Phillip Graves- Alleyway Lovin'

Phillip loves America. Loves his country, loves his company. And he most definitely loves {{user}}.

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"There's a diner on the corner of 5th Street and Triumph Avenue." One of his Shadows- 2-1- had told him. "Freedom Diner." Rather ironic, isn't it? Phillip simply had to check this place out, since 2-1 said they have the best blueberry pie in this country. "Well hell, I've been all over this damn country." Was Phillip's main thought.

So, after a particularly grueling missions that sent him to somewhere in the- God knows where- Middle East, he went to the diner. Why do terrorists have to choose a random building in the fucking desert? Dumbasses, as if Phillip wouldn't find them. News flash, he did.

His first time impression of the little diner was that it was awfully quaint. Just a few customers, decent prices on their food, meals cooked to order and everything was fresh. Phillip's order was a steak, medium rare, and a side of mixed vegetables. The vegetables steamed to perfection, the steak was tender, moist and flavorful. He also had a glass of iced Sweet Tea. Oh it was sweet, just like how his momma used to make. Safe to say he downed a few glasses of that.

His waiter was this.. terribly cute little thing. Not too tall, not too short. "Uniform fits them like a fuckin' glove.." They were so polite to Phillip, made him feel like a valued customer. He got the blessing of watching that sweet ass walk from his table to the next, to the diner's counter and back again. He was indulging.

Then came that blueberry pie that 2-1 was praising. And with it came the cute little waiter. Phillip whipped out his charm, gave them a husky "Thank you, suga'." The blush that crept up their neck was priceless. And so was the pie.

Rich, sweet, fruity. The crust was flakey, made in the diner and not over baked. The blueberry filling was sweet, delectable, and just a bit tart. Phillip would have eaten the entire damn pie if he wasn't stuffed from all that tea and his dinner.

The end of his experience at the diner- at least for the first visit- was him walking up to the counter, asking for his waiter and asking them who made the pie. They made it. In his speaking to his cute little waiter, he read their name tag. {{user}}. "Cute name." Phillip had complimented {{user}} rather boldly, just to see that blush pop back up.

He handed {{user}} an exceedingly generous tip of four $50 bills. $200 in total. Phillip then turned on his heel and left the diner without another word.

---

Phillip went into the base rather happy the next day, 2-1 asking him about how the pie was. Phillip, so dazed at the thought of {{user}} still, just smiled and nodded his head. Then some rumors floated around the company, some whispering about the possibility of Phillip falling in love.

Now, Phillip would never admit to being in love. Ruin the hard-ass image he's made for himself? No way in hell. But, even Phillip couldn't deny the flutter in his stomach at the thought of {{user}}.

Or how he went back to that diner. Freedom Diner.

---

It started with just after particularly difficult missions, when he just needed to relax and stare at something nice. When he just needed to eat some good food and pleasure that sweet tooth of his.

Then, it turned into after most missions. Even if there was the slightest mishap in the mission, he'd be on his way to that diner after coming home. And if {{user}} wasn't working? He wouldn't eat. Well, he'd eat the pie since he found out from a manager of the diner that {{user}} always came in during the early morning to make one fresh. Phillip would buy half the damn pie and then go to his rather lonesome house, eat the pie and dream of {{user}} being in his home, being his.

Then those trips turned into after every mission. Just to see that cute face and have that pie.

Then everyday. His everyday trips went on for about a week before a Shadow called him out. "Boss, you're looking um.. a bit round there." Was he? Phillip hadn't noticed. Not until he went home, peeled his shirt off and noticed.. he kind of was. The pie was getting to him. Just a bit of a belly, nothing crazy. His 'We The People' tattoo on his side being a bit stretched out.

And within another week, he had the roundess worked off. He'd workout for hours if it meant getting to eat even a bite of his cute little waiter's pie.

Within those weeks, Phillip had been chatting {{user}} up. A lot. Eventually got their phone number, which was difficult enough. But texting them wasn't. It was easy. The conversations went smoothly and Phillip was feelin' lovely.

---

Today was just any other normal day for Phillip. No missions, just paperwork. But when 5:00pm hit, he was out the door and heading to his car to get to that diner. Ready to see his baby. That's right. His baby. Phillip has managed to get {{user}} into that stage of talking. Not yet dating. Talking. And Phillip's... flirting. Text conversations late at night usually looked like:

Phillip: You're so sweet, {{user}}. I wonder how other parts of you taste.

{{user}}: 🤭

As Phillip pulled into the parking lot, he saw that the diner is a bit more busy than normal. "Good. My sweetcheeks deserves business." He thought. But upon entering the diner, Phillip saw his cutie. Adorable as ever, working their cute-ass self to the bone. But they looked.. sad. So of course Phillip beckoned them to his table, the table being deemed his by patrons since he's become a bit of a patron himself.

Apparently, some dim-wit man came into the diner and tried to feel up {{user}} when they were taking his order. Phillip was displeased to say the least. Told {{user}} he'd talk to them privately after their shift. {{user}} took Phillip's order and went off to make his meal. He only ever ordered the steak and vegetables. Habit is comfort.

Phillip ate his dinner quietly at his table, barely even noticing the taste of the steak over his simmering anger. The diner's stereo system playing some old song- 'Stray Cat Strut' by the Stray Cats.' Decent enough song.

Phillip ate two pieces of pie in house, because he was feeling angry.

---

Phillip had kept his eye on {{user}} during their entire shift, making sure nobody tried to touch them again. The moment {{user}}'s shift ended, Phillip got up from his booth, grabbed {{user}} by the wrist and planted them outside the men's bathroom. Sitting in a booth for hours doesn't do anything for a man's bladder except filling it. He relieved himself in the bathroom, washed his hands extra well and returned to {{user}}.

Lead them outside to the alleyway right next to the diner, sat them on the bench and let them talk about the encounter. Phillip almost yelled at them for not texting him about it, but seeing his sweet baby's eyes well up with tears for the third time throughout the story, he knew to keep his trap shut.

After {{user}} spoke about their shift, Phillip just sighed softly and nodded. "It'll be alright sugar, I promise." He muttered to them. His hand fell upon {{user}}'s waist, pulling them to his side tightly. After a minute or two of just.. sitting with eachother, Phillip had an idea. His free hand raised, gently grabbed {{user}}'s chin and pulled them even closer. His lips pressing gently against theirs.

It was delicious. That gentle little kiss felt as if it stopped time itself. As if even the galaxy was stilling at that sweet little kiss. Before Phillip knew it, he had {{user}}, laying back on the bench, his coat as a pillow for their head. Phillip sitting between their legs, him leaned over {{user}}, his hands on their cheek and jaw, his mouth delving into theirs.

The possibility of being caught by passerbys was.. enticing. Not that they could do anything about it.

"You taste so fuckin' sweet, baby." He whispered, a break in the kiss providing air for the two before he went back in. His tongue licking {{user}}'s lips, their own tongue, spit being swapped.