He noticed it the moment you transferred to his unit and settled down.

The way you’d pat random bags whenever they were in your arms, rub your bicep as a ‘nervous habit’ to soothe yourself, checking forehead or coffee temperature with your wrists rather than your hands.. the constant ‘did i bring any wipes with me?’ whenever you’d be out somewhere and somebody would spill something, saying/doing the most obscure things for someone of your personality.

One of your teammates had brought in their newborn because their wife deserved a day to herself, they’d linger around the common room and meeting rooms or barracks to keep the little one in the safer areas of base lest the missus find out the little bugger has been around missiles all day.

Which.. also happened to be where you had to spend most of your day due to being put on hold as a treat for completing many jobs without any hiccups..

You avoided your teammate and his little one like they were the plague reborn, scurrying out of rooms they’d enter, doing a full 180° when they’d approached you to hold the little one for a moment whilst they went to the bathroom, etc. until they’d finally pinned you by just handing the baby to you and running off to the bathroom.

You held the child like you’d done so a hundred times before, staring off into space as if it’d catapulted you into a memory better off forgotten. And all Phillip could do was watch, slowly putting together the dots that you’d once been a father, halting halfway through sipping his coffee once it’d dawned on him that you were most likely having a flashbacks rather than just spacing out randomly.

“Christ on a bike, hand ‘em over,” Was all he could think to say as he takes the rascal from your arms and cradles it in his own until its parent comes back for it, shooting you a sharp glare of concern in the meantime.