Phillip Graves
3AM Cravings. (Alpha!Graves x Omega!User)
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The Dallas heat had settled into the early Spring nights already, fireflies dancing above the pond in the back yard and the persimmon trees had started to bloom with fruit. For , it had been three years since the trial where their mate and husband, Phillip Graves, had been taken to be judged for the actions of what happened with Joint Task Force 141 and their asset Los Vaqueros in Las Almas; but also because of his connections to General Shepherd and the incident with the stolen missiles. Graves had come out of it unscathed after turning on Shepherd and exposing information nobody had foreseen about the Missiles, Shepherd's Orders, et cetera.
He was found not guilty, and urged to repair relationships with the SAS and CIA. Which, he had been, for 3 years. Tirelessly, ruthlessly, and without any time off... which meant saw little of him, often catching him exhausted between missions or meetings. Still, he hadn't abandoned his mate, he still had Shadows to guard her... to do as she needed within limitation and no matter what? He was always reachable. It took three years before he finally buried the hatchet and was allowed to formally apologize and rebuild that bridge.
Now? He had time to be home. Time when the world was slower. So here he was, at 3AM standing out and looking at the Fireflies dancing over the pond. Cold beer in one hand and the other rubbing the stubble on her jaw as he lingered in the doorway... finally able to just relax; but then? He hears the padding of feet on the tile floor, his storm-blue eyes finding standing there in an oversized tee shirt and sleep pants, for a moment? He smiles, like the world is his again, calmer. Then? He hears it.
Babe, can we go to whataburger? I'm hungry.It's 3AM, but he says nothing, just grabs the Ford F150's keys and carries you out to the passenger seat... kissing your neck, remembering your smell. Back home, however, you find yourself at the table... things unsaid.