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Apollo's never seen the base so quiet.
Even during late nights where he's walking around during his off hours, or perhaps holed up in his office as he catches up on the day's paperwork, there'd still be some of the Shadows about— some drunk, others just not familiar with the concept of inside voices.
But tonight? Not a sound. Even the firing range lies undisturbed, the night air for once free of gunfire and the sound of bullet casings flying.
He supposes he should be thankful— after the nature of their last mission, the only thing Apollo wants right now is to crawl under the sheets and spend the rest of the night (and some of the following morning) inside the peaceful serenity of his bedroom.
Except… he can't. Not yet. The reason being that exact mission and a certain someone nearly fumbling the objective and killing just about everyone in the room (and anyone caught within a three-mile radius).
A certain Commander Graves and his penchant for getting distracted at the most inopportune of times.
A cold gust of wind blows past, and Apollo hugs his jacket a little closer. A sleek, black windbreaker bearing his surname and Shadow Company's insignia. Standard issue, of course.
Regardless, his commanding officer had refused to even look in his direction after that… which wasn't exactly ideal given their positions. Their quote-unquote relationship was pretty much an open secret around the base already, and it's clear that no one has the inclination to be bothered by it, for several reasons.
One, no one was going to walk up and spout protocol in front of Graves. And two, not a single man or woman on this base had the time nor the energy to care when they're all too busy doing their duties (and, occasionally, each other, if the gossip in the mess hall was to be believed). But even then, the man would rather act like some high-school student about it, and Apollo did not care for it.
His searching eventually comes to fruition when he catches a figure standing on the track, almost as if considering running a lap. In these conditions and in the dead of night? No one else but their dear Commander.
"Fancy meeting you here, stranger," Apollo greets, and he has to stop himself from laughing when Graves jumps in surprise.
"Wasn't expecting to still see you up, lieutenant," he replies, trying to maintain his commanding tone. "Can't sleep?"
"I was about to ask you the same thing," Apollo remarks, as he looks around. "First time I've seen someone try to jog when it's about to snow." He crosses his arms, watching as the other man merely shrugs. "I was hoping we could talk, actually, now that you're not trying to run from me."
Graves opens his mouth to speak— shuts it as he tears his fingers through his hair. "I was just thinking, I guess. And I'd rather not be, so… here I am. Thought I'd go clear my mind." He faces Apollo again. "What happened tonight shouldn't have happened at all."
"Agreed," Apollo replies, raising an eyebrow. "So, what did happen?"
"I don't know," Graves musters out, and he takes a deep breath before steeling his jaw. "I got distracted." Another sigh, as wills for the words to come out. "I don't know," he repeats, dejected and more akin to a broken record. "You grabbed my hand and I just blanked. Couldn't think of anything else."
He paces around, then, groaning in frustration as he continues. Then, he slaps a hand against his forehead. "I probably looked like an idiot in front of the guys. How can I be a leader if I can't even take point without acting like a schoolgirl? I can't let you distract me like that again."
Apollo hums, and to Graves' dismay— he's actually laughing this time. "Why, Phillip," he starts, taking one of his hands. "Are you breaking up with me?"
His eyes widen. "What? No! I mean— are we even together?" Graves shakes his head. "No, that's— that's not what I meant," he says, weakly punching his shoulder when Apollo laughs harder. "Asshole. I'm being serious here."
"Funny, so was I." Apollo shakes his head, reaching out to carefully smooth out the other man's hair. He chuckles when Graves pushes his hand away. "I'm just trying to tell you that you worry too much about nothing."
"Everyone here looks to me to be able to make the decisions. It's not nothing. We could've died if you hadn't done something." Despite himself, Graves leans into his touch. He frowns at that, looking off towards the distance. "I just— how long does it take before I stop feeling... wrong?"
Ah. There was the problem.
Exhaling softly, Apollo leans in with a gentle hand on his chin, watching as Graves shuts his eyes in response. Then, he starts peppering slow, soft kisses against his Commander's jawline. A quiet reassurance. "As long as it takes, amore. It's no straight line, I'm afraid." He presses one more kiss to the corner of his lips. "Probably not reassuring, I know."
Slowly... slowly. Graves releases the tension as he unclenches his jaw, expression going slack. "On the contrary, at least I know it's not just me. I'm tired."
Apollo inhales, pulling away with a much more gentle smile. He slowly exhales, watching his breath dissipate in a small fog. "Mm, it is exhausting."
Graves shakes his head. "Tell me about it. Almost wish you just offered to make me feel better with sex."
Apollo laughs. "Would it make you feel better?"
For the first time that night, Graves breaks out into a grin. "Maybe a little. If you let me be in charge."
Apollo breathes out a mock gasp, doing his best to sound absolutely scandalized. "Why, Commander," he starts, as he links their arms together. He's unable to stop his laughing— it makes Graves laugh in return. "I thought you'd never ask."