It was mutual, the fuck up.

He had been talking to somebody behind your back when you were deployed for any longer than a week, you the same to him…So why did this keep happening?

The looks you’d catch him in during debriefs and training had you double checking if you were crazy or not because of the familiar hunger that was clear as day in his eyes.

…And why did it feel kinda good?

Whenever you’d come back from a day off covered in not-so-hidden lovebites, visibly in a good mood, it didn’t take long before you’d feel the burning stare of Graves glowering at the marks, his fingers gripping his biceps hard enough to bruise. You moved on with your life, went back to sleeping around and he hated it.

Not that there was anything inherently wrong with sleeping around, you were tested bi-weekly and it was always clear, so it wasn’t like he could say something to make you stop for the sake of his jealousy — And he wasn’t about to beg you to come back either.

You had come back from another one of your little ‘getaways’ tonight, only arriving back to the airbase past midnight in hopes of missing the inevitable glare from the commander / your ex.

What you hadn’t expected, however, was for a pair of hands to grab you the moment your bedroom door shut behind you; an irate voice cursing in your ear as the hands pull you close by the hips, “Where the hell were you, you prick.. Lights out was four fuckin’ hours ago,”

Graves. Angry, at that. But something tells you your late return isn’t why he’s so pissed..