Work Text:
September 17th, 202X
Another Saturday evening of staying at base and working on endless mountains of paperwork. Wasting his time with the indefinite bureaucracy that came with managing your own private military company. Pale blue eyes straining as they read the same line over for the third time. Christ.
Only 9:15-ish. 9:17. Boys might’ve headed out already. Hopefully. Graves thought as he glanced up at the clock on the other side of his office. Leaning back in his chair with a tired sigh, he looked up at the ceiling aimlessly. He could ignore this, punt it away for later. He’d be pissed if any of his officers did that. But it’s different when I do it. Graves assured himself halfheartedly. He couldn't care less at the moment.
He ran his hand through his unkempt hair as he stood up, thanking himself for styling it in the laziest way possible so just a simple combing through of his fingers made it look presentable. He stared down at his chair, silently contemplating just going back to the unending slog of reports. But even Graves knew he needed a break. Unfortunately.
Graves grabbed a clipboard and a few reports while he was at it, some he needed others to sign off on, a few more just to make sure he didn’t fall behind. He trudged through the base, his legs subconsciously leading him to the common area. In the back of his mind he was praying most of the Shadows were out tonight.
It’s a Saturday, they’d be idiots not to exercise their freedom.
Jesus, you sound American, Phillip.
Graves opened the doors to the common area, silently grateful to find it scarcely populated. One thing he prided himself on was this room, one of the larger spaces on the base and for recreation of all things. Earlier in his career he would have scoffed at the idea, a waste of space and money if anything. But now, he savored the days after missions where he could see his soldiers de-stress, the days when they fought over the tvs or the controllers normally nested into the tv stand, and the evenings like tonight when some of the older soldiers stayed and chatted around the couches as their younger coworkers went into town, making decisions they would regret in the morning.
The small group of the older soldiers lounged around one of the seating areas, the one without a tv. They talked in relaxed tones, some with drinks in their hands, others without. The commander didn’t hesitate to walk over, finding refuge in the easygoing environment.
They looked up as Graves approached. Most of them just gave him a silent nod before continuing their conversation, knowing they shouldn't bother him as they spotted the clipboard tucked under his arm. One scooted over, making space for the man as Graves’ eyes locked with a familiar sight.
Fox
Tonight was slightly different as Fox accompanied the group. The soldier was put on temporary prohibition after his last experience with alcohol, the learning curve of turning 21 a few months ago being steep. Currently, said youngest Shadow was practically melded into the corner of the couch. His arms were folded and feet propped up on the footstool, bulky headphones on as his chin rested low against his sternum. As Graves sat down next to the boy he observed his son’s closed eyes, his chest slowly rising and falling with each breath.
Graves ignored the fond smile that threatened to creep past his lips, more susceptible to sentiment in his exhaustion. He focused his mind on the reports in front of him as he rested his clipboard over his lap. One leg propped on the other, ankle over thigh as his knee bumped Alaric. Graves paused, sharp eyes watching for any disturbance from the other, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding as the young Shadow remained motionless.
His attention was drawn away when he heard a low chuckle not matching the flow of conversation he had absentmindedly been paying attention to. He looked up to see Eckhardt looking up at him with a knowing smile, the woman having spotted the small interaction between the two Graveses. Well, only really one, as the other was out like a light.
“He sleeps like a rock and yet you still treat him like a fawn,” She observed with a small, amused scoff, as if she hadn’t been the same damn way with her own kids.
“Just… didn’t wanna wake him,” Graves quickly dismissed with a huff, putting up an annoyed front with a slight grimace, any of the soldiers around him able to spot the insincerity in his faux expression a mile away.
“Didn’t you say he slept through a fire alarm once?” Eckhardt continued to prod with a quirk of her head and a mischievous grin.
“—Still,” Graves defended curtly, brushing off the comment as he turned down to his paperwork, finally. He chose to ignore the exasperated but fond sigh from the Shadow as she shook her head, leaning back in her seat as her focus returned to the others.
Graves went back to work; however, this was starkly different from the setting of his office. His posture was relaxed as he sank back into the cushions of the sofa, rather than hunched stiffly over his desk. He paused occasionally as he looked over the pages, pressing his pen to his lips as he read them, opposed to skimming the contents until he recognized what they were and skipped straight to the signature line. He chuckled slightly at the subtle and relaxed banter in the background, picking up clipped bits of conversation as he unknowingly listened in. The normal tunnel vision that plagued him when presented with a stack of paperwork was absent as he kept an eye on the sleeping soldier in his peripheral.
When a lime White Claw was held out in front of him, he took it without thought, offering a small nod as he looked up. Graves was one of the few people on the base who actually unabashedly liked the drinks, seldom for a few nurses he’d seen sneakily snatch a drink from his stash. They weren’t sneaky. But, he always kept the shitty seltzers stocked.
He cracked open the pop tab with a snap, holding the can to his lips until he paused as he heard stirring beside him. Goddamnit.
Fox shifted as he sat up slightly, yawning before stretching his arms above him and slumping back down again. He blinked a few times as he took in his surroundings and slipped off his headphones. It didn’t take him long to lean against his father, murmuring, “Whatchadoin?” as he curiously looked over his shoulder. Christ, he sounded so Southern when tired.
“Reports,” Graves answered calmly as he finally took a sip of his drink.
“On…?? I coulda told you that just by lookin. Didn’t actually specify…” Fox waved his hand around a bit, “…anything really.” That earned a few lighthearted laughs from the Shadows observing the situation. Sometimes I really wish he didn’t inherit my sass.
“‘M almost done—with these at least—still more in the office,” Graves responded, looking to his clipboard again, the response earning a clear frown from Alaric.
“You are really bad at answering questions,” Alaric said brusquely with a glare. Graves couldn’t even begin to conceal the bark of laughter from him. When he calmed he wrapped his arm around Fox, giving his arm a small squeeze as he pulled him closer.
Graves got a small bit of revenge as he ruffled up his shadow’s hair. Fox immediately squawked in protest as he pulled away to “fix” his hair, despite it always looking perpetually messy, even if slightly. Graves was never completely sure if it was intentional or not, but he never bothered to interrogate the kid. Fox ruffled his loose curls he didn’t get from his father to the amount he found appropriate before slumping back against the other man with a sour grumble of "Unnecessary…”
“Mhm,” Graves hummed proudly, not taking his son’s complaint too seriously as he wrapped his arm back around him. He nestled his hand in the younger man’s soft locks, resting his hand at his nape, a small but protective gesture. Graves’ mind momentarily drifted to the boy’s mother until he was brought back to reality as he felt Fox pull away. His hold tightened instinctively before he consciously forced himself to ease up.
Fox stood up with a yawn, patting down his pockets as he announced “Heading to bed, don’t wanna fall asleep on the couch,” before checking his phone for the time. “Plus it’s almost my bedtime,” he joked, eyes flickering to his dad for a moment before he turned away, starting to clamber to the barracks with a callout of “‘Night…!”
The other Shadows all exchanged goodbyes and goodnights; Graves chimed in with “Get some rest, Al,” his tone firmer than he intended, sounding more like an order. Even if he knew Fox could see past it, Graves still winced subtly.
Fox nodded as he walked away, sending off a lazy salute as he headed out of the room to go collapse in his bed. Graves’ eyes followed him out the door, lingering as a small frown appeared on his face, the scowl slowly becoming a more permanent expression as he aged.
Graves glanced down at the cushion beside him, catching the faint gleam of Fox’s headphones left behind in the low light. With a small huff, he scooped them up and tucked them under his arm along with the clipboard. The chatter around him thinned as one by one the Shadows drifted off, offering quiet goodnights as they disappeared into the barracks.
He lingered for a while longer, eyes skimming the last page before signing off with a quick scratch of his pen. The silence settled in comfortably this time, the kind of quiet he didn’t mind.
When he finally stood, Graves dropped the paperwork back off in his office and made the familiar walk toward the barracks. He slowed as he reached Fox’s door, the faint rustling inside just audible through the door. Without a word, he looped the headphones over the handle, gave them a light tap tap, and turned away down the hall.