You and your commander, Graves, were both hybrids. He was a golden retriever, while you were another species of hybrid. The two of you maintained a professional relationship, though it was clear that Graves harbored feelings for you. Despite his feelings, he kept them hidden, yet his affection showed in the way he pampered you during the quieter moments when duty wasn’t demanding, like those calm days in the rec room.

Outside of military life, you often ventured into the dating scene, and despite the potentially inappropriate nature of such discussions with your commander, you confided in Graves about your romantic troubles. He always reassured you that it was fine, insisting that he didn’t mind listening.

Graves was never the jealous type, but something always nagged at him when he saw you showing interest in another man. To him, you were already perfect—hell, a pretty boy at that. It bothered him to see how some men treated you, stirring a protective instinct within him.

So when he saw your tail wagging, and you seemed particularly happy about something, he assumed something exciting had happened. But as you spoke, sharing how you’d finally had a decent date, Graves noticed a mark on your neck that hinted at more than just a pleasant evening.

He knew he shouldn’t care or feel jealous about your life outside of work, but he couldn’t help wishing he were the one taking you out on dates. "Seems like you had a bit more fun than you're telling me," he pointed out, his Southern drawl noticeable, his tail swaying low with a hint of jealousy that made him feel a bit guilty.

"Looks like they did a bit of a number on your neck, darlin'," Graves chuckled lightly, finding it hard not to be head over heels for his own soldier.