Chapter Text
Ever since their first meeting, Graham had a knack for picking up on Billy's moods. He'd never come out and forthrightly told his friend this, having never found the right moment to do so. Instead, he told himself it was a form of off-duty training for his perception, and thus Billy's knowledge of him doing it would ruin the whole training exercise.
He told himself this as he leaned against the doorway of Billy's office, waiting on his friend to finish work. If Graham was anything, he was persistent when he took up an interest. He told himself this firmly. It was completely not because Billy had the keys to his Brave due to a bet that had ended wrongly.
Graham took a short sip from his coffee. Billy had cheated; He was sure the older man couldn't have known about the upcoming EF union election outcome, unless his family still had ties with the government that he wasn't aware of.
But Graham was almost always aware and acutely perceptive of his surroundings; he otherwise wouldn't be alive today if it weren't for that fact. So he continued to test himself on Billy while he waited for his keys, musing on his friend's recent change in behaviour. Billy's whole body suggested tension and anxiety, despite being immersed in an activity he thoroughly enjoyed, and his fingers fidgeted with the tablet pen as though he were-
The phone rang.
Billy picked it up immediately.
Graham took another sip from his coffee and hummed.
The older man swivelled around halfway in his office chair, shooting the blond pilot a disgusted look and mouthed "go away and stop staring." Graham merely raised an eyebrow into his tussled hairline and didn't move an inch. Billy gave him another look, this time of exasperation, and turned back to his desk speaking in a clipped but hushed voice.
Billy clearly doubted his skills as a soldier, for Graham could hear their conversation quite clearly.
"So for eight at the… oh. Oh, no, that's alright, it takes precedence. That's odd, they said you'd…. I see. I guess I'll can- what? No, I don't have anyone else to take-"
"Except maybe your right hand." Graham quipped.
Billy flipped him the finger over his shoulder.
"Him? No, absolutely not. I doubt he'd know how to put on a tux." Billy's quick glance over his shoulder revealed the completely unamused face Graham wore for him.
False. He could put on a tuxedo by himself perfectly fine.
"Besides, it's in two hours, he doesn't-" Billy's face fell, and Graham felt a tug of protectiveness in his chest that surprised him, having never seen such an expression grace his friend's face in years. He almost missed the one-sided exchange while wrapped up in his own thoughts on that fact.
"…Alright. Alright, okay, stop laughing. Switch the limo out for a company car, we'll drive ourselves." Billy didn't even wait for a goodbye, but simply hung the phone back on its receiver and massaged his temple with his free hand. He sent Graham a pathetic, helpless look, which the pilot couldn't help but grin at.
"Should I start getting ready now?"
"Fuck you. And yes, be ready in an hour or I'm leaving without you."