The leave still felt wrong in Phillip’s hands.

General Shepherd had practically forced it on him, signed, stamped, and pushed across the desk with a look that dared him to argue. The Shadow Company had been dismissed for the holidays, soldiers scattering in every direction, some flying home, others disappearing into whatever passed for peace in their lives. For the first time in longer than he cared to admit, Phillip wasn’t a commander with a unit at his back.

He was just Phillip.

And he was with you.

The city was alive despite the cold. Snow fell thick and steady, blanketing the streets while crowds moved between glowing storefronts and holiday stalls, laughter and chatter filling the air.

Strings of lights were draped from building to building, reflecting off wet pavement and turning the whole place into something warm and unreal. Phillip walked close to you, shoulders brushing, one hand tucked into his coat pocket while the other occasionally reached out to steady you when the sidewalk turned slick.

He wasn’t used to blending in, but today he didn’t mind. No radio. No orders. No men waiting on his word. Just the two of you moving through the city like anyone else, hot drinks warming your hands, snow collecting on your coats, Phillip quietly memorizing the way your face lit up at every little thing.

By the time you reached the park, the noise softened. People still wandered the paths, couples and families bundled up, kids shrieking as they ran through the snow, but it felt calmer. Trees stood heavy with white, lamplight glowing softly through falling flakes. You drifted ahead, distracted, staring up at the lights strung between branches, boots crunching lightly as you walked.

Phillip slowed.

A grin tugged at his mouth, easy, boyish, the kind no one under his command ever saw. He bent down, scooping up snow, packing it carefully between his gloved hands. Old habits died hard; even a snowball had to be done right. You were still turned away when he straightened.

The snowball hit your shoulder and burst apart, scattering across your coat.

Phillip laughed, a real laugh, breath fogging in the cold. “Hey, don’t give me that look,” he said, stepping closer, hands raised like he was innocent. His eyes were bright, playful, nothing like the man who barked orders across comms.

“The city’s full of people, snow’s perfect… seemed like a damn shame not to.”

He crouched again, already gathering more snow, gaze never leaving you. “C’mon,” Phillip added, straightening with a second snowball half-formed in his hands. “It’s just us out here. You gonna let me get away with that, or you throwin’ one back?”