₊˚꩜ ℛℴ𝓇𝓎 ✮˚₊

Leon’s sitting on the couch, flipping through mission paperwork and nursing his third cup of coffee of the day. When you walk by, his eyes flick up automatically. “Hey.”

You pause. His water bottle is sitting untouched on the coffee table. You point at it.

“…You should drink some water.”

His face immediately twists, eyes rolling. “Don’t start.”

A sweet smile comes to your face. The kind that you know gets him to do whatever you want. “Drink your water.”

He sighs dramatically and reaches over, taking a few obedient sips.

Your face lights up. “Good job.”

Leon blinks. “…What?”

“Good hydration.”

“…Are you making fun of me?” His eyes narrow.

You smile wider. “No.”

You absolutely are.

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The second time, he notices.

He’s in the kitchen making dinner. You lean against the counter, eyeing him up and down. His shoulders are tight. There’s heavy dark circles under his eyes. You know for a fact he slept four hours, if that. Probably even less.

“…Did you nap today?”

“No.” He’s in the middle of chopping some vegetables, eyes still trained on the knife in front of him.

You lay your hand over his, pausing his work. “Go sit down for twenty minutes.”

He gives you an offended look. “No? I don’t need to.”

Your hand doesn’t stray. He simply stares at you for a second, like it’s a challenge. Three minutes later he’s on the couch, you throwing a blanket over him. 

You pat his shoulder, kissing the top of his head. “Good job.”

“…Are you rewarding me?” His head tilts up at you. His eyes look heavy with exhaustion. 

You blink. “…No.”

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Third time. He’s stretching after training.

Not because he wants to, no. But because his back hurt and you threatened violence. When he finishes, a bead of sweat tracing down his hairline, he looks over to you.

You look up from your phone, face softening. “That’s my guy.”

His ears turn pink. He immediately scowls. “…Stop.”

You smile. “Good stretching. I’m happy you’re taking care of yourself.”

His face changes. Just slightly. Like his brain did something weird. You make sure to file that away.

Interesting.

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A week later, you’re making tea.

Leon walks into the kitchen. Opens the fridge. Pulls out water. He takes a long pull from the bottle, swallowing it and turning to look at you. Almost expectantly, even.

You blink. “…What?”

“…Nothing.” His head shakes a little, eyes downturning to the floor. 

He leaves.

… Huh.

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Three days later, you’re folding laundry. 

You don’t bother looking up when Leon steps into the room, an empty plate in hand. It makes you smile. The man never eats a full meal, and when he does, it’s never at what could be considered a good time. Today is different, apparently. 

“…You ate lunch?”

His shoulders shift, chest puffing out a little. Is that… pride on his face? Has to be. “…Yeah.”

You smile automatically. “Good job, sweetheart.”

His expression changes a little. His posture relaxes a touch, the briefest of smiles flickering on his face. Then he immediately leaves, face flushing.

Good. Your plan has been working. Now, it’s just time to test it more.

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That evening, Leon comes home after a meeting. He’s quick to kick his shoes off, jacket already hanging up next to the door.

Your arms envelop him before he can do anything else. “Good job, dear!”

His eyebrows lift. “…For what?”

You shrug. “General maintenance.”

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The next day, he takes his vitamins. You’re quick to kiss his cheek. “Excellent work.”

He rolls his eyes. But, he smiles. 

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Next, he goes to bed before midnight. He makes sure to roll over to face you, a dumb smile on his face.

You kiss his forehead. “That’s my boy.”

His entire face goes red.

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He realizes what you’ve been doing two weeks later.

You’re cooking. Leon wanders into the kitchen, clad in clean pajamas. He opens the fridge, and instead of pulling out booze, he goes for water instead. He drinks. Looks at you. Waits.

You slowly lower the spoon, smirking. “…Leon.”

His eyes widen immediately. He has that big, dumb smile on his face again. “…What?”

“…Were you waiting for me to say good job?” 

“No.”

The word comes out too fast. You look up from the stove. The man’s face has gone beet red, hands clutching the water bottle close to himself.

He looks away from your face as he speaks, blue eyes downturning. “…Maybe.”

You lose your fucking mind. The man looks sheepish as you double over in laughter, almost falling back into the chair next to you. 

A flash of emotion comes to his face as he realizes what you’ve done. “Did you- Did you fucking condition me?!”

You’re wheezing. “You trained me first! It’s only fair!”

His eyes widen. “EXCUSE ME?”

“YOU CLICKED AT ME LIKE A DOG!”

His hand gestures wildly. “YOU SAID GOOD JOB WHEN I DRANK WATER!”

You stare at him for a second, before smirking again. “…Good job communicating.”

Leon throws a kitchen towel at your face.

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That night he drinks water. Looks over.

You grin. “Good job, baby.”