learnt hoomans didn’t nap as much as we did.
Maybe Hesh didn’t know what to do with himself, like me when I was stuck in my crate imagining rolling on the grass outside and all the things I could smell and bark at.
I know! Walkies always did me a happy. I jumped off my bed and boofed at the door. Hesh rounded the corner and chuckled when I whined at my leash hung behind the door.
“I guess a walk isn’t a bad idea.”
I had enough exercise on base, so Hesh didn’t have to walk me so much anymore, but it was nice to finally explore the park. I liked smelling new smells. This late, the park was quiet, but I could tell many doggo frens had been here before. Maybe next time I could meet them!
As we neared the end of the park, I tipped my snoot up to smell the air. I let out a smol bork towards the delicious scent.
Hesh laughed. “Of course you smell it, huh.”
Mlem.
We continued, approaching the crowd. My tail swayed at the food trucks, lined up under the warm string lights. The customers’ chatter didn’t drown the metal clinks and sizzling.
Hesh was too predictable. Of course he picked the loaded hashbrowns truck. He carried the nom to an empty table nearby before slipping my leash under a chair leg and stabbed the cup of lemonade with a straw.
It was only then the smell hit me. This caramelised, krispi bacon sprinkled over the cheese sauce on his food. I put my paws up on the table, sniffing it. I supposed he did have a good taste. I leaned in as I mlemed. A little lick wouldn’t hurt…
“Hey!” Hesh pulled my ear.
With my paws back on the ground, I whimpered, giving him my best puppy eyes. He had to share. We were a pack!
He sucked his teeth. “Alright, just a bit.” He tossed me half a hashbrown and I caught it effortlessly. Mlem.
Hehe. Worked every time.
Hesh did that every so often: stayed up late looking out the window before buying his favourite meal. At least he always paid the Riley tax. Sometimes when I rested my head on his thigh watching him eat each bite, he’d talk about dad. About how he’d have loved to see San Diego in peace like it used to be. Peace meant happy walkies, so I agreed. I thought he’d have loved the bacon bits too.
One night, he went out again, but this time, it felt like he took longer than usual. He was doin’ me a worry so I got up from my bed to wait at the door.
When he eventually walked in, for the first time, he showed me his teeth. He even bought two loaded hashbrowns - one for me surely. Something must have happened for him to be in such a good mood. If he had a tail like me, it would be wagging.
I boofed, following him to the dining table.
Hesh started taking me out on walkies almost every day after work with a bounce in his feet I’d never seen before. It was a weird, but welcomed change. I loved walkies, no matter how late, but I still hoped to meet new frens.
During one particularly late walkie, Hesh slowed down as he waved. I followed his line of sight. Oh, a fren shape!! The hooman jogged towards us and I panted as the heccin angery lookin’ doggo neared. If he had bright eyes, he’d do me a frighten, like Uncle Keegan when we first met!
“David! Hi,” she said before looking down at me. “And you must be Riley.”
She knew me! Did she come to give treats? I boofed.
“You can pet him,” Hesh said as her doggo circled me, tail swaying.
“Hi, Riley.” She let me sniff her hand before scratching my neck. “This is Colin.”
HENLO FREN!
Colin kneaded, not looking angery anymore. He was a big fren. A woofer. My first, because all my frens on base were other German Shepherd doggos just like me!
He had mostly black floof, with brown bits on his chest, legs and face - the colour of perfectly golden-brown cookies. Unlike my big, upright ears, his were droopy triangles on the sides of his round face.
Unfortunately, Hesh’s friend didn’t have treats, but she offered to walk a lap together and handed Colin’s leash to Hesh. Double unfortunate though, because we walked past the food trucks, despite Colin and my whimpers.
I liked my new fren. He knew how to be a doggo.
Maybe next time. Hesh was already doin’ me a happ showing his teeth so much when talking to her. I didn’t know he had so many teeth.
At one of the gates, he stopped. “Do you like chicken nuggets?”
CHIMKIN NUGGIES?! Colin and I boofed.
She laughed. “Of course. Who doesn’t?”
Exactly. Why was Hesh asking such a silly question?
“You want to get some with me sometime?” he asked, suddenly smelling a little sweaty. “We can go to a dog park afterwards.”
“That sounds wonderful. I’d love that.”
Oh, did that mean I was going to meet Colin again? He would do me a heccin’ fun, wrestling with me.
We watched as she and Colin walked away before Hesh led us back home, his teeth still showing.
That Saturday, Hesh woke me with his grunts. He was pushing the floor, all sweaty, before bathing and blasting his chest with the pfft pfft that made him smell wrong.
He told me to eat and brushed my floof. He never brushed my floof in the morning. He was doin’ me a suspicioso. I thought I was healed! I didn’t mean to start shaking.
“Oh, Riley, no, no. We’re not going to the vet!” He grabbed my shoulders. “We’re meeting Colin!”
He sounded too happy to meet my fren, but it was enough to stop the frighten. Maybe we were getting the nuggies he mentioned! I shouldn’t have eaten my kibbles.
When we got to the park and laid on the blankie Hesh laid out, I finally understood why he was so happy. It must have been someone’s birthday, with all the snaccs his fren had packed us. There were peanut butter sandwiches, chimkin, eggs and colourful cronch sticks.
No wonder Colin was such a big woofer. He ate heccin good. Maybe Hesh wouldn’t mind if I had a sleepover at her house.
After lounging around and playing with Colin’s toys, Hesh drove us to get ‘pupper cups’ as she’d suggested. I’d never heard of them, but when I had a little taste of the fluffy white cloud, I knew I wanted her to be my hooman. I still loved Hesh very much, but she’d take a wonderful care of me.
And then she booped Hesh’s cheek with her face. He must have been very thirsty by now - showing that much teeth only made my mouth dry, but with the way he was looking at her, I knew he wanted her to be his hooman too.
We started going on walkies together after work.
The first time we went to hers, Colin angery borked when I walked in. He did me a surprise, but then showed me how to wipe my pawpaws on the doormat to keep his house clean.
“Alright, dinner’s ready,” she called from the kitchen while we wrestled by the couch, and we came running for the chimkin dindin.
I was right. Everything was better at hers. Even Colin’s kibbles tasted better. If I stayed here long enough, I’d probably become a woofer too.
I saw Colin more and more, and Hesh and his fren started licking each other’s face. When we stayed over, Colin was really nice to share his bed, even though only half of our bodies could fit in it. She came over to ours sometimes too, but then only our heads fitted in my bed. I have since wiped my feet on the mat at home too. Hesh seemed to like that very much.
He would take us to the pet shop and buy us new toys – squeakies, chewies and ropes. I didn’t want to be ungrateful, but my favourite game was wrestling with Colin. The hoomans told us to not do it at home anymore though, because one time we hit the table and spilt colourful water on the carpet.
Eventually, Hesh left my spare leash at hers, and got me my own water and nom bowl to put next to Colin’s. I liked how often I saw him and his hooman. She took a good care of him and was always so nice to me, giving me pats and scratches. If Colin loved her, I loved her too.
I wondered if Logan would too, because I could tell Hesh really, really liked her.
When we finally met the medium Walker, Colin looked angery, like he always was around strangers. I tried to tell Logan it wasn’t Colin’s fault his face looked like that, but he didn’t seem to understand and kept his distance. I tried to cheer him up with a few licks on his hand.
Later that day, when Colin got more kibbles and decided Logan was a good boi, he slipped between Logan’s legs with his tongue out when we waited for lemonades from the food truck. With big eyes and many teeth, he said we were officially Logang.
After that, Logan would take us on walks or hikes. As a gang, he said. Colin liked him a lot too – he gave us good wrestles… and more treatos and fries than our hoomans.
While Logan always went on missions with Hesh, I didn’t. I usually stayed on base with the other K9s when I wasn’t needed, but one day Hesh made me stay with Colin. As much as I loved my frens on base, his hooman fed me way better and took us out on walkies every day. That, and it was a lot less lonely than having to be all alone in my crate at night because Hesh’s fren let us join her in bed if we wanted. She even gave us bedtime ‘mwah’s!
Soon after Hesh came back, the park had a party with plenty of frens! There were so many new smells, and I was so excited to meet everybody. But unlike the parties Hesh’s fren made for us, Hesh told me to find the treats myself in the fenced playground.
He called it a scavenger hunt, but it was like what we usually did on missions. The treats didn’t smell as good as bacon, but they weren’t hard to find. This time, everyone looked so happ when I found all three hidden treatos.
“Riley, good job, bud!” Hesh said, patting my side.
A woman gave me a shiny necklace and people said I was a good boi. Hehe. I liked this scavenger hunt thing. Mlem.
We joined Colin outside the fence, who entered another area to sit with other woofers, all in harnesses. Next to the others, he didn’t look as big, but he was still the angeriest. I liked that about him, because it meant he could protecc Hesh’s fren.
And I knew how much Hesh liked her. He licked her face often, always latching onto her at bedtime. Like I did to my favourite blankie when I was a pupper.
I boofed at Colin, and he boofed back before panting. People secured ropes tied to boxes to the woofers, and their hoomans waited at the other end of the arena. The whistle blew and frens made their way across the field as people cheered. I could tell the weight was heavy because they were moving in slow motion.
But not Colin and another brown doggo. I think that woofer might be bigger than my angery brother, who’d stopped halfway down the field.
“Colin, you can do it!” Hesh yelled, and I borked.
When the brown doggo slowed down, Colin charged down the field to Hesh’s fren and the whistle blew again. A man walked up to them, but Colin made a face. He gave her the necklace instead.
We went to see a very nice man who gave everyone with a doggo with a shiny necklace a big box of treats. He gave Hesh two. Colin and I wagged our tails. We must have been very good bois!
Back at Colin’s house, the hoomans ate their noms on the couch while we laid by their feet.
“They’re raising the rent in two months,” she said.
I knew rent. Logan said it was something you paid with what you got from working. It meant she had to collect more treats to stay in her home.
Hesh looked up from his burger, and she continued. “I’ve been looking at new places nearby, but the ones within my budget don’t allow pets. So it looks like I’ll have to move a little further out.”
“Oh, how far?”
“20-30 minutes on foot.”
There was a pause while Hesh started smelling sweaty. “You know, I’ve been thinking of asking you to move in with me. My place is a little bigger, and well, we already spend most nights together.”
“David, you know I didn’t tell you so you’d ask me this, right?”
“No, no, I know. But I meant it. I’d love to make that permanent, and I know Riley likes having Colin too.”
She looked away, like Colin would when he was in trouble.
“You don’t have to answer now. But we’ll come see you no matter where you go-“ he turned to me- “Right, Riley?”
I boofed. I liked him saying my name.
“I like having you both too.”
Hesh showed his teeth, scooting closer to her. “If you want, we can find a bigger place too. So the boys don’t have to keep bumping into the furniture when they wrestle.”
She pressed her head on his shoulder with a small laugh. “I’d love that.”
I was hoping Hesh would forget about his burger, but he held onto it when he licked her face.
We got a new home. This time, it looked out at the food truck park, not the other end of the walkie park anymore. Colin and I liked to stick our snoots between the bars of the balcony railing and smell all the smells.
We slept near the bedroom door so we could protecc our hoomans. We didn’t have to share our bed anymore, but with how Hesh and his fren always looked so happy pressed together in theirs, I wouldn’t mind if we had to share.
It was then I realised Colin was not my fren anymore. He was my brother. Like the big Walker and the medium Walker. Colin was bigger than me though, so it looked like I’d have to be demoted to be the tiny Walker and he’d be the smol one.
Hesh didn’t look out the window so much anymore, even that the view was better. If he did, it would be to check if it was dry, and the four of us would go on a walkie.
And as for Hesh’s friend, I understood she was his mate, the way he always wanted to be close to her. Bringing her treats, making sure she was warm and comfortable will at the blankies. And that meant along with Hesh, I had to protecc her too like the good boi I was.
Our family (hooman word for pack) was bigger now, and I liked it because we could take care of each other. I knew Papa Walker would have liked it too, especially when Hesh was all teeth and she could make his imaginary tail wag like that.
Phillip Graves | 2.1k | smut
oral + rimming (f receiving), switch Graves?
Phillip makes it clear swimwear is optional at his pool
“You ever skinny dipped?”
On the lounger by his pool, Phillip had you in his lap, arms around you under the dimming sun. His shoulders still soft and slick with oil from the massage you gave.
Next to your ear, he let out a chuckle. “What do you think?”
“Well, considering how far your neighbours are, I guess I didn’t have to ask.”
“I keep my swimming shorts on around you just to be polite.”
You looked over with a teasing smile. “Since when are you polite?”
He laughed, pressing a kiss on your shoulder bare shoulder. “Tryin’ my best, sweetheart.” His hand slid down your inner thighs.
“Case in point.”
“Don’t hear you complaining,” he mumbled against the side of your neck.
You spread your legs, enough for him to cup your clothed mound. “I do like you a little rude.”
Phillip nipped your shoulders before trailing kisses down your spine – the way that made you shiver, as he teased your opening over the smooth fabric of your swimsuit. When he licked the cuff of your ear, you arched your back with a hum, the ass he loved so much pressing against him.
“Kiss me, sweetheart.” With the way he hardened in his shorts, it didn’t come out as a command.
You turned and straddled him with an amused smile. You didn’t miss the plea in his voice. You ran a hand down his abdomen feeling the ripple as he shivered, palming his erection under the strained fabric. You liked seeing him soft for you, didn’t you?
With his hands on your waist, he pulled you into a kiss and you wrapped an arm around his neck. When you grabbed his blond hair, he let out a small gasp before rocking your hips against his. You grinded on him, his tip rubbing against your clit deliciously, making you moan into his mouth. He slid his tongue past your lips, coaxing a little gasp out of you.
The way your tongue swirled with his made his cock twitch under your heat. His rough hands slid down to palm your ass, fingers caressing and twirling the strings of your bottoms. He gave the flesh a squeeze, nails digging into your skin before pulling away. Your breathing’s picked up, eyes hooded with lips slick and perfect.
He pressed kissed along your jaw and you tilted your head, giving him access as he sucked your neck. His lips trailed down your sternum, a hand kneading one of your tits before sliding your top aside to suck on a nipple. You hummed, back arching. With you still in his mouth, he smiled. He loved doing that to you.
“Show me how wet I made you.”
You leaned back, and he rubbed along your slit before pinching the gusset of your bottoms. He pulled it back against your clit, the fabric nestling between your dripping lips. He shouldn’t be this pleased with himself, but he couldn’t help the smirk.
“Get up, baby.” He patted your ass, and you obliged. “Let me taste what’s mine.”
Phillip bent you over and you held onto the backrest of the lounger before he kneeled behind you. Rough hands kneaded your gorgeous ass, before he kissed and bit it with playful aggression. Pulling your bottoms aside, he leaned in, laving at your slit. He reached around, circling your slippery clit with two fingers.
Your back arched, your pussy drooling for him as his tongue slipped past, the tip of his nose pressed against your puckered hole. Your breathing picked up, barely supressing your moan
Did you have any idea how catastrophically bad he was into this, how deranged he was for you? Please excuse the slurping – he couldn’t help it.
“No need to be quiet, baby. No one can hear us.”
He retracted his hand from your clit and spat on your ass. He watched his glob of spit slid down to your pussy before he fucked it right into your tight, wet hole. Your legs quivered when he picked up his pace, juices running down his hand. You were getting there, weren’t you? The stifled moans you let out only fuelled him.
He buried his face between your cheeks, moaning pathetically as his cock pulsed in his shorts. His tongue circled your puckered hole with so much worship, he’d have to thank you for the privilege of tasting you like this afterwards.
When he finally pulled away, he landed a slap on your ass just to watch the jiggle before undoing your bottoms. He slid himself under you and leaned against the back of the lounger. He guided your hips over his face as he palmed himself over his shorts. Your fingers slid into his hair as you hovered over his mouth, barely allowing him your taste.
Your tentativeness was adorable, but you were doing him an awful disservice with it, and he was determined to make you sing.
“Ride my face like you mean it, baby,” he said, fingers digging into the fat of your ass, pulling you close.
You gasped - the way you tugged his hair was addicting. You obliged, and you had no idea how much he fucking loved it when you listened. Like you were all his, and his only.
You were perfect, head tipped back like that, nipples hard, moaning for him. Because of him. He didn’t mean to be so smug, but having you use him for you own pleasure made him swell with pride.
He slipped two fingers in, pumping, the noise wet and lewd.
Your breathing quickened. “Don’t stop, Phil,” you panted, voice pitching up in your neediness.
He wouldn’t even think of it.
His lips sealed over your clit, sucking gently. It was your weakness.
You came with a moan, hips bucking, and he held you to his unrelenting mouth as your thighs shook with the waves. When you pushed off him, he grinned up at you before wiping his wet mouth and chin with the back if his hand, way too proud of himself that he made you unravel.
Breathless, you curled up on his lap against his chest.
“That’s my good girl.” With a chuckle, he stroked your back. “You did good, sweetheart.”
You giggled, skin glowing, body buzzing as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. He had no shame when he took his time licking your taste off his fingers.
When you breathing evened out, Phillip looked at you. “Want to give me another one?”
With a little nod, you got up and straddled his hips. He took his time undoing the strings of your top, enjoying the view. His blue eyes flicked to you biting your lip in anticipation, eyes lidded. He chuckled, pulling the fabric aside before sliding his shorts off.
Your pretty fingers wrapped around his weeping cock, giving it a few pumps - as if he could get any fucking harder for you - before you sank down on him, hands on his shoulders. His head tipped back, sighing in satisfaction as he finally had you again. You sank a little further before sliding back up. And down, and up again.
He opened his eyes to a teasing smile on your lips as you fucked yourself on his tip.
He gripped your waist. “You think you’re funny, sweetheart?” He meant to sound more playful, but his desperation was a boulder in the way.
You let out a small laugh before sliding all the way down. You both moaned at the sensation of him filling you up. You rode him, slow at first - your hot, tight pussy squeezing him.
“You always feel so good,” he hissed. “Fucking perfect around my cock.”
You leaned in, breath hot as you panted in his ear. His hands dropped to your hips to rock you faster and you pulsed around him, dripping all over his trimmed pelvis.
You leaned away from him, hands behind you on his thighs as you continued to ride him, your sopping pussy stretched around him, speared on his cock on full display. Poor little clit got no attention, hard and twitching and begging for it. Someone had to change that.
Phillip planted his feet on the ground before fucking up into you. He landed a gentle slap on your pussy, making you clench down on him with a mewl.
He gasped, his high suddenly so close. He didn’t want to stop yet. “Keep doing that and I won’t last baby,” he warned, punishing you with a thumb swiping over your clit.
“You feel too good,” you whined.
“One more?”
You nodded, eyes shut. “Yes. Yes, one more, please.”
He smiled, always loved seeing your face flood with pleasure and desperation like that. Vulnerable and open as he fucked you just like this. Your gorgeous tits bounced with each thrust, nipples hardening as you neared your high.
“Look at me when you come,” he commanded, giving your clit a gentle squeeze with his fingers.
Your eyes flew open with a gasp as you clenched down deliciously on him again. “Oh- Phil-“
“Want to hear you. Let me hear you.”
He was a little rougher than he needed to be, but he wanted you- fuck, needed you so bad. The way your eyes fluttered, wet lips parted, it almost made him fold. How did he get so lucky with you? You drove him insane, and he was just a man.
“Come for me.” His thumb circled your clit mercilessly and you squeezed him again. “Want you to come on my cock.”
You nodded, biting your lip before you let out a moan, body trembling with another orgasm. His thumb slowed as you rode out your high.
With a pleased smile, Phillip gathered you in his arms and laid you down on the lounger. He climbed over you, bracketing you between his forearms giving you a slow, gentle kiss. You gripped his biceps, humming into his mouth, shivers running down your beautiful body.
“Did good for me, sweetheart,” he said against your neck. His lips moved down to your collarbones, thumb caressing your hip. “Always so good for me, hm?”
You wrapped an arm around his neck as you reached down, stroking him languidly. He sighed, cock still painfully hard and drenched in your juices. Your hand was perfect around him, wasn’t it?
He gave you a peck before planting a foot on the ground, the other knee remained on the lounger. He pushed your knee up, sliding his length back and forth along your slit before slipping back in with a low groan.
He meant to kiss you when he started thrusting, but with the angle so deep, the way your pussy squeezed so perfectly, he could only moan into your mouth. He picked up his pace, lost in the pleasure as his balls slapped against your ass. He was too greedy to let go of your lower lip though, so he nibbled on it between broken moans and whines as he chased his own high.
You let out a small chuckle, hand rubbing his chest before pinching his nipple. His hiss broke into a moan, making you coo. Oh, you liked him all pathetic, didn’t you?
“You getting close, Phil?” you asked against his lips, a little mean, a little amused.
Like he hadn’t been holding it the whole time. He just didn’t want to stop rearranging your insides yet, but it was surely getting increasingly harder when you looked at him like that, like you couldn’t get enough of his cock.
“Want you to come for me, Phillip.”
With a grunt, his head dropped next to yours, breath hot against your skin.
“Want you to come in me.” You cupped his face, planting kisses along the side of his face. “Would you do that?”
He groaned, getting so fucking close. “I’ll fill you up, baby,” he panted, rutting harder but losing his rhythm as his abdomen clenched. “I’ll fill you up so good,” he promised.
You bit his earlobe, and it was his undoing.
He groaned, cock twitching each time he spurted deep into your pussy. He shivered when you bit the crook of his neck. His hips slowed as emptied himself in you.
When his orgasm subsided, he pressed his forehead against yours, chest heaving and damp with sweat. “Fuck, baby. You make me crazy.”
You gave him a quick peck before he grabbed you and rolled you on top of him. The way you smiled down at him like you were proud of yourself made him want to fuck you some more.
He took handfuls of your ass and leisurely pumped into you, your pussy even slicker now filled to the brim with his cum. You leaned in with a tender kiss.
“Just so we’re clear, clothes are optional at my place,” he said against your lips.
You smiled. “Rog, commander.”
This is a bonus scene after Ch 6 of Paint and Sip series
Masterlist
Phillip Graves | 4.4k | fluff
A little promise to get the other end of the couch (p1)
Truth is the first casualty of war.
Shepherd denied ordering a hit on the 141. Phillip on the other hand… Well, saying he didn’t act on the order wasn’t a complete lie. He’d given the Brits a chance, a chance they didn’t take, before he acted.
He had to admit, at least Shepherd had been thoughtful with the order, authorising him to bypass a confrontation by nipping the problem in the bud lest it escalated. But he was not taking the fall for anyone.
While walking into that courtroom had felt like opening Schrodinger’s box, it turned out Shepherd didn’t have much at all against him. Oz had done a fantastic job erasing his commander’s trace when he laid low after the tank incident. He’d learnt well after the mishap in Al Mazrah.
The hearing quickly turned into a “he said, she said” impasse. Fucker was banking on Phillip folding, but the commander knew a thing or two about bluffing too.
The ticking bomb had no explosives. If he couldn’t win, at least Shepherd couldn’t either. If the general wanted to be on a power trip, he could go right ahead and pull his contracts. If he could find a better PMC, that was. He’d only get reminded of why Shadow Company was Shadow Company.
Phillip headed straight to the airport after the hearing. When he showed up at your door later that night, you gave him a long hug and kisses all over his face. You led him in by the hand, past a large luggage by the couch filled with your stuff from his place Oscar had hauled up earlier that day.
Freshly showered, he climbed into bed and pulled you to lay on his chest.
“Johanna, she knows my name, right?”
“What? Of course.”
“It’s- I think she called me Felix last night.” He stared as you burst into laughter.
“She calls you Fix-It Felix.” When his brow rose, you asked, “You don’t know who that is?”
He shook his head and you pulled up a picture of an animated character. Some blond man in a light blue button down and jeans holding a golden hammer – a comically joyful handyman.
He barked out a laugh. “That is me.”
“His magic hammer fixes everything.” You placed your phone back on the nightstand before snuggling back up to him.
He pulled you close. “Could really use a magic hammer right now.”
“You don’t need one. There’s nothing you can’t fix.”
He smiled. He supposed he didn’t need to have everything figured out, if you’d be with him either way. It was more than what he could ever ask for.
He kissed the top of your head. “I was thinking. How about we host Thanksgiving for your friends this weekend?”
You turned to him. “Really?”
“Yeah, I never got to meet them properly. I know it’s last minute, but if they’re in town.”
None of you had ever initiated it. He assumed because you wanted to know this was steady, for the lack of a better word. He didn’t take it personally, remembering once upon a time, his schedule made it seem unmanageable.
For him though, when he made his intentions clear at that park after you appeased him with an ice cream sandwich, when you thought he was joking about asking you out on a date. There had never been an ounce of doubt that he wanted you for more than a long time. If his people were yours, your friends were his too, right?
“Oh, P, that would be so nice.”
He returned your smile, patting your head. “About time Isack cooks us a feast.”
Phillip’s favourite thing about staying over at yours was that you’d get up before him to get ready for work, and you’d wake him up with kisses on his face. With your skin cool from your shower, he’d pull you back to bed and pin you under him for a few more minutes as you laughed.
That morning, Oscar waited in front of your door in his suit. You glanced at Phillip with a raised brow. He took your hand and led you to the Rolls Royce Phantom parked at the building’s entrance.
You laughed. “Are we meeting the Queen?”
“I take my job of making sure you get to work in style very seriously,” he said, opening the door for you.
You shook your head as you got in. He hoped you’d never get tired of his shenanigans. You settled in the plush airline-style seats, and Oscar drove off after Phillip tapped the frosted glass of the privacy partition.
You leaned back, looking up at the LED stars on the ceiling. “How is the head rest so soft? I might fall asleep.”
“See, I knew you’d like it.” He pushed the button on the upright console between your seats, revealing another compartment. “What if I have a milkshake in here?”
“No way.” You pulled the handle to reveal an empty mini cooler and gave him a playful pout, “Okay, I wasn’t even thinking of it, but I’m kind of disappointed now.”
He kissed your hand. “I’ll get it next time. A milkshake for your breakfast.”
“That sounds like your thing.”
“Might be your thing too, judging by how excited you got.”
“You did this to me.”
Nearing your work, he pulled you in for a kiss. Well, not just one, really. What use of such a large seat if you couldn’t sit on his lap?
He wiped the corner of your mouth with his thumb as you smoothed down your top. “I’ll see you at lunch.”
“Lunch? Won’t you be at work?”
“I’m taking the day off.” He patted your thigh.
“You, away from work?” You poked his nose with a laugh. “Why do I find that hard to believe?”
He smiled, kissing the dip at the base of your neck.
See? You were wrong. Phillip was away from work.
Well, he was doing what he did for work, but it didn’t count if it was personal, right?
From across the street, he watched as the woman exited her house wearing a skimpy black dress and heels, a coat folded on her arm. She tossed her wavy hair over her shoulder before her green Beetle unlocked with a beep.
He hopped off his Rover. “Mikaela,” he called in a cheerful tone.
She whipped to him. “Oh- Graves, I-“ Her gaze dropped to her feet, tucking her hair behind her ear, cheeks tinting as she bit down a shy smile. “I wasn’t expecting you. Is everything okay?”
He continued his leisurely steps towards her, hands in his jacket pockets as he smiled. “I wanted to see you.”
“You did?” she asked hopefully.
“Mhm.” He closed in on her, making her back up against the side of the car with an enthusiastic gasp. His dimples flashed. “You’re messing with my woman, Mikaela.”
Her smile flickered as she let out an awkward chuckle, averting her gaze. “Oh, I-“
“Careful now, I'm not a very patient man when it comes to loose ends.” He leaned in with a sneer, voice dipping, “I prefer when they... Disappear."
Her breath stuttered, body tensing. He pulled away to her wide eyed as she clutched her coat with trembling hands.
When she let out a broken sob, he didn’t look back.
With the next hearing a month and a half away and no upcoming deployments, Phillip figured he could step back from work a little and make up for lost time with you.
He spent worknights at yours, and drove and picked you up from work, and took you to his for the long weekend, the large luggage in tow. He’d missed his home, but most importantly, you in it. At least your stuff would fill a fraction of the void if you couldn’t be there with him.
On Sunday, you and him hosted Friendsgiving dinner. Isack (who still called you Mrs. Graves) had been cooking all day, filling the house with the fragrance of warm spices. Rafe seemed to enjoy the smell too, accompanying the chef for the most part.
First, two of your friends arrived together with their significant others. They exchanged pleasantries with Phillip before you led them in.
“So that’s the infamous cowboy hat,” one whispered before the other giggled as you passed the foyer cabinet.
You swatted her arm. Phillip shot you a knowing look, but you were too busy pretending you didn’t know what was up with the hat.
Soon, as you served drinks, the door buzzed again. You told him to get it this time.
He swung the door open, Rafe next to him. “Johanna, welcome.”
“Graves. Thanks for having me,” she said, gazed dropping to her feet. “Hey, I… wanted to apologise for last time. I-“
He patted her shoulder. “It’s all good, no need to apologise.”
She looked up at him, surprised. “Oh-“
“It’s fine, really. If any, I’m glad you have her back,” he said. “You’re a good friend.”
A smile flickered on her lips.
“We’re happy you could make it. Come in.” He stepped aside and led her to the dining room.
With everyone present, Isack served the first course. When he noticed the 8th seat was empty, Phillip said it was his. The disbelieving, yet grateful gasp the chef let out made him chuckle.
Between bites, one of your friends said she’d always wanted to go to France which prompted Isack to share his stories about his hometown, a small village with plenty of fine wine. His wife, his childhood sweetheart, lived right down his street.
The other asked, stars in her eyes, “How did you know she was the one?”
“My mother always said, ‘Isack, it’s not about being easy, because everyone is there when it’s easy.’” He smiled, fondness in his eyes. “’You need a girl who wants to lift the other end of the sofa when you need to move it’. Ma chérie-“ he chuckled- “she’s sometimes not good at it, but she always wants to help, and that’s more than enough.”
The table aww-ed, and Phillip turned to you, but you were already looking at him with a small smile. Something swelled in his chest, the kind that made him want to give you everything.
“To Mr. and Mrs. Graves,” Isack said with a grin, raising his glass. “À la vôtre!”
The table fell quiet. The chef peered around the table, the growing silence made his eyes grow wider and wider, arm sagging in the air.
“You guys are married?!” Johanna exclaimed.
“No!” you interjected. Should Phillip be offended by how flustered you got? “Isack called me that when we first met and- well, we never corrected him.”
“Merde,” he muttered before letting out an awkward laugh. “Ah, it’s bad luck to not toast after you raise your glass, so-“ he straightened his arm- “Santé. Cheers!”
“Santé!” the rest of the table replied with laughter, glasses raised, before taking a sip.
“Remember to never assume, children,” he mumbled before following suit, cheeks rosy.
After dessert (the most decadent lava cake with vanilla ice cream), Phillip and the boyfriends discussed sports in the living room while you and your girls chatted on the pool deck. It was fulfilling, hosting, doing something with you. Like you were a real couple, with witnesses.
Through the accordion glass doors, you caught his eye. He winked and raised his beer at you, and you blew him a kiss. If his cheeks got hot, he was blaming the alcohol.
Before it got too late, the guests excused themselves, thanking you and Phillip (and Isack) once more for the wonderful dinner.
“That was nice,” Phillip said after he locked up behind the chef.
“It was.” You smiled, pulling him in for a peck before taking his hand. “Come, let’s get ready for bed.”
Freshly showered, he got under the covers to wait for you. Now that his work was slower, he should- His phone buzzed on the nightstand.
He tilted it and scowled. What the fuck did Shepherd want, texting his private number at this hour? It was a little too late now to be amicable over Thanksgiving-
Soap was KIA, shot in the head point blank
His stomach sank. This wasn’t something anyone would lie about.
Their last interaction might not have been the most memorable, but… This wasn’t what he imagined for the Scot. A wave of melancholy swept low. He’d seen how well the sergeant had got along with Ghost and his Shadows, well-loved by everyone around him. Like sunshine, like the first smile after a rush of tears.
Phillip was reminded again of his mortality. That life and death were only separated by a razor-thin margin, a high wire he walked. That eternal darkness could very well be a blink away.
What would people have to say when it was his turn? Who would he hurt with it, if there was anyone to hurt?
Would you be there?
“P, you okay?”
Your concerned voice snapped him out of his thoughts. You’d climbed in bed next to him. He searched your eyes, the devotion clear as day in them.
You would, wouldn’t you? You’d be with him through it all. He could feel it in his bones. You were it.
“You should take Friday off.” He pulled you into a firm embrace. “I’m taking you on a weekend trip.”
You chuckled. “Boss won’t let me on such a short notice.”
“Ask.”
You gave a knowing smile. “Am I asking or announcing?”
“Whatever you wanna call it, baby. I’m still hauling you away.”
“Excuse me, I can’t do whatever I want!” You laughed. “Unlike you.”
He smiled, pulling you with him as he laid back.
It took some digging, but within days Phillip learnt Makarov had shot Sergeant Mactavish in the London tunnel last Tuesday. He was disarming a bomb, trying to save lives. Like a true soldier, gallant, pushing on with abandon for the mission.
Ruthless. Unceremonious. Such an abrupt end for a bright young man, without even the dignity to fight for his life.
There was only one person to call.
“I heard about Soap,” Phillip started. “I’m sorry. He was a good kid, fearless. Spoke so highly of you.”
Price scoffed, paused, and let out a deep sigh. “He saved my life,” he said, gravelly voice barely a whisper.
His eyes shut as Vance crossed his mind. He’d done the same.
It just got personal. If the captain hated the man in front of him, Phillip loved what was behind him.
“What do you need from me?”
The Brit let out a dark chuckle.
Friday morning, Phillip pulled up to yours in a shiny blue Mustang with its roof down. Rafe, now officially retired, panted in the backseat wearing his goggles, tail wagging at the sight of you.
He grinned, pushing his aviators up on his head. “I bought it.”
“You weren’t kidding.” You laughed, placing your bag in the footwell of the backseat after giving the doggo a few pats.
“You liked it, and I couldn’t resist.” You got in the passenger seat and he gave you a kiss. “We could have taken a helo, but, well, I wanted to show off,” he said, zipping up your (his) jacket.
Yes, it was 100% yours now, but he really liked knowing it used to be his, and that you were his, okay?
“That’s kinda your thing, isn’t it?” you teased as you strapped yourself in. “Showing off.”
“Damn fuckin’ right, sweetheart, especially when it comes to you.”
The road trip took a little over 4 hours, including stops for Rafe. After lunch, you checked into a luxury cabin right outside the national park. You got geared up, looking forward to exploring the rest of the iconic desert landscape, and hike amongst the unique trees and rock formations.
After a BBQ dinner (unfortunately not as good as his steak), you settled in for the night. But wait, there was one more thing to do.
Phillip led you to the solarium, made for stargazing with its tall ceiling and large glass panels. He dragged a massive beanbag chair to the middle of the room and made you sit in his lap, your back against his chest as he leaned back, arms around you. Rafe curled up on the other chair in the corner.
The Andromeda galaxy stretched as a band across the dark sky. Its dense stars clusters swirled and twinkled against streaks of dust lanes, glowing vibrant purple and rust.
He handed you a pair of binoculars before looking through his own. “You see the three bright stars in a curve? That’s the Orion belt. Pretty, huh?”
You hummed.
“But the best thing about him is under his belt-“
You laughed.
He chuckled. “I didn’t mean it like that. See the pink fuzz down there?” he asked, gazing at the interstellar clouds, like strokes of watercolour blooming as they bled into the dark. “That’s the Orion nebula.”
“Fitting,” you said. “How do you know all this anyway?”
He put his binoculars away, turning to you. “I read up. Wanted to impress you.”
“Well, I am impressed,” you said with a soft smile as you continued to admire the sky.
“There was this one time. I was still a Lance, and we were in the middle of the ocean. Pitch black. The entire sky was mirrored on the water. Felt like I was floating in space.”
“That sounds incredible. Did you ever get to see that again?”
“No, but I don’t mind.” Not when you make me feel the same way. He reached for the large velvet box he hid under the folded blanket next to the chair. “I wanted to give you this,” he said, placing it on your lap.
You lowered your binoculars, and at the sight of the black jewellery box, you straightened up. “Oh, P.” You turned and wrapped your arms around him.
He propped himself up on an elbow and turned the flashlight on his phone on. “Open it.”
You lifted the lid to reveal a layered diamond necklace with three stones strung vertically as its centrepiece. “Oh my God,” you gasped.
“You like it, baby?” he smiled proudly.
“Wow- it’s gorgeous, thank you so much. But… Phillip, if I wear this out, I’ll be robbed within 5 minutes.”
“Why?”
You looked at him like he was insane. “Look at how obscenely huge it is!”
“You don’t have to wear it out if you don’t want to.” He lowered his phone, heart racing. “It’s just-“ He averted his gaze. Why was he losing his words?
You looked at him expectantly.
“I want to… Put a ring on your finger,” he mustered, before adding, “It’s not now, or anytime soon. Not if you don’t want it yet.” His face warmed as his eyes cut to you. “But it’s something I want with you. So when you’re ready. It’s just-” He cupped his hand over yours as you held the box- “A little promise. To get the other end of the couch.”
“I want that too.” You smiled, running your fingers through his hair. “But maybe we should consider moving in first. I like my nights with you, and mornings.”
He grinned and kissed you for two beats. “Me too, but especially mornings.”
You set the box aside before laying on his chest, looking up at the stars again. “Sky’s so gorgeous, makes me want stay forever.”
He wrapped an arm around you. “You can.”
You poked his side with a laugh. “If I want to lose my job.”
“I’m sure there’s a position open at HQ.”
You turned to him, chin resting on his chest as you played along. “Yeah? Like what?”
“Whatever you want.”
“I can do whatever I want?”
He nodded.
“I thought that was only for Mr. I-can-do-whaetever-I-want.”
“I mean… If one day you’re gonna be my Mrs. I-can-do-whaetever-I-want.” He smiled. “Or if you want me to be the wife, I’m cool too. As long as it’s you I’m with.”
You laughed, trailing a finger along his stubbled jaw.
“Thinking of restructuring. So I can be home more.”
Your expression turned serious. “I’m not asking that from you, P,” you said softly.
“I know. But I want to. For you.”
You turned back to the sky with a small smile. “We have a lot of time to figure it out, big boy.”
You laid under the stars in each other’s arms a little longer before heading back to the bedroom. You unzipped your bag and placed the necklace inside.
“I know you don’t want to wear it out, but… Can I at least see it on you?”
You smiled and let him put it on you. You didn’t even turn to him before you raced to the en suite bathroom. “Oh, I need to see!”
Phillip chuckled at your squeal and pulled out his burner phone from his nightstand drawer to a waiting text. A little word of confirmation on a certain incident in DC.
He couldn’t help the smirk that graced his lips. It was just another reason he was going to hell, wasn’t it? With practiced hands, he pulled out the SIM card and snapped it in half.
“If this is a little promise, I wonder what a big one looks like,” you called from the bathroom, making him turn to its door.
You stepped out wearing the necklace. Only the necklace, the centrepiece cascading down on your sternum. Glinting. Perfect against your bare skin.
His breath stuttered in his throat. Did you think you could play him like that, bring out the dog in him?
He was not himself when he quite literally pounced on you.
For the holidays, Phillip took you to Texas. He gave you a little tour of Dallas before heading to his grandpa’s ranch, the one he’d bought back for his mum a few years ago. He wanted to keep it in the family, and she got people to run it.
After unpacking in the rustic cottage he got built for his mum’s visits, he took you around the area in a pickup truck (you said he looked really happy driving it) and taught you how to ride a horse. He’d missed riding so much, and having you with him only made it better.
On Christmas morning, you shook his shoulder gently. “P, wake up,” you whispered.
He groaned.
“Your mum’s cooking something. It smells so good.”
His eyes opened as he took a deep breath before propping himself up with a grin. It was always his favourite part of Christmas.
“What?” you asked, confused but amused at the same time.
“We need to go.” He jumped out of bed and rushed to the bathroom to clean up, leaving you laughing on the bed.
When he returned, you were holding two red paper bags, one labelled with his mum’s name and the other with his own.
“We don’t do gifts-“
“Yeah, yeah, sure. Whatever you say, Commander.” You side eyed him with a knowing smile. “Like the Mustang wasn’t one. Couldn’t be more obvious with it too.”
You weren’t wrong. The convertible had been parked at your building, for when you didn’t have Oscar with you. You liked picking him up from HQ on Fridays anyway, didn’t you? He could only give a shit-eating grin.
You climbed down the wooden stairs to his mum placing a hefty dish on the table. Your footsteps made her look up.
“I was about to wake y’all up.”
Phillip pulled out a seat, eyes fixated on the piping hot lasagna as he bounced. “No need. We could smell it.”
She chuckled. “Merry Christmas to you too, Phillip.”
He turned to her with a grimace and gave her a hug. “Sorry.”
You joined in, exchanging your wishes. When you pulled away, you held up one bag towards her. “Madeline, I got you this.”
“Oh-” she laughed, swatting her hand, still clad in a paw print oven mitt- “You and your sweet gifts, sugar. Thank you.” She took the seat next to him, removed her mitts and opened the bag.
“And this is for you,” you said, handing him the last bag with a giddy smile before pulling out the chair across him.
“Thanks, baby.” He sat back and peeked into the bag with a satisfied smile. He might not expect gifts, but he always loved them from you.
“Ah, pyjama pants!” his mum said as she pulled out the donut themed bottoms.
“You got us matching ones…?” he asked as he, too, pulled out the same pair – light blue with pink sprinkled donuts all over them.
You nodded, barely hiding your giggles.
“I’m going to try them on,” she announced, disappearing into the bathroom with a click of the door.
“What do you th-“
He stood up and looked out the large windows at the winter-swept land before stepping out of his sweatpants right in the middle of the dining room.
“Phillip!” you gasped.
“Nothing you haven’t seen, baby,” he said simply as he pulled your gift on before looking down on himself. “You should have gotten a pair for yourself too.”
You laughed. “I did. We’ll wear them together at home.”
“Nah. I’m wearing ‘em to work. Everybody needs to know how much I love donuts.”
“Of course.”
Moments later, his mum returned. “They’re so soft, aren’t they,” she said, rubbing the side of her thigh in delight before looking up. “I like ‘em!”
“There’s something else in there,” you said, pointing at the bag.
Back in her seat, she reached all the way in the bag and pulled out some sort of voucher. “I don’t have my glasses-“ she squinted at it before handing it to him- “What does it say, Phil?”
“It’s a ticket to a paint and sip class... In Dallas!” He threw his head back in laughter. “Can’t forget this time.”
“Busted,” she said, snatching the voucher back with a chuckle. “But I know you’re glad I did.”
Phillip turned to you, face radiant, your kind eyes always brighter in the morning sun – he could stare forever.
Especially then, when you were smiling so sweetly at him. He couldn’t help the tug on his lips.
Yeah, he was more than glad.
Thank you so much for sticking around until the end!! This is my longest fic to date and it was such a pleasure to write especially with your support :D take care and see you around! (hope Mikaela got what she deserved)
Masterlist
Phillip Graves | 5.5k | angst
The vengeful man on a vengeful path (p1) (p12)
At sunrise, Konni wiped out Shadow Company’s docked cargo ship - not even three hours after Makarov’s breakout. Shadow and the ULF suffered heavy losses from the attack, and while they couldn’t prevent the interception of the missiles, Farah managed to place trackers on them before they were hauled away.
Phillip didn’t get to see you before he left town to regroup with Shepherd in his hideout. The sinking sensation settled in his stomach, like a premonition that everything - everything that he’d tried to wrap and pile up neatly - was about unravel.
He could only call you on this flight out to apologise for missing dinner. He said it more than once, maybe because he was really apologising for the decisions he made leading him there. Because it was why he didn’t know what was waiting for him at the other end. Because it might be the reason he’d never get to see you again.
But you reassured, with that soft voice and a little giggle, that it was okay and blew him a kiss.
Shepherd opened the wooden door of his small, secluded cabin in the Eastern European countryside.
“Graves.” He stepped out onto the porch to scan the road, nodded at his Shadows standing guard by their black SUVs, before leading Phillip into the kitchen.
Seeing the general in the flesh again after a year sparked something in him. That smirk, that drawl, the way he walked around like his shit didn’t stink. Like he’d never heard of the word ‘no’ in his life. Like a bullet between the eyes wouldn’t kill him.
“How’s your mum?” Shepherd asked as he poured the second cup of coffee, his back to him.
“Just had my fix,” he said, thumbs hooked on his tac vest as he scanned the room.
Yes, Phillip smiled. It didn’t make him want to slap the stupid mustache off his face any less, the grey mustache he’d been busy growing while he was on the run. It only made him want to throw hands more, maybe even put a hole through him. Just to test the hypothesis.
Shepherd let out a small scoff. The half-filled mug thudded in the sink. He didn’t offer anything else.
He didn’t have to bother with the pretence, really. It wasn’t like Phillip didn’t know why he was there.
Still on a leash. Still an obedient dog to a master.
His Shadows worked tirelessly, tracking down each and every lead. Two days later, they got a lead on Makarov’s bankroll: Milena Romanova, an oligarch who had been doing Makarov’s bidding for years, tucked away on a private island with Konni running security.
Oh, it was Christmas morning for Shepherd, wasn’t it? The piece of intel was his golden ticket back to the good ol’ U.S. of A. The win that would eclipse the missile fuckup and the mess in its wake if it ever came to light.
Another shiny and sticky sweet chest candy for the patriot.
Shepherd contacted Kate Laswell after his extended absence (he’d shaved his mustache and put on his dress uniform for the occasion, like everything was fine and dandy). Phillip might be laughing on the inside, but it was all business – and he knew all about business. It was parlay. A twofer. An insurance. He was there for the same reason, wasn’t he?
At the revelation that the commander was alive and well, Soap’s reaction was amusing to say the least. He’d always liked the kid for his fire. Would you blame him if he pushed a few more buttons? He’d get his entertainment where he could, even made finger guns before the call ended.
The next day when he contacted Shepherd for a sitrep, he was unresponsive. Phillip snorted. He provided the intel in good faith. If Shepherd conned the 141 again and had to go MIA for it, it was none of his business. Perhaps, playing stupid games was the only thing amusing the general these days - going off the grid must have done things to you. He shrugged it off. Shepherd would call if he needed him.
By noon the next day, he learnt Konni had taken Shepherd and the 141 rescued him in Siberia. Unintentionally. Despite the bad blood, they didn’t toss him back into the frozen lake - the Romanova intel must have been solid. Phillip was just glad his paycheque was still paychequing.
Meanwhile, the ULF had tracked Konni to an airstrip in Northern Urzikstan, believed to be Makarov’s forward operating base. Shepherd, now toasty and dry in DC, tasked the commander with air cover for the 141 and the ULF in their pursuit.
Despite the warm reception from Farah and Alex as they geared up for the mission, Cpt. Price and Sgt. Garrick disregarded the Shadow. Perhaps he was reaching - being in a truce didn’t make them buddies. It was just business.
With his AC-130 overhead, Ground Team pushed to locate the chemical weapons while his gunner neutralised threats and took out Makarov’s alleged helo. When the chemicals were rendered safe, a missile levelled the hangar down to dust, and with a job well done, Shadow-1 was RTB.
Price radioed to all stations the kill wasn’t confirmed, but Shepherd ordered Ground to stand down instead of getting a PID on the target. It was not in Phillip’s jurisdiction, but not seeing an assignment through didn’t sit right with him. Wasn’t that what the military ingrained into your brain? Take no prisoners.
But Phillip had done his part and he wasn’t dead. He’d redeemed himself, erased the target on his back and it was all water under the bridge.
He took his heavy vest off, dropped himself in his chair and let out a long sigh as he tilted his head back. He could make it home in peace and have you in his arms again.
I’m back. Will be at HQ until late
Thursday afternoon, you perked up at Phillip’s text, not expecting him to return so soon. The way he spoke days ago made it sound like he was going to be gone for a while, and you’d arranged a day out with your girls on Sunday.
You didn’t like cancelling, but they’d understand, right? You weren’t supposed to miss him so much so soon, but you did. A slow weekend in with him sounded perfect. You smiled, already thinking of the desserts you could make him. With Oscar in tow, you swung by the shops to pick up the ingredients.
The next morning, much to your disappointment, you woke with nothing from him. He must have had a long night. The thought of him still in bed, shirtless and face down in his pillow only made you want to ruffle his hair and kiss his forehead.
Morning P <3 sleeping in today?
Still at HQ
You frowned. That’s not good. I’ll see you tonight, right?
I don’t know yet
You stared at your phone. Have you slept at all?
Still with no reply, you texted again at lunch. At least make sure you’re eating pls
His reply came when you were on your way home. I love you so much
You let out a little sigh. You could give him some space – you knew how he could be fresh after an op, but was it selfish to ask if you still hadn’t seen him after two nights in town?
I love you <3 come by whenever
Not tonight. I’ll be home tomorrow
Okay, good. Can’t wait to see you
By Saturday morning, he still hadn’t answered. Probably still asleep. His past few days seemed extremely stressful. Oscar drove you over to Phillip’s, meaning to prepare him breakfast. The fact that his grey Rover wasn’t there was disappointing, but not surprising.
You put the dessert in the fridge as you called him.
“When you said you’d be home, well, I assumed you meant since last night,” you tried to joke, but couldn’t help the edge in your voice.
“Sorry, baby,” he said, voice heavy and rough. You could imagine him holding his head in one hand as he sighed. “I’m still here, but I’ll be home.”
You softened, embarrassed of your attitude. It wasn’t like he was having a good time at work. “What time?”
“I don’t know,” he said with a humourless laugh.
A beat. “Can you at least eat? Please? Should I get you something?”
At the other end, the door swung open followed by footsteps. “Hey, sweetheart? I love you. So fucking much, okay? Don’t forget. Now I have to go-”
“Wait! I’ll- I’ll see you later, right?”
You weren’t sure he even caught your words before he hung up.
You blinked at your phone. Was this happening again, was he shutting you out? He’d promised to not do it anymore, but he’d barely talked to you.
He wasn’t doing it on purpose, was he? His job was important. It would have been much easier for him if he didn’t tell you he was back if he didn’t want to see you, but he did. You wanted to understand, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.
It was fine. Phillip would be home later. You just had to see him for a bit and after some cuddling, everything would be fine again.
Let me know what time you’d be home. I miss you, P
You set your phone on the kitchen island and turned towards the glass doors. It was the end of the year, but the sun was still warm enough for a little swim.
You made your way to the master bedroom on the second floor. You pushed the curtains open, letting the sun illuminate the room before stepping out onto the balcony. You smiled remembering the first time you stood there, and he literally jumped off the second floor and into the pool with a mischievous smile.
He might not be so young anymore, but you always loved his energy and ability to spark fun out of everything. You’d have to jump from there again with him soon.
You went to your side of the closet, pausing when your belongings weren’t there, instead filled with his items like it’d been months before. You frowned, opening the other doors and drawers, but no. There was nothing – not even the bags and shoes he gifted you.
On your way out, you caught sight of the bathroom - marble floors and counters always pristine, yet clear of your toiletries. The cabinets and drawers too.
Was his housekeeper mistaken? This had never happened before. She’d always left everything the way it was.
Maybe she’d moved your stuff to one of the other rooms? You checked each one and came up emptyhanded, while his mum’s guestroom didn’t look like it’d been touched.
Your lips pressed into a line. Surely, there was an explanation. You never told Phillip about the conversation with his mum at dinner. You’d chalked it up as overthinking, when he implied she had no reason to not like you, that she was going to reprimand him if he didn’t treat you right. It’d sounded so reassuring.
But it was that: an implication. Had his mum been there recently? It was like any sign of you had been erased.
With slumped shoulders, you made your way back to the living room couch to watch your favourite show. With a drink and a few snacks, you got comfortable.
Unfortunately, at lunchtime was when you discovered there was no meal prepped in the fridge. His assistant always made sure the chef came in so Phillip had proper food as soon as he was back. The HQ must have been in chaos if it slipped her mind. Shame. You’d been looking forward to Isack’s cooking.
More hours passed and the sky darkened. The house was getting too large and too quiet, until your phone buzzed. You reached for it with a smile. It had to be Phillip letting you know he was heading back.
It wasn’t. In fact, it wasn’t anyone you wanted to have anything to do with.
Look, I’m the last person you want to hear this from, but I said what I said for a reason. That Wednesday Ms. Graves was flying back, she was making a fuss about you all morning and Graves said you were temporary. I didn’t want to tell you, but I thought about it and I’d rather know the truth if I were you
Your heart dropped. Was this some sort of sick prank?
Any other day, it wouldn’t have bothered you. You didn’t see a point in Mikaela lying about getting set up with Phillip by her cousin, but you didn’t miss the bashful looks, or how cutesy she acted in front of him despite not showing up in her dresses and heels anymore. She was never in your corner, was she? She was a liar, and you hated yourself for denying it.
But this. The time checked out. You remembered her coming in that morning and he drove his mum to the airport after. The same night was when he made you and him official.
Your lip quivered. No. He wouldn’t have said that. You knew he wouldn’t.
With shaky fingers you typed out, You’re coming home right?
A wave of resentment washed over you. You could have gone out with your friends, or hung out with Johanna instead of loitering in his house alone for the entire day. But maybe it was your fault to want to see him that much, to not want to waste a second without being with him.
You put away the rest of your snacks, barren of appetite. You got ready for bed and put on one of his soft button downs before curling up in his warm and cushy bed.
It was getting late. He would be back any minute. You’d ask him about everything then.
You woke up the next morning alone in bed. Still no text from Phillip.
You made your way downstairs, the house was just as quiet as it’d been. You headed to the front door past the long foyer cabinet where his cowboy hat was displayed. You smiled in relief when his key sat in the bowl. Minus the crochet heart. It was unfortunate it fell off - you’d have to make more. You headed back in. He must have been in his office.
You knocked before cracking the door open with a grin. “Morning, P. I didn’t even know you were back. What time did you come home?”
He grunted, but didn’t look at you. He was in a loose black tee full of creases, multiple mugs on his desk. He looked exhausted with the circles under his eyes, like he hadn’t slept recently. What was he doing to himself? Your heart ached for him.
You pushed the door open further. “Hey, how about-”
“Can you just leave me the fuck alone?” he snapped, turning to you.
You didn’t even react. The door clicked softly as you stepped out.
You took no time to clean up before you left. You certainly got your work cut out for you, when your things weren’t there anymore.
Maybe Mikaela was right. It hurt less when it came from her, when she sounded like a resentful woman who couldn’t have what you did. Because it sliced much deeper when it came from Phillip. When he cut you off without even the decency of being upfront about it. If this was his cowardice way of telling you it was over, then so be it.
It was just as well you were temporary. You weren’t going to feel invisible for another minute.
Phillip Graves’ state of fortune was an oxymoron.
He was the luckiest and the unluckiest man simultaneously. One who was blessed with everything he wanted, but cursed with no means of keeping it.
On his flight back, he was going to announce his arrival to you. Instead, Shepherd called from the comfort of his Pentagon office about the congress hearing on Monday.
“I’ll tell them the truth. You’ll do some prison time to keep up appearances, but I’ll get you out in no time,” he said, easy, as if he was making lunch plans with a buddy.
He scoffed, looking away in disbelief. This motherfucker.
“You got nothing to worry about. Oz will take over meanwhile. He’s proven himself last time.”
“Do you hear yourself?” He leaned in with a hardened gaze, gripping the edge of the desk. “This is your mess too.”
“Don’t be stupid, son.” He chuckled, getting up from his seat to face the fiery sunset out the large window. “Play along and my contracts don’t have to be suspended, huh?” He turned back to the laptop with a smile. “Just for a bit. I’m sure your little girlfriend wouldn’t mind.”
He shouldn’t react, shouldn’t deny or confirm.
So he smiled, dimples showing. “If it has to be one of us,“ he said before gritting his teeth. “Then I’ll see to it you’ll be the one behind bars, General.”
He laughed. Loud, open. Like he was untouchable. “On what grounds? Your fingerprints are all over this.”
His knuckles turned white.
“There’s only one way this is going, Graves. Don’t make it harder for the both of us.”
Was this the deal Shepherd made with Kate, with the oligarch intel he provided? Was this how he was repaid for his allegiance that spanned decades? Or was this what he traded for his pathetic, faithless life in Siberia?
No matter. He was going up against the biggest asshole he knew, the same man who’d do anything for another fucking win to his name. Phillip’s alibi had to be bulletproof, because this time, he had everything to lose.
Phillip wasn’t going to tell you he was back, knowing he had zero time to waste in preparation for the hearing in four days. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to stay away from you otherwise. But he was just a man, so of course he had to tell you he was well, despite being stuck at HQ with his lawyers for literal days with no proper sleep.
Shepherd could have been bluffing, but that subtle threat was getting to him, wasn’t it? He’d instructed Oscar to keep his eye on you 24/7, and removed anything traceable of yours from his house. This was not making it to you no matter what.
He meant to come home Saturday. He did. He told himself whatever happened, regardless if they found concrete evidence or not, he was spending Sunday with you uninterrupted. To make up for lost time. To make amends if it was his last day as a free man. Before his fight out to DC Monday morning.
No one was surprised when they’d come to an impasse by late Saturday.
Phillip walked into his quiet home with heart so heavy, he was sure it was dragging across the marble floors. At that hour, you’d slept, but he didn’t even get in bed. He just sat there memorising you, your figure in one of his button downs outlined by the warm column of light from the hallway.
It was a dead-end. It was over for him. He was getting locked up. The world was going to believe what they were told, and you, you were going to hate him. All the times Phillip thought Shepherd was aloof and cut-throat was because he’d always been steps ahead and cleaned up his tracks.
And then you sighed in your sleep, your breathing even and deep.
Would he forgive himself if this was the last time he’d see you like this? If he never saw your smile again, and the twinkle in your eyes?
He couldn’t give up now, could he? Not when he had this, something he could only dream of once upon a time. There was so much more he wanted with you. If it wasn’t for him, then it was for you.
Phillip pulled another all-nighter, fuelled by a lethal amount of caffeine and self-hatred as he went through every single shred of report he could get his hands on. All for a speck of hope. But things were always so much easier said than done. He’d been chasing his own tail and there was nothing more he wanted to do than just lay down and wake up when it was all over, even if it was in a hundred years.
But it didn’t make it okay for him to snap at you, or tell you to leave him alone. It was the last thing he wanted, to have you away from him. But he didn’t know what to do with his pride, fatally wounded by his incompetence, that his own superior hustled him to hell and back. Knowing that he was losing his empire – the one he’d devoted his entire life to, and you won’t even be there for him in the brutal aftermath.
And wouldn’t that be the most hurtful thing? He could crawl and build his business back up, but he’d never have you again. He could never erase his sins. The mistakes he’d made. The blood on his hands. It was enough to send anyone running – his private hell for walking down this path in life.
But if he could have you just for another night, just one last time. He’d spend every minute telling you how much you meant to him. Even if everything would crumble by sunrise.
Past 9 p.m. when he finally believed his body that it was on the brink, he emerged from his office, with nothing in his favour having changed the past 24 hours.
“Sweetheart?” he called.
Silence. You weren’t in the kitchen nor on the pool deck, not in the bedroom either. He rang you, and why was he acting surprised when you didn’t pick up? He checked the cameras. Embarrassment filled him how he didn’t notice you’d left that morning.
But wait, that wasn’t Oscar, nor the company car.
“Where the fuck are you?” he barked into the phone as soon as the line connected.
A beat. “Home…?” The Shadow offered.
“I made it very clear you have to be with her the entire time,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Yes, but you said she’d be with you all day today.”
It was his turn to still. “Fuck-“
Alright. It was Sunday night. You’d be home getting ready for bed.
He raced to yours only to find the lights off. With no answer, he pressed his ear to the door. It was too silent for you to be in. Odd. You didn’t like being out so late on worknights.
Phillip sat in his car for a little longer before panic inevitably set in. What if Shepherd wasn’t bluffing? He reached for his phone as a grey sedan pulled up at the entrance.
You stepped out, all smiley and dolled up in a pretty black dress blowing kisses at the driver. With a bounce in your step, you made your way into the building.
What sort of repulsive, fucking deja vu was this? Was he allowed to be jealous? You were on a date. That’s why you didn’t pick up his calls.
What was he the maddest about this time? That he got played by Shepherd? That he was an asshole to you? Or that someone was already swooping in?
He didn’t have the time to decide because this time, he stepped on it to cut off the offending sedan. The car screeched to a halt, horn blaring. He threw his door open and stalked towards the driver. He could use a fist fight, one that would let him blow off some steam, or at the very least, one that would knock him out a few hours because he needed a fucking break.
But when he neared, his steps faltered.
The window rolled down. “Look who’s here,” the voice dripped in sarcasm. “It’s Fix-It Felix!”
He softened. He could recognise those long curls from anywhere. “Oh, Johanna-“
“Listen here, buddy. You’re too old to be acting like a fuck boy, it’s embarrassing,” she spat. “Yeah, sure, you’re busy and rich and handsome and all that, but the least you can do is show some respect even when you’re ending things. Even if she’s oh temporary.” Her eyes narrowed. “Now move. Next time I might floor it when you brake check me.”
He stared, too stunned to speak. With another dirty look, she peeled off.
Ending things? Temporary? What the hell was she talking about?
Phillip hopped back in his Rover and ran up to knock on your door. “Baby, it’s me,” he called.
“Are you here to drop off my stuff?” you deadpanned.
Of course you noticed that. He didn’t even get to tell you. “No, but I need to talk to you.”
Your footsteps receded.
“Please, open up.”
“Thought you made yourself awfully clear,” you called sarcastically.
“Let me in and we’ll talk, okay?”
Your thuds approached fast. “Where are my things, Graves? I’m done with your games. I don’t care about your gifts. I want my stuff back.”
You called him Graves. He didn’t like that. “I had them moved. Ox will bring them over tomorrow.” He exhaled. “Please, if you open up, I’ll tell you why.”
You yanked the door open, still in your dress. “Why, because your mum doesn’t like me anymore? Because I’m not thinking about kids? Because I’m temporary?”
His brows furrowed as he asked carefully, “Where’s all this from?”
“That not what you said the day your mum flew back?” you retorted. “Mikaela heard you.”
His shoulders sagged with a soft sigh. “Sweetheart, I never said anything like that, and I never will.” He took a step in, closing the door behind him. “You cried on her last day,” he started. “Is this what she told you?”
“No one needs to tell me anything,” you spat. “You got rid of my things with no explanation, and can’t even be bothered to talk to me the past few days.” You meant to yell, but your voice betrayed you as the tears brimmed. “You said you’d be honest,” you choked, “If you were done.”
He did it again. He hurt you again. Why did he keep doing it when it was the last thing he wanted to?
“No, no, baby. I didn’t-“ He placed a hand on your shoulder, averting his gaze. “I moved your stuff because- I should have told you sooner-”
“Then you fucking tell me!” You shrugged his hand off. “Because what else could it mean?!”
He closed his eyes. If he explained everything, you’d hate him - you had all the right to.
“I messed up. Last year-“ He ran his hand through his hair- “Fuck!”
He dropped onto your couch, burying his face in his hands. He couldn’t keep running away from the truth, hiding it from you and hurting you because of it. You’d find out on the news eventually, and by then, only God knew what kind of story would have been spun out of the fact.
“My past is catching up. I’m going to jail. I don’t want anyone tracing you back from me.”
The room was quiet for a few beats before the seat dipped next to him. Your hand was tentative on his shoulder.
“What did you do, Phillip?” you whispered, sympathy and caution rolled into one, like your heart was breaking with his.
He told you about Al Mazrah, and how he went all in in Las Almas to clean up the mess. To not let Vance’s death be in vain. The tale of the vengeful man on a vengeful path.
“You should walk away.” He shut his stinging eyes. “Before more people want me dead. I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to you because of me-” He took a deep breath- “I’m not who you think I am.”
You retracted your hand. The room stood still for a long moment, his confession heavy in the air.
“I know what Shadow Company is,” you started. “What it does, how it differs from the military. And I trust you. You did what you had to.”
“But didI have to, really?” he said under his breath, shaking his head. “I don’t know what life will look like after tomorrow.” A tear fell and he pressed a palm over his eyes. It didn’t make it stop. “What do I do? Tell me what to do,” he choked as his shoulders shook.
He was no commander - just Phillip. A scrawny boy from Texas who cried over his scraped knee when he was shoved for his faded clothes. The one who never had friends for sleepovers. The same one who took the only birthday present his mum ever got him to school, only to have it crushed into tiny red pieces.
He wished you’d tell him everything was going to be alright. That it was all just a nightmare. That tomorrow was going to be another Monday where you’d make him coffee. He’d smile at you across the table because your blue coasters matched, and he’d drive you to work and you’d kiss him in his Rover. But what was just the boy in him wishful thinking.
Because this wasn’t for him. It never was. He’d always been on borrowed time.
But you held him, arms firm, your chest against his back. He shut his eyes tighter before turning towards you, staining your shoulder with his tears until his breathing slowed.
“This,” he said against your skin. “It won’t be the same anymore. Are you bitter towards me?”
“Chaos and war, there’s no escaping it.” You stroked his hair. “But you never have to do this alone.”
He let the words fill the void in his chest and pulled you closer. “Sweetheart, I want you watching over me until the very end.”
It was then your shoulders shook, arms loosening around him. You looked away, wiping at your pouring tears, and he pulled you back to his chest until the tremors waned.
He nuzzled your hair, the smell always soothing. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t… promise you anything. About the future.”
“At least we have now,” you mumbled into his shirt.
“I love you. So much. That hasn’t changed, and it won’t. That, I can guarantee.”
You fisted his shirt and kissed him. He smiled, the restrains around his chest loosened, and you laughed when you pulled away. Another tear escaped you as you reached for tissues, wiping his face with them.
Phillip let out a wet chuckle. He was an ugly crier, wasn’t he? Must have been all flushed and wet and snotty. Your eyes were puffy too, but they were still his absolute favourite to look at.
“I don’t know what you heard, but my mum. She loves you, never said anything bad about you.” He wiped your stray tear away with a thumb. “And I know because she’s only ever got me one gift, and it wasn’t even a handbag.”
You didn’t want to smile at his lame joke, but you did anyway.
“Did she… mention kids?”
You nodded, averting your gaze.
“She’s always liked babies,” he said and let out a soft sigh. “It feels silly to talk about it right now, everything else considered, but I’m fine with either. If you want kids, of course we can have ‘em, but if you don’t, it’s okay too.” He tilted your face to him by the chin. “It’s about us. No one else.”
He didn’t miss the flash of your bittersweet smile before you turned and leaned back against his chest.
He closed his eyes, arms around you. With your gentle breathing, comfortable silence settled. There was too much to do in so little time, but he’d take it - anything to pretend like the clock wasn’t ticking, like his flight to the beginning of the end was far further than it was.
He only needed now.
“How many are we thinkin’ though? Because I already have 500 kids or so.”
You snorted. “You mean your Shadows?”
“Yep.”
“Even the ones who can beat you up?”
“I didn’t hear that.” He chuckled. “So you want to be the mum, or no? They can’t feed themselves donuts, ya know.”
“Does that include the K9s?”
“Those are my grandkids.”
You laughed, light and clear, resonating in the depths of his soul as it warmed him from the inside. He wanted to remember the sound forever, no matter where he’d go.
“Rafe will retire at the end of the month. Would you take care of him for me?” he asked. ”If I can’t?“
You tipped your head to him, the softest smile on your lips. “I’ll wait for you, big boy.” You might have muttered the words, but your resolve was loud.
Phillip had lost enough in this lifetime. They could take it all again, but this, he’d die trying to keep.
I shouldn’t run. I should fight.
He was done living like a roach. No one was standing in his way this time.
Especially not Shepherd.
The next part is linked above if already up
Masterlist
Phillip would have to be shot dead before he’d admit he was losing it.
Shadow Company continued assisting the ULF, and Commander Karim was more than thankful for the aid. Can’t be much a help if I’m dead, he’d said, dimples showing, and Farah shook his hand in understanding. She might be loyal to Price, but there was nothing she loved more than her country.
With no real threat of him getting ratted out, he shouldn’t be so bent out of shape. But could you ever be too careful in the line of work?
Sure, he had impeccable poker face, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t struggling. Because how could he keep it together when it was you? When every moment he spent with you could be the last? If he had a bounty on his head, so be it, but he would never let you be collateral.
It was only natural to want to keep you out of harm’s way, right? To not be in public with you, away from prying eyes and snooping ears. But you liked the gifts, didn’t you? You wore them, looking so pretty and sweet for him. Still, you looked best in his button downs, the ones you deemed too soft to not wear to bed. He let you.
He wanted to get you everything, anything you wanted. A house, a car? You just had to say the word, and it’d be yours. There was nothing he wouldn’t give you. It was the only thing keeping you from leaving him.
A man wasn’t much else without his influence and millions after all. It was just a cruel fact of life – one he’d had to learn too early.
Had he been loaded when he was younger, his relationships would have worked. Even if it didn’t make them real. But he had you now, and he was not going to lose you. He had to keep you long enough, tide you over until everything blew over. Until the loose ends were tied.
Las Almas was a ghost peering in the shadows.
Phillip could never erase the past. On his own volition or not, he’d done what he’d done: taken over the Mexican Special Forces’ base on the Colonel’s suspected association with the elusive El Sin Nombre, and ordered the hit on 141 after they attacked when told to stand down.
It wasn’t only that. In the pursuit of Hassan, the cartel had assassinated Las Almas civilians for information on their missing leader. Because he’d detained Valeria. Because he had to find the missiles. All because of that fucking night in Al Mazrah.
The consequences of his actions.
Despite raiding the town and executing corrupt police and cartel associates, Shadow Company couldn’t get further intel on the “Major’s” whereabouts.
Not Ghost and Soap’s either, who’d killed a handful of his men on their way through. Men they’d been comrades with just hours prior. But perhaps it was just as well - he’d never wanted to use lethal force before they crossed the line.
No matter. As long as they were out of the picture and he could finish his mission. He didn’t need to lose more men to right a wrong.
Yes, Valeria proved to be tight-lipped in his custody, but he didn’t sweat – she just needed some motivation, didn’t she? Until the 141 and Los Vaqueros took the facility back, that was, and Phillip “died” in some crusty, fucking tank.
Yet after everything, would he have told Shepherd to fuck off and burnt the bridge? Would he have abandoned his orders in Las Almas and let Vance’s death be in vain? Would he have ordered QRF that night in Al Mazrah against the general’s wish, saving his squad but exposing the illegal operation and risked everything he’d dedicated his whole life for?
Phillip didn’t plan this. He never planned on meeting you, let alone starting anything or feeling so deeply about you. It never crossed his mind his filthy hands would touch something so sacred, something that was never supposed to be his. What would you think of him if you knew?
And perhaps it was why this, too, had scared him. More than all the times he could taste the thrill of death on his tongue. You shouldn’t look at him like that, with that kind of smile like he was the best thing that had happened to you. He wasn’t the man you thought he was.
Maybe that was how the fire of fear produced its first wisps of guilt, sticking to his hair, swirling and filling his lungs opaque. How dare he want so much with you?
Not when he hadn’t fixed this. Not when he wasn’t acquitted.
Phillip and his best team sifted through any scrap of evidence with a fine-toothed comb, something that would give him bulletproof cover if he ever needed it. That while he’d fired on blue and torn through the town – despite all the fatalities, it was fully authorised to get that third missile back with all means necessary.
You’d forgive him one day, right? When he was a better man, when he didn’t do things he’d regret anymore. When his sins were dead and buried, maybe then he could look you in the eyes again.
All for the greater good.
The commander jerked in his seat when the pistol’s spring and barrel clattered against the table.
“Why are you here, Phillip? Why-“ you gestured at you and him- “You don’t have to keep pretending you want to see me.”
He frowned. “Of course I want to see you. I’m here, right?”
“Like I’m some chore that needs tending to.”
He stared, unfolding his arms. “Why would you say that? I do want to be here.”
“You’ve been…” Your hand rose, clenching. “You’re barely there, acting like… Like I don’t exist.” You dropped your fist with a sigh. “When was the last time we did something, actually spent some time together without you getting distracted by work?”
His gaze drifted.
“That’s what I thought,” you spat sarcastically before taking a deep breath, eye shut. “If you’ve changed your mind, decided you don’t want this anymore-“ your voice shook, brows furrowing- “The least you could be is honest.”
“What- Baby, what are you saying? I haven’t changed my mind. I still-”
“It doesn’t look like it, does it?” you snapped. “Why did you assign me a driver? So you can get me off your back? Because I’m not good enough for you to take out anymore?”
Phillip stared at you, your lip quivering, tears brimming. His heart clenched. What had he done?
“Sweetheart, it’s nothing like that. I promise.” He got up and knelt down next to you, a hand grasping yours in your lap. “I can’t tell you everything, but last year-“ He sighed and met your eyes- “I might have made an enemy or two.”
Your features softened, tone dropping in caution. “Are you in danger?”
“I’m not,” he stated. He wasn’t lying – he was in no more danger than he always was. “And you’re not either,” he added with confidence.
That was true at least. No one wanted civilian blood on their hands. That ghost was too heavy for anyone to carry.
“I just need some more time to work through this, okay? I hope you trust me.”
You turned away. “Not when you make me feel like you don’t want me.” Your voice cracked, and the tears finally slipped.
That sliced him open. He’d been working himself to the bone for what? It didn’t matter if he saved himself if it wasn’t for you, to come home to you. If he had to hurt you.
He laid his head on your lap, arms around you. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to make you feel ignored, or unwanted.” He paused. “I know sometimes I forget everything else when I’m buried in work, but please. Tell me next time, okay? Yell at me if you need to.”
“It’s not about that, P,” you murmured. “I just want you to be there with me, even if we’re doing nothing.”
“Yes, I’m sorry. I’ll do better, I promise.” He pressed his cheek against your stomach. “And I want you. I do, always.”
You sniffled, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. “I know we’re not together, but I-“
“HWh0t-“ He yanked himself off you, staring right into your stunned eyes. “Are you serious? We’re not together?” he repeated in disbelief, pointing between you and him. “My mum flew in just to give you a handbag, and- You’re the only non-personnel allowed on base, and we’re not together. What the hell do you think this is?”
Your gaze fell away. “Well- I mean- We never… talked about it.”
“What are you implying?” he asked, hurt bleeding into his voice. “Has there been anyone else?”
“No,” you affirmed, gaze cutting to his. “And I know there hasn’t been anyone else for you either.”
Phillip searched your eyes, still glassy, but they told everything he needed. His heart swelled. Despite his responsibilities, you wanted this just as much as he did, and he’d be the stupidest man to mess it up.
“Damn fuckin’ right.” He smirked. “We’re together when you put on my hat. I thought you said you knew this.”
You gave a tiny smile, but another tear slipped. “Your mum, she’s okay with it?”
“Why would she not be?”
You shook your head, and he wiped the tear away with his thumb.
“I better be your only big boy, or we’re gonna have a real problem here.”
That got a chuckle out of you.
“Everyone knows you’re my woman. You’re the only one who didn’t know; I can’t believe it.” He cupped your face, stroking your cheek before a devious smile graced him. “Hey, even your neighbours-“
“Phillip!” You gave his arm a playful shove before hiding your face behind your hands. You only lasted two seconds before losing against the urge to join his laughter.
When it simmered down, he said, “Now, I hope you didn’t tell my mum about this. Or she’s going to send Ox to beat me up.”
You gasped, eyes twinkling in mock disbelief. “Are you… scared? Commander Phillip Graves?”
“Oh, you think this is funny, huh?” He grabbed your sides. “Why do you think he’s called Ox? Do you know how much he benches?”
This was a joke, of course. Well… Maybe he meant it a little. He might be the one signing the cheques, but he was convinced Oscar would listen to his mum over him in a heartbeat. Perhaps he needed to revisit his contract.
You erupted in laughter, bending forwards in your seat, too weak to fight off his tickles. It reminded him of that time he rolled up in the pink Mini cabriolet, losing it like you’d never seen anything quite as hilarious. He wanted you like this all the time.
His fingers eased and he took your hand to his lips. “You want some milkshake?”
“You want some milkshake.”
He grinned. “Only if you do.”
For the first time in a while, Phillip stayed over. He wore one of your oversized shirts and held you all night, face buried in your hair. In the morning, he had his coffee with the sandwich you made (it was supposed to be for lunch, but his stomach wasn’t cooperating).
When he swung the door open to drive you to work, he paused in the doorway. “Ox?”
The broad figure turned with the precision and efficiency of a soldier. “Graves. Miss.” He nodded at the both of you. “Good morning.”
“I told you not to come today.”
“You did,” he agreed, blinking as it dawned on him. “I don’t know why I’m here,” he said in incredulity, mostly to himself.
“Oh, no.” A hand on his shoulder, you leaned in to whisper, “He’s a sleeper agent and he’s here to beat your ass.”
Phillip barked out a laugh, and with it, you took off. “Oh, you’re gonna get it,” he called as he quickly locked the door before dashing after you, leaving behind Oscar who was still dealing with the product of his force of habit.
When he caught up to you, he threw you over his shoulder, hauling you to his Rover. It only made you giggle harder as you hung onto him.
Nearing your workplace, you held his hand on your thigh. “I’ll order you lunch.”
“I’ll get you something too.” Not taking his eyes off the road, he brought your hand to his lips. “Not gifts,” he quickly added. As per your request.
Within days, you slipped back into the old routine, texting throughout the day, calling before bed. Phillip had let chaos consume him, and in result neglected you. And himself, you reminded, and insisted he didn’t skip any more meals. He’d forgotten how easy it was to be with you, how good it was to let you to fuss over him.
He wanted to prove to you he was taking care of himself, see. He was on top of his game, pumping iron to infinity and beyond, trying to get the bulk back for you. Did you like him sweaty and shirtless? He liked to imagine you were all flustered at work looking at the photos he took. After he kicked out the Shadows in the gym who failed to hold their laugh, that was.
Did they want toilet duty? Because there were plenty of toilets to go round on base. If only they knew Miller the Sniper had to beg to get off his. They were just jealous they didn’t have a sweetheart to send photos to.
Instead of weekly staycation, you wanted to see new places. The metallic blue convertible Phillip picked you up in on Saturday was mainly for himself. With a bashful smile, you zipped up your jacket (formerly his) as you declined his offer to drive. The Mustang’s white racing stripe on the bonnet and the ‘5.0’ badge on the fender intimidated you.
And so he drove and drove under the clear sky. The engine roared through foreign backroads, gold and deep green all round. You had your hand on his thigh, and with the wind in your hair and lungs full of crisp autumn air, he didn’t need to look over to know you were smiling. He stole a glance anyway. He didn’t expect you to be looking at him with such soft eyes.
Along your way to nowhere, he made stops, because he needed to take care of his sweet little princess, didn’t he? First for some corndog, and second for a burger where you smiled at him in the parking lot.
“Maybe you should enjoy the view this time.”
“That so?”
“It’s rude to hog the passenger seat, don’t you think?”
He laughed, tossing you the keys.
You grinned ear to ear as you stepped on the pedal. He remembered that addicting feeling when he first drove a fast car, like his chest was about to burst with exhilaration, like he could fly with the lurch of the engine as his blood pumped with adrenaline. He patted your thigh.
Your next stop was a diner where you got a slice of apple pie to share. He looked at you after the waitress took your orders.
“Why are you smiling like that?”
“Did you like the Mustang?”
“Was that another test drive, Mr. Sales Advisor?”
“Might want a weekend ride.”
You tiled your head. “Really?”
“Why, you don’t like it?”
“You don’t even like going out on the weekends!”
“Which is why you need to also like it so we can share. It’s a nice car, isn’t it?”
“Mhm. Sounds really good too.”
He lit up. “It’s the V8, cranks out 450 hp. The Mach 1 is even better.”
“But you better drive it if you get it! It’s too scary for me,” you said, but drove the whole way back home.
Meanwhile, Phillip’s assistant found new private chef candidates. The commander set aside the next Saturday for the most promising one. He couldn’t resist the plump, perfectly rolled chocolate croissants and the colourful macarons in his portfolio.
That late morning, you both welcomed Isack to the house. He was in his mid-60s with experience at various Michelin restaurants throughout his career before retiring a few years ago, private cheffing ever since.
“Mr. Graves-” He shook the commander’s hand with a grin, clasping his left one over it before taking yours- “Mrs. Graves. Thank you for having me,” he said, French accent thick and rich.
Before you could react, he replied, “Pleasure is all ours,” pulling you to him by the waist as he smiled. He didn’t correct the chef on the delightful mix-up.
Rafe trailed behind, sniffing the chef in curiosity as you gave him a little tour of the kitchen before leaving him to prepare lunch. Meanwhile, you got changed and hopped onto the donut floats.
“Mrs. Graves, huh,” you teased. Attempted to at least. It wasn’t very convincing when you had to bite down your smile as you patted Rafe on your lap.
Phillip chuckled. You liked that too, didn’t you? “Far better than when my mum is called that.”
You turned to him. “Seriously?”
“I know. I don’t look that old.”
“I was going to say she doesn’t look that old.”
He laughed. “Well, you’re the one here with me, aren’t you?”
You opened your mouth, and closed it again. “Touché.”
“I knew you liked my greying hair.”
“Busted.”
He leaned in, giving you a chaste kiss. The proximity made Rafe jump off and swim away. On the deck, he shook himself dry and lay down with his tongue out.
Phillip leaned back on his donut, hands behind his head. “You know, I dyed my hair black once.”
“No way.”
“Yep, right after bootcamp. Always wanted to see what it looked like on me. Those $400 cheques made me feel like a millionaire.”
You smiled. “Well, how did you look?”
“Good. For a day.” His lips pulled to one side. “Turned out I was allergic to it.”
“Oh no, how bad was it?”
“I came home with red, itchy scalp. At least my mum said black suited me.”
You laughed. “She must have missed you.”
“She wasn’t very happy that I enlisted, but I had to get off her back somehow.”
The Corps promised him food, a roof and a steady pay. They kept their end of the bargain and with how life had been, he couldn’t ask for much more.
He shrugged, a playful smile on his lips. “I like to think she’s at least a little glad I did.”
You patted his hair.
“So only blond or grey for me now.”
“I like you either way.”
The way you looked at him so softly didn’t have to make his stomach flip. Would you get to see him grey?
He cupped your face in his rough hand. He didn’t have to lean that far forward, really, but he did anyway.
“Phillip,” you warned against his lips, before his weight capsized your float. You resurfaced with a laugh, pushing water off your face before pinching his side. “You keep doing that!”
“What can I say?” He gave you a shit eating grin. “Love getting you wet.”
At noon, Isack served a colourful salad and the most flavourful onion soup, followed by a generous serving of golden, bubbling potato gratin. One bite in and you shared a look. His cooking had enamoured you just as much. The orange crepes he made for dessert sealed the deal.
You’ll hear from my assistant very soon, Phillip said at the door. The chef, a very smiley man as you’d discovered, thanked you again for the opportunity before giving Rafe a few pats. The K9 panted and let out a little bark. Phillip still didn’t correct the Mrs. Graves situation.
You took Rafe to the park and after a few laps, you settled on the bench for the K9 to rehydrate. You leaned against Phillip’s shoulder, his arm along the backrest.
He kissed the top of your head. “I found out what my shirt’s made of.”
You glanced at his white button down before facing him. “What is it?” you asked innocently.
“Boyfriend material.”
You pressed your lips into a line before bursting into laughter. “Oh God, you and your lame jokes. What a dork.”
He grinned. “You love me anyway.”
“You’re lucky I do,” you said with a light tone, leaning back against him.
It’d always been too easy bantering with you that he almost forgot what the words meant. He stilled at the realisation. Was he blushing? Could you feel his heartbeat against your back?
“If I said it, would you say it back?” he said into your hair, eyes pinched shut.
“Say what?”
“What I said,” he muttered.
The pause felt much longer before you turned to him fully, eyes twinkling. You smiled, a little teasing, a little giddy. “You’ll have to find out.”
He looked into your eyes, the way they creased, how bright they were in the sun. He let out a small sigh. “I love you.”
You broke into a grin, and he mirrored you in relief, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Well?”
“It back.”
The smile flickered as his brows furrowed. “What?”
“I’m saying ‘it back’.”
He stared. “I’m going home.” He pushed himself off the bench.
You laughed as you grabbed his arm. “Wait, no! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You cupped his face, pulling him in for a kiss. “I love you, Phillip.”
His spine tingled at the words, or the way you fisted his shirt. It didn’t matter. He might have giggled against your lips as his chest burst.
The conversation back at your place wasn’t easy, but you were glad for it because your Phillip was back. He took you out like he used to, spent time with you and stayed at yours after taking you out to get groceries once a week. Oscar managed to get his habit under control and stayed home when he was told.
Something seemed to shift after the exchange. Phillip’s shoulders were a little looser, smiles a little wider. Maybe it was the acknowledgement of what this was, or the admission that he, too, could lose himself sometimes.
He’d always been that guy. Unfazed. Someone who always had his matters together. Yet what you thought of him didn’t change. He was still the blond boy from Texas who went through hell and beat the odds, the one who was pounded on the anvil of life and asked if it was all they got for him.
But he was more human to you now, and you liked it that way.
He still stayed late at work sometimes, or locked himself in his office on the weekend, but he’d take the time to check up on you. You were happy with the arrangement - he listened. And maybe, not being kept in the dark allowed you to give him more grace.
It was easy to forget about the months of disconnect with the change, and his confession on the park bench only solidified that. He’d gone beet red for it, his heartbeat picking up, and you’d never seen him more honest.
Maybe your prank had been a little mean (he accepted your apology in return for a few, long kisses), but you meant it with your soul when you repeated the words back. Especially that same night before bed, when you rubbed the cuff of his ear with your thumb and he pretended to not giggle while his shoulders shrugged. You told him again and his face instantly combusted. You pressed a kiss on his forehead.
Come morning, while Phillip was in his office with the coffee you made, you welcomed Mikaela for her last day. Rafe barely rounded the corner before making his way back to the living room. He’d never cared for Mikaela, not even on her last day, unlike he’d been for Isack just the day before.
“Someone looks happy,” she teased as she placed the grocery tote on the counter.
You could only bite down your smile.
She made all your favourites that day, even if she had to do some of the prepping at home. Parting gift, she said. While you helped here and there, Mikaela told you more about her new client, and how she was considering moving to cut down on travel time.
You invited her to eat together, but she refused, unfortunately pressed for time for another client. Phillip waited for you at the table when you walked her to her Beetle. You gave her a squeeze.
“I admire you, you know.” She retracted her arm from your shoulder, giving you a mock concerned look. “You’re really brave pursuing someone like Graves. You gotta be at least a little… delusional, especially when you’re…” Her eyes slid down your body as she stifled a smile.
Your heart stopped. What-
“Don’t get too comfortable. You know his type. With options lined up, they don’t have to stay bored.” She got in her car. “No hard feelings, yeah? I’m just looking out for you.”
You stayed frozen in place as she drove off. When you finally snapped out of it, you rushed back to the house, barely holding your tears back. You didn’t mean to slam the main door before locking yourself in the bathroom, ignoring Rafe’s concerned whine.
Moments later, came the knocks. “Sweetheart? Everything okay?”
“Just give me a minute,” you managed as evenly as you could.
Things were just getting good again. You were not acknowledging whatever she’d just said. You refused to breathe a soul into that fucking lie. She was not getting to you, someone who could only dream of having what you had.
You calmed your breathing before coming out, finding Phillip leaning against the nearby wall. You thought your eyes weren’t too puffy, but it was him.
“Aww, baby.” He pulled you into a tight hug before kissing you on the temple. “You can always see her again.”
You hoped you never had to again.
“Come on, let me feed you before lunch gets cold.” He led you back to the dining table, the K9 and his wagging tail following close.
The following Thursday, Rafe’s retirement date had been settled. Phillip couldn’t wait to tell you in person when he came over for dinner later, already imagining your smile.
Despite having to supervise a routine shipment to Farah on comms in the evening, it was a relatively slow day – predictable. That was, until he received the call.
The tone, only reserved for emergencies, ominous as it blared in his silent office. He straightened up in his leather chair, thoughts racing a mile a minute as he pressed the phone to his ear.
Makarov was out.
The next part is linked above if already published
Masterlist
Phillip Graves | 3.2k | angst
If things were too good to be true (p1) (p10)
Maybe you should have agreed to a driver much earlier.
Oscar was your personal InstaCart and DoorDash all rolled into one, helping you with your errands during the day. It didn’t hurt that Phillip gave him the company credit card either.
He’d since dressed in casual attire too, all black, of course (very Shadow, very demure). You sent him home for lunch, sometimes with sweet treats too for his wife and kids. He looked awfully sincere when he offered to clean your place weekly in return.
While you’d joked about it when Phillip first offered, now that you had your own ride, he didn’t go out with you on weekdays anymore. He didn’t stay over either, only got takeaway to have at yours.
As silly as it sounded, you missed shopping with him. But you understood it was a chore and he’d rather spend his time doing something else, especially since he’d been so busy lately.
You’d come over on Friday night only to wait until 9 for him to come home with Rafe. He’d inhale his dinner and you’d run him a bath before he climbed into bed with you, the Malinois curled up by your tangled feet.
Saturday morning, you’d make him coffee he’d have on the pool deck before Mikaela came to bake with you, and he’d lock himself in his office. You’d spend the rest of the weekend watching movies with Rafe at your feet or working on a craft project together before Oscar would drive you back home.
That Sunday afternoon, you looked over from your lounger. Phillip had spent the day at his desk, only then taking a break from his screens after your coercing.
“Should we go out for dinner?”
He turned to you, pushing his sunglasses up to his hair. “What do you want, baby? I’ll order in.”
"Oh- well, it’s just, it’s been a while since we went out.”
It was something he suggested often, but always turned down these days. Yes, he was injured, and had been too stubborn to use his crutch as long as recommended, but he’d been working out again for weeks, was even scheduled for a mission the coming week. You weren’t asking for walks either, just some time out together.
“Not tonight, sweetheart. I still have a lot of reports to read.” He brought your hand to his lips. “But you can go if you want. Ox can drive you.”
You averted your gaze. It was okay. You could wait. His responsibilities weren’t for the faint of heart. If you couldn’t help, the least you could be was understanding, right?
He scooted to the edge of his lounger, waving you over. You rested your head on his shoulder, arm around his bare waist. Your thumb brushed over an old gunshot wound on his side.
It had only been a few months, but had the novelty of this burnt out? It’d been so lovely and you savoured it knowing it would pass. You didn’t know it was going to be so soon. It was always too good to be true, wasn’t it? Someone so sweet and giving and accomplished like Phillip. It didn’t hurt that he was so good looking too.
“Sorry, you know how busy it can get before I leave.” He kissed your forehead. “I’ll plan something for when I’m back, okay?”
No matter. As long as he still wanted this.
You thought the staycation following his return was just that, but he started booking it weekly, where he spent most of the day in bed with you. You didn’t complain.
“You definitely earned bragging rights,” you teased, fingers tracing his signature smirk.
He leaned in, nose rubbing down the side of your neck. “The way you say my name is all the validation I need.”
You didn’t know where all the energy was from. Pent up frustration from work? Or did he think you weren’t satisfied? The pleaser had been nothing but generous.
But he’d sit with his laptop with that faraway look in his blue eyes, hair still tussled from your fingers, pyjama pants slung low on his hips.
You plopped yourself on his lap; the gesture always made him smile. He’d authorised you to latch onto him whenever you wanted, as long as he wasn’t on a video call.
You wrapped your arms around his neck. “There’s a perfumery workshop next week.”
“I’ll have to pass on that.”
“I can look up something else.”
“Raincheck?”
Your eyes travelled across his face. His heavy eyes and more pronounced cheekbones. The scruff that usually gave him a handsome ruggedness made him look tired and older this time.
“Can we bake later then?” You pushed his hair back and away from his face. “Let’s try something new. Something with a lot of coffee in it.”
He laughed, tapping your nose. “Whatever you want. We can bake all night.”
Then the gifts started. It was a bottle of a foreign perfume the very next day. A bouquet of flowers sent to work another Thursday, and after driving you home some Monday, Oscar handed you a bag topped with a large bow from a jeweller. It was a bracelet at first, then necklaces and rings. Keeping everything in a drawer seemed a little obvious, so you started putting them in random spots in your place, hoping you wouldn’t forget them.
Then came the watches, bags, shoes and dresses. They were more than beautiful and you couldn’t stop thanking Phillip, but you didn’t need these extravagant gifts. He knew this, right? You never asked for any of it.
He didn’t take you out anymore, let alone to classes – only nearby drive-thrus at most, or the restaurants at the hotels which were mostly empty and secluded. Was he embarrassed, maybe even ashamed of you? Was it why he bought you all these things? He always had an expensive taste, but did he not like you for you anymore?
He had options. Everyone knew a man like him could have whoever he wanted. It wasn’t like you didn’t take care of yourself, but you started wearing the things he got you. You’d send a selfie wearing a necklace to work, or a dress to a nice dinner with your girls. He always complimented you, still kissed you, still rested his hands on your waist as he told you how beautiful you were, but nothing changed.
The gifts kept pouring. When you ran out of space at yours, you brought them to his. You finally had enough to fill the part of his closet he’d cleared for you, but with rows and rows of bags and velvet boxes that lined the shelves, it might as well have been a storefront. A storefront of items that wouldn’t get to see the world.
On the donut float, Phillip admired the large, stupidly shiny rock on your middle finger. “It’s perfect on you,” he muttered, pressing a kiss on your ring finger before frowning at you. “You getting a little cold, sweetheart?”
You shook your head, not trusting your voice.
“You sure?” His gaze dropped to your chest, chuckling at the peaks poking from under your swimsuit.
Being in the pool was new “going out” - the only time you had him completely, away from his screens. Could you blame yourself for staying until your fingertips wrinkled?
“Come on, let’s shower and eat.”
You squeezed his hand. “Can we look at the stars after?”
Guilt gripped you for even thinking about it, but you almost missed it when he was away. When each call or text was devoted to you, like it was the only time he needed you.
“For a bit, sure. I still have stuff to do. But bring a blanket. Don’t want you to catch a cold.”
Phillip had always been a bit of a hermit, hadn’t he? When you first knew him, he almost never went out. Never really had a reason to, he said, until you.
You tried to understand, really. He couldn’t be where he was without his sacrifices. You knew this full well, and still decided to try. So you stuck around, baking and cooking with Mikaela, taking Rafe on walks around the quiet neighbourhood.
When he eventually found out about your walks, he went red in the face. Like he was a hair away from exploding, yet said in an eerily calm tone that you were never to be out alone, and left it at that.
But waiting around in a house that wasn’t even yours as he stewed in his office for hours on end was getting exhausting, pathetic even. It was almost like he didn’t want you there, like these things he threw at you were to fill a void or pacify you. It only highlighted what you missed.
While you went on staycations on Saturday, you started spending your Sundays with your girls or hanging out at Johanna’s, only coming over to his to stay the night. The way he pulled you to his chest in his sleep was the only thing you could hold onto. That he still wanted you, wanted this, even the tiniest bit.
Something simmered under the surface. Phillip’s sombre mood that lasted no more than a day or two post mission had stretched to months now.
You should have realised it sooner, that something had stolen the shine in his eyes. When he ordered you take home the pistol he kept in his nightstand after the Uber incident. He explained how the components worked and taught you how to field strip it. He made you do it at least twice a month.
But was it your place to ask? To demand answers, his time and attention. You weren’t his wife.
You told yourself it was temporary. You could wait. For the Phillip you once had, even when you didn’t know how long it was going to be.
How foolish were you to think that Saturday was going to be any different?
It was the first time in a while you were over in the morning, as Phillip would meet you at the hotels for the staycations. Mikaela had been offering to show you how to make her new salad recipe, and after weeks, you finally agreed.
Phillip kissed you at the door before hurrying back into his office, and once more, you were left with the panting Rafe to wait around. Soon, you welcomed the chef and helped her with washing vegetables as she chopped them, telling you about the spa she visited the week before.
You hated yourself for even entertaining the thought, but perhaps this was what the human mind would do in the dark, when it clutched at nothing for too long. There was no one else, you told yourself. Especially not Mikaela.
She’d been around for over a year. Yes, the chef had shot her shot, even tried to touch his arm that time she mixed up her schedule. You didn’t want to be mean, but it was comical how she’d blush and giggle when he barely even looked at her. But she could do whatever she wanted, tell herself whatever helped her sleep at night. You were the one he paraded around on his arm.
The pride and reassurance that once filled you had morphed into shameful bitterness. You couldn’t help but remember you were once pathetically invisible to him too. Even right then. Seeing her only made your stomach twist further.
“Hey, you okay?” she asked, pausing her knifework.
“Sorry.” You blinked, scrambling to turn the faucet off. “What were you saying?”
“I said I’m putting in my two-week notice.”
“What?” you said incredulously.
She gave you an apologetic smile. “I meant to tell you sooner, but I hadn’t seen you in a while.”
“Oh, what happened?”
“I’m working with a new client, an athlete couple, 6 days a week. I have to drop a few of the current ones.” She chuckled. “Hard to say no. The cheque is fat.”
Relief and guilt clashed in you. You didn’t want to admit you might have wanted her out of the picture, especially when she hadn’t done anything. But at least she seemed happy.
You smiled, shoulders relaxing. “Wow, that’s great, Mikaela. Congrats on the new gig.”
“I’ll miss baking with you.” She gave a playful pout. “You’re such a fast learner.”
You laughed. “I’ll miss having you around too.”
“Promise we’ll stay in touch?”
“Of course. You’ll have to keep giving me bakery recommendations.”
After the chef left, you called Phillip for lunch before heading to the hotel he’d booked. At the table, you brought up Mikaela quitting.
“We’ll have to look for a new chef then. How about you pick this time? Make sure you like their cooking.”
It was irrational how his cool smile pleased you, like a confirmation he didn’t give two shits about her. But he’d never given you a reason to doubt him.
You nodded.
“Oh, also,” he said after swallowing his bite. “My mum’s flyin’ in Tuesday.”
“From New York? I thought she was with friends.”
He nodded. “She got you a handbag. Wanted to deliver it to you personally before she flies back home.”
You let out a small laugh. “Why would she do that?’
“Because I wouldn’t use it if she got it for me.”
You poked his side, making him jerk with a chuckle.
Phillip had arranged dinner at an Italian for Tuesday night, the same upscale one his mum had her birthday brunch at. No one was surprised he was stuck on base and couldn’t make it.
Oscar picked you up after work with Madeline in the backseat. Just because he can’t make it, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t go, she’d said. That, and she wasn’t going to pass up on their panna cotta.
“Always working, that boy.” She took a sip of her red wine. “I hope he still spends enough time with you at least.”
You considered. “He’s been really busy these days, yeah.”
“You should to force him out sometimes, even if it takes Ox to haul him out of his office. If he complains, tell him it’s on my order.”
You laughed. The paint and sip was one of the methods, wasn’t it?
When the laughter simmered down, she clasped her hand over yours. “Sugar, I don’t mean to overstep, but I was wondering,” she said with a shy smile, gaze drifting. “Have y’all made plans yet?”
You stared. “Sorry, what plans?”
“Oh, you know. Marriage. Kids.” She waved. “I mean… He’s not getting any younger.”
You let out an awkward chuckle. “We haven’t talked about that.”
“But you do want kids, right?” she asked hopefully.
You shifted in your seat. “Oh- well, I haven’t really thought about it.“
“Right, sorry. Forget I asked.” She gave you a reassuring smile before retracting her hand. You didn’t miss how her shoulders sagged. “As long as y’all are happy.”
You nodded, but couldn’t meet her eyes for the next few moments as you swirled your drink. But Madeline being Madeline, steered the conversation and got you chatting again in no time. Knowing you had your bedtime to stick to, she didn’t keep you too long after dessert.
In front of your building, you thanked her again for the lovely handbag and gave her a squeeze, wishing her a safe flight back the following day. You were always happy to see her – she was a sweet woman, but the way your stomach churned, you could barely hold your tears back as you made it to your door.
You could barely concentrate on Wednesday.
The events of the night before tugged on your mind. You told yourself it wasn’t personal. It wasn’t weird to want your son to get married or have kids. But maybe all the staycations were for that. Maybe Phillip wanted kids, but never told you. You never even spoken about labels.
Him being busy was one thing - you could be patient. But now that you’d lost her approval, someone he held in such a high regard? How could you not lose your footing when you’d disappointed her?
It didn’t help that Phillip drove his mum to the airport for her late morning flight. Did she talk about you, shook some sense into him? Would she do that, after how nice she’d been to you? She only wanted the best for her son, but what if you weren’t good enough for him?
Your mind had been a cruel place these days, how it kept shoving you under no matter how much you fought for the surface. At least he’d promised to make it up to you for missing dinner, that he’d come over. Cuddles would help calm your ruminations, remind you why you were sticking around. For your thoughtful and sweet Phillip under all his responsibilities.
Nights at yours were rare, away from his reports, no matter how late and unusually quiet he was that evening. It didn’t mean his mum said anything, right? Your gaze travelled to his car key as he set it down at one end of the table. The heart keychain, disfigured and dirty from wear seemed to mock you. He’d promise to take care of it.
You tried to not let the dull ache in your chest take over and did your best shoving your favourite takeout down your throat. Your stomach didn’t seem to want to keep anything down.
He stole glances. You couldn’t decide if it made you feel better that he didn’t ask. When you finally pushed the last half of your meal away, he looked up.
“Was too hungry. Snacked a bit earlier.”
He nodded, gaze back on his plate.
“I made you a sandwich while I waited. For tomorrow.”
“Thanks, sweetheart,” he said, followed by more silence.
And you watched him, fork poking around at his food as he chewed. You noted how he barely looked at you. He didn’t kiss you at the door that day, instead gave you a loose one-armed hug.
But his tired eyes made your heart throb. He’d missed more meals, hadn’t he? His watch sat lower on his wrist.
“You got time to watch something tonight?”
He swapped his empty plate for yours. “Not too late for you?”
You offered a smile. “No, I can stay up.”
You cleared the table, but instead of moving to the couch, he stayed put.
“Take your pistol out.”
Your gaze dropped to the dishes you were holding. “Can we do that later, after the movie?”
“No. Now,” he answered, like you shouldn’t have asked. Like you shouldn’t want things.
Phillip leaned back in his seat, sharp-eyed with his arms crossed as he always did when supervising you.
You let out an uneven breath as you popped the magazine out. With shaky hands, you struggled to pull the tabs to remove the slide. When you finally did, you shut your eyes and took a deep, long breath. You didn’t mean to slam the disassembled pistol down.
The next part is linked above if already published
Masterlist
Phillip Graves | 3.6k | fluff
Rather be safe than sorry (p1) (p9)
The intel was good. Konni was in Al Mazrah, manufacturing chemical weapons in a bunker under Zaya Observatory.
Farah Karim welcomed Phillip to her base to discuss battle plans. Her Lieutenant, Alex Keller, addressed the elephant in the room: his alleged death. Oh, but he was never in that tank, was he? When asked what else he knew, Farah cut in – as pragmatic she always was, stating they had no time for rumours with her own battle to fight before Konni moved into Urzikstan.
With his supposition confirmed, Phillip smirked. She needed his help, which meant she’d keep his status under wraps. At least for the time being.
With ULF on overwatch, Shadow Company underwent Operation Rogue Arsenal to destroy the plant and contain the munitions. The mission was successful, or so he thought.
Unfortunately, one of their exfil choppers turned out to have been compromised. Two Konni operators posed as Shadows and slain four of his men for the secured gas canisters. The pilot, ever vigilant, sent a distress signal before he landed at the demanded coordinates. Realising it was an ambush, the operators fled, forced to abandon the gas.
Phillip hurt his ankle in the fruitless chase, but it didn’t matter as long as the cargo was secured and they were a step closer to taking down Konni.
Was he licking his wounds, if the first thing he wanted to do was to see you?
After a trip to the med bay that Friday evening, he made it to yours on a crutch with your favourite takeaway. You opened the door with a smile which dropped in an instance.
“Phillip, you’re hurt!” You took a step in, a hand on his arm before taking the bag off his hand. “You didn’t say anything. I wouldn’t have made you climb the stairs.”
“It’s no big deal.” He hobbled past your door.
“Phil…” You eyed his ankle, clad in compression sleeve.
“Just a sprain. Will be fine in 2 weeks.” He looked over his shoulder at your concerned expression. “Baby, we eating or not? I’m starvin’ here.”
You helped him to the couch, and after the meal, he laid his head on your lap. With the TV on, you played with his blond hair, the way that always made his eyes flutter. He was no stranger to suffering casualties, but you always made it better somehow, even just a bit.
“How about we go to yours tonight? I can’t have you climbing up and down these stairs.”
“My house has stairs too.”
“But only one flight.”
“Are you offering to carry me to my bed?” He turned to you with a smirk. “Bridal style?”
You laughed. “I can try to drag you at most.”
“You know what, that’s good enough for me.”
You drove to his and ran him a bath (lukewarm, as to not worsen his swelling) which he eventually persuaded you to join. What use was a large tub if you weren’t in it? With the lights low, you sat between his thighs, back pressing against his chest. He planted kisses on your shoulder, the scrape of his stubble making you shudder in his arms, before resting his chin there, eyes shut.
You bathed and dressed him, not letting him leave the bed the rest of the evening as you elevated and iced his ankle. How nice was it to have such a sweet little thing fuss and dote over him? And he let you. Damn, could you take care of him forever?
At bedtime, with the lights off, you came up behind him to spoon him, nuzzling his blond hair. He was overdue for his weekly trim at the barber on base. At least you liked it when he had a bit of a stubble, right? Made you giggle more when he kissed you.
He pulled your arm closer around him. “Am I still your big boy?”
You laughed, your breath warm on the nape of his neck. “What else would you be?”
He was a lucky bastard, wasn’t he? He couldn’t help but wonder what his men would think if they saw him like this, so soft and pliant for his woman. He surely would never hear the end of it.
The following morning, ever the stubborn bastard, Phillip shuffled to his office to retrieve his laptop to work in bed. Beyond the partly drawn curtains, a golden glow fell upon your sleeping form next to him. With the climb of the sun, the beam crept over your face. He sighed, his gaze swiping over you. The rhythm of your chest, the gentle breathing, the peace across your features and the lashes over your cheeks.
He smiled, stomach flipping. He was allowed to look, wasn’t he? You certainly never objected when he stared at you with unabashed enthusiasm. Perhaps land a playful slap to his arm before looking away with a giggle at most.
Disgustingly whipped, as he used to describe it. Look who was talking now. It was something he didn’t think he’d have for himself. But now that it was in his grasp? He would do anything to keep it.
You stirred with a long inhale. He perked up, setting his laptop on the nightstand before caressing your cheek with his knuckle. You gave a sleepy smile, eyes still shut.
“Mornin’, sunshine,” he whispered, scooting next to you.
You buried your face in his chest with a hum. “You had your coffee yet?”
“No.” He stroked your hair. “Thought the doctor told me to not leave the bed.”
His shirt drowned your laughter. “So the laptop crawled its way up here, huh?”
“It did actually. It’s a new feature- Wait, it’s Saturday.” His hand froze. “Shit, I forgot to book our staycation.”
You squinted at him. “I’m perfectly good with this. I’ll give you a massage.” Your head dropped back to his chest, voice muffled, “When I’m awake enough.”
He laughed, and he held you for a few more moments.
You made sure Phillip very carefully made his way to the pool deck to enjoy the morning sun. In his ‘little shorts’, as you affectionately called them. After finishing his coffee, he laid on his belly on the reclined lounger. You kneaded his back with oiled hands, massaging the knots away making him groan in satisfaction. You always knew how to delight him.
He sat back, the lounger now back upright. “Want to grab breakfast after this? We can go anywhere you want. Maybe that café at the park?”
You straddled him, rubbing his shoulders. “You shouldn’t do a lot of walking yet.”
“Are you suggesting a drive-through?” he asked, hands on your waist. “A burger sounds good.”
“Lunch?”
“Mhm. There’s nothing in the fridge. But you’re driving, right, baby?” he teased.
You chuckled, rubbing massaging his biceps and forearms. “Last time I gave you a massage here it ended very differently.”
“When my ankle’s fixed,” he said. “Unless you’re doing the riding, in which case-“ his gaze dropped down your body with a smirk- “ride away.”
You poked him, making him jerk sideways with a laugh.
“Just saying. I’m not decommissioned by any means.”
You kissed his forehead. “Copy, Commander.”
When you were done with the massage, you took his Rover to get breakfast from the nearby bakery, promising to continue working on the Ferrari Lego once you were back. With the click of the front door, his house was silent again.
He did not miss it one bit. In fact, you should be at his a lot more often, liven up his home a bit. It was always far too big for one. His guest rooms stood empty, safe for the one for his mother when she visited. If you were here, you could convert one into your study, maybe take another as your hobby room. And as for the rest of the house? You could do whatever you wanted with it, anything to make you feel at home.
He’d known you for less than a year, only kissing you for the past handful of months. It was a little fast, sure, but how would you feel about moving in? He certainly didn’t want to scare you, but why did he have to wait so long when he knew it was going to be you at the end? When he wanted it to be you, now and the next-
It dawned on him. If he was wary about it not working out, about his job getting in the way… Now it was another thing to lose. You were another thing to be taken away from him.
He had enemies - enemies who’d do anything to get to him. There was no line they wouldn’t cross. He knew it all too well. He’d been that man too.
Dread pooled in this stomach. Was it reasonable to be worried? You’d be fine, right? No one hated him that much. You’d been gone around 20. You should be back any minute, but before he knew it, he dialled your number.
You didn’t pick up. Probably because you were driving… his car. What if someone was after him and mistook you for him and- oh shit. Oh fuck.
The doorbell buzzed and his shoulders relaxed, before they tensed again. You knew the code and had the remote for the gate. A quick check of the camera revealed it was a Mikaela in her Volkswagen. He buzzed her in.
Phillip had given you his assistant’s number if you needed anything. Maybe you’d arranged something and he wasn’t notified. Odd. You always asked him first.
He’d left his shirt upstairs as he wasn’t expecting guests. He groaned, getting off the comfy lounger and shuffled to the door with his crutch, slick chest and all.
“Graves-“ The chef smiled before her gaze dropped down his body- “Oh.”
“Mikaela. I wasn’t expecting you.” He looked past her, in case you were driving in. “Are you baking today? She’s not here.”
“No, I thought I was scheduled to cook today?”
“I wasn’t aware.” He tilted his head in thought. “Wait- Are you sure? I wasn’t supposed to be back until Monday.”
Her brows rose. “Oh, did I mix up my schedule?”
“Think you did, yeah.”
“Well, I’m already here, might as well not waste the ingredients, right?” She gestured at the tote bag.
His gaze drifted to his cowboy hat on the foyer cabinet as he considered, before stepping aside to let her in. Probably could have stopped himself from blatantly sucking his teeth, but in his sour mood, he just wanted to have the house to himself and take his sweet time with you.
“Graves, you’re hurt. You shouldn’t be all alone.” She gave a coy smile. “Let me help, okay? I’ll take care of you.” She reached for his forearm which he yanked away.
He grimaced. “That’s not necessary. You should double check your schedule next time.”
Behind her, you pulled up to the gate and relief washed over him. He’d run up to you, but his dumb fuck ankle wouldn’t let him, so he made his way past Mikaela and waited on the porch with a silly grin.
You came up to him with a laugh, bag in hand. “You that hungry, huh?”
“You got no idea,” he answered, and with a hand on your waist, gave you a big ol’ smooch. “Mikaela’s here, said she mixed up her schedule.”
“I saw her earlier, but didn’t think she was stopping by. Would have got her something as well. She said she liked one of those matcha pound cakes.”
You gave her one of your pastries, which she thanked you for with tinged cheeks, before you made it out to the garden table for your breakfast. Phillip sat next to you, and you eyed him (his chest) with an amused smile.
“Like what you see, sweetheart?”
“Heard being shirtless helps sprained ankles heal faster.”
He smirked. “There’s evidence that not showering alone helps.”
You nodded sagely. “That does make a lot of sense.”
“We should test the hypothesis again after this.”
The laughter died down and you continued with your breakfast.
“Maybe we don’t need the burger after all. Will have food for lunch.”
“Yeah, sounds fine.”
His gaze lingered on you. Sweet and carefree, as you should be. This was his burden to carry, but how could he explain the situation without sounding like he was losing his mind? It wasn’t often he was at a loss for words.
He thought he’d moved on from Las Almas. The people who wanted him dead thought they’d killed him. What if next time it included you?
Yes, Farah kept her cards close to her chest, but there would be no reason for her to risk losing her most useful ally. Price might have been a long-time friend, but his aid along with Kate had nothing on the size of Shadow Company.
The ghost loomed once more. For the mistakes he’d made, he wasn’t the man you deserved. But he wanted to be, and he’d die trying. You’d let him, right?
“Baby, I’m assigning you a driver, okay?”
Your brow rose. “I thought we’ve talked about this.”
He couldn’t scare you with the truth. “Look, it’s not- I just want to take care of you. Would you let me? Please?”
Your eyes searched his. Probably surprised by the plea. A little apprehensive too, maybe. But you didn’t ask. You knew not to, knowing how he could be a little sensitive after coming home.
“At least when you come and go from here. Deal?”
You gave him a smile and a pat on his head. He hid his smile in the crook of your neck. With your cooperation, he was a little lighter.
You got huge burgers for dinner, and spent the rest of the weekend working on the Ferrari at his. Late Sunday night, when you eventually completed it, he grinned, with the utter joy of a young boy holding his prized possession. His chest was full and warm, and God, how did you make him this happy? Was he allowed to be this happy? He could only give you a big kiss.
With a laugh, you took a photo of him for his mum. He kept the Lego in his office, under the misty mountains painting, when it all started.
The week carried on as usual. You’d reply to Phillip’s good morning text when he was driving to base. You’d send a selfie or two though out the day, and he’d give you a little call before you went to sleep.
Things were fine. Of course they were. He was just overthinking the shit out of your safety.
So Thursday night when you suggested meeting him at a restaurant, he didn’t think much of it. He offered to pick you up, but you reasoned it was in the middle of the base and your workplace.
He gave you a quick kiss when you made your way to the table.
“Where’s your crutch?”
“Waited for you too long, got mad so I threw it out.”
You laughed, hands on his biceps as you gave him a once over. “Can you walk already?”
“Short distances, yeah. What took you so long, sweetheart?”
“Sorry, I had to get another ride.” You took your seat and he followed suit.
“Why?”
“The driver didn’t match the app profile, said he was using his girlfriend’s account. I know these things happen sometimes, but he didn’t give me a heads up.” You frowned, shifting in your seat. “It’s just he was huge, and pushy about me getting in too.”
He blinked. “You’re getting a driver, whenever you leave. I don’t want these things happening to you.” It wasn’t something he could risk. What if it really was someone with ill intentions?
“That’s fine, P. I can always cancel rides.”
“He’ll be with you when you’re out too.”
“You mean like a bodyguard?” You let out a chuckle, shaking your head. “Hard pass.”
“I’m not negotiating.”
You frowned at his sombre expression. “Phil- Are you okay? Is something the matter?”
With a sigh, he looked away, arms over his chest. It was easy to assign someone to you. You’d be none the wiser. Wasn’t that the job anyway, tail you seamlessly? But won’t betray your trust like that.
You straightened up. “Phillip, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?”
“Please, just for now, sweetheart. No arguments.”
You looked into his eyes. “This is for you, right?” you asked carefully.
“N-“ he almost denied. With a sigh, he corrected himself, “Yes. I want to know you’re safe.”
“If it makes you feel better, then yeah. Okay.”
He grabbed your hand across the table. “Thank you,” he muttered, caressing your knuckles with his thumb.
The small smile you gave didn’t reach your eyes.
The air was weird the rest of dinner, even on the way back to your place with his hand on your thigh. He could tell you were a little apprehensive, and it was understandable. He owed you an explanation, but what good would it do? What he could do was protect you as best he could until this was all over, whenever it was.
For all he knew, he was letting paranoia consume him, but Konni would be back, and he was going to cross paths with the 141 again one way or the other. Whatever might come from it, you were not paying for his sins.
Alright. Fine.
While a security driver might be over the top (but who was Phillip Graves if not a man who loved going above and beyond), you tried to not take it personally. He simply cared about your wellbeing, and you had nothing to hide. You hoped he knew this too - if assigning you a bodyguard implied anything.
That being said, you couldn’t lie not having to ride Uber or take public transport was a luxury. Yes, you could do without it, but having someone drive you on top of that? You might be modest, but you weren’t ungrateful.
Phillip assigned you Oscar Chamberlain, who texted you the following morning informing that your ride was waiting. What you didn’t expect though, was him standing guard in a sleek black suit outside your place. You jumped when you swung the door open.
He gave you an apologetic smile. “Good morning, ma’am. I’m Oscar, but you can call me Ox.” He gestured at your bag. “May I?”
You recognised him from his dossier photo. He was in his late-30s, wide-shouldered with thick arms, a little over 6ft. His hair and stubble were sharply trimmed, just like every single Shadow you’d seen. Including their boss. Was it company policy to get your hair trimmed every week? The devil worked hard, but the barbers on base worked harder.
“That’s okay, and please, call me by my name.”
He led you to a tinted, black SUV and opened its door for you before confirming your destination. You’d expected a chauffeur to be discreet and efficient, and perhaps it was just you not being used to it yet, but you sat a little stiff in the back seat.
As if sensing your awkwardness, he started, “Ms. Graves told me about you. How you met Graves.”
You smiled. “She did? How come?”
“I’m her driver when she’s here. She has one in Dallas too, but he doesn’t usually come with when she travels.”
Madeline was Phillip’s only family. Of course he wanted to provide, like he was doing for you, you supposed. “How long have you been at Shadow?”
“Since 2018. I was an operator, but moved to protective services about four years ago.”
“Was that when they set up the division?”
“Yes. Never thought I’d do it, but I met my now-wife and wanted to settle down,” he said. “Wanted to raise my kids too.”
The fondness in his tone made you smile.
Turned out the suit and aviators were a lot less intimidating if Oscar volunteered more than the formal pleasantries, especially when he spoke about his toddler son. Before you knew it, he pulled up at your workplace.
“Ox?”
“Yes?” He took his aviators off and met your gaze in the rear-view mirror.
“What happens now?”
“I’m waiting here until you get off work.”
“You don’t have to. I’ll be here the whole day. How about I text you when I’m done?”
“Won’t you leave for lunch?”
You shook your head.
“I’ll double-check with Graves first.” He got out of the car to open your door. “Miss? Please don’t mess with me,” he said, and added in a lower tone, “If he finds out I’m not with you when you’re out, I might not have a job tomorrow.”
You laughed. “He said that?”
He nodded.
You knew Graves joked with his Shadows, but the worry in Oscar’s eyes made you think maybe he meant it this time. You certainly weren’t trying to get him in trouble.
“I’ll let you know when I’m off. Thanks for the ride, Ox.”
Minutes after you walked in, your phone pinged.
How was your first ride?
Good. I thought when you agreed on lowkey, it included the outfit too
Oh, right. I’ll tell him
We still on for the movie tomorrow? I’ll buy the tickets
Sorry, baby. My meeting might run late
Saturday then?
Raincheck? How about we stay in? I’ll cook
Depends. What’s on the menu?
Me
You smiled. Damn commander, hard offer to refuse. Do I need to bring dessert?
You’re the dessert ;)
You could imagine him laughing in his office. I’ll get ingredients for tiramisu after work
Or not. Ox can run your errands
But I like running them with you!
Means I’ll have more time to kiss you, no? You supposed you couldn’t argue with logic.
The next part is linked above if already published
Masterlist
Well, there were a lot of things wrong with him, but this one was new. When the pain struck his hip as he rolled out of bed, he thought he’d slept wrong. Not uncommon after years of abuse his body went through. But that evening as he lifted his neighbour’s shopping, he should have known it was more than that.
“Are you okay?” Mrs. Jefferies asked, eyeing him with concern as he froze mid-squat.
He exhaled through the pain and straightened up. He must have pulled something the day before while sparring with Soap. That slippery bastard.
“M’alright,” he mumbled, heading up the stairs.
Every step up was a stab to his hip - he even felt the click and shift. He hid his hiss to no avail.
“You’re walking funny. You sure you’re fine?” the elderly woman asked again.
“I’ll be fine tomorrow.” He bent down as carefully as he could to drop the bags at her door.
“Thanks for the help, Simon.” She smiled up at him before pulling her key out of her purse. “My regular massage place is still open. You’ve driven me there before, remember?”
He paid no mind to her comment until he attempted to shower after dinner, unfortunately unable to peel his jeans off his legs. The ache in his hip and lower back pulsed each time he bent down.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. Giving up, he pulled his shirt and jeans back on before laughing at himself. He was old.
Maybe it was Simon’s fault he didn’t check the time before he left (and for being such a stubborn bastard, really), because when he arrived, the shop’s sign was off, like most of the interior lights. But he was at wit’s end, and if he was honest, he couldn’t imagine surviving the night.
He grunted his way out of his SUV and pushed the door open only for you to straightened up from behind the counter with a gasp. You pulled your jacket shut, informing him with a wary smile that the establishment was closed.
He told you how much he was suffering without telling you. Your gaze darted away from his sleeve tattoo as you offered to pen him in for the next day. He pressed, almost hissing, and after a little back and forth, you relented.
Maybe you’d taken pity on the large yet injured soldier. Or were intimidated. Probably the latter, really. Did it matter?
You flicked the fluorescent lights back on and he limped behind you to the nearest stall. The room smelt floral, illuminated by warm lights with a massage bed and a small table next to it. It would have been relaxing if each step he took wasn’t like stepping on a shard of glass.
“I’ll get the supplies. Meanwhile, please change into these.” You placed a pair of paper shorts on the bed before disappearing.
Simon tried, he really did, but he still couldn’t get his jeans off without feeling like he was breaking his sodding back. Why the hell were his trousers so tight around the thighs?
This was humiliating. Would he only make it worse if-
You knocked. “May I come in?”
He pulled his jeans back around his waist. “Yes.”
The door creaked open. “Oh, you’re not-“
“I’m sorry,” he said over his shoulder, unable to look at you with the flare in his cheeks. “I can’t bend down to get them off.” He hated to sound like a creep, and it didn’t help that you were pretty.
You’d taken your jacket off, revealing your polo uniform under it. He felt even worse for prolonging your night. You were seconds away from going out the door, yet there you were dealing with him instead.
You set the towels and bottles down. “That’s okay. I’ll help.” You squatted behind him, pulling his jeans off before laying them on the table.
He appreciated the kind tone you used, but it didn’t make it any less embarrassing. He didn’t even know your name and you were already undressing him. He wanted this to be over with already.
“Uh- would you-“
“You can start.” He dove face down onto the bed, still in his loose black shirt and underwear. Oil stains be damned.
“The right hip, was it?” You pushed his shirt up and laid a small towel over his butt, tucking the edge into his underwear. “Let me know where it hurts.”
You pressed your thumbs into his lower back, (respectfully) feeling up his muscles, getting little to no reaction. When you moved to his thigh, he jerked. You rubbed down his hamstring, pressing along it and up back towards his hip making him hiss.
You lathered your hands in oil, rubbing them to heat it up. “Looks like you pinched your sciatic nerve.”
He groaned in response. You started with his hip, pressing with your palm. He would hate to be dramatic, but it quite literally felt like getting stabbed. He cried out, making you jerk back.
“Sorry- Would you like some ice?“
“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath. “No, just get on with it.”
You went back to it, sliding your forearm on his hip. Simon kept his tears at bay as he breathed in and out of his mouth, trying to ground himself.
The pressure waned. “Should I stop for a bit?” you asked, concern in your voice.
He shook his head. “Do what you need.”
While it hurt like fuck, it was… kind of nice too. You massaged his lower back, nice and firm, down to his thigh and all the way to his feet, before moving to his left side. By the time you went back to his hip, a confusing mix of relief and satisfying pain swirled through him.
He didn’t know what you were doing, but the way you elbow-dropped his spine in the gentlest way made his toes tingle. When you pressed your thumbs into hips with your body weight, he almost purred.
“We have 10 more minutes. Would you like me to massage your back?”
“Huh?” he groaned, eyes barely open. Was he drooling?
“Would you like a back massage?”
Still out of it, Simon yanked his shirt off. Only when the air stilled, he remembered the state of his back - littered with silvery, jagged burn scars.
People had seen it. He never cared, but touching it, and with the kind of tenderness you’d been showing, that was different. The room might be dim, but you’d have to be blind to not see them. He could only hope you weren’t looking in disgust.
Why was he concerned about your opinion anyway? You were just doing your job, massaging his fucking problem away. It was none of his business what you thought. You were allowed to think he was ugly.
He thought the same.
“Wait, let me get the unscented oil.”
His scars were many years old and fully healed. Did you have to be so attentive? When you came back a minute later and rubbed your thumbs along his spine, he shuddered.
Your nimble hands worked his traps and delts before moving down to his lats. It tickled a little, but your fingers were pure magic, weren’t they? He was pulsing everywhere as his body softened further.
“I’ll help you stretch now. Could you turn over?”
His eyes flew open. “Yeah, just-“ He cleared his throat- “Give me a minute.”
“Whenever you’re ready,” you reassured, wiping excess oil off his body.
When he decided he was presentable again, he rolled onto his back. You tucked one knee towards his chest, taking his ankle and wrist and- his eyes widened with a gasp as his back cracked in the most satisfying way. You guided him to lay on his other side to turn him into a pretzel again, and he was a puddle of jelly after the second pop. Did you just let out the tiniest laugh at his stunned state?
“All done now,” you announced, gathering the towels.
The operator laid there unmoving. Boneless. Incapacitated. He needed a stretcher to get back to his SUV.
“The pain should be gone in about three days, but if not, you can come back in a week.”
“Thanks-“ he managed, and his blood rushed again.
Simon jumped to his feet, pulled his clothes back on and slammed a wad of bills on the table before bolting out of the room. You must have been baffled, but he’d die before you were aware of what was happening to him.
Come Monday, Simon strutted into base with shiny new hips. Sciatica who?
The clueless Soap still got a smack upside his head though, and he avoided sparring for the week for good measure. But afterwards? The Scot was going to suffer an extraordinary, devastating defeat.
While Simon didn’t remember his hip ever being fucked, he hadn’t forgotten you. In fact, he was having trouble forgetting you.
Yes, you were just doing your job (you were mighty good at it too) and didn’t speak much at all, but the kindness you displayed made him feel some type of way. Yes, he tipped generously, but he still felt bad how he ran off (like some pathetic boy with a crush, mind you), especially after how accommodating you’d been.
Of course he could come back - you told him he could, but you’d fixed him. He didn’t want to feel slimy, making up reasons to see you again.
That was a bloody flimsy excuse, wasn’t it? Even he knew it. He’d never admit it, but he wasn’t ready to have you confirm that you thought he was repulsive with his size and scars and lack of words.
But maybe he could apologise in a few weeks, when it was acceptable to come in for a regular massage. Mrs. Jefferies did that every month. Maybe he could even drive her again next time, as a thanks.
She’d invited him to her grandson Jay’s 7th birthday at the local laser tag centre. ‘You know how to shoot, you can help the kids,’ she’d reasoned. ‘No gifts, the boy’s spoilt enough’, she added. He knew she just wanted him to come out, because he’d be home all weekend otherwise. Sweet woman, Rachel was.
A kid’s party didn’t sound like the most exciting place to be, but it wasn’t like he had anything better to do. Plus he wasn’t an ungrateful man who’d pass up on free food.
That Saturday afternoon, Simon pushed the door to the venue wearing a dark sweater, jeans and boots. The top had shrunk since he last saw it, now stretching a little tight across his shoulders and chest, but he didn’t have much a choice. His baggy t-shirts and hoodies were too casual and he didn’t need to look even more out of place.
The Jefferies were busy setting and moving things around, but when he offered to help, Rachel sent him away with a drink, saying he was guest and shouldn’t lift a finger. In groups, parents mingled while kids ran around, giggling, playing amongst themselves. He took to a quiet corner, and as he waited, a tiny figure approached.
He looked up from his can of fizzy to the boy standing in front of him. He was gaping, wide-eyed, neck craned up. The Mancunian stared back with a raised brow.
“Why are you so big?”
“I eat all my veggies,” he said without missing a beat.
“Eww!” His face scrunched before he giggled. “I’m Nick. What’s your name?” The boy extended his hand.
He bent down with a chuckle. “’m Simon. Nice t’meet ya, mate.”
“Nick,” a gentle female voice said. “The party’s st- Oh-“
He blinked as you looked up at him. “It’s you.”
The memories rushed.
After his hot shower following the massage, he rag-dolled onto his bed - his whole body was putty. Except for one thing… But he knew just how to take care of that. Thankfully, he didn’t have time to be ashamed of what he imagined because he passed out almost immediately afterwards.
“I want to be like him when I grow up!” the boy exclaimed as he pointed at the soldier. “I’m going to start eating my veggies.”
“Hi, didn’t expect to see you.” You chuckled, patting the boy’s head. “Which one’s yours?”
Were you always this pretty? You were (obviously) out of your uniform, donning a shirt and a cardigan with jeans instead. You were far more relaxed that day, with an easy smile and loose shoulders.
Unlike that night, alone with some strange guy. Perhaps it helped that he’d shaved that morning.
“Me? No. Mrs. Jefferies, Rachel. She invited me.”
You tilted your head. “Did she send you to the salon?”
“She did, yeah.”
You smiled. “How’s the hip?”
“Good. Perfectly fine now.”
Something in the far room caught the boy’s attention, sending him running.
“Is he yours?”
You shook your head. “My nephew. Goes to school with Jay.”
He nodded and offered his hand. “I’m Simon.”
You took it with a smile and told him your name. His brown eyes drifted down to your hand in his, so soft and much smaller than his.
“Love!” Rachel exclaimed, making you retract your hand and turn to the voice. She sauntered over and linked arms with you. “Glad you could make it. I see you’ve met Simon. You know, he was walking funny the other day-“
“She was my therapist. I’m alright now.”
“Told you, you needed it.” She laughed, patting his arm. “Come, everyone’s here now.”
In front of the arena, Nick joined you as Jay’s mother announced the participants of the first game where each team consisted of five kids and an adult.
The boy looked over with a gasp. “Simon, we’re on the same team?”
“Looks like it.”
He grabbed his hand and tugged him along towards the group of kids. “This is my friend Simon! He’s on my team,” he said, all smug like he had a guard dog with him.
Somewhere behind him, you let out a small laugh.
After a brief from the staff, the game began. Simon knew how to take it easy, playing against babies and all, but Rachel was clear. His mission was to help Jay’s team win, and he always took his assignments seriously.
Across the room, he took out the other adult first – the biggest threat, and let the little hostiles get closer before he took his shots. After the ten seconds of respawn delay, he did it again. And again.
However, the game that was supposed to last fifteen minutes lasted far less. A boy in the far corner wailed behind one of the crates, breaking into tears about not getting to shoot. Another kid followed, shoulders shaking as he whined about the game being unfair.
‘Who’s dad is that?’ the incompetent adult questioned (Nolan, he was called apparently) before his wife and other concerned mothers suggested someone else take Simon’s place.
He narrowed his eyes. He was paying forward Rachel’s generosity of inviting him, and look how wide the birthday boy and his buddies were grinning. Like it was his fault Nolan had skill issues and couldn’t carry the team.
His team moaned when Rachel escorted him of the arena and onto the seat next to you. She shot him a satisfied smile, muttering about how the mum of one of the crying kids was a stuck-up little twat.
“You annihilated those poor kids,” you said with a teasing smile.
“I didn’t mean to.”
“Just can’t help being too good, huh?”
“I’m around weapons quite a bit.”
You glanced down his body before nodding. Having seen his scars and the fact that there was a military base in the area, it wasn’t hard to deduce, was it?
He followed you to the table of refreshments, chatting with you while the kids played their second round. You asked about the side of town as you weren’t familiar. He wasn’t either, but mentioned the chippy nearby which was so overwhelmingly terrible it became a fond memory. Even after years, the 141 always took him there for his birthday to mess with him. It made you laugh.
He liked its sound. Crisp, sweet, genuine. He didn’t let himself look too long though, but he couldn’t help gazing at your hands - so dainty yet strong. He didn’t mean to be weird, but he knew they’d be wonderful intertwined with his.
“Doesn’t look nearly as fun without you.” You nodded at the arena. “I mean, it’s good no one’s crying, but no one’s laughing either. That, and Jay’s team is losing.”
He smiled. He was benched. That was not on him anymore.
After the third game, the kids gathered for lunch. Nick wedged himself between you and him, asking about his favourite food and which veggies helped him grow the most. He didn’t have the heart to say that it was mainly genetics.
He didn’t spend a lot of time with kids, and while Nick bounced with energy, he wasn’t overwhelming. In fact, he was polite and attentive, maybe even cute if Simon was generous. His enthusiasm reminded him of a certain someone, minus the mohawk and the accent.
The crowd sang for Jay and he blew out his candles, grinning ear to ear, before cutting the cake for dessert. When the party wrapped up and Jay distributed the gift bags, he asked if you needed a ride.
“My place is a little far, near the salon.”
“Not far from me. I live in Rachel’s building.”
Guests started to leave, yet Simon’s eyes lingered on the buffet table. He didn’t like food going to waste, and he wasn’t going to pretend he had a small appetite either. At least he was polite enough to ask Rachel if he could finish the mini pizzas, right? He popped the last one into his mouth before a kid shrieked behind him.
“The pizza’s gone!” the boy wailed, breaking down into sobs.
You snorted and bit down on your smile, a hand on his forearm to lead him away.
He swallowed, removing the evidence. “I think I’ve made enough kids cry today.”
While waiting for Nick’s ride, he sat on your lap, rambling about how fun it was when Simon was on his team. “We should play again next time!” he said to the blond. “I’m sure we’ll win!”
“Why not,” you answered.
Were you implying he’d see Nick again, and by extension you? He glanced at you, lips pulled. He’d like that very much.
When his mum pulled up, Nick gave you a hug and a kiss on the cheek before fist-bumping the soldier with a grin. “Bye, big guy!”
Simon waved as his mum took the boy’s hand to the car.
As you walked to his SUV, you shot him an amused smile. “Don’t think he’s going to stop with the big guy thing.”
“You think?”
“I mean, you are big,” you said. “I saw.”
He blinked, the heat creeping up his neck. Did you mean-
“Oh! Oh God.” Your eyes widened, stopping in your tracks. “No- I meant. I- I gave you a massage and-“
“About that. I’m sorry for walking out. I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“That’s okay.” With a shy smile, your eyes dropped to your feet. “I’m just glad you could run afterwards.”
He barked out a laugh. Something told him you knew why he did. Did it make it better or worse? “You did a brilliant job.”
Your gaze lingered on his bicep before moving to his eyes. “Can’t say I didn’t enjoy it.”
Oh. “How soon can I come back?”
“If you want to come up to mine, I can do your arms.” You averted your eyes, failing to hide that pretty little smile. “Didn’t get to work them last time.”
Simon might be a little insane, but he wasn’t insane enough to say no.
His lips tugged. “Would love to return the favour if you let me.”
If Simon still had his family
You called Ghost weak
Underground fighter Ghost
Masterlist
Phillip Graves | 4.3k | fluff
It was a good day to have eyes (p1) (p8)
Falling into a routine with you was too easy.
Saturday was your day. You’d spend them at Phillip’s swimming, and he’d cook lunch. Once or twice a month, you’d bake with Mikaela (who never dressed up or brought bagels anymore). She seemed to be humiliated by the mix-up on your first meeting, but you chalked it up to be an honest mistake and made friends with her.
On the first Saturday after he came back from an op, he’d take you on a staycation at a lavish hotel with breakfast in bed. You insisted it was unnecessary, especially the flower arrangements and rare wines. If he was honest, he too enjoyed some pampering after long days away, but most of all, spending the entire day with you in private.
Sunday nights he’d stay at yours and drive you to work the next morning. Wednesday he’d take you for dinner and your grocery run. On the days you didn’t meet, he still sent you food, but this time shameless in telling you that he’d rather have it with you.
Sunday was for your girlfriends, but that Saturday - which was supposed to be your day together, mind you – you’d arranged lunch and a crochet class with them instead.
Was he allowed to be jealous or miss you this much? All these hours he got with you, yet he still wanted more. He didn’t want to be the clingy, annoying guy who pouted when you were out with friends. In exchange, he could have you the entire Sunday, but the delay sucked nonetheless - mainly because the only thing he could do to fill the void was coop up in his office doing paperwork.
You sent him a pic of your pasta lunch and a selfie with your friends. You were wearing his jacket, but he didn’t have to be so smug about it, did he? He replied with a snap of his lacklustre microwaved lunch.
By late afternoon, he’d caught up on work. He spent some time in the gym before lounging by the pool. But it wasn’t right. Without you, his home was too quiet and too big, and he couldn’t comprehend how it ever felt like it wasn’t.
Later that evening, you called him when you were in bed.
Phillip’s shoulders relaxed when he saw your face. It was silly how much he’d missed you. “You had fun today, sweetheart?”
“I did. I made this.” You smiled, holding up a crochet loop keychain in your favourite colour. “It’s not the best, but I tried.”
“Did you make one for me?”
“Actually, I did.” You gave a sheepish chuckle, grabbing something off-camera- “I was going to make us matching hearts at first, but it was too hard. My stitches were too tight so it came out wonky-“ You held up a small pink keychain. “So I made something simpler for my second project. At least the wristlet matches with the girls’.”
“Well, I want it,” he stated.
“It’s ugly. Looks more like a deflated ball-”
“Don’t care.”
“And the colour. I should have chosen a different one for you.”
“Lucky me. It’s my favourite.”
You laughed. “Bullshit. It’s blue.”
“I don’t know why you’re negotiating. If you made it for me, I want it. I’ll put it on my car key.”
Your eyes softened before you murmured an okay.
“We’re still on tomorrow, right, sweetheart?” he asked, as if he’d take anything other than a confirmation. He’d planned the day: breakfast before going to the pottery cafe, and a walk at the nearby park with the gelato place.
You smiled. “I’ll be ready at 9.”
But as luck would have it, that Sunday morning, Phillip's lawyers had to make last-minute revisions to a contract due Monday. He’d just got out of the shower when he picked up the call and was forced to get behind his desk for a telecon instead of heading over to yours.
At first, he was confident the issue would be resolved within the hour keep his rendezvous with you in check, but his hopes dissipated as his lawyers pulled out the thick contract out. With a heavy heart, he texted you.
So sorry baby, got an emergency meeting. I’ll come over asap
That’s okay! Take our time
Use my card to treat yourself meanwhile, yeah? You were yet to use his card. If you did, at least he’d feel a little better for having to cancel on you.
You sure I can?
I wouldn’t give it to you if you can’t
What’s the spending limit?
You’ll have to find out if there’s one
An hour later, you sent him a selfie with a cup of coffee. Thanks P <3
He blinked. You asked for the spending limit… for this?
Yeah, but I got a large and even upgraded to oat milk
He stared at his phone.
Well, I also got a cakepop. I hope that’s fine
He was about to scream. He wanted to provide for you and this was all you wanted? WHAT?! That’s disrespectful to all the numbers in my bank account
[eye roll emoji] Honestly rather have you with me
Fuck. You need to stop making his knees weak. Brb he had a dinner date to plan.
Feel free to spend a lot more than $10 next time. No need to ask me either
Finally, Phillip showed up at your door nearing noon to grab a quick lunch before heading to the cafe for dessert. When presented with the choices of painting pots or working with polymer clay, he chose neither. Instead, he flipped through the catalogue of project ideas.
“Then why are we here?”
“Because you wanted to go.”
“What are you going to do then?”
“Eat cake.” He gestured at the display. “I can feed you too.”
You laughed. “Of course.”
He showed you the instructions card for a coaster. “You think you can make this for me? It’s gonna make my coffee taste better.”
You gave a soft laugh. “What colour?”
“Any. Make two. For us.” He grinned.
If he asked for it, was it still considered a gift or did it defeat the purpose? There was something in the way you made him things with your pretty hands. Who knew something so innocent could make him feel so fuzzy?
“Guess we end up having matching- Oh, the keychain.” You retrieved it from your purse and laid it on his rough palm.
“So I have your heart now?” he teased.
Your smile flickered, and the way you searched his eyes made his chest ache.
Phillip had made his fair share of dating mistakes over the years, but he wasn’t going to make them again. He wasn’t going to let you down or waste his chance, not this time.
He reached for your hand. “I’ll take care of it. With my entire soul,” he promised.
Playfulness returned to your eyes. “You better.”
Cupping the back of your head, he pulled you against him. No matter how short each kiss was, he always loved the way you softened under his touch. You might not know it yet, but you had his heart too.
You picked out two shades of blue and a white along with the necessary tools for the project, which he carried to the counter. Was anyone surprised he wanted to order three desserts to share? You reminded him you were getting gelato after. With a little pout, he cancelled his slice of Smores brownie.
Sitting across him, you marbled the three colours together (he could tell you found the gentle blending of their shades as pleasing as he did) before rolling the ball out into a sheet.
“You can’t be trusted with anything sweet, can you?”
He looked up at your amused smile as you gestured at the last third of the apple pie. He’d been too engrossed in watching you as he nibbled mindlessly that he almost forgot to feed you.
He gave a sheepish smile, offering a forkful of it. “Sorry.”
“Make sure I get at least half of the Tres Leches,” you said before taking the bite.
With the help of a template, you cut out two neat hexagons and transferred them onto the baking tray. He brought them to the counter for the staff to bake in the back while you finished the treats.
On your way to the park with your hand in Phillip’s, your steps slowed. “I didn’t know there’s a shelter here.”
He followed your line of sight to the small animal shelter.
“You want to walk some dogs?”
He chuckled, tugging you towards the entrance. “We have an hour to kill.”
The staff lit up when you volunteered as walkers. She led you to the kennels, grateful of any help as they barely had enough staff to walk the dogs, especially the big ones.
“These are the calmest bunch.” She gestured to the dogs panting behind the cage doors, ears up and tail swaying with curiosity at the three of you. “We usually walk four at a time, but if you’re not used to it, we recommend starting with two at most.”
“I can handle four,” he declared.
The staff turned to you. “And you, miss?”
“I’ll do two.” While the staff leashed the dogs, you put a hand on his shoulder and leaned in. “Are you sure you can do four?”
“Wow, that’s almost insulting,” he said with a playful smirk before leaning in. “Didn’t you say I was a big boy?”
You snorted, forehead pressing on his shoulder as you laughed. “Yes, okay. You’re a big boy.”
The hour at the park was a breeze. The dogs you were tasked with were well-behaved - curious of other passing pooches, but never growled or barked too much. On the last lap, you got the gelato, and Phillip held all six dogs while you fed him. You wouldn’t get carried away and forget about him, would you?
“Have you thought of what to do next Saturday?” It was going to be his last weekend in before leaving for an op - an op he suspected could get complicated and run long. “Want to go shooting again?”
He totally had zero ulterior motives asking you this. It wasn’t like the base had been talking about ‘the boss’ girlfriend’ since your last visit. You hadn’t spoken about it, but you were, weren’t you? He didn’t want to admit it, but how could you blame him for wanting to show you off a little?
“You just want to show off your shooting skills.”
He laughed. “I thought you had a good time!”
“I did.” You smiled, feeding him a spoonful of gelato. “But I was thinking of staying in. Swim a bit, maybe get milkshakes.”
“Now you’re speaking my language, sweetheart.”
“I know you too well.” Your eyes narrowed playfully at him. “And I know you’ll get the strawberry one.”
“You’re saying that as if it’s blasphemy to like strawberry milkshakes!”
“Those which taste like un-thinned pink paint, yes.”
“You have to admit the colour is pretty though.”
You chuckled, giving him another bite. “I didn’t realise you cared about that.”
“Never trust anyone who doesn’t like the colour pink.”
“What if I don’t?”
“Lies,” he countered. “Everybody loves pink.”
“Even you?”
“Especially me.”
You laughed, wrapping an arm around his neck for a peck.
When you returned to the shelter with six happy dogs, you made a donation. Phillip wired some too under your name before heading back to the cafe to finish your project. You sanded the rough bits of the cured clay and painted gold accents on the edges before heading back home with two elegant coasters.
The next morning at your dining table, Phillip finished his coffee with a satisfied sigh.
“Told ya. The coaster works. That tastes at least 20% better than usual.”
You humoured him. “Oh, really?”
“Well, you did also let me kiss you for 10 minutes straight, so could be that too.” He shrugged. “How about we retest the hypothesis?”
You laughed, smacking his shoulder. “P, we need to go or I’m going to be late.”
“Alright, alright!” he said, holding his hands up as he stood. “Sorry I like kissing you so much.” He grabbed his car key, now with his favourite keychain on it.
Phillip Graves wasn’t one to stress. He didn’t need to if he could prepare and avoid an unwanted situation, and there wasn’t much he couldn’t control.
But that day? Well, he wasn’t pacing his office for no reason.
His boys had been picking up chatter from Konni Group for days, indicating they might be moving into Urzikstan the following week. Travelling far for tasking wasn’t new to him, but if the intel was good, it meant he was working with Commander Farah Karim.
While they’d never met, Shepherd had tasked him to move cargos for her. From their conversations, it wasn’t hard to tell she was indomitable, tireless for her people – the kind of person Phillip liked to keep as company.
Farah had known John Price for years now, and had proven to be a reliable ally to the 141. The same task force the Shadows had had the pleasure of working with the previous year, even that the partnership didn’t exactly end on an amicable note. Contacting Farah meant revealing that he was alive and well, which news would consequently reach the 141.
What they’d do when they found out was anybody’s guess, but one thing he was sure of: if he was helpful to the ULF, even more so than the captain had been, Farah would be on his side. After all, war wasn’t about friends.
His phone pinged, and he knew it was you from the tone.
There’s a huge sale. Used your card. Hope your boys like donuts, you said, followed by a screenshot of a delivery of 40 dozen donuts under the name Graves loves his Shadows
He laughed. Could you read his mind? He and his men could use a little pick me up that Thursday afternoon.
Okay now you really gotta visit again. They’ll want to see who got the donuts
You did. You paid for them
Nah, they’re from you. You don’t want to disappoint the boys, do you?
Will you finally show me how to throw a grenade?
He could imagine you laughing on the other end. He’d made it crystal clear he was never letting you near a live grenade. How about we try sniping?
No
You really won’t let me show off my skills?
If you insist, Cdr. Only because I like you. Also I hope you’re not thinking of having a whole dozen to yourself!! [donut emoji] [donut emoji]
He chuckled. You knew him too well.
Phillip always came up to your door when he picked you up, but that Saturday morning, he called you instead, telling you to meet him downstairs. Moments later, you emerged from your building and looked around, trying to find his grey Rover.
“Hey, Barbie,” he called out, wearing his aviators in a hot pink Mini Cooper with its top down.
Your gaze snapped to him before you laughed out loud, doubling over. You’d barely recovered when you made your way to him. “Whose car is this?”
“Rental.” He jumped into the passenger seat. “I need to know you don’t hate the colour pink.”
“This is so over the top.” You shook your head in amusement. “And very you.”
“So you’re gonna drive and let me kick my feet up, or what?”
You entered the cabriolet and adjusted the seat and mirrors. “Where to, Commander?” you asked, buckling up.
“We’re going shopping. Your mission is to fill up the backseat.”
“Can I get a floatie?”
“Anything.” He grasped your chin, tilting your face towards his for a peck. “But before that, let’s get milkshakes.”
You smiled against his lips. “For breakfast?”
“I can do whatever I damn well please,” he said, leaning in again.
You got breakfast at a diner and shared a chocolate shake before heading to a nearby toy shop. Phillip raised a brow when you told him the destination, but chuckled when you reminded him that he’d briefed you the mission.
He threw his head back and inhaled, letting the sun seep into his bones as the breeze caressed his hair. He hadn’t been this weightless in a while. You looked good driving the cabriolet too, eyes sparkling. Have you always been that gorgeous? What a fucking sight, you were. He just wanted to stare all day.
What if he told you to keep driving? Would you? Let him make you his?
You glanced at him, lips tugging. He gave your knee a squeeze.
Were you happy? Did he make you happy? He’d die trying just to put that smile on your face.
Just when you pulled into the parking lot, his phone rang. It was his second-in-command, calling about a secure transmission.
“Give me a second-“ He muted himself and turned to you. “It’s Oz. You can go ahead and I’ll come find you, okay?”
You gave him a kiss on the cheek before exiting the car. He pressed the button to close the roof, and there you were a few metres away supressing a laugh. Must have been funny watching him in a pink car, waiting for its roof to close to make a call. He could only chuckle when you waved and entered the shop.
Later, Phillip found his sweetheart in the pool accessory aisle.
“Sorry for the wait.” He pressed a kiss onto your temple, wrapping an arm around you. “Whatcha got there?”
With sparkling eyes, you lifted the box you were holding. A float. Donut with chocolate glaze. “Cute, right?”
He laughed. “Who’s it for?”
“Me and Rafe.”
“What about me?”
“I thought you had your lounger.”
“You leaving me out of this, baby?” He scanned the shelves. “I want one too.”
“I saw a unicorn one. Might be more your thing.”
He chuckled, resting an arm on your shoulder. “Nah. I like this one.” He pointed at another donut floatie, but with pink glaze and sprinkles.
“Should have seen that coming.”
He carried the shopping to the car and strapped himself in. “Where to now?”
“Base.”
He frowned. “Don’t you want to look at other stuff? Still plenty of space in the back.” He pointed over his shoulder at the singular bag in the backseat.
“No. Phil, I just… It’s very nice, but I don’t need all this.” You reached for his thigh with a smile. “I’m just happy to spend the day with you.”
He searched your eyes, his breath stuck in his throat. Say it. Say you only wanted him.
“But… I do have something.” You reached into the bottom of the bag, pulling out a box clad in stripy blue paper, and placed it on his lap.
He chuckled. “What’s this?” He’d only paid for the two floaties.
“For you. Open it.”
He couldn’t remember the last time he received a wrapped gift, if he ever did. Or maybe on his 14th-
“Oh-“ He stilled. It was a Ferrari Lego set.
“I know it’s not the one you had-“
His cheeks hurt from his grin. “I love it. Thank you.” He pulled you in with an arm, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. “Really.”
You ran your fingers through his hair - the way that always made his heart race and spine tingle. The kind that made him want to run away with you.
Phillip took you to the long-distance shooting range to meet Miller, one of his snipers, someone who could coach you. While he knew how to use a sniper rifle, he wasn’t the pro, and he needed you to be safe.
When the Shadow cleared you to shoot, he moved to supervise you from a distance. Phillip, laying prone next to you as your spotter, emphasised again the importance of leaving enough clearance between the rifle and your face to avoid a scope bite upon recoil. It’d pain him to have you hurt, especially on his watch.
You began, listening to his calls with diligence. Most of your shots were on target, impressive for your first session – but his baby was always a fast learner. You took your time, until you didn’t.
“Wind dir-“
Bang. Hit. Pull.
He chuckled. “Guess I’m not needed here.”
Bang. Another hit. Another spent casing clinked.
He lowered his scope, glancing at you with amusement. “Think you’re ready for the moving targets, sweetheart.”
“Am I better than you?” you teased, still aiming down sight. Bang.
Phillip was no sharpshooter - never had the eye for it, but his vision was more than enough to catch the recoil in the back. Bang. He blinked, fixated on the view. Who knew a pair of jeans could look so good? Bang. Damn, it was a good day to have eyes. Oh, what a fucking dog-
He registered Miller in his peripheral vision. He stood behind the both of you, arms crossed over his chest looking up at the clear sky trying his absolute best to not lose it.
Was he supposed to be embarrassed to be caught in the act? Well, too bad he was not. It was his ass to stare at, and only his. He yanked his jacket off and draped it over you before dropping back onto the ground with a thud.
You turned to him. “Need to reload, P.”
“I’ll do it. Don’t need him for that.” He called over his shoulder, “Miller, you’re dismissed, thanks!”
The Shadow snorted and disguised it with a cough with no success. The commander never had anyone beg for toilet duty that hard. Hopefully you didn’t like sniping that much or he’d have to blindfold the next instructor.
After two more mags, you called it a day and headed back. Phillip offered to drive, but you insisted you’d missed being behind the wheel. He wasn’t about to complain. It wasn’t every day he had someone as lovely as you driving him.
He inflated the floats while you got changed in his room. He’d emptied a nightstand, even cleared part of his walk-in closet for you even if you never left much at all at his. The way you moved around, occupying in his home filled him with satisfaction, like you belonged there. You did, didn’t you? You could have it all - he wanted you to, and it would be his pleasure to give it to you.
You lounged on the donuts, your hand in his as you drifted across the pool. The sun was setting, the sky turning a golden pink as its blue melted away.
He turned to you. “Should we start on the Ferrari after dinner?”
You nodded with a smile.
“So how did you like the Mini? Pretty nice to have wind in your hair, huh?”
“It was great! Comfy seats too.” You squeezed his hand. “I loved it, P, thanks.”
“Nice. I’m getting you one. Pink?”
“What- Was that a test-drive?”
He shrugged. “I rented it, but you can say that. Needed to make sure you like it.”
Your head tilted in amusement. “Are you going to tell me its specs right now?”
“Sure,” he said without missing a beat. “It’s got a 2-litre turbocharged 4 cylinder-“
“Is this your side gig? Are you a car salesman on the weekend?”
He grinned. “So what colour?”
“No, Phil-“ you shook your head- “I don’t want it.”
“I thought you liked it. Or would you like the hard top instead?”
“I don’t want a car.”
“Why not? It’s far safer than hopping into strangers’ cars.”
“If I have one, I won’t have an excuse to have you drive me anymore.”
Despite the glint in your eye, he couldn’t tell if you were joking. “I’ll still drive you, sweetheart, you know that. You don’t have to worry about the title or maintenance either. Someone from the motor pool will take care of everything.”
“No, P. I don’t need it.”
He sat up, the movement creating a ripple that shook your float. He pulled you back to him by the hand, the donuts bumping. “Tell me why you don’t want it. Really.”
“You spoil me enough with everything else. This-” you gestured at the pool and house- “Food, staycations. You even gave me your card.” He stared at you, waiting, and your gaze drifted with a sigh. “I don’t want you to think it’s what I want from you.”
His eyes softened. “Of course I don’t, baby. I offered-”
You gave him that look. The conversation was over.
Phillip Graves didn’t let people shut him up - he was done when he was done. But why did he like it when it was you?
When he pushed himself off his float, you cracked a wary yet expectant smile. “Phil, what are you doing?”
“Hold your breath.”
You shrieked when he lunged onto you, throwing you off balance and into the water with him. Within seconds, he was on his feet, arms around your thighs as you both resurfaced. You laughed, gripping his shoulder to steady yourself.
You flicked your hair away from your face before pushing his blond hair up and away from his forehead. “Just wait, P. You won’t get away with that.”
He leaned into you with a smile, your heart beating steady under his stubbled cheek.
Perhaps this was what he needed. To be desired for who he was, not his use or what he did. Not for his power or possessions, but his laughter and the sparkle in his eyes despite the tears that could flood. For the young Phillip who swore the nicest things came free, maybe this time he could let himself believe again.
The next part is linked above if already published
Masterlist
Phillip Graves | 4.1k | fluff
You forgot your swimsuit? No problem (p1) (p7)
Maybe Phillip’s mum was right after all. His home wasn’t lived in enough, and severely lacked real food.
It was too late when he realised. You’d arrived at his home that Saturday morning, and when he had the grand idea to make you breakfast, well, there was nothing. His fridge and cabinets were barren.
In his defence, he didn’t eat breakfast nor cook. His private chef was responsible for the ingredients needed for his meals, so there was no reason why he’d have anything more than eggs, milk, pasta and spices. And frozen pizza. Way too many frozen pizzas.
He gave you an apologetic smile and offered to take you to the nearest coffee shop for pastries, but you assured you could wait for lunch.
You sat at the garden table overlooking the pool, drawing zentangle together when the door buzzed. On his phone, he let Mikaela’s car through the gate and went to the door.
“Good morning, Graves,” she greeted with a smile, wearing a silver dress and heels. On her shoulder was a canvas bag of groceries.
The chef was probably was out partying the night before. The attire wasn’t exactly professional, but her dedication to her job was commendable. He always appreciated the commitment to go above and beyond.
“Thanks for making it, Mikaela. It’s pretty early.”
“Well, I’m excited to show you how to bake! Oh, and, here, I got you a bagel.” She held out a paper bag, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Hope you like it.”
“Thanks. I don’t eat in the morning, but my girlfriend would love it.”
Did he just say girlfriend? It was surprisingly easy how the word slipped out of his mouth. It’d only been a week since you started dating and of course hadn’t spoken about it further. He wasn’t trying to lie, but pride swelled in his chest regardless. At least you were out of earshot.
He turned and headed back out, hoping the heat creeping up his neck wouldn’t manifest into a blush. “Sweetheart, Mikaela got you a bagel,” he called.
Had he stayed a split second longer, he wouldn’t have missed the shock on his chef’s face.
Phillip returned to his seat next to you, placing the foil wrapped bagel in front of you. You smiled, liking her already. You let him have the first bite of the savoury bagel, and when you offered another, he shook his head.
“Would be a different story had this been sweet, huh?” you teased, making him laugh. “I don’t mind. More for me.”
Moments later, Mikaela knocked on the glass door, informing that the ingredients were ready. You turned to follow her to the kitchen and paused. You certainly didn’t expect the chef to wear a low-back slip dress. You glanced at him with a questioning look, but next to you, he was already offering his arm with a smile.
It was true that Mikaela was a great chef. It was clear in her confidence as she demonstrated how to mix the ingredients, explaining how each one contributed to the recipe. Phillip let you do the baking, happy to watch you as he stood next to you, a hand on your waist.
His phone pinged, and he straightened up after reading the text. “Sorry, baby, it’s important. Don’t wait up,” he said pressing a kiss on your temple before hurrying to his office.
“Thanks again for the bagel, Mikaela. Was really nice. I’d definitely drop by.”
“You’re welcome! The place isn’t too far from here either.” She glanced at the entrance before continuing, “You guys are so cute, by the way. Didn’t know Graves had someone.” She gave a teasing smile. “He seems to never have the time for relationships.”
“We just started seeing each other.” You laughed. “But I know what you mean. I thought the same.”
“How did you meet?”
“His mum made him go to a paint and sip, and he sat next to me.”
“That’s funny. I had a cousin in the Marines, friends with Graves. Wanted to set us up, but I said no. Not my type.”
You chuckled. “Small world, huh?”
“Maybe he recognised me when he hired me.” She shrugged.
You paused, blinking. What an odd thing to say. “Hope your boyfriend’s not jealous.”
“Oh, no, don’t have one. Too busy for that. Not a lot of men can handle it apparently.”
“Been in the business a while then?”
“Almost 10 years now,” she answered. “I’ve cooked for athletes, celebs.”
Perhaps the job came with a dress code.
“I can only imagine. Thanks for making the time to show us how to bake today.”
“No problem. Hey, as long as I get paid, right?”
You laughed. “I love that.”
You made small talk about her specialty dishes and time in culinary school. She gave you bakery recommendations in the area, before the conversation shifted to shopping and beauty as she told you about her fresh manicure (which indeed looked really good). She was well-versed in fashion and makeup, but it wasn’t a surprise judging by her outfit that morning.
By the time Phillip came back, you were stirring the toffee sauce on the stove, still chatting and laughing with the chef.
“What did I miss?” He came up behind you, nuzzling his face into your hair with his hands on your hips.
You smiled. “The cake’s baking, shouldn’t take much longer now.”
“Can’t wait to try it.”
“That’s good now.” Mikaela gestured at your simmering pot. “You don’t want to boil it or it will split.”
You turned the stove off. “Thanks again. That was really fun.”
“My pleasure. I’ll let you know when the cake’s done.”
With your hand in his, you went back to the garden table to finish his forgotten coffee.
“Did you have a good time, baby?” He extended his arm along the back of your seat.
You nodded. “Would have been better if you were there though.”
“You can take her number and arrange something else if you’d like. Let me know and I’ll forward the details to my assistant.” He sipped his cold coffee.
You hesitated before starting, “I wanted to ask. Did you know Mikaela before this?”
He set his mug down. “No. She was the private chef my assistant picked. Why?”
“She said you knew her cousin in the Marines, and he tried to set you guys up.”
He tilted his head. “Really? Who was it?”
“I didn’t ask.”
He turned his body to you and looked into your eyes with intent. If he suspected you were jealous, he didn’t show it.
“I don’t remember ever getting set up, but I must have said no anyway.” He smiled. “Unlike you.”
You cracked a smile before erupting in giggles when he tickled you. He’d told you how much that incident annoyed him, in fact, made him foam at the mouth to see you dress up for a mere coffee date. He said he was over it, but the way he tickled you made you doubt it just a little.
As the laughter died down, Mikaela tapped the glass door, announcing that the cake was out the oven.
“Mikaela, your cousin served with me?” Phillip grinned. Even that he left, he always had a soft spot for his time in service. “Who was it?”
“Oh-“ Her gaze dropped. “His name is, uh- Josh Roxburg.”
His lips puckered in thought. “Doesn’t ring a bell. Was he an officer?”
“Well, maybe you forgot. You must know a lot of people.”
“Oh, I don’t forget my friends, let alone those who’d set me up. Remind me, what was his rank?”
She shifted her weight. “I don’t know. He enlisted in 2015.” When he looked at her expectantly, she blurted, “H- He said he knew you.“
He glanced at you. You might not have remembered everything he told you about the Corps, but you knew enough that her cousin would have still been an enlisted when Phillip left. By that time, he only worked with NCOs.
He turned to her with a smile. “You must have got the wrong Graves, but good to know you got a Marine in the family.”
“Oh, of course.” She let out an awkward laugh. “Silly me,” she said, before retreating to the kitchen.
While watching your favourite TV show, you shared a bowl of the dessert (Phillip had most of it), which to him was the best he’d ever had. You didn’t buy it, narrowing your eyes at him with a teasing smile. He was willing to proof how much he liked it wish a big ol’ kiss. Or ten. He didn’t mind. But maybe later when you had the house to yourselves again.
Mikaela seemed to be avoiding eye contact after the clarification, even when you and him thanked her for the delicious lunch before excusing herself for the day. It was a shame he didn’t know her cousin. He always liked reconnecting with his fellow Marines.
With bellies full, you headed to base for the tour Phillip promised. At the gate, the two guards saluted him before letting him through. He’d told his Shadows they didn’t need to be so formal with him, but he admired their passion.
“The place is massive. How many Shadows are there?” you asked, looking at the sizeable hangars, depos and warehouses out the window as he drove down the road.
“About 500, but it’s mostly empty on the weekend.”
“Is that the HQ?” You pointed at the largest building.
“Yep, but there’s nothing to see. I’m mostly there tryna’ not miss you too much.”
You laughed. “Maybe I can visit one day.”
He pulled up in front of the training facility. From the specialist in the armoury, he acquired a handgun and rifle.
“Lookin’ good, Griff,” he said, inspecting the spotless weapons.
“Sir!” The Shadow slid earmuffs across the counter. “Brand new for the lady, sir!”
“Thank you,” he said with a chuckle before leading you to the outdoor range. He didn’t miss the smile the young man tried to stifle.
It was no secret he was quite the father figure to his Shadows, and that they’d been teasing him about being single. Perhaps this time, they’d finally give it a rest.
In his usual lane, he laid the rifle on the table. “Gotta treat ‘em with respect, because one day ya might owe ‘em your life.”
You nodded.
“Let’s start with the pistol. First, check if it’s loaded-“ he pressed the button on the handle, catching the sliding magazine with his other hand- “It is. See?” He tilted it towards you to show the round before shoving it back in with the heel of his palm. “Load the chamber.” He pulled back the slide with a click.
“Now, feet shoulder-width apart.” He assumed his stance before raising the weapon. “Hold firmly, index along the barrel. Wrap with your other hand, thumb pressing against the other. Safety off-“ He disengaged the lever with his thumb and aimed down range- “Line up the sights, but maintain trigger discipline. Finger off the until you’re ready to shoot, and squeeze.”
He flicked the safety back on before you put your ear muffs on. To make sure you observed the proper way to handle the pistol, he pressed his chest against your back as he reached around you. He promised he wasn’t making up reasons to touch you! He didn’t need one anymore… right?
Once he was satisfied with your stance, he stepped back, giving you space. The nervous excitement on your pretty face was adorable, but you didn’t flinch when you pulled the trigger. Your first shot didn’t land, nor the second or the third. But by the second magazine, they were all on target. You didn’t do too bad at all.
Phillip nodded approvingly. “Fast learner, huh?”
“You’re a really good teacher,” you said. “Should we try the rifle now?”
“Of course.” He picked up the other weapon.
“Come on, big boy. I want to see you shoot.”
Standing at 5 ft 10, though strong and athletic, his stature had never been considered exceptional or impressive. It’d never been a source of concern for him either, but coming from you- Well, his head might have just grown twice its size.
He couldn’t help the smirk before turning to you. “Call me that again.”
“Big boy.” You grinned.
He could only bite down a silly smile as he showed you how to handle the rifle.
After a few mags, you made your way back to his grey SUV, still radiating from the session. While the rifle was more fun (you were surprisingly good at controlling the recoil), you said the pistol made you feel cooler. Phillip drove past the runway, stopping at the motor pool and maintenance depot.
“What’s this?” you asked, closing the car door behind you.
“Garage. I’m going to assign you a driver,” he announced.
“What for?”
“So you can get around easily.”
“You already gave me your card.”
“Which you don’t use,” he stated, but you didn’t look convinced. “At least for when you come over?”
“Well… Alright, if it’s not too much trouble, but I really don’t mind ordering my rides.”
At the door, he punched the code in and pushed it open to reveal a fleet of luxury cars.
“Which one do you want?”
“I get to choose?” you asked, glancing at him with an incredulous laugh. “Any would do really. It’s just a car.” When he raised a brow, you took a shot, “Um- a Toyota?”
He frowned before pointing at the left side of the garage. “Okay, so that’s all the SUVs, but that’s boring-“ He pointed at the other side- “For sedans, we have BMWs, Maybachs, and my favourite, the Rolls Royce.”
You shook your head. “That’s totally-“
“Or I can get you something else? Maseratis look pretty good too, but I heard they’re kinda fussy.”
“Don’t you have something normal?”
Shadow Co. provided bespoke protective services to high-profile individuals. No one wanted to pay beaucoup bucks to get chauffeured around by muscled veterans in regular cars. Besides, he wouldn’t let a Shadow drive you in anything less than the best.
“Negative.” He walked forwards. “Take the Rolls. It’s the Phantom, 6.8L V12, twin-turbo. Rides like a dream. Oh, and it has a built-in fridge.”
“A fridge! For what, so my ice cream doesn’t melt in the five minutes it takes me to get home from the shops?”
“Well, they usually put champagne-“
“Phillip, I’m joking! I’m sticking to my Uber.” You tugged at his hand, stopping him in his tracks.
“You sure? You don’t even want to have a look first?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Why don’t you take it instead?”
He grinned. “I don’t drink champagne.”
“Oh God,” you said with a playful slap to his chest. “Come on, I want to see Rafe.”
He hummed, checking his watch. “One more stop before that.”
He drove around the hangar to a waiting helicopter.
“Phil, what’s happening?” you asked, alarm in your voice.
He parked a safe distance away. “You’ve never flown in one, have you?”
“No way,” you gasped, squeezing his thigh. “You’re spoiling me.”
He offered his hand, and helped you get into the chopper before putting the headset on you.
“It’s an open-door ride,” he said through the comms, making sure your harness was snug before putting one on himself.
He confirmed with the pilot you were ready to take off and the engine spooled up, the rotor blades getting louder by the second. After getting clearance, the chopper lifted off.
On the private line, the pilot announced with an amused tone, “Be advised, it’s a little windy today. Might want to keep the lady warm, sir.”
He barked out a laugh. “Solid copy, Lee.”
You wore a giddy smile as you brushed hair away from your face. He could only squeeze your hand, happy he got to bring a smile that lovely to your face.
The path took you along the outskirts of the city over lush hills and a popular hiking trail, passing colourful flower fields running in neat lines. In the distance, the downtown skyline was iconic, pretty against the clear sky. You flew through the city, pointing at some of your favourite places you recognised before the pilot plotted the course back.
On return, the pilot flew along the endless coast past the pier and crowded beaches. It was turquoise waters as far the eye could see, blending with the sky over the horizon. The waves lapped at the sand far below, glimmering in the afternoon glow.
Phillip leaned in. “Want to take a photo with me?”
“Yes, yes!” you answered, with a grin that hadn’t left your face. “Oh, look how beautiful everything is.”
He pulled out his phone, wrapped an arm around your shoulder and snapped.
“P, you need to work on your selfie game!” When he raised a brow, you pointed at his screen. “You can’t even see the view. It’s just our faces.”
He only wanted you in the photo. Anything else in the background was none of his business. He laughed, handing you his phone. “You take it then.”
After you were satisfied with the selfie, he gave you a quick kiss before you went back to admiring the view. He rested his chin on your shoulder, a hand on your thigh for the rest of the ride.
Finally, Phillip took you to the kennel, showing you the obedience training site and veterinary care unit. In front of the K9 living space, the handler in charge for the day greeted him.
“Got Rafe ready for you, Graves.”
You followed the Shadow to Rafe’s kennel, where he swayed his tail in recognition as you approached. He crouched down and unlatched the door before the K9 rushed to boof and sniff you.
“Hi, Rafe. Hope you’ve been good!” You bent down to scratch his neck which only made his tail wag faster.
Phillip patting Rafe’s head. “Looks like he missed you.”
“He’s been excited all day,” the soldier said, side-eyeing the commander with a teasing smile. “Guess I know why now.”
Yup, his Shadows were definitely going to start talking come Monday.
He chuckled, clapping his shoulder.
You thanked the handler, telling him how well-trained Rafe was before heading out, the K9 in tow and panting.
Phillip took you to a park on the way home, one you’d never been to. It was getting a little cold, and you asked to wear the jacket he kept in the backseat. He took Rafe out of the cargo area before looking up at you standing there in his jacket.
The sight brought out the dog in him. Again. He took a stride, a hand cupping the back of your head, the other pinning you by the hip against the side of his grey Rover.
You let out a small laugh, fisting his shirt. You knew how much it made him weak. His lips crashed with yours with a hum. He really shouldn’t be kissing you too long or too hard - you were in public after all. But how could he not when you looked like that? Like you were his.
A little breathless, he pressed his forehead against yours. “It’s yours now. Wear it often.”
You bit your lip. “Okay,” you whispered.
In the distance, children shrieked in delight as they ran past. In a sudden bout of modesty, Phillip jerked away. He cleared his throat as he smoothed down his shirt.
“Sorry,” he said, avoiding your gaze, before picking up Rafe’s leash he’d abandoned.
You laughed, taking it from him before placing a hand on his forearm. If you noticed his reddening cheeks, at least you didn’t tease him about it.
The park was quieter than he expected that day, probably because of how breezy it was. Lucky for him, it was just another excuse to be close to you.
“Thank you so much for today, P. Johanna’s been on a ride like that too. The view was as amazing as she said it was. I loved it so, so much.”
He glanced at you, meeting your sparkling eyes as you beamed up at him. It was hard to not want to give you everything.
He patted your hair. “Just doing my job.”
“Your boys like you a lot.”
He laughed. “I hope so!”
“I can tell. They have a lot of respect for you.”
“They just don’t mind following me to hell, is all.” Maybe it was why it was terribly easy to fall in love with his work. “They’re good men.”
“Because you care. You take good care of them.”
“I try.” But don’t always succeed.
After a few laps, you sat on a bench facing each other as Rafe rehydrated. With your arm on the backrest, you played with Phillip’s hair. Your nails on his scalp didn’t have to be so soothing. His stomach flipped whenever you looked at him like that.
“Can I tell you a secret?” you asked. “I think you’re really handsome.”
“Well, that’s hardly a secret, is it?” If his smile was smug enough, you’d tell him again just to tease him, right?
You laughed, tapping the top of his head. “The most humble guy in the city, right here.” Your eyes dropped to his scar again as you caressed his stubbled jaw.
He remembered you looking the first night at the pub. You never asked.
“Verdansk, 2018,” he volunteered instead. “If not for Vance, I wouldn’t be here.”
You didn’t need to know that he was KIA, that his whole squad was wiped in 2022. You didn’t need to know the brutality of his reality, the shit he had to witness. That he lost his men in seconds and Shepherd just watched that fucking night in Al Mazrah.
He still sent money anonymously to Vance’s mother - maybe as repentance, payment towards his debt. Like Phillip, the Shadow only had his mum, but most of all, she only had him. He remembered standing at the door of his childhood home with a lump in his throat. The way she broke down at the news was a sight he could only wish to forget.
What if something happened to him? Would you be as devastated? How selfish was he to risk you losing someone in such a cruel way?
You pulled him into a hug, tight enough to make him feel like he’d never lost for a second. “Glad you’re here,” you whispered against his shoulder.
He let out a slow exhale, arms wrapping around you. He was too.
Phillip offered to take you out for dinner, but you said the food in his fridge looked too good to ignore. You fed Rafe while he reheated the meals and pulled out drinks for the table. More sticky toffee pudding followed.
He turned the lights down low before putting on a film. Curled up on the couch with you in his arms, Rafe resting his head on your lap, the evening was perfect. Filled with your laughter, he liked his place a lot better with you in it. And Rafe. He enjoyed taking care of him with you, sharing a thing.
Was this the very thing he’d been missing all this time?
“You got your suit, yeah, baby? Let’s swim in the morning.”
“What if I don’t?”
“I mean…” He couldn’t help his grin as he trailed off. He was being a dog again, wasn’t he? He didn’t mean to sound so pleased. He glanced at you, clearing his throat. “It’s just the two of us.”
“Kidding. I have it.” You poked his chest. “Does Rafe swim?”
“Yeah, but he doesn’t seem to like it.”
“That’s okay. We’ll just put him on a floatie.”
“I don’t have one.”
“You have a whole pool but not a floatie?” You sat up with a mock gasp. “I’m pretty sure that’s illegal. How do you lounge?”
“On the lounger,” he deadpanned.
“We can’t leave him behind while we swim.” You cupped Rafe’s face in your hands. “Look at him. He’s going to be so sad.”
He laughed. “I’m sure he doesn’t mind. But if you want to lounge, I can just carry you.”
“Okay, yeah, that doesn’t sound too bad actually.” You laid back onto his shoulder.
He kissed your hair with a smile. Anything for you.
Bonus smut, takes place before Ch 7
The next part is linked above if already published
Masterlist
Phillip Graves | 4.2k | fluff
Do you know the cowboy hat rule? (p1) (p6)
“I thought the ice cream sandwich was for me.”
Phillip grinned. In a far better mood now, he’d hijacked your treat only after you took a few bites.
With his arm along the backrest behind you, you leaned against his shoulder. Your little laugh was warm against his neck, and his breath stuttered from the shiver that ran down his spine. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer like it was where you belonged.
“So your girlfriends get flying kisses but I don’t?”
You scrunched your nose, giving him that playful judgy look he always found adorable. You leaned in, pressing a kiss on his right cheek, under his scar.
It might have made his stomach flip.
You mindlessly traced patterns on his rolled-up sleeve. “This material is so soft. What is it?”
Do not say she could take it off to check the label.
Phillip Graves was a dog, wasn’t he? You touched him one time and now he wanted to lick you. He shouldn’t- he knew he shouldn’t, but… Would you let him if he asked politely? He’d even throw in one of those smiles that showed his dimples.
“Some sort of cotton. I’m really not sure.”
You turned to him, rubbing the fabric on his chest between your fingers before grabbing handfuls of it, tugging it gently. “It’s a really nice shirt,” you commented.
There his heart went racing again. He didn’t miss the pleased smile you wore before you leaned back. Tease.
What the fuck was happening to him? Something about not being friends anymore, whatever that meant, seemed to open the floodgates. You let him hold your hand for a little stroll in the park, and when he drove you home like he’d done time and again, and his belly was a decorated Olympic gymnast.
He glanced at you with an amused smile, like it wasn’t making him feel all sorts of things. “Why ya looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Well, like that. Like you’re-“
“Never realised how cute you are.”
“You think I’m cute!” In disbelief, he almost shrieked. No one had called him that. Except for his mum about 30 years ago, maybe.
You gave a small laugh, reaching for his neck. You scratched his nape with your nails, making him shiver.
“Oh- Oh, fuck-” he said under his breath before letting out a small giggle, tilting his head back with shrugged shoulders.
“Huh, didn’t know you were ticklish.”
You traced the cuff of his ear with your thumb and his spine turned to jelly. Did he just let out a moan?
You cooed - a little mean, merciless as you scratched his ear. “Drive straight, Commander.”
“M’ tryin’!” He cleared his throat like his soul wasn’t disassembling. “You sure are making it hard.”
“Making what hard?” You ran a hand down his thigh.
He straightened up, white-knuckling the steering wheel. His dress trousers might as well have been non-existent with how hot your touch felt. “Fucking hell,” he muttered.
You retracted your hand with a laugh, like making his face flush was the funniest thing. He huffed, side-eyeing you as if he hadn’t just been devoured in the best way. This was fun for you, huh? Okay, he could play along. Just you wait. When he got his teeth on you, it was over.
You invited Phillip up and watched a cooking show on the couch, his arm around you. How could simply being with you feel so good? Heck, had he known you were perfectly happy spending time with him like this, he wouldn’t have asked you out for drinks so much, inadvertently sending you the wrong message. He’d missed out big time.
“When are we working on the painting again?”
“At yours?”
He nodded. “Tomorrow?”
“Really?” You laughed.
“You won’t let me see you until next weekend.”
“Not if you keep me up past my bedtime on weekdays!”
He grinned. “So what time do I pick you up?”
“I’ll order my own ride.”
“You don’t have to. We can grab some food before we go?”
“But someone promised to cook me more steak!” You poked his chest. “And I want that meat.”
Oh, he was more than happy to give you the aforementioned meat.
He laughed, grabbing his wallet. “Of course. Lunch at mine tomorrow.” He pulled one of his cards, holding it out for you. “For your rides.”
You stared at the metal card and at him. “Isn’t that a bit much?”
“You can use it for other stuff too.” He still wanted to be there for you even if not in person.
You shook your head. “Well, that’s terribly nice, but I really don’t need it.”
He took your hand, pressing the card onto your palm. “Then just keep it. Just in case.”
You laughed, placing it on the coffee table. “It’s staying in my drawer. It looks way too conspicuous to see the light of day.”
The next day, Phillip answered the door to you holding a huge Tupperware of tiramisu which he put in the fridge while you changed into your swimming attire. When you rejoined him in the living room, he tried to not stare. It was hard when you looked that good, really. In the late morning sun, your eyes looked even prettier.
“Need help?” he held his hand out.
“Yes, please.” You handed him the tube of sunscreen and sat on the couch, your back to him.
Was it bad how much he enjoyed the feel of your skin under his hands? He promised he wasn’t trying to be creepy. When it was his turn, you faced him, squirting some onto your palm while he took his shirt off- Wait, was your gaze wondering too? It was your first time seeing him shirtless.
“Oh, wipe that smirk off your face!” You turned him by the shoulder before rubbing the cream on his back.
Was that embarrassment in your voice? His frame shook with laugher. Caught you, huh? There was no shame though – he was looking too. You were more than welcome to continue. In fact, he was perfectly content to spend the day looking at each other.
When you were done, he stood, taking you by the hand. “I want to show you something.” He led you to his bedroom on the second floor and out to the balcony. “Jump from here,” he said, swinging the glass panel of the railing open.
You laughed, covering your mouth with your hands. “No way. That can’t be safe.”
“It is. It’s part of the design, see-“ He pointed at the depth of the pool. “Come on,” he said, holding out a hand.
You shook your head. “No, no. That’s insane.”
He sucked his teeth playfully. “It’s not that high. Watch.”
“Famous last words.”
He cannonballed down off the ledge before resurfacing. He flicked off the hair sticking to his forehead, looking up at you and your amused laughter as you leaned over the railing. “You sure you don’t want to try?” he called as he made his way to the edge.
“You’re crazy!” you exclaimed before plunging in with a squeal. You broke the surface with thrilled laughter. “Holy shit.”
He swam to you and you grabbed onto his forearm. With a proud smile, he pushed a strand of your hair away from your face. “Tell me that wasn’t fun.”
“Okay, yes, it was fun.” You latched onto his back, gripping his shoulders. “Now take me back up again, please.”
After a few more jumps, you swam laps. With your hand in his, you floated on your back, soaking up the sun before he announced he was getting hungry.
He let you use his bathroom while he used the guest’s before starting in the kitchen. By the time you walked in, the steaks were almost done resting next to the salad.
With his fingers, he brought a slice up to his mouth for quality control- you grabbed his wrist, taking the bite instead, sucking his fingers before pulling away. You didn’t have to maintain that kind of eye contact either, the kind that made him pulse somewhere.
You hummed. “Absolutely delicious as always.”
He chuckled. You knew how to play him, huh? He’d let you for now. He’d have his revenge in time.
You helped him carry the dishes to the dining table before sitting across him. He always loved sharing a meal with you, enjoyed how adorable you looked especially when it was something good. You’d take your time with each bite, and knowing it was his cooking that made you sigh like that, pride swelled in his chest.
“Can we do this again, at least once a month?”
“If you bring dessert.”
You smiled. “Anything you want, Commander.”
You could be it.
After two servings of tiramisu for Phillip, you moved to the outdoor table by the pool to continue working on the diamond painting. This time, he didn’t hesitate pressing his thigh against yours.
“You know, it would be nice if Rafe was here. I miss him.”
“We can take him on a walk next weekend, or would you like to see the base? I can give you a tour.”
“I thought non-personnel weren’t allowed?”
“Well, yes, but I can do whatever I want. Can teach you how to shoot too.”
You laughed. “Will it be a date?”
“It better be.”
You were determined to finish the diamond painting that day. He resupplied drinks and snacks every now and then, finding himself starting to enjoy the serenity of art. Mainly being with you, and away from work, really. His boys could handle the usual affairs without him.
He planned to take you out for dinner before driving you back, but by the time the sun was dimming, the painting still wasn’t done yet. Maybe another hour or two, you said. He offered to order in, but you said the meals his private chef made looked good and opted for one instead.
“If I had someone cooking like this for me, I don’t think I’ll consider eating out much at all.” You took another bite of the poke bowl.
“Mikaela’s a great chef, yeah.” He smiled. “Her sticky toffee pudding was really nice. I’ll get her to make some for you, or maybe she could teach us?”
“Oh, like a baking class?” You lit up. “I’d love that, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“I’ll get my assistant to arrange it.”
“Is having a private chef a business expense?” you asked with a teasing smile.
He chuckled. “If I want it to be.”
“What’s your favourite part about being a commander?”
“Apart from doing whatever the hell I want? The extra zeros,” he said, making you laugh. “I get to drive a Rover, even get a weekend ride or two if I wanted. Ten years ago, I was lucky if my Nissan didn’t throw a fit in the morning.” When the laughter died down, he sighed.
As much fun as his possessions were, he’d lived most of his years without them. The little he’d had, he held close to his chest. If it had always been him and his mum for the longest time… He had you too now, if he were to be so bold.
“It was weird at first. Sometimes it still doesn’t feel real.”
Like it can disappear in a blink of an eye. At one point, the things he had weren’t even in the realm of reality and now there were all there. But what did it all mean if he had no one to share with? If it wasn’t you.
His heartbeat picked up. “You should come over more often. You can swim and use the gym, even when I’m away.”
You smiled. “Thanks, P.”
“I mean it. Anything you need, you tell me. Promise?”
You placed your hand over his, giving it a squeeze. “I promise.”
You skipped dessert, but he didn’t of course, before continuing with the painting. Half an hour later, with a triumphant smile, you pressed on the last few diamonds.
He chuckled. “You did it.”
“We did,” you corrected. “My neck is a little stiff, but it’s worth it, huh? Look how pretty it is!”
“Should we take a selfie for my mum?”
He leaned towards you, an arm around your shoulder as you held the painting up to the camera. You’d only taken a few photos together (he just wasn’t that kind of guy), but this would have been the first where you were this close and it was making him feel some type of way.
He gestured at the painting. “I’ll get it framed. Do you want to keep it?”
You gave a sheepish smile. “If you don’t mind.”
“Of course I don’t.” Anything for you.
Phillip knew you had to go, but it didn’t make it any easier when you announced your departure. Certainly, he offered to drive you home to delay the goodbyes, but it was futile as you ordered your ride home.
When your ride was nearby, he walked you to the door with your hand in his, waiting around in the foyer where a long cabinet stood. Displayed on a stand was his tan cowboy hat.
“Can I try it on?”
He chuckled. “Sure, but you know what they say, right?”
“Oh, I know,” you said, putting it on in front of the round mirror before turning to him with a teasing smile. “How do I look?”
Like the death of me. “Maybe we could start with a kiss.” He took a step towards you, a hand on the cabinet, another tipping your chin to him.
You breathed in, gorgeous as your eyes fluttered closed. His cue to lean in. Your soft lips against his sent a tingle down his spine. But it was a modest peck that lasted two beats. A little taste, one he almost couldn’t pull away from.
It was ridiculous how much he’d thought about his since the… confession the day before. He thought he could humour you and your teasing - of course he could, but he didn’t want to anymore. He had to feel you already.
“Just one?” you whispered.
He laughed against your lips, hand falling to your waist.
The way your lips moved against his was tentative at first, but when you wrapped your arms around his neck, his heart skipped a beat. He pressed you against the cabinet, hips meeting yours. You let out a gasp before your lips parted with a sigh. Why did you have to sound so good?
His tongue found yours, and your hand dropped to his chest, fisting his shirt. He didn’t mean to buck his hips when you moaned into his mouth.
“You keep doing that, sweetheart, and you’re not going home,” he warned between kisses, thumb caressing your waist.
“Sorry.” You smiled, not looking the slightest bit sorry.
He chuckled as he leaned in- your phone buzzed.
“Oh, must be the guy,” you said reaching into your pocket.
How dare the ride that you’d ordered interrupt him with its punctuality.
“I’m sending him away,” he deadpanned, already turning towards the door.
“No!” You laughed, grabbing his forearm.
“I wanted to drive you,” he grumbled. “You wouldn’t let me.”
You cupped his face wearing an amused smile. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”
He gave you another peck. “You better not make me wait until the weekend.”
He shut the door for you and watched the sedan turn the corner, all the while wearing a grin that he couldn’t wipe.
Was Phillip allowed to call you for no reason now? Because that was what he’d been doing before your bedtime, just to hear you and see that smile on your face for a few minutes. You didn’t seem to mind when you said you’d been waiting for his calls. He didn’t know they only made him miss you more.
On Wednesday, you put him out of his misery by suggesting dinner. Surely, he wasn’t going to miss the chance to see you even for two short hours. Leaving the base as early as he could, he stood at your door with your favourite takeout.
You answered with a smile, and the flurry of kisses he pressed onto your cheek made you giggle.
“You’re a little ticklish today.” You scratched his stubbled jaw.
He didn’t think before leaning into your touch. It wasn’t his usual look, but it could be his thing too if you were into it. “You like it?”
You nodded, averting your gaze before you led him to the by the hand. Oh, you really liked it, didn’t you? You were welcome to keep scratching him.
At the table, he took out dinner from its bag. “Hope it’s still warm enough. Got here as fast as I could.”
“I appreciate it, but you really didn’t have to ditch work to see me if you can’t.”
“Well, I want to.”
You reached for his hand. “We can always find a better time, okay? I don’t want you to think you have to cancel stuff or anything.”
He wanted to make time for you. If he was going to make this work, of course there were going to be changes made to his schedule, and that included spreading his workload so he didn’t have to be stuck behind a screen every waking hour. He had you now after all.
“I’m not cancelling anything. It can all wait.”
You smiled when he pressed a kiss onto your knuckles.
After dinner, you suggested a film and presented him a small candy bar for dessert. You knew him too well, didn’t you? He took it with a chuckle, slotting himself right next to you on the couch like he’d been doing it for the longest time. He could get used to unwinding like this. To be rewarded with your presence after a long day, just being there with his arms around you, enjoying your warmth against him.
You got ready for bed after the film, but the night was perfect and he didn’t want to leave your place, or part from you really. You were going to kick him out soon, weren’t you? Would you have a change of heart if he gave you his best puppy eyes?
When you got under the covers, he could only watch from the foot of your bed.
He cocked his head. “Is this your way of sending me home, sweetheart?”
You laughed. “Take a shower if you want to get in here.”
While Phillip sprinted to the bathroom, you prepared a towel and a change of clothes for him: an oversized, faded band tee and shorts.
With his hair mostly dry, he scooted up against your back with a long sigh, arm wrapping around your midriff. The smell of your soap clung to his skin, and being in your shirt, a well-worn one, made him surprisingly fuzzy.
He broke the silence. “I’ve never worn anyone else’s clothes before. Not outside of the military.”
“Really? Not even as a kid, when you slept over at friends’?”
“Never had sleepovers,” he said, before continuing in a quieter voice, “Didn’t have a lot of friends.” No one wanted to be friends with the skinny ranch kid with the thick accent and washed out clothes.
You turned to him in his hold, searching his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
He chuckled. “Well, a lot of my firsts came a little late.”
“Like what?”
Like this feeling you give me. “Real… dating, I guess.”
“I thought you said you’ve dated before?”
“Yeah, but that’s different.”
And to think of it, the handful of relationships he had over his time in the Corps didn’t mean much at all, how they never lasted more than a few months. To him, dating was a blast of fireworks. Grandiose, show-stopping, yet fleeting as they fizzled out just as quickly.
But you were not. Being with you was like curling up under a thick blanket by the fireplace on a winter night. Maybe that’s why it was different this time. Compared to you, he didn’t feel like he knew those women much at all. Because you were friends first, because you were more than just someone on his arm.
“I didn’t make time for it. It wasn’t important enough.”
Perhaps it was his fault for prioritising work, for thinking the ‘right’ one would fall right onto his lap eventually, for keeping his head down and grinding. But he had to do what he needed, whatever it took.
Because he didn’t want to be nothing – nothing without authority and means.
“Do you wish you did more, lived more? In your 20s?”
“No. I had to win. For my mum.”
You cupped his face, rubbing his cheek with your thumb with a small smile. “I’ve always admired that about you. She must be so proud of you.”
He gave you a chaste kiss before pulling away with a mischievous smile. “There is something I regret though, just a tiny bit. I told you we don’t do gifts, right? Well, for my 14th birthday, my mum got me this Lego race car. Wasn’t even fancy, just a small one, a Ferrari. About this size-” he held his palm up- “I took it to school, and this fucker hurled it at a wall and destroyed it.”
“Oh no-“
“He was huge, inches taller than the rest of us. I wouldn’t have won, but I wish I’d punched him for fun anyway.” He smiled at the memory. “Would have been my first fight.”
“When was your first fight?”
“After bootcamp, at my favourite diner. This server, a little old lady, brought this guy the wrong order and he dumped the milkshake on her shirt. I beat him up, but he got me pretty good too.”
“A milkshake?” you repeated. “Oh, that’s personal.”
“Exactly! It was a perfectly good strawberry shake with a lot of whipped cream and a cherry on top.”
You ruffled his hair. “Was it as fun as you’d imagined?”
“Hell yeah.” He smirked. “You know I love that shit.”
You laughed, and he leaned in to meet your lips, tipping your chin to him.
“You can keep my shirt if you want,” you said between kisses.
Phillip hummed, shoulders relaxing like his body had been waiting for this - the best part of his day. When you pulled away, he took a beat before opening his eyes.
“Are you getting sleepy?” you teased.
“You know it’s way too early for me.”
You let out a soft laugh, turning your back to him and wrapped his arm around yourself. “Goodnight, P.”
He pressed his face into the crook of your neck. “Yeah. I’ll go in a bit.”
“Slide the key under the door. But you sure you’re not going to fall asleep?”
“You’re really kicking me out now, aren’t you? I thought you liked my cuddles.”
“I do!” You laughed, pulling his arm tighter around you. “Oh, I almost forgot, I made you a sandwich for tomorrow. Grab it from the fridge before you go.”
You made him lunch? Actually took the time to make him something to eat? After a beat, he muttered, “Thank you.”
He held you close, enjoying the simplicity of the moment: your warm skin against his, your proximity accompanied by your breathing as it slowed. Steady. Grounding. Lulling. Surrounded by your smell, you couldn’t blame him if he fell asleep with his nose buried in your hair, right?
It was early morning when his internal clock woke him, you and your peaceful breathing on his chest. Oh damn, he said he was going to leave, but he was knocked out cold. How upset would you be? You didn’t tell him to stay.
He tried his best to slide out without disturbing you, but you woke with a soft groan anyway.
“Phil?” you muttered, squinting at him.
“Sorry.” He patted your hair. “Sorry, I fell asleep, sweetheart. I’ll go now.”
“You don’t have to.” You dropped your head, muttering into his chest.
“You don’t mind?”
You laid your arm across his belly. He smiled, stroking it as your breathing slowed back down. When he was convinced he had to stare at the ceiling until your alarm went off, his eyes fluttered closed.
Later, when the gentle sun from the windows shone on his face, Phillip remembered smiling as you pressed kisses on his forehead. You scratched his scalp as you whispered for him to wake up. It was a shame he didn’t get to have this luxury every day.
Contrary to his, your skin was cool from your shower, already dressed for work. He pulled you to his chest and opened his eyes enough to watch you laugh. It was his favourite thing to see.
While you made him coffee, he freshened up and drove you to work, his prized sandwich in the backseat. You promised to see him again on Saturday to bake and got out of the car. You knew he was watching, didn’t you? Because later, you turned to him with a playful smile, blowing him a kiss before disappearing behind the doors.
He grinned, restraining himself from running after you and demanding a real one. Was this bliss finally his to keep? He certainly wished it was.
The next part is linked above if already published
Masterlist
The next morning, Phillip still couldn’t believe you agreed to see him when he opened the passenger door for you. Again, he’d picked up a drink and a bagel for you, in case you hadn’t eaten.
You gave a soft smile. “You’re too good to me.”
He couldn’t maintain the eye contact if you looked at him that way. You led the way to the craft shop and after contemplating between a few paintings, you both agreed on the colourful wolf kit.
He offered you to get one of your own, but you refused. It was just as well. He didn’t mind sitting closer to you to work on the same painting at all.
You shared the bagel with him in the parking lot before he headed home.
“Shut up.” You laughed as he drove past the automatic gate. “It’s a beautiful house.”
Some people would describe him as arrogant, maybe stuck up, and he took it with a smile. You could only be arrogant if you had something to show. Hey, he’d worked hard, was he not allowed to take pride in his accomplishments?
At the door, Rafe greeted you with his wagging tail. The way you laughed when the K9 licked your hand made him smile. He led you in, the art supplies in hand, passing the first room down the hall with the tall and heavy wooden door.
“This is my office-“ He stepped in, gesturing at his prized decoration on the wall from the first time he met you- “and the painting.”
“It looks good.” You smiled, admiring the framed photos lining the wall.
There was a photo of him and his first units when Shadow Company was established, and some of his best squads over the years. You eyed the largest one, a photograph of him and General Shepherd in front of a military chopper.
“That was our first client,” he almost spat the words out, twisting his mouth. “My first paycheque.”
He and the general went way back. Decades now, since he was in the Corps. When he bit the bullet and left all that he knew, Shepherd gave him the much-needed support to get the ball rolling. He owed him that acknowledgement at least.
He did it for the freedom, but it wasn’t the case as he’d learnt from working with the general. Time and again, Shepherd’s callousness and complacency had put him in disadvantageous situations, cornering him to get down and dirty.
Sure, he knew what he signed up for when he took the gloves off, what it meant to be loyal to the highest bidder, but the cost was more that he’d anticipated. He didn’t agree with how Shepherd treated his Shadows as disposables, or how his secrecy forced misunderstandings, acting like everything could be swept under the rug at the first inconvenience leaving him to be the fall guy.
Even without the red tape, Phillip was limited to another kind of line. He was a war dog on a leash. But he knew enough to not bite the hand that fed him.
Sure, he could play nice – they had dirt on each other – with his reputation and everything he’d dedicated his whole life to on the line. But Shepherd wasn’t a friend, not after what happened in 2022. Not after the needless blood that was forced on his hands. He was just that now - a fat paycheque.
“That your mum’s place?” You nodded at a photograph of her in front of a house with a large garden. “Gorgeous home.”
He smiled. “Yup.”
But it was the very same paycheque that bought his mum a house. A good one. One she always deserved.
You pointed at a framed article on him. “Wait, you’re the founder and CEO of Shadow Company?” You gave a teasing smile before breaking into laughter. “Alright, Mr. I-can-do-whatever-I-want.”
With a playful smile, he shrugged. “I don’t like getting told what to do.”
Phillip led you out to the kitchen past the open living area. With the high ceilings, sunlight flooded in from the generous windows. The accordion glass doors led to the pool in the backyard, a garden table and a couple of lounge chairs in the far corner.
“Would you rather sit here or outside?” He gestured at the large dining table, holding your choice of cold drink from the fridge.
“Outside would be nice. The weather is perfect today.”
You unpacked the kit, laying the components out; the tools and trays along with the colourful diamonds. Next to the lounge chairs, Rafe basked in the sun as he panted.
You started with one corner, peeling back a few inches of the plastic cover to reveal the adhesive before scooting the chair close to his. Under the table, your thigh was only inches from his.
Somebody please tranquilise this mutt. He betted if he leaned in just a bit, maybe took a deep breath in, he could smell you. He was fighting himself not to.
You shimmied the diamonds in the small tray until they lined up before using the tool to pick up one line at a time. Aw, fuck, this was going to take forever, wasn’t it?
“I’m surprised you wanted to do this,” you said, not looking up from the art as you pressed the diamonds down.
He’d die before admitting it was an excuse though. “I like how your gift turned out.”
“Hope you don’t regret it,” you teased, looking up at him. “It’s going to take forever.”
He could tell. But if he could sit this close to you the whole time, he never would.
You worked in tandem, doing a colour each. He was taking much longer to line up the diamonds with the guide, but was anyone surprised? As always, you did your part effortlessly. He hoped you didn’t notice him admiring you more than he was working on the project.
You took a sip of your drink every so often, and popped a strawberry in your mouth. You smiled when Rafe came over and rested his head on your lap.
“He really likes you,” he noted.
You chuckled, patting his head. “I like you too, Rafe!”
Would you say the same about him?
“You want to dog sit him sometime?”
“Rafe? He doesn’t need dog sitting. Look at him, he looks like he can dog sit.”
He laughed. It was a fair argument.
Nearing noon, Phillip straightened his back that had got stiff from all the concentrating. He announced that he was going to make you lunch and that you could stay put. With excitement, you asked to come with instead.
He didn’t mean to get your hopes up. He wasn’t about to make anything show-stopping, but he did get two sizeable, premium cuts of steak for the occasion. He knew how to cook meat well, at least - hopefully it was enough to please you.
Next to him, you sat on the counter as he sliced the steaks, Rafe respectfully waiting at his foot.
“Look at how perfect that looks! Not sure why you don’t cook more. I think you have quite the knack for it.”
“Guess I’ll have to keep cooking for you.”
You grinned. “I won’t complain.”
“Here,” he said, picking a piece up with a fork and holding it up to you. “Open up.”
You took the fork from him before putting it in your mouth. You hummed in satisfaction as you chewed, shoulders dropping. “Oh, that’s really good. Like really good. Might be the best I’ve ever had.”
Okay. He was supposed to feed you, but it doesn’t hurt to try again. He grabbed his fork for another attempt, which you also took.
You groaned. “You know sometimes you eat something so good, you need to lie down?” you asked with an exhale, eyes shut. “This is it, Graves. Sorry, I need a minute to recover.”
Fucking hell. What was a man supposed to do? Give you shitty food and you’d think he couldn’t care for you, but feed you well and you’d be out of it. He was suffering from success.
“I’m glad you like it,” he said with a pained smile which you didn’t see in the midst of your utter joy.
After the meal, you continued with the painting in an exceptionally good mood. Rafe, too, looked out of it as he laid on his back after you gave him a little piece. At least he learnt another way to make you happy.
Time slipped as you sipped on wine and nibbled on berries while chatting. The next thing Phillip knew, sunshine was fading.
“I should head back before it’s too late.”
“I’ll drive you.”
“No, no. You’ve picked me up, and I’m not making you drive all the way out again. I’ll get a ride.”
“I really don’t mind.”
“No. Please, it’s the least I can do. I had such a good time hanging out here. Your place is so, so nice.”
“You’re welcome back anytime.” He chuckled, nodding at the pool. “We can swim too, and I’ll cook you more steak.”
“I’m very much looking forward to it.” You smiled. “I’ll bring dessert.”
Both of you tidied the kit up while waiting for your ride to arrive.
“Thanks again, Graves,” you said as he walked you out.
“You should stop calling me Graves.”
Your smile dropped, concern in your eyes. “You said your friends- I’m sorry, did I do something?”
“I’d prefer if you call me Phillip from now on.”
“Oh.” Your gaze dropped. “Yeah, okay. Sure.”
He opened the car door for you and watched the red taillights of your ride disappear into the night.
As scheduled, Phillip went away for over a week.
Nothing changed with you. If any, he sensed some distance, but after an exhausting mission, he couldn’t trust his own judgement anymore. But it was a fact that he didn’t find your texts waiting anymore if it wasn’t to reply to him. He just wanted you to ask how he was doing, if he’d eaten, if he’d hurt himself. Maybe even have you tell him you wanted to see him, or even missed him.
Did the coffee guy steal your heart after all? You were friends; you’d tell him if there was development with the dude, right? Or was he the jealous kind who wouldn’t let you have male friends?
Phillip wouldn’t be. He could fight. Bare-handed or armed, you could name it, and he’d fight off anyone for you.
Damn, this anonymous dude was living in his head rent-free. Was he artsy too and had a decent sleeping schedule? Maybe blond and blue-eyed like him? He was convinced he thought of this guy more than you did.
Was he not worthy? Did he not look like he could take care of you? He thought he’d hammered it home once and for all when he took you to his place. He knew you weren’t that kind of woman, but did it really not make you see him in a different light? He was ready to provide for you in all the ways you could think of, make time in his schedule to prioritise you. Was he supposed to be offended you didn’t even seem to care?
Screw being subtle. He had no time to waste. He got just one more trick up his sleeve. Asking you out on a proper date couldn’t be any more direct.
From the military plane taking him back home, he sent you a link to a restaurant.
Thoughts?
Insanely expensive, but heard it’s amazing
Good. I’m taking you on a date. Saturday lunch?
[laughing emoji] You’re so funny
He frowned. What?
Why?
He almost flung his phone across the cabin. He couldn’t believe it. Are you fucking kidding? Before he said or did anything he’d regret, he got up with a groan and paced the entire plane.
Hey, are you okay? Did something happen? Your text awaited by the time he was back.
He snorted. See you Saturday 11 am
You sure you want to go with me?
I’m asking you, aren’t I? I wouldn’t if I didn’t mean it
It was your turn to take your time.
“Fuck,” he muttered. He certainly didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. Never mind. We’ll go somewhere else
Yeah, something casual would do
Phillip huffed. Was he pushing his chances if he saw you for dinner? It’d been too long without you and he couldn’t wait anymore.
Touchdown in 1 hr 20. What are you doing tonight?
Staying in. Left work early, not feeling well </3
Aw, you poor girl. You eaten yet? Can I get you something, dinner?
Don’t have to, thanks. I ate a bit but I really don’t feel like it
Would a kiss on our forehead help? He would be more than happy to give you 100. Let me know if you need anything. Hope you feel better soon
For fuck’s sake, what was happening to him? If he had a psych eval, would he be diagnosed clinically insane?
He could have waited two more days until Saturday, but there he was the same evening in front of your building with some hearty soup and your favourite ice cream. He just had to see you, even just a tiny glimpse would do.
As he cut his engine off, a grey sedan pulled up at the entrance, one which you stepped out of. Was that a man you were with? In the dark, it was hard see, but it had to be a man, right? You smiled and waved, even blew the driver- not one, but TWO kisses before making your way up.
He gasped in disbelief. How could you reject dinner with him but went out with whoever the fuck that was! And how dare that man receive the aforementioned air kisses – they were supposed to be for him and him only. How could you betray him like that?
He was ready to step on the pedal and catch up to the dude to demand the return of the unauthorised kisses, alas, his wounded chest needed tending to. No, he definitely didn’t inhale the soup and the entire tub of ice cream in his car.
Okay, just because the day wasn’t ideal, it didn’t mean the commander’s plans were derailed. As far as he was concerned, your relationship status hadn’t changed – you wouldn’t have agreed to the date otherwise, right? It was still fair game. He still had a chance.
Saturday, he knocked on your door at 11 a.m. sharp. He might have picked some place a little more lowkey, something less serious as per your request, but it didn’t mean any less to him. He’d shaven that morning, spent ten minutes styling his sharply-trimmed hair and put on his favourite cologne. He was a man on a mission.
“Coming,” your cheery voice called out from inside.
He looked down at his pressed button down again, smoothing down non-existent creases once more. His dress shoes, too, still shone as bright as he last checked a minute ago.
You swung the door open with a smile. “Hi, thanks- Oh-“ You blinked as you gave him a once over. You were as pretty as you always were, but you donned a tank top, a cardigan, shorts and sneakers. “Uh, I thought-”
Oh, fucking hell.
Graves had been weird the past few weeks. Well, Phillip now to you apparently, but after calling him Graves for many months, you still hadn’t got used to calling him that yet.
You didn’t realise it at first with how subtle the change was.
You knew his type, the one with his way with words. He could tell you everything about himself, and nothing at the same time, giving the illusion of vulnerability. It was fine - he didn’t owe you anything. But one day he started talking about his childhood. About how their first apartment in the city had nothing but a bed, about his mum crying in the kitchen when she thought he was asleep. About why he left the Corps and who he owed it all to.
You welcomed the change, happy he trusted you, but it was jarring nonetheless.
The fact that he asked you to stop calling him Graves was too. Everyone called him that- heck, he even introduced himself as Graves, and for him to take the privilege away from you, you couldn’t help but think you did something.
You understood he might not be ready to talk about it, or maybe couldn’t. Perhaps something happened at work. Maybe he’d lost his men – you knew how much he cared about his Shadows, maybe the closer ones that made him question the meaning beyond all this. The least you could do was to give him space and let him open up, especially if it was something you did.
So imagine your shock when Phillip showed up at your door in his attire. Was he not kidding about it being a date? Where the hell did that come from? You’d never been anything but platonic.
“I’m so sorry, give me five minutes. I’ll go get changed,” you said, already turning back.
He tapped your shoulder. “No need. You can wear what you want.”
You faced him, searching his blue eyes. He wasn’t smiling, no trace of the usual warmth in his now hard gaze either. In fact, he didn’t look like he wanted to be there, so why the fuck was he at your door wearing all that? Did he get rejected or stood up? Was this his way of coping, pretending to be on a date with another body?
You locked up behind you. “Sorry, I didn’t realise you’d be dressed up.”
He grunted and you followed him to his grey Rover. You didn’t bother asking where you were heading. You’d told him something casual would do, and if he decided you were underdressed for the occasion- well that was on him.
Thankfully, you weren’t. He took you to a brunch place across the park. The meal was wonderful as always (he had immaculate taste), but awkward with stuttered conversation. He didn’t even bother to keep the chat flowing, giving you short answers when you attempted small talk.
When Phillip didn’t order dessert, it was then you knew something was really off. You suggested an ice cream sandwich – the one thing that could cheer him up a bit. The treat was on you, and you picked a bench nearby.
See, another thing that you’d noticed was that you didn’t have to catch up to him while walking anymore. You realised one day he slowed down and started matching your pace instead, even stood and sat a little closer to you. And today? He was staring with all the intensity in those blue eyes over brunch, and didn’t seem to even want to hide it either.
Definitely not then when he sat back against the arm rest of the bench facing you, gaze unwavering. You pretended to not notice as you looked straight ahead at the people strolling by.
The silence was loud. Was this an intimidation tactic? Did you do something, somehow insulted his lineage? What in the ever-loving heck was going on? It was your first time seeing him so quiet and brooding, yet you couldn’t ask. His days were only filled with work (and his wonderful mum occasionally), which was the only thing he couldn’t talk about. So you let him be. He probably needed the company, even if it meant a charged and awkward one.
Minutes later, when he seemed to have finished his dessert from the corner of your eye, you glanced at him. He was still staring. You didn’t mean to jump and do a double take.
You cleared your throat. “Uh, you’re done? Was it good?”
“Yep,” he said without missing a beat.
You hesitated before pointing to the corner of your mouth. “You got…”
He wiped his mouth with a serviette.
“No, the other- It’s-“ You pointed by his lips which he wiped again.
Futile attempt. It was a stubborn crumb.
You reached out, rubbed it off with your thumb. “There.”
Oh God, this dude didn’t have to make this even weirder by looking so stunned. It wasn’t your fault this grown man did such a terrible job wiping his mouth clean. You turned away, looking back ahead.
More silence ensued before he scooted towards you, his knee pressing against your thigh. It was nothing – he must have readjusted in his seat, but you jerked your thigh away. The scrutiny of his piercing eyes had made you jumpy.
“Gra- Phillip. Um- You know if you want to leave, you can just say so, right?” you turned to him, but couldn’t meet his gaze. “I know you’re not feeling the best and-“
“Are you playing with me?” he snapped. “I said this was a date, didn’t I?”
“What-“ Your eyes cut to his cold ones. “Graves, I swear I thought you were joking.”
“Is this all platonic to you? You really can’t see I’m into you?”
You blinked, at a loss for words. “What…”
“Thursday night, I came over only to see you getting dropped off. You sure could have been honest if you didn’t want to see me instead of lying about staying in. Was it the coffee guy? Are you guys an item now?”
“Lying!?” you scoffed in disbelief. Who the hell was this dude coming in hot with his accusations? “It was Johanna! She took me to the shops.”
He hesitated for a split second, but of course he doubled down. “Well- Why didn’t you ask me?”
“I had to get pads, and that’s none of your business, is it?” you retorted. “You didn’t even tell me you were coming.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “I told you to let me know if you needed anything. Fuck,” he groaned, throwing his head back in exasperation. ”I want to be there for you. Want you to want me, that not obvious enough?” he said, voice sarcastic.
The audacity. “No, it’s not,” you countered, squinting at him. “How the hell would I know this? I mean- why the change of heart? When we first met, I… I kept-” you faltered as your gaze fell, unprepared for the confession that lurched to the tip of your tongue. “You didn’t reciprocate.”
It was true. After the paint and sip, he took you out for dinner, drove you home and started texting regularly. Thinking you’d hit it off, you extended invitations over the following weeks which he unfortunately didn’t take. You understood he was a busy man, and didn’t mind taking things slow with someone who’d rather not waste time on meaningless dates. Instead, you showed your interest by being supportive, making sure he was eating and taking care of himself.
However, the longer you spoke, you realised it wasn’t going to work with how long his days were and weekends just as packed. Being a commander entailed a huge responsibility, and he didn’t have the time and space for anything more than friends he could fit around his unyielding schedule. The fact that he only wanted to go out drinking on weeknights only cemented your thoughts: he’d picked his priorities.
You didn’t take it personally – such was life. But Phillip was funny and smart, and with his sarcastic humour being right up your alley, you were happy to have him as a friend regardless. But that didn’t mean you were treating him as anything more, let alone move around your schedule for him. He was just that: one of your friends.
Now it was his turn to look dumbfounded. “I didn’t reciprocate?” he repeated.
“I looked up places and activities you might like, but you never had the time,” you began, lowering your gaze, feeling silly about your admission. “Instead, you kept wanting to go drinking. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, but it doesn’t exactly scream ‘more than friends’. After two months, I figured you weren’t interested.”
“Did I, really?” he softened like it just dawned on him. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his blond hair. “I didn’t know. I’d have-“
“You can be really fucking dense sometimes, huh?” You chuckled, facing forward again. “You’re lucky you’re a good friend.”
“Well, I don’t want to be just a friend.” He scooted an inch towards you, an arm on the backrest. “Are you… with the coffee guy?”
“I don’t want him.”
You didn’t have to look to tell he was smiling, probably the smug kind too, knowing him. “Would you give us a chance? See how it goes?”
You couldn’t help but crack a smile. “You gonna keep being dense?”
“You like me anyway.”
With a laugh, your turned to him. He had a different kind of smile, one that made his blue eyes shine brighter. One that made him a lot more handsome than you were willing to admit.
“You can smack me upside the head if I am.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Graves.”
He closed the gap, thigh against yours now. “Now, what did I tell you to call me?”
“Commander,” you teased, placing a hand on his knee. He’d never admit it, but he always got a little shy when you called him that. “Now buy me an ice cream sandwich, Phillip. I can’t believe you didn’t offer me a bite earlier. How rude.”
“Right away, ma’am.” He took your hand and brought it to his lips, smiling against it.
The next part is linked above if already published
Masterlist
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