"Aftershocks" is one of my top five episodes because there were so many wonderful moments between pairs or among sets of characters. However, the Maysonite (Philindite, if you prefer) in me had to expand on one particular exchange. I've restrained from reading any post-ep fics, so any similarities are coincidental and unintentional. Also, I don't own these characters.

Enjoy!

VVVVV

Phil closed his door behind him and sighed tiredly as he pulled at the knot in his tie, wondering why he still had it on after the long trek back from North Carolina. He would never forget the look on her face when she recognized Tripp's suitcase. It broke his heart to deliver that dreaded news, but Phil vowed that Tripp's death wouldn't be for naught.

He cursed as his tie knotted further. How could that thing get so tangled when he had put it on with his usual precision? A soft click from the nearby table lamp alerted Phil to another's presence. There was only one person brave enough to enter his domain without an invitation.

"Hi," he greeted her with a small smile, the knotted tie momentarily forgotten. She could calm him like no one else, and he was relieved that she was there. Despite that, he said, "It's late. I thought you'd be asleep."

An arched eyebrow was her only reply.

"Right. Sleep is overrated, anyway. So, what are you doing here?"

She vacated the chair and went to him. Nimble fingers undid his tie in seconds, and she slipped it from his collar and let it fall to the floor.

His eyes flicked downward. "That's going to wrinkle, you know." He'd never tell her that, had she not turned on the lamp when she did, the tie was seconds away from falling victim to a knife or a pair of scissors, whichever he could find first.

A gentle tug on the lapels of his suit jacket brought his eyes back to hers. She stepped backward, still holding onto his jacket. He had no choice but to move with her. When she stopped, so did he. Her hands moved under the fabric of his jacket, sliding up his chest, over his clavicles, and across his shoulders. The action sent the jacket to the floor in a heap, but the protest died on his lips as her attention turned toward his dress shirt. She untucked the shirt from the waistband of his pants and promptly unbuttoned the buttons without hesitation. The shirt soon followed the path of his jacket. Her hands lingered on his shoulders for a moment, and he could feel their warmth through the thin cotton of his undershirt. But all too soon, their physical contact broke, and she stepped to the side, motioning him toward the bed.

Without questioning her silent direction, he sat on the edge of the bed and bent over to take off his shoes. He placed them neatly beside the bed-somethinghad to be orderly-and as he raised up, he glanced at the three articles of clothing haphazardly discarded on the floor. "You're going to iron those for me, right?"

Her own shoes clattered to the floor, and the bed dipped slightly as she joined him. She scooted back and rose to her knees behind him.

"What-" was the only word he could get out before her warm hands once again landed on his shoulders.

She slowly massaged his aching shoulder muscles, kneading with just the right amount of pressure. Phil often felt that he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, but he didn't fully realize the toll that stress could take on his body. He had always put others first, ignoring the strain it caused him. But as she worked her magic, his eyes slipped shut, and he felt the tension begin to leave his body, warmth and relief washing over him. Her fingers moved to the base of his neck, and his head fell forward, chin resting against his chest. Her ministrations continued on the newly exposed area, and he moaned in appreciation.

"You've always been good with your hands," he sighed, focusing on trail of fire her fingers left on his skin.

Eventually, her hands retraced the path down his neck, and he rolled his head from side to side as she went to work on the knotted muscles along his spine. One knot was particularly bothersome, and, to keep from pushing him off the bed, she gripped his left shoulder with her left hand so she could really get into the knot with the knuckles of her right hand. The near-painful sensation caused him to shiver, but he didn't pull away, and she didn't let go. Finally, the knot loosen, and she eased up on the pressure. But before she could remove her hand from his shoulder, he grasped her fingers in his right hand and turned his head so he could place a kiss on the back of her hand.

"Thank you," he whispered, lips remaining against her skin. "That was just what I needed." He pressed another kiss to her knuckles, and she gently squeezed his fingers before pulling away.

She slid to the edge of the bed and stood up, but his gentle touch on her elbow kept her from moving too far.

"Stay…"

She stepped away, and his hand fell against his leg with a dull smack. A single click from the table lamp sent the room into darkness, and a few moments later, the bed dipped behind him.

He smiled into the darkness. He really liked cuddling with her.

VVVVV

She slipped from his bed just before daybreak, judging by the amount of light seeping in from around the edges of the curtain that covered the small window. She glanced at him, shaking her head slightly as she took in the goofy half-grin on his face. Grateful that he was at peace though, she leaned over him, softly caressing his face with her fingers before turning to put on her shoes. She had just finished tying the laces on her first shoe when she heard the sheets rustle behind her.

"Well, good morning!" he said to her backside as he sat up on the edge of the bed.

She feigned a glare at him over her shoulder, but he knew that she wasn't offended. She intentionally took her time with the second shoe, allowing his 'good morning' to continue. Eventually, she straightened and turned to face him. The half-grin he'd sported while asleep had rapidly changed to a wide awake and very appreciative smile. It, too, was a look that some people would have called, 'adorkable.' She, however, would never admit to knowing that particular adjective, and she certainly wouldn't let anyone hear her say it!

She moved to stand in front of him, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders as his hands found their way to her hips. Their eyes locked and he grew serious.

"I can't thank you enough. For everything."

"Scripts aren't just about the spoken words, Phil."

He caught the smirk that flashed across her face, and he realized that until that moment, she had not voiced one word since his arrival a few hours before. This had all been part of her plan-her script. "You're right. I should let you write more often. Or, perhaps, we could write together."

"Collaborate," she agreed.

"We do work better as a team." He smoothed the hem of her shirt before his hands stilled on her hips. "You know what else we could do as a team?"

She inched closer to him and could see the mischief in his eyes, even in the dimly lit room. "I'm not helping you with the ironing, Phil."

"You don't know that that's what I was going to say!" he protested as she moved out of his grasp, her smirk growing wider. She retreated further, stepping over his discarded and very wrinkled jacket and shirt. "You're not even going to pick them up?"

She passed over his tie with a quick glance back to him. She had to admit that she enjoyed ruffling his feathers.

"That's just mean!" he huffed. "You're right there!"

She reached for the doorknob. "Good morning, Phil…"

"Seriously?!"

As she shut the door behind her, a rare, but actual laugh escaped her lips.

"May!" he called.

Though it was early and no one was around, she pressed her hand to her lips in an effort to stifle any further laughing.

"May?"

Oh, yeah. She'd definitely be writing more often.

VVVVV

Thanks for reading!

This is my first AOS fic. The end result is different than originally planned, but I like it, and I'd love to know what you think!

**A tiny assumption was made regarding Tripp's mom's current residence. Simmons mentioned the story about Tripp's grandpa taking him to Grandfather Mountain, a location not commonly known unless one grew up or lives in North Carolina. I know firsthand. :) It's probably a detail that could have been omitted...but I so love it when places that I know are referenced.