Larry

He isn’t a brat on purpose, he just doesn’t think. Not a thought within those blue eyes when he’s around you, he bites back without realizing, he ignores your commands due to rather selective hearing. Phillip wouldn’t qualify himself as a brat at least. And you know he doesn’t mean to act like this but he does and it does get under your skin. But you put up with it, wanting to be the safety and light for the commander, not wanting to scare him away.

Unfortunately today is not a good day, despite your lover being home for the first time in months. You just got laid off, not knowing how to break the news to Phillip. Not wanting to have to fully rely on him even if he is more than happy to give you anything and everything. Pushing open the door to your shared house you nearly trip over the boots you told him to put away properly when he first got home, groaning under your breath.

“How many times have I told ya to put those damn boots away?” You call through the house. No answer. Your brows furrow, eyes glancing around. He’s not in the kitchen, nor the living room like usual watching tv. You put your bag down, having purposefully left the boxes from your office in your car. 

“Sweetheart?” You call out again. Holding Phillip’s boots in your hand as you pad upstairs to the bedroom, hoping he hasn’t been called back in early. But if he was, he’d have taken his boots. You think to yourself, getting slightly worried as you realize he’s not in the bedroom either. Putting his boots at the bottom of the closet, pulling out your phone to see if he’s texted you but there’s nothing. 

Biting your lip you quickly pad to his office, empty. His computer isn’t even warm like usual. Panic starts to set in, you quickly call him. You yelp as his ringtone blares from the bedroom, running towards it nonetheless. Your heart races as you see his phone sitting on his nightstand. Suddenly your doorbell rings, you shove your phone in your pocket. Your heart is pounding in your ears as you stumble down the stairs, forgetting to look through the peephole and coming face to face with Lerch holding up a very drunk Phillip Graves. 

“Didn’t mean to let him drink so much… Was just supposed to be a few beers, got an uber to bring him here.” 

“God damn it Phillip.” You mutter under your breath. Holding him up as your lover tries to climb you, giving Lerch a thankful but weak smile. “Thanks Marcus. Can you text me how much I owe you for the uber and the drinks? I’ll send it back once he’s sober.” 

“No need. Just take care of the commander.” He nods. Leaving just as quickly as he arrived. You sigh heavily, holding Phillip up more as you lead him into the house. Not letting him kiss you in any capacity. 

“How many fuckin times have I told you not to go out day drinking? Especially without your phone. Are you trying to get kidnapped?” You hiss at him, fear present in your voice.

“I’m a soldier, no one wants to kidnap me.” He slurs a little too happily for you. You dump him on the couch, going to get water from the kitchen. Hungry eyes drinking in your still suited form as he splays himself happily over the couch. 

“It’s still possible. And a soldier should be fucking smarter.” 

“Jeez who pissed in your cereal?” He jokes. Shaking his head when he sees the water in your hand. Though slight hurt flashes in his eyes.

“You did. I’m not asking, you’re drinking water.” Your voice leaves no room for argument. Phillip begrudgingly sits up and accepts the water, not fully understanding why you’re so upset. “When did you go out to start drinking?” 

“What’s it matter? I’m my own man.” He bites back without thinking. The thin cord of self control starts to snap.

“Your own man? You’re piss drunk and had to be walked to the door by someone you command.” You run your hands through your hair, pacing in front of him. 

“It’s my time off, I’m allowed to relax.” He sips on the water. Your throat tightens, you know he’s right but your protective instincts are in overdrive right now. 

“Do you not see the problem with going out in the middle of the day to get drunk without your phone? Without telling me at all?” You stare down at him. You can practically see the cogs turning in his head, his stubbornness coming out to play.

“You’re not my father. I can do things without you, ‘M an adult.” 

“And yet you’re acting like a fucking child.” You straighten up. Shaking your head, “But fine, you want to be your own man then be it. Good night, Mr. Graves.” 

You turn on your heel before you see his face fall, you’ve never called him that before. Trudging up to the bedroom, guilt is already eating you alive. Momentarily having forgotten that you got fired earlier, worried about your boyfriend but not wanting to argue with him when he’s drunk like this. 

You take a long, hot shower. You don’t know how long you’re in there, scrubbing your skin raw before standing under the hot water. Some part of you tells you to go back downstairs and take care of Phillip but you don’t give in. Eventually you turn off the shower and dry off, getting into a fresh pair of boxers, opting not to slide into one of Phillip’s shirts like normal. Instead you wear an old one from college, slipping into bed. 

The room feels empty without him, the bed is colder than ice. It just doesn’t feel right but you refuse to back down, needing him to learn a lesson. Still slightly annoyed that he doesn’t see the issue with his actions. You click off the light, turning over to face the wall. Not caring that it’s still technically early, not caring that you didn’t have dinner. Just wanting today to end.

About an hour later Phillip pads into the room, eyes flickering with sadness as he sees you. He strips down to his boxers, crawling into bed next to you. He finally notices your shirt choice, whining under his breath. He expects you to flip over and bring him into your arms but you don’t. In fact you stay as far away from him as you can. Neither of you say anything, laying on opposite sides of a bed that feels impossibly big. 

You both try to sleep but it never comes. You refuse to turn around, too focused on making sure Phillip learns. Meanwhile his stubbornness is slowly cracking. You can practically hear his pout without having to see it.

“I can’t sleep.” He breaks the silence first. His voice still very slightly slurred, a whine underneath it. You don’t respond, don’t move, don’t acknowledge him. “Please baby… I.. I need you to sleep.” 

Your eyes darken at the pet name. Finally you roll over, grabbing his hips and pulling him against you, rolling over to hover over him. Lowering your face over his, “Not my name. And now you’re not sleeping for a while, you need to learn, pretty boy.” 

“S-Sir?” Phillip’s eyes are blown wide. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, legs instinctively spreading to accommodate you. You smirk down at him, eyes hooked on his lips.

“There’s my boy.” You slot your knee between his thighs, putting the perfect amount of pressure on his clothed cock. “You’re going to hump my knee until you learn your lesson. No coming, no stopping unless I say. Got it, darlin’?” 

“Yes sir.” He nods quickly. Clinging to your shirt as he locks his thighs around your knee, rocking his hips shyly. Your eyes soften slightly, leaning down fully and capturing his lips in a kiss. Claiming his mouth again, reminding him that he’s not in charge. 

You swallow every sweet grunt and whimper that escapes his lips, hands falling to his hips to guide them. Pressing your knee harder against him, making his hands tighten on your shirt. You pull away from the kiss with a smirk, nipping at his stubbled jaw and neck. Your own hands tighten possessively on his hips. It only takes a few minutes for his cock to be fully hard, straining against his boxers. 

“Please [___]!” He whines your name in your ear while nuzzling your neck. It sounds like heaven, it’s been so long since you’ve heard it that you almost give into him. Almost. 

“Do I need to extend the lesson, sweet boy?” Grinning from ear to ear as he shakes his head quickly. 

“N-No sir. Sorry sir.” He stutters out. Moaning in surprise as you put more pressure on his cock, his eyes fluttering. “Fuck!” 

“That’s a good boy, Phillip.” You praise softly. Your chest swelling with pride as you feel how soaked his boxers are with pre-release. He buries his face in your shoulder, clinging to you tighter. 

“Gonna… Please sir.” He whines desperately. You force his hips to stop, relieving the pressure on his cock. He pouts instantly, tugging on your shirt. “No, no! Don’t stop, please.”

“Too bad, baby boy. You need to learn your lesson.” 

“I have. I swear I have, sir. Jus’ let me come.” He bucks his hips against your knee. 

“I don’t think you have. I’ve only edged you once, usually you don’t learn until about the fourth or fifth time.” You tut. Keeping his hips still, kissing the side of his head. He shakes his head, trembling against you with need.

“Nuhuh! I’ve learned. I promise, sir. Please.” He pleads. Sniffling and rubbing his face against your shirt, “T’s been so long, need you sir. I’ll do anything.” 

You could never say no to him, well not in the bedroom at least. He’s your lost little mutt afterall. Suddenly your eyes light up, a twisted new way to teach him blossoms in your head.

“Anything?” 

“Anything.” He nods. Pawing at your shirt, blue eyes shining with desperate need. And he is right, it has been awhile but it’s been so hard with both of your schedules. You help pull off your shirt, leaning over him and grabbing the lube from your nightstand. 

“Good. Try to remember that when you’re babbling my name.” You kiss his cheek. Tugging off both of your boxers, throwing them to some corner of the room. He doesn’t bite back or question, too entranced by the sight of your lubing up two fingers. “Now tell me if I hurt ya. Safeword’s still what, darlin’?”

“I will. ‘N it’s poppy.” 

“Good boy.” You bury your face in his neck, inhaling his scent deeply. Groaning as his hole eagerly accepts your fingers, he’s still as tight as ever. He locks his legs around you, moaning lewdly as your fingers sink deeper. His back arches beautifully, submission written across his body. 

His hands cling to your biceps, neatly manicured nails leaving crescent shapes in your skin. You think Phillip looks like a damn art piece like this, committing him to memory even though you’ve seen him like this before. Using his haze of pleasure to take the time to mark his neck, not caring if he can hide them or not. Wanting everyone to know that he’s not as big and bad as he acts. 

You gently press another finger into him, groaning lowly at how easily it slides in along with the others. Teeth grazing his neck greedily, your own cock weeping at attention. He can feel it against his ass, looking at you with puppy eyes.

“Please sir. I c’n take it.” He sounds so small when he’s like this. A big bad commander reduced to a whimpering bitch in heat, just how you like it. His hole clenches angrily as you withdraw your fingers but he doesn’t have time to whine about it before you’re pressing the fat head of your cock against him. 

“So fuckin’ tight, pup.” You groan against his skin as you push in. Drinking in the moan you pull from your lover. Your hands find his hips, your own snapping against his. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mixed with your noises. “So warm, my good boy.” 

“Yours.” Phillip coos happily. Eyes fluttering from the pleasure, cheeks painted pink. He sucks your cock deeper, nearly shrieking when you rub against his prostate. You smirk against his skin, snapping your hips brutally, drilling your cock into that spot repeatedly. 

It takes an embarrassingly short time for his cock to throb between the two of you, yet he doesn’t care. Clinging to your arms tighter, arching closer to you. Walls clenching around your cock,

“Gonna come, sir.” He warns like he’s supposed to.

“Come for me, pretty boy. Be a good boy ‘n make a mess.” You encourage him. Hips never faltering, hands tightening on his hips. He trembles softly, clawing at your arms but the sting only adds to your pleasure.

Phillip comes with a desperately pathetic noise that if anyone besides you heard he’d kill them. You never stop, fucking him through his orgasm. His cum spreads between your stomachs, getting everywhere with each thrust. He moves his hands to your back, clinging for dear life.

“Good boy.” You praise him. Kissing along his jaw, cock still abusing his prostate. His eyes are already glazed over, he’s completely sober from alcohol now but he’s already getting drunk on your cock. 

“T-Thank you, sir.” He pants out. Locking his legs around your waist tighter, his muscular form looks tiny under yours even though you’re not that much bigger than him. Your body cages his against the bed, keeping him from escaping your torment. Your eyes shine with pride at his manners though something more sinister glimmers underneath. 

He arches off of the bed completely, letting you hold him up while pounding into him. You absolutely love when he lets you do this, when he’s pliable in your arms. Fucking out all of your stress from today into him, the loss of your job at the very back of your mind as you take in his glowing and slick form. 

His cock leaks between the two of you, he squeals as your stomach rubs against it with your thrusts. Your lips curl into a smile at his squeal, angling your hips to try and get him to make that sound again. One hand digs into his hips as the other comes up to the back of his head, holding him up with ease as you pound into him. 

“Sir. Fuck so deep.” He whines against you. Nails leaving trackmarks in your back, legs already trembling again. Your thrusts become rougher and harder, chasing towards another orgasm from him.

It doesn’t take long for him to lose track of how many orgasms he’s had, two turned into four and four turned into a blur of pleasure. Phillip babbles dumbly at you, letting you bounce him on your cock. But he never uses his safeword, he doesn’t want to. He’s in heaven despite the overstimulation. His cock twitches again, small spurts of thick white cum add to the mess already on both of your stomachs. 

His forehead glistens with sweat, eyes out of focus, mouth parted as noises of pleasure continually fill the room. Your heavy balls slap against his ass cheeks, his cheeks flood with color as he thinks about how good it would feel for all of that pent of cum to coat his insides. In a fleeting moment of desperate submission he wishes that you properly knock him up but he doesn’t vocalize that.

“Gonna.” Is all he manages to get out before screaming as another orgasm is ripped from his trembling body. He claws at your back, pressing as close as possible to you. Barely any cum spills onto his belly, he pants heavily. Rubbing his sweaty face against your chest, “Can’t do anymore.. Need you, sir.” 

“You have me, pretty boy. And yes you can, you’re not dry yet. You haven’t learned yet, besides you said I could do anything.” You coo back sweetly.

“No I can’t. It hurts, sir. Please I learned, I promise. This isn’t what I meant. Jus’ come in me, need to feel it.” 

“Yes you can. I’ll fill up your greedy hole after you give me another orgasm. Just one more, okay?” He nods weakly and obediently. Sniffling as his spent cock twitches to attention as you ram his prostate, never letting up the pace. 

He’s so tightly locked around you that you don’t think you’re going to be able to pull out afterwards, not that it matters. Pinning him to the bed again, wrapping one hand around his angry cock. The other intertwines with one of his hands. You pump his cock in time with your thrusts, enjoying the sweet noises it pulls from him. Making a mental note to record next time so you can have something to listen to when he leaves next time. 

Phillip howls weakly with pleasure, hips stuttering into your hand. This orgasm is weaker than the one before, only one sad rope of cum hits your hand. Yet you don’t stop or pull away your hand quite yet, thumb teasing the red tip. You gently kiss his neck, a contrast to the abuse of pleasure he’s feeling.  

“That’s my good boy. Good soldier.” You praise as you let him paw your hand away from his cock. “Want me to fill you now?” 

“Please!” He mewls, nodding hastily. You intertwine both of your hands, rolling your hips against his. Proud of your own restraint, your cock twitches eagerly. Burying your face in the crook of your neck to muffle your noises, eyes fluttering as you finally chase after your own orgasm.

“Fuckin’ angel. So damn tight, so sweet for me.” You mumble praises against his skin, just loud enough for him to hear. “My good boy, doin’ exactly what I asked. Makin’ such a big mess for me, ‘m gonna fill your pretty little hole. My greedy boy.”

He holds you tighter as he feels you get closer to the edge, walls clenching hard around your cock. You growl softly, snapping your hips as your balls tighten. Phillip leans up and bites your neck, knowing exactly where you like to be marked. That’s your undoing, you come with a moan. Filling him with weeks of pent up cum, rocking against him to ensure none of it leaks out. 

He doesn’t loosen his legs, keeping you locked against him as you come down from your release. Kissing up his neck to his lips, you chuckle softly,

“Learned your lesson, pup?” 

“Mhmm. I gotta tell you when I go out to drink ‘n I need to bring my phone.” He preens happily. You nod softly, smiling down at him. 

“Good boy.” You kiss his cheek. Your hips finally stop though you stay locked together, stroking his short hair with one hand while the other rubs his knuckles. “You want to shower or-” 

“Stay like this…. Please.” He cuts you off but it’s so sweet and adorable that you let it slide. Nodding down at him, you lay on top of him. A protective blanket, a consistent calming presence. Phillip purrs happily, snuggling up under you. Not caring that your cock is starting to soften inside of him, not wanting to move an inch.

“Sounds perfect to me but I’m putting you in the shower first thing in the morning.” 

“Only if you join me.” He chuckles. You nod eagerly, capturing his lips in a deep kiss.

As usual, lunch followed, and like he’d promised, he wore a cap when out with you. It seemed to make you smile a lot more. Did it look funny on him? He’d long stopped wearing a cap, but he had to admit, it was bringing the Felix out of him looking like that.

His two weeks away didn’t feel like two weeks if he had your texts to look forward to. It wasn’t much: small updates of your day, a line or two about a confused private, sometimes when a meal was particularly memorable. Or anything strawberry you found.

Those were his favourites, because yes, he wanted you to think of him as much as he thought of you.

But one day you sent a selfie at physical training, your entire squad posing behind you. Somewhere in the desert, in the dark and cold tent, he grinned.

Okay, that was his real favourite: your photos. It was only the second one he had of you. Or third, if the thermal one from the drone counted.

When Phillip got back Tuesday, the takeout excuse landed for Wednesday, which was why he was in his skivvy and combat pants, dinner in hand, walking into your apartment like he owned it. What could he say, it felt better going there than coming home to his own.

“What’s for lunch Saturday?” he asked, popping a piece of sushi in his mouth.

“It’s Evie bachelorette’s party, remember?”

It slipped his mind.

“I’m getting picked up at 10.”

“Well, that’s plenty of time for breakfast.”

You gave him a knowing look. “You inviting yourself over?”

“Ya know it.”

When he arrived Saturday 8:30, your duffel was already by the door. You fetched coffee from the kitchen to go with the breakfast sandwiches he brought. As you finished the meal, there was a knock on the door.

Your brows furrowed.

“That your ride?”

“Can’t be. It’s way too early.” You made your way to the door, checking the peephole before opening it. “Oh, Mr. Powell. Hi, I wasn’t expecting you.”

“The plumber’s here to fix your sink,” the man announced. Your landlord, Phillip assumed.

“Right now? I’m actually leaving on a trip.”

“Well, he’s here today,” he said, tone bored. “Do you want it fixed or not?”

“I do. But I’ll be gone in an hour. How long will the repair take?”

“An hour then. I’m not paying him to drop by again just to deal with your sink.”

With that, the man walked away, leaving the apologetic, middle-aged plumber at your door. You cleared the cabinet under the sink in a hurry, and the plumber got to work. Still, you poured him a cup of water.

You sighed when you got back to the dining table.

Phillip chuckled. “Bit of an asshole, isn’t he?”

“You tell me.”

Your phone rang on the table and you straightened up. “Hey, everything ok?” At the response, you relaxed. “… That’s really nice, but I can’t. The plumber’s here. … Oh, you really don’t have to.” More talking on the other end. You opened you mouth and closed it again before hanging up.

“Damien is getting us coffee,” you announced.

“Okay.”

“He said he’s arriving early and wanted to get coffee before we leave, but since I can’t, he’s coming over.”

You didn’t show up an hour early coincidentally. Who the fuck was this dude inviting himself over to yours, and why did you let him? Only he was allowed to shamelessly invite himself over.

When another knock came, Phillip didn’t have to move. His seat was a good vantage point. Too good, actually, when he could see this Damien fellow with two cups in hand, grinning as you opened the door.

You said carpooling with groomsmen. This was one dude. One dude with eyes so fucking fond as they took you in like he wasn’t right there.

He followed you in, and at the sight of Phillip, his smile flickered. It was a split second, but it didn’t elude the commander.

He let out a chuckle. “I didn’t realise you had company.”

“Ah, right. Damien, this is Graves, my colleague. Graves, Damien.” You gestured at the both of them.

Colleague? He thought he’d established you were at least friends.

Damien gave a polite nod before placing the cups on the table, taking a seat adjacent to him.

“Miss?” the plumber called out from the kitchen.

You went to assist the man, leaving him all alone with this stranger, staring at each other in silence.

Oh, did Phillip have competition? He didn’t like competition. Was this dude gonna be a problem? Because the way he looked at you was embarrassingly obvious.

Who was he to you? You’d never even mentioned him before. He might not know him, but he knew the look of a man who was into a woman.

Like he didn’t have the same look.

Phillip’s eyes narrowed. This uninvited threat – a snag in his plans - was invoking some primal, territorial urges in him, when it shouldn’t. He shouldn’t be doing this, feeling all these feelings when it was just a silly crush on you.

Was this your type? Dark hair, green eyes. Your age and height, maybe a little taller. You were too nice on the phone. You didn’t have a problem saying no to Phillip, so why didn’t you say no to him when he was already right there at your table?

“I’d have got another cup if I knew you were here, man,” Damien said before taking a sip of his coffee.

“Oh, we just had breakfast, but thanks.” He gestured at the coffee cup, ‘brown sugar latte’ crawled on it. “She, uh, doesn’t really like sugary stuff in the morning.”

Damien pressed his lips to a thin line. He didn’t speak until you came back to the table. “Everything alright?”

“He was just showing me what’s wrong,” you said, sighing as you took a seat. “He’s working as fast as he can, but it looks like it might take longer than he first thought.”

He gave you an encouraging smile. “We can wait until 10:15. Let’s hope he finishes soon.”

“Thanks.” You returned a small smile, reaching for the coffee. You blinked at the first sip before reading the writing on the cup.

“Too sweet?” Phillip asked, trying his best to sound neutral.

“For the hour, a little bit, yeah.“ You turned to Damien before getting up. “It’s nice coffee though. I’ll put this in a travel mug for later.”

Phillip didn’t have to be so fucking petty glancing at this dude with that much smugness like he just won the lottery.

Damien didn’t even look at him. Instead, he chuckled. “I should have asked, but I’ll know next time.”

You chatted about the day’s itinerary. While the ladies would have the dress fitting at 2 followed by afternoon tea, the gentlemen would go to the archery field and have a beer making workshop before having a joint dinner at the hotel. The couple had promised unlimited room service in their suites to accompany the following movie night.

“As much as I love my girls, I’d love to join you guys. I’ve never tried archery.”

He averted his gaze, stifling a smile. “We should go sometime.”

You laughed. “Why not.”

“Hopefully then I’ll be somewhat useful, unlike at the shooting range last time.”

Last time? You’d gone out before?

“Oh, you were not that bad at all!”

“Only because you helped.” His gaze flicked to you. “You’re a good teacher.”

Phillip’s eye twitched. Was this guy flirting, asking you out right under his nose? Fuck that. He should be the one taking you.

Next week. He was taking you next weekend. Not some vague ass ‘sometime’ men who couldn’t say what they wanted said.

But he bit his tongue. No point in trying to one-up anyone here lest he made more a fool of himself getting all worked up listening to your conversation.

You continued to chat, and the more you did, the fire in Phillip’s chest waned.

Damien and Aaron lived on the same street – practically grew up together, and while the groom became an MMA athlete, Damien was an IT engineer at a prolific tech company who just got promoted the month before.

You asked how his parents were. He made you laugh when he told you about his nephew’s recent antics, and how he, despite him being nine, still asked for shoulder rides.

Damien seemed like a nice guy, and Phillip wouldn’t say it about anyone because he despised that phrase. He, of all people, knew how to look like a nice guy - it was his job to.

You weren’t looking for anything more, but if you were, you’d be better off with someone like Damien. Uncomplicated with a stable and predictable job. Someone who was closer to your age, one who’d be waiting at home every night after your long days.

You needed calm to your admirable fire. Someone light-hearted, not someone who yelled and ordered people to combat for a living. You needed someone dependable who had every day in his life accounted for, not one who’d go days and days off the grid at a moment’s notice.

And it didn’t have to hurt so much that you spoke to Damien with a certain lightness the commander had never seen before. There was no confident smirk, no teasing smiles, just soft and honest. The kind that would turn his spine jelly if it was directed at him, but only made him sick in the stomach now that it was towards someone else.

You and Phillip were too much alike: hardened by battle and unyielding schedules. You needed a man with a family and a home bursting with laughter. Someone who could be with you like it was written in the stars, without the hands of duty getting in the way.

A partner like he never could be.

Like he never had.

Because everyone eventually left. Because you could only have one or the other. So who in the right mind wouldn’t choose one that could never leave him?

Phillip should have left as soon as dread wrapped its fingers around his throat, but he didn’t. Instead, he sat there witnessing every interaction he wasn’t a part of, because perhaps he loved to suffer deep down. And perhaps, this would finally be the thing what got his head straight.

Unless it only made him curl up into a ball when he got home.

The closer it was to 10, more often Damien glanced at the clock.

“Could we confirm if he’s finishing up?”

“I just asked 15 minutes ago,” you said with a wince.

“I hate to ask, but any chance he can continue next week?”

You shook your head. “My landlord made it clear today is my only chance of getting the damn sink fixed.”

“Right, it’s just we have a schedule to stick to.”

“I know.” You sighed. “Sorry. He’s not even supposed to come, but my landlord just showed up this morning.”

“That’s okay. Not your fault.”

“Look, if he’s not done in 15, you go ahead and I’ll drive up alone.”

“No, no, I’m not leaving you. How about I tell Wade to meet us near the highway so we don’t have to take a detour to his place? That should save us… half an hour at least.”

“I’ll stay,” Phillip piped up, his first words in at least half an hour.

“Really, you would?” you asked hopefully.

He nodded. “I’ll drop the key in the mailbox.”

He could flex right now - he probably would in any other situation. Show you how much better he was. Tell you to not worry because he could arrange a helo in an hour to get you wherever you wanted and have someone to replace your entire kitchen by the time you were back.

But he didn’t.

Because this was not a move. He just wanted to help, but the truth was, he couldn’t fucking stand the way the dude looked at you another second. Like he was in love with you, like Phillip wasn’t allowed to be just because of the colour he wore.

You gave him a relieved smile. “Thanks so much, Graves.”

He looked away, the knife in his guts twisting.

Within minutes, you left carrying your travel mug, Damien helping with your duffel. The click of the door might as well have left a dramatic echo.

It was his cue to ransack your kitchen for anything sugary. Fuck it. You did tell him to make himself at home.

That, once again, was on you.

You didn’t text Phillip the whole day and the next, not after thanking him again for staying back.

He didn’t either. In fact, he didn’t even reply to your last text.

Was it a tantrum? Maybe, but he had to remember you weren’t on the market. That, and it was humiliating enough he deliberately one-upped that guy just to lick his wounds.

Sure, the hours alone had given him enough clarity that this crush, or whatever it was he wanted to call it these days, had grown out of hand. It was a hubristic miscalculation on his part when he plunged himself into this… friendship. Still, he shouldn’t be hoping for you to magically change your mind or give him a chance.

But he never expected anything out of helping you. You’d done the same to him.

It was how he knew the point of no return was around the corner, because he’d do whatever he could for you, and these 30 painstaking hours not talking to you to made him want to pull his hair out.

The only saving grace was that he got through plenty of contracts and reports instead of sulking the rest of the weekend. A win was a win.

When Phillip was about to fix himself some dinner, his phone pinged.

Hope your mission didn’t get moved up

He stared at your text before he left his home office. Halfway to the kitchen, he took a detour with a sigh and sat back at his desk.

No. Why?

You didn’t reply

Just busy

Ok. Just dropped Wade off

It was just you and Damien, and you texted him instead? Was this what he thought it meant?

You sent a photo of an orange and white cat on your lap. Sarah took her kitty with. Guess his name

What?

Havarti

Like the cheese?

Like the cheese

He’d never admit it, but he giggled.

Phillip Graves, you absolute fool. One little text and you folded like a fucking lawn chair.

You followed with a group photo at brunch with fancy décor and intricate dishes on the table. A selfie of you and the girls in fluffy white robes with colourful drinks. A photo of all your hands, nails glossy and bright red.

Chris picked the colour

You and someone with a wedding band had clear nails. It must have been Sophie - you mentioned she was a dentist and was the only one married. Shame, red would have looked wonderful on you too.

Maybe for the next Marine ball.

He mentally kicked himself for even thinking that far.

Next, a photo of a simple and flowy light blue dress - one he’d love to see on you.

Just needed a minor adjustment, you captioned.

That’s a nice dress

Always love matching outfits with my girls [sparkle emoji]

A notification dropped down from the top of his screen.

Hey Graves, I’m hosting a Superbowl party with the squad next Sunday. Would love to have you there! His phone pinged again. Yes, the sergeant will be there

His brow rose. Boyle is inviting me to his Superbowl party. You signed off on this?

I did. He was talking about inviting you all week

The opportunity presented itself.

See, it wasn’t that Phillip didn’t want to see you – of course he did. He just couldn’t spend one-on-one time with you to get his shit together, to not fuel the fire. Seeing you in a social setting would be the perfect occasion.

It was just what he’d be looking forward to after his coming deployment.

Monday night, you wished Phillip good hunting before he left for his mission.

You didn’t text afterwards. You didn’t always text when he was away – just here and there with updates if any - which never bothered him, until that day. Some form of shame crawled up his throat for even caring so much, but it was quickly forgotten as the mission soon went off-script.

By the time he got back on Friday, you still hadn’t texted. Still, he let you knew he was back.

He didn’t mention gym on Saturday and you didn’t either, not even the party on Sunday. Despite always jumping on the first opportunity to spend extra time with you, this time, he didn’t offer to pick you up either. He was sticking to his commitment like a good soldier.

Though, he was still on the fence about what he felt about you not making it hard to keep his distance.

When you pulled up at Boyle’s building Sunday evening, Phillip exited his Rover with a bag of sub sandwiches and made his way to you. Through your window, you gave him a wave before stepping out and pulling a large foil tray out of the backseat.

He stepped closer, peering at… dark liquid. “Is that… gravy?”

You laughed. “The filthiest, chocolatiest cake in town. Boyle’s favourite.”

It did not look like cake – it was way too wet.

He couldn’t help turning his nose up. “It looks violently chocolate.”

You walked towards the building. Over your shoulder, you said, “Don’t knock it ‘till you try it, strawberry boy.”

For fuck’s sake, Phillip. You shouldn’t be smiling like that, okay? But how could he help it when it was you.

“I told you guys we got food covered,” Boyle said when he answered the door.

When Phillip offered, the corporal had insisted that he not bring anything, but he knew what a squad could wipe out.

“You’re gonna say no to this?” You held up the tray.

He only grinned as he stepped aside.

Boyle’s one-bedroom apartment was already buzzing. The living area had been cleared, leaving the couch where two on your men played a racing game on the TV, the others spectating on the floor with pillows as they munched on snacks.

He’d only met Boyle and his fireteam on the rescue mission, but the rest of the boys greeted you and nodded at him as you both made your way towards the kitchen. The food station was set up on the dining table where you unpacked your contributions.

Everyone got their plate piled high as the game kicked off. The place might not have been huge, but Boyle managed to make it work. He insisted the both of you took the dining chairs while the rest of the boys (a dozen including himself) squeezed on the couch or took the floor in turns.

You joked with your men, and they bantered amongst each other. It was too easy to smile around you. You had that effect on him too, despite looking like you could knock him out cold with a punch when you first met. You and Phillip didn’t speak much, not when people loved talking to you so much, but being in your proximity and seeing that smile was enough make him miss you a little less.

The crowd erupted in laughter at something Boyle said (apparently he earned the nickname Bieber in bootcamp because of his given name, Justin). It made him miss the Corps, specifically the fun he didn’t have much of as a young Marine who kept his head down. It only made him feel 25 years younger: a scrawny kid who never felt like he really belonged, but just happy to be included.

When he noticed your cup was empty too, he offered to get you a refill in the kitchen.

“You host a lot?” he asked at the drink station when the host walked in. “Got everything covered.” He nodded at the well-stocked food and drinks.

“Here and there.” He chuckled, grabbing a bowl from the cabinet. “Thanks for making it. Sorry the place is tiny.”

He switched to refill his own cup. “Always more fun that way.”

Boyle scooped some soup-cake into the bowl. It landed with a wet slosh. “Want some?”

He eyed the tray with a distrustful look. “No, thanks.”

“I got a can of whipped cream in the fridge?”

He shook his head. “I’m good.”

“Well, the sergeant did say you prefer strawberries.”

He barked out a laugh.

“You know,” he said, leaning against the counter. “She meant to invite you to lunch much later after the mission, wanted the talk on base to blow over first in case somebody saw.”

“I understand. It would have been fine too if she didn’t.” He took a sip of his drink. “Was just doin’ my job.”

“Well, we talked her into inviting you sooner.”

He snorted. “Why would you do that?”

“You seem like her type.”

Phillip was fighting a tough battle keeping a straight face in that corporal’s fucking kitchen. Dude was nonchalant, shoving a heaping spoonful of soup into his piehole as if he hadn’t just given him the highest praise.

He broke anyway, but managed to mask it as a laugh. Good thing Boyle was too busy with his cake to notice.

“What’s her type?” he challenged.

“Well, I don’t know. But I imagine she’d be into someone who’s just as boss as she is, you know.” He shrugged. “Been single since she rotated here. Heard it was pretty serious with the last one.”

Since she rotated here… “From her previous base?”

His gaze cut to his, seemingly surprised the commander knew. “Yeah, the one from Adler’s old unit. It’s none of my business, but I always thought it was a good idea she went out again. Even if it’s just casual,” he quickly added. “So I’m just glad she seems… happier lately.”

Was he supposed to be flattered? Because he was terribly flattered by the implication, against his better judgement.

“She’s a good woman.”

Right after the words left him, he regretted them. He shouldn’t have said that. He should have said ‘marine’ - something a lot less personal, because why did it have to matter to him? He shouldn’t be thinking of you as a woman, not when he couldn’t have you.

“Best Sergeant I ever had.” With a grin, he landed a playful punch on his arm. “Thanks for bringing her back.”

Phillip smiled. He was glad he did.

“Y’know what, give me some of that.” He nodded at the cake. “And a dollop of whipped cream. Actually while you’re at it, why don’t you get me a glass of milk too to wash it all down.”

He laughed. “Yessir,” he drew out playfully before popping his spoon in his mouth and turning to the fridge.

Boyle left him with a small serving before returning to the game with your drink. He had to admit the ugly soup, which he’d just learnt was actually called a self-saucing cake, was pretty damn good.

“I know I’m handsome, Sergeant,” the corporal said in the distance. “But if you keep staring like that, you’re gonna make someone real jealous.”

“It’s good etiquette to wipe your mouth after making out with chocolate cake.”

“Ah, shit,” he muttered.

That earned a laugh from the room.

Boyle refused to let you help with the after-party cleanup, practically shoving you out the door when you tried. Outside, it’d got dark and cold.

Phillip pulled his hat on and walked with you to the parking lot, hands in his pockets. “That was fun.”

You glanced at him with a smile. “It was.”

“Hadn’t been to anything like that in a long time.”

“You should consider hosting. Maybe a pool party with fruity cocktails and flamingo floaties, you on the grill. Your boys would love it.”

He chuckled. “You wanna come?”

“If the weather’s nice.”

He stood nearby as you got in your car, door open. The car sputtered. You tried again, still nothing.

You laughed. “Well, that’s unfortunate.”

“Has it been faulty?”

“No,” you said. “Well, maybe sometimes, when it’s really cold.”

He smiled. He too had beef with some of his old cars. “You got jumper cables?”

“I do, but let’s give it a few minutes. Who knows the car changes its mind.”

Without thinking, Phillip slid into your passenger seat. You both sat there for a moment, the streetlights barely reaching the dashboard, but it was enough to outline your pretty face.

”I thought you were avoiding me,” you broke the silence.

There was no playfulness in your voice. Just… a fact.

He turned to you, searching your eyes. “Why would you say that?”

You smiled, shrugging. “Maybe in fear of getting ambushed by a plumber again.”

He tilted his head, mirroring your smile. “You miss me that much?”

You laughed looking out the windshield, and when he thought you weren’t going to respond, you said, “Maybe a little.”

It was too quiet, too honest. And a little part of him believed you.

God, he’d missed you, more than he’d like to admit. He wanted to put that little smile in his pocket and remember it forever.

When the laugh subsided, he let out a long sigh, head tipped back. “Just had a lot on my mind.”

A beat. “Something went wrong out there?”

“Mission was a success, but there were… some problems.”

“I’m sorry, Graves.” You averted your gaze. You knew what that meant.

No one who had ever made him feel this way in his chest, truly did. It was always a bridge his civilian partners could never cross. And for you to understand him like so was a gift he didn’t take for granted.

You sat in silence for another moment. Right then, he realised he never had to be alone if he didn’t want to.

“So you guys are shipping out next month.”

He wasn’t slighted you didn’t tell him. Your squad only found out that week and he was barely speaking to you.

“Yeah, 30 days. Thankfully it’s after Evie’s wedding. I’d hate to miss it.”

“Carpooling again?”

“No. Damien leaves on Friday to help out, and I’ll have training until Saturday noon.”

He wished you didn’t say that name.

“I can drive you. I’m sure Evie wouldn’t mind another Texan gentleman at her wedding.”

Phillip had the resolve of a singular spaghetti when it came to you, didn’t he? Inviting himself like he had no manners. He wasn’t even supposed to entertain the idea, so why did he keep doing this to himself?

He was powerless against those eyes and smile, especially in the dark. That must be it, right? The dark always seemed to make him reckless around you.

You chuckled. “The window’s long closed on that.”

“RSVP?”

“50 people. They got the B&B is fully booked, mostly for her family and friends.”

He nodded and silence settled once more.

“Here goes nothing,” you said, trying the ignition again. This time, the engine started with no problem and you let out a relieved chuckle.

“Third time’s the charm.”

“Thankfully. I’ll get the battery checked tomorrow.”

“I can send one of my guys to your place to get it replaced.”

“No need. I’ll drop by the store after work.”

He always loved that about you. Your perseverance, independence. You could do it all on your own.

“Well, if you need anything, you know who to call.”

You laughed. “Yes, I do, Felix. I do.”

God, he’d rather break his own fucking heart than that precious one of yours.

The next part is linked above if already up Masterlist

As usual, lunch followed, and like he’d promised, he wore a cap when out with you. It seemed to make you smile a lot more. Did it look funny on him? He’d long stopped wearing a cap, but he had to admit, it was bringing the Felix out of him looking like that.

His two weeks away didn’t feel like two weeks if he had your texts to look forward to. It wasn’t much: small updates of your day, a line or two about a confused private, sometimes when a meal was particularly memorable. Or anything strawberry you found.

Those were his favourites, because yes, he wanted you to think of him as much as he thought of you.

But one day you sent a selfie at physical training, your entire squad posing behind you. Somewhere in the desert, in the dark and cold tent, he grinned.

Okay, that was his real favourite: your photos. It was only the second one he had of you. Or third, if the thermal one from the drone counted.

When Phillip got back Tuesday, the takeout excuse landed for Wednesday, which was why he was in his skivvy and combat pants, dinner in hand, walking into your apartment like he owned it. What could he say, it felt better going there than coming home to his own.

“What’s for lunch Saturday?” he asked, popping a piece of sushi in his mouth.

“It’s Evie bachelorette’s party, remember?”

It slipped his mind.

“I’m getting picked up at 10.”

“Well, that’s plenty of time for breakfast.”

You gave him a knowing look. “You inviting yourself over?”

“Ya know it.”

When he arrived Saturday 8:30, your duffel was already by the door. You fetched coffee from the kitchen to go with the breakfast sandwiches he brought. As you finished the meal, there was a knock on the door.

Your brows furrowed.

“That your ride?”

“Can’t be. It’s way too early.” You made your way to the door, checking the peephole before opening it. “Oh, Mr. Powell. Hi, I wasn’t expecting you.”

“The plumber’s here to fix your sink,” the man announced. Your landlord, Phillip assumed.

“Right now? I’m actually leaving on a trip.”

“Well, he’s here today,” he said, tone bored. “Do you want it fixed or not?”

“I do. But I’ll be gone in an hour. How long will the repair take?”

“An hour then. I’m not paying him to drop by again just to deal with your sink.”

With that, the man walked away, leaving the apologetic, middle-aged plumber at your door. You cleared the cabinet under the sink in a hurry, and the plumber got to work. Still, you poured him a cup of water.

You sighed when you got back to the dining table.

Phillip chuckled. “Bit of an asshole, isn’t he?”

“You tell me.”

Your phone rang on the table and you straightened up. “Hey, everything ok?” At the response, you relaxed. “… That’s really nice, but I can’t. The plumber’s here. … Oh, you really don’t have to.” More talking on the other end. You opened you mouth and closed it again before hanging up.

“Damien is getting us coffee,” you announced.

“Okay.”

“He said he’s arriving early and wanted to get coffee before we leave, but since I can’t, he’s coming over.”

You didn’t show up an hour early coincidentally. Who the fuck was this dude inviting himself over to yours, and why did you let him? Only he was allowed to shamelessly invite himself over.

When another knock came, Phillip didn’t have to move. His seat was a good vantage point. Too good, actually, when he could see this Damien fellow with two cups in hand, grinning as you opened the door.

You said carpooling with groomsmen. This was one dude. One dude with eyes so fucking fond as they took you in like he wasn’t right there.

He followed you in, and at the sight of Phillip, his smile flickered. It was a split second, but it didn’t elude the commander.

He let out a chuckle. “I didn’t realise you had company.”

“Ah, right. Damien, this is Graves, my colleague. Graves, Damien.” You gestured at the both of them.

Colleague? He thought he’d established you were at least friends.

Damien gave a polite nod before placing the cups on the table, taking a seat adjacent to him.

“Miss?” the plumber called out from the kitchen.

You went to assist the man, leaving him all alone with this stranger, staring at each other in silence.

Oh, did Phillip have competition? He didn’t like competition. Was this dude gonna be a problem? Because the way he looked at you was embarrassingly obvious.

Who was he to you? You’d never even mentioned him before. He might not know him, but he knew the look of a man who was into a woman.

Like he didn’t have the same look.

Phillip’s eyes narrowed. This uninvited threat – a snag in his plans - was invoking some primal, territorial urges in him, when it shouldn’t. He shouldn’t be doing this, feeling all these feelings when it was just a silly crush on you.

Was this your type? Dark hair, green eyes. Your age and height, maybe a little taller. You were too nice on the phone. You didn’t have a problem saying no to Phillip, so why didn’t you say no to him when he was already right there at your table?

“I’d have got another cup if I knew you were here, man,” Damien said before taking a sip of his coffee.

“Oh, we just had breakfast, but thanks.” He gestured at the coffee cup, ‘brown sugar latte’ crawled on it. “She, uh, doesn’t really like sugary stuff in the morning.”

Damien pressed his lips to a thin line. He didn’t speak until you came back to the table. “Everything alright?”

“He was just showing me what’s wrong,” you said, sighing as you took a seat. “He’s working as fast as he can, but it looks like it might take longer than he first thought.”

He gave you an encouraging smile. “We can wait until 10:15. Let’s hope he finishes soon.”

“Thanks.” You returned a small smile, reaching for the coffee. You blinked at the first sip before reading the writing on the cup.

“Too sweet?” Phillip asked, trying his best to sound neutral.

“For the hour, a little bit, yeah.“ You turned to Damien before getting up. “It’s nice coffee though. I’ll put this in a travel mug for later.”

Phillip didn’t have to be so fucking petty glancing at this dude with that much smugness like he just won the lottery.

Damien didn’t even look at him. Instead, he chuckled. “I should have asked, but I’ll know next time.”

You chatted about the day’s itinerary. While the ladies would have the dress fitting at 2 followed by afternoon tea, the gentlemen would go to the archery field and have a beer making workshop before having a joint dinner at the hotel. The couple had promised unlimited room service in their suites to accompany the following movie night.

“As much as I love my girls, I’d love to join you guys. I’ve never tried archery.”

He averted his gaze, stifling a smile. “We should go sometime.”

You laughed. “Why not.”

“Hopefully then I’ll be somewhat useful, unlike at the shooting range last time.”

Last time? You’d gone out before?

“Oh, you were not that bad at all!”

“Only because you helped.” His gaze flicked to you. “You’re a good teacher.”

Phillip’s eye twitched. Was this guy flirting, asking you out right under his nose? Fuck that. He should be the one taking you.

Next week. He was taking you next weekend. Not some vague ass ‘sometime’ men who couldn’t say what they wanted said.

But he bit his tongue. No point in trying to one-up anyone here lest he made more a fool of himself getting all worked up listening to your conversation.

You continued to chat, and the more you did, the fire in Phillip’s chest waned.

Damien and Aaron lived on the same street – practically grew up together, and while the groom became an MMA athlete, Damien was an IT engineer at a prolific tech company who just got promoted the month before.

You asked how his parents were. He made you laugh when he told you about his nephew’s recent antics, and how he, despite him being nine, still asked for shoulder rides.

Damien seemed like a nice guy, and Phillip wouldn’t say it about anyone because he despised that phrase. He, of all people, knew how to look like a nice guy - it was his job to.

You weren’t looking for anything more, but if you were, you’d be better off with someone like Damien. Uncomplicated with a stable and predictable job. Someone who was closer to your age, one who’d be waiting at home every night after your long days.

You needed calm to your admirable fire. Someone light-hearted, not someone who yelled and ordered people to combat for a living. You needed someone dependable who had every day in his life accounted for, not one who’d go days and days off the grid at a moment’s notice.

And it didn’t have to hurt so much that you spoke to Damien with a certain lightness the commander had never seen before. There was no confident smirk, no teasing smiles, just soft and honest. The kind that would turn his spine jelly if it was directed at him, but only made him sick in the stomach now that it was towards someone else.

You and Phillip were too much alike: hardened by battle and unyielding schedules. You needed a man with a family and a home bursting with laughter. Someone who could be with you like it was written in the stars, without the hands of duty getting in the way.

A partner like he never could be.

Like he never had.

Because everyone eventually left. Because you could only have one or the other. So who in the right mind wouldn’t choose one that could never leave him?

Phillip should have left as soon as dread wrapped its fingers around his throat, but he didn’t. Instead, he sat there witnessing every interaction he wasn’t a part of, because perhaps he loved to suffer deep down. And perhaps, this would finally be the thing what got his head straight.

Unless it only made him curl up into a ball when he got home.

The closer it was to 10, more often Damien glanced at the clock.

“Could we confirm if he’s finishing up?”

“I just asked 15 minutes ago,” you said with a wince.

“I hate to ask, but any chance he can continue next week?”

You shook your head. “My landlord made it clear today is my only chance of getting the damn sink fixed.”

“Right, it’s just we have a schedule to stick to.”

“I know.” You sighed. “Sorry. He’s not even supposed to come, but my landlord just showed up this morning.”

“That’s okay. Not your fault.”

“Look, if he’s not done in 15, you go ahead and I’ll drive up alone.”

“No, no, I’m not leaving you. How about I tell Wade to meet us near the highway so we don’t have to take a detour to his place? That should save us… half an hour at least.”

“I’ll stay,” Phillip piped up, his first words in at least half an hour.

“Really, you would?” you asked hopefully.

He nodded. “I’ll drop the key in the mailbox.”

He could flex right now - he probably would in any other situation. Show you how much better he was. Tell you to not worry because he could arrange a helo in an hour to get you wherever you wanted and have someone to replace your entire kitchen by the time you were back.

But he didn’t.

Because this was not a move. He just wanted to help, but the truth was, he couldn’t fucking stand the way the dude looked at you another second. Like he was in love with you, like Phillip wasn’t allowed to be just because of the colour he wore.

You gave him a relieved smile. “Thanks so much, Graves.”

He looked away, the knife in his guts twisting.

Within minutes, you left carrying your travel mug, Damien helping with your duffel. The click of the door might as well have left a dramatic echo.

It was his cue to ransack your kitchen for anything sugary. Fuck it. You did tell him to make himself at home.

That, once again, was on you.

You didn’t text Phillip the whole day and the next, not after thanking him again for staying back.

He didn’t either. In fact, he didn’t even reply to your last text.

Was it a tantrum? Maybe, but he had to remember you weren’t on the market. That, and it was humiliating enough he deliberately one-upped that guy just to lick his wounds.

Sure, the hours alone had given him enough clarity that this crush, or whatever it was he wanted to call it these days, had grown out of hand. It was a hubristic miscalculation on his part when he plunged himself into this… friendship. Still, he shouldn’t be hoping for you to magically change your mind or give him a chance.

But he never expected anything out of helping you. You’d done the same to him.

It was how he knew the point of no return was around the corner, because he’d do whatever he could for you, and these 30 painstaking hours not talking to you to made him want to pull his hair out.

The only saving grace was that he got through plenty of contracts and reports instead of sulking the rest of the weekend. A win was a win.

When Phillip was about to fix himself some dinner, his phone pinged.

Hope your mission didn’t get moved up

He stared at your text before he left his home office. Halfway to the kitchen, he took a detour with a sigh and sat back at his desk.

No. Why?

You didn’t reply

Just busy

Ok. Just dropped Wade off

It was just you and Damien, and you texted him instead? Was this what he thought it meant?

You sent a photo of an orange and white cat on your lap. Sarah took her kitty with. Guess his name

What?

Havarti

Like the cheese?

Like the cheese

He’d never admit it, but he giggled.

Phillip Graves, you absolute fool. One little text and you folded like a fucking lawn chair.

You followed with a group photo at brunch with fancy décor and intricate dishes on the table. A selfie of you and the girls in fluffy white robes with colourful drinks. A photo of all your hands, nails glossy and bright red.

Chris picked the colour

You and someone with a wedding band had clear nails. It must have been Sophie - you mentioned she was a dentist and was the only one married. Shame, red would have looked wonderful on you too.

Maybe for the next Marine ball.

He mentally kicked himself for even thinking that far.

Next, a photo of a simple and flowy light blue dress - one he’d love to see on you.

Just needed a minor adjustment, you captioned.

That’s a nice dress

Always love matching outfits with my girls [sparkle emoji]

A notification dropped down from the top of his screen.

Hey Graves, I’m hosting a Superbowl party with the squad next Sunday. Would love to have you there! His phone pinged again. Yes, the sergeant will be there

His brow rose. Boyle is inviting me to his Superbowl party. You signed off on this?

I did. He was talking about inviting you all week

The opportunity presented itself.

See, it wasn’t that Phillip didn’t want to see you – of course he did. He just couldn’t spend one-on-one time with you to get his shit together, to not fuel the fire. Seeing you in a social setting would be the perfect occasion.

It was just what he’d be looking forward to after his coming deployment.

Monday night, you wished Phillip good hunting before he left for his mission.

You didn’t text afterwards. You didn’t always text when he was away – just here and there with updates if any - which never bothered him, until that day. Some form of shame crawled up his throat for even caring so much, but it was quickly forgotten as the mission soon went off-script.

By the time he got back on Friday, you still hadn’t texted. Still, he let you knew he was back.

He didn’t mention gym on Saturday and you didn’t either, not even the party on Sunday. Despite always jumping on the first opportunity to spend extra time with you, this time, he didn’t offer to pick you up either. He was sticking to his commitment like a good soldier.

Though, he was still on the fence about what he felt about you not making it hard to keep his distance.

When you pulled up at Boyle’s building Sunday evening, Phillip exited his Rover with a bag of sub sandwiches and made his way to you. Through your window, you gave him a wave before stepping out and pulling a large foil tray out of the backseat.

He stepped closer, peering at… dark liquid. “Is that… gravy?”

You laughed. “The filthiest, chocolatiest cake in town. Boyle’s favourite.”

It did not look like cake – it was way too wet.

He couldn’t help turning his nose up. “It looks violently chocolate.”

You walked towards the building. Over your shoulder, you said, “Don’t knock it ‘till you try it, strawberry boy.”

For fuck’s sake, Phillip. You shouldn’t be smiling like that, okay? But how could he help it when it was you.

“I told you guys we got food covered,” Boyle said when he answered the door.

When Phillip offered, the corporal had insisted that he not bring anything, but he knew what a squad could wipe out.

“You’re gonna say no to this?” You held up the tray.

He only grinned as he stepped aside.

Boyle’s one-bedroom apartment was already buzzing. The living area had been cleared, leaving the couch where two on your men played a racing game on the TV, the others spectating on the floor with pillows as they munched on snacks.

He’d only met Boyle and his fireteam on the rescue mission, but the rest of the boys greeted you and nodded at him as you both made your way towards the kitchen. The food station was set up on the dining table where you unpacked your contributions.

Everyone got their plate piled high as the game kicked off. The place might not have been huge, but Boyle managed to make it work. He insisted the both of you took the dining chairs while the rest of the boys (a dozen including himself) squeezed on the couch or took the floor in turns.

You joked with your men, and they bantered amongst each other. It was too easy to smile around you. You had that effect on him too, despite looking like you could knock him out cold with a punch when you first met. You and Phillip didn’t speak much, not when people loved talking to you so much, but being in your proximity and seeing that smile was enough make him miss you a little less.

The crowd erupted in laughter at something Boyle said (apparently he earned the nickname Bieber in bootcamp because of his given name, Justin). It made him miss the Corps, specifically the fun he didn’t have much of as a young Marine who kept his head down. It only made him feel 25 years younger: a scrawny kid who never felt like he really belonged, but just happy to be included.

When he noticed your cup was empty too, he offered to get you a refill in the kitchen.

“You host a lot?” he asked at the drink station when the host walked in. “Got everything covered.” He nodded at the well-stocked food and drinks.

“Here and there.” He chuckled, grabbing a bowl from the cabinet. “Thanks for making it. Sorry the place is tiny.”

He switched to refill his own cup. “Always more fun that way.”

Boyle scooped some soup-cake into the bowl. It landed with a wet slosh. “Want some?”

He eyed the tray with a distrustful look. “No, thanks.”

“I got a can of whipped cream in the fridge?”

He shook his head. “I’m good.”

“Well, the sergeant did say you prefer strawberries.”

He barked out a laugh.

“You know,” he said, leaning against the counter. “She meant to invite you to lunch much later after the mission, wanted the talk on base to blow over first in case somebody saw.”

“I understand. It would have been fine too if she didn’t.” He took a sip of his drink. “Was just doin’ my job.”

“Well, we talked her into inviting you sooner.”

He snorted. “Why would you do that?”

“You seem like her type.”

Phillip was fighting a tough battle keeping a straight face in that corporal’s fucking kitchen. Dude was nonchalant, shoving a heaping spoonful of soup into his piehole as if he hadn’t just given him the highest praise.

He broke anyway, but managed to mask it as a laugh. Good thing Boyle was too busy with his cake to notice.

“What’s her type?” he challenged.

“Well, I don’t know. But I imagine she’d be into someone who’s just as boss as she is, you know.” He shrugged. “Been single since she rotated here. Heard it was pretty serious with the last one.”

Since she rotated here… “From her previous base?”

His gaze cut to his, seemingly surprised the commander knew. “Yeah, the one from Adler’s old unit. It’s none of my business, but I always thought it was a good idea she went out again. Even if it’s just casual,” he quickly added. “So I’m just glad she seems… happier lately.”

Was he supposed to be flattered? Because he was terribly flattered by the implication, against his better judgement.

“She’s a good woman.”

Right after the words left him, he regretted them. He shouldn’t have said that. He should have said ‘marine’ - something a lot less personal, because why did it have to matter to him? He shouldn’t be thinking of you as a woman, not when he couldn’t have you.

“Best Sergeant I ever had.” With a grin, he landed a playful punch on his arm. “Thanks for bringing her back.”

Phillip smiled. He was glad he did.

“Y’know what, give me some of that.” He nodded at the cake. “And a dollop of whipped cream. Actually while you’re at it, why don’t you get me a glass of milk too to wash it all down.”

He laughed. “Yessir,” he drew out playfully before popping his spoon in his mouth and turning to the fridge.

Boyle left him with a small serving before returning to the game with your drink. He had to admit the ugly soup, which he’d just learnt was actually called a self-saucing cake, was pretty damn good.

“I know I’m handsome, Sergeant,” the corporal said in the distance. “But if you keep staring like that, you’re gonna make someone real jealous.”

“It’s good etiquette to wipe your mouth after making out with chocolate cake.”

“Ah, shit,” he muttered.

That earned a laugh from the room.

Boyle refused to let you help with the after-party cleanup, practically shoving you out the door when you tried. Outside, it’d got dark and cold.

Phillip pulled his hat on and walked with you to the parking lot, hands in his pockets. “That was fun.”

You glanced at him with a smile. “It was.”

“Hadn’t been to anything like that in a long time.”

“You should consider hosting. Maybe a pool party with fruity cocktails and flamingo floaties, you on the grill. Your boys would love it.”

He chuckled. “You wanna come?”

“If the weather’s nice.”

He stood nearby as you got in your car, door open. The car sputtered. You tried again, still nothing.

You laughed. “Well, that’s unfortunate.”

“Has it been faulty?”

“No,” you said. “Well, maybe sometimes, when it’s really cold.”

He smiled. He too had beef with some of his old cars. “You got jumper cables?”

“I do, but let’s give it a few minutes. Who knows the car changes its mind.”

Without thinking, Phillip slid into your passenger seat. You both sat there for a moment, the streetlights barely reaching the dashboard, but it was enough to outline your pretty face.

”I thought you were avoiding me,” you broke the silence.

There was no playfulness in your voice. Just… a fact.

He turned to you, searching your eyes. “Why would you say that?”

You smiled, shrugging. “Maybe in fear of getting ambushed by a plumber again.”

He tilted his head, mirroring your smile. “You miss me that much?”

You laughed looking out the windshield, and when he thought you weren’t going to respond, you said, “Maybe a little.”

It was too quiet, too honest. And a little part of him believed you.

God, he’d missed you, more than he’d like to admit. He wanted to put that little smile in his pocket and remember it forever.

When the laugh subsided, he let out a long sigh, head tipped back. “Just had a lot on my mind.”

A beat. “Something went wrong out there?”

“Mission was a success, but there were… some problems.”

“I’m sorry, Graves.” You averted your gaze. You knew what that meant.

No one who had ever made him feel this way in his chest, truly did. It was always a bridge his civilian partners could never cross. And for you to understand him like so was a gift he didn’t take for granted.

You sat in silence for another moment. Right then, he realised he never had to be alone if he didn’t want to.

“So you guys are shipping out next month.”

He wasn’t slighted you didn’t tell him. Your squad only found out that week and he was barely speaking to you.

“Yeah, 30 days. Thankfully it’s after Evie’s wedding. I’d hate to miss it.”

“Carpooling again?”

“No. Damien leaves on Friday to help out, and I’ll have training until Saturday noon.”

He wished you didn’t say that name.

“I can drive you. I’m sure Evie wouldn’t mind another Texan gentleman at her wedding.”

Phillip had the resolve of a singular spaghetti when it came to you, didn’t he? Inviting himself like he had no manners. He wasn’t even supposed to entertain the idea, so why did he keep doing this to himself?

He was powerless against those eyes and smile, especially in the dark. That must be it, right? The dark always seemed to make him reckless around you.

You chuckled. “The window’s long closed on that.”

“RSVP?”

“50 people. They got the B&B is fully booked, mostly for her family and friends.”

He nodded and silence settled once more.

“Here goes nothing,” you said, trying the ignition again. This time, the engine started with no problem and you let out a relieved chuckle.

“Third time’s the charm.”

“Thankfully. I’ll get the battery checked tomorrow.”

“I can send one of my guys to your place to get it replaced.”

“No need. I’ll drop by the store after work.”

He always loved that about you. Your perseverance, independence. You could do it all on your own.

“Well, if you need anything, you know who to call.”

You laughed. “Yes, I do, Felix. I do.”

God, he’d rather break his own fucking heart than that precious one of yours.

The next part is linked above if already up Masterlist