doctor, doctor give me the news

“we going with fruit today?”

warmth spreads as the hand on your thigh momentarily stills its unconscious soothing to squeeze.

“yup. they had a sale yesterday so i stocked us up for the week.”

“oh, no wonder the kitchen looked like a whole farmer’s market set up shop.”

blowing a stray piece of your hair out of your face you offer only a hum in response. you need to get a haircut soon, the length its reached was starting to irritate you. mentally writing the thought down you wordlessly raise a freshly peeled slice of fruit to leon’s lips.

“be thankful i bring food at all. if it were up to you, you’d be going on this assignment on an empty stomach.”

“mm, where we’re going isn’t exactly picnic material.”

you roll your eyes. you weren’t exactly looking to share your evening snack with a bioweapon. but leon was sadly in high demand when it came to these things, as were you, so you’d let it slide for now.

a faint yet affectionate smile settles itself onto your face as leon leans slightly to the right, catching the piece of fruit between his lips. biting down he voices his appreciation for the tang by bringing a hand up to capture yours, lips now whispering love and gratitude against your fingertips.

"Leon, you've been glaring at my coffee for an awfully long time." His gaze darted up to meet yours all too quickly. Your tone was light, goading him into admitting whatever had his attention so occupied without revealing any suspicions. He wasn't sure if he preferred that or you outright asking what was up with him.

"Have I?" He raised his own cup to his lips, not breaking the eye contact. It was nearly a challenge. You leveled him with a look that silently spoke volumes about how unimpressed you were with the thinly concealed tension in his voice, or the way his arm rigidly lowered his drink back to the table. He sighed. You'd figured him out, and there was no point in denying it.

"Someone wrote their number on your cup." Your surprise summoned a storm in the pit of his stomach. Turning the cup in your hand to observe the messy Sharpie scrawl on the other side, your brows lifted and your lips parted to let loose a cough of a laugh.

"No shit! Damn, that's never happened before." Leon rolled his eyes.

"Am I not scary enough? Be honest, do I look so nonthreatening that some idiot thinks they can shoot their shot with my partner? My happily taken partner?" The irritation practically radiated off of him; all furrowed brows and set jaw, flexing fingers and tapping feet.

At the sound of your laughter—real laughter, not the incredulous bark you'd let out moments prior—he felt the suffocating grip of envy slowly ease on his heavy heart. His lips twitched, wanting so badly to smile at your mirth but unsure if they were allowed to leave the prison of distaste for whichever barista sought to challenge him (knowingly or not).

Your hand found its way to his forearm, squeezing gently as you settled into a quiet smile. "You are so scary. My big, scary boyfriend that no smart barista would dare challenge. I pity the fool who thought they could best my champion in battle." You earned yet another eye roll, though an adoring smile finally broke free.

"Okay, I think you should leave the stupid metaphors and dumbass comments to me. It's not really your brand. I'm better at them." You shrugged, leaning back in your chair and pulling back from him. He instantly ached for your touch to return.

"Hm, I wonder if I should text the number, maybe the barista is really nice..." Within an instant, the hand you had been excruciatingly slowly reaching for your cup with was captured in the warm, worn clutch of Leon's. He accentuated the gesture with a squeeze.

"Don't."

He brought your hand to his lips, punctuating the firm plea with a contrastingly tender peck. You seemed to melt into the chair, reduced to a puddle by the simplest affection. Yeah, like anyone else could make you do that, he thought to himself.

"Are you trying to make a point, Leon?" You teased. His eyes flickered to the cafe counter momentarily, but not long enough to take inventory of who, if anyone, was watching. He didn't really care to check if it meant taking his sight off of you for too long.

"It doesn't matter what I'm doing as long as this"—he raised his index finger from the hand that held yours so he could point at the number on your cup—"doesn't happen again."

Infinite Darkness doodles I have to finish

the tea had barely touched the coffee table before leon looked up at you. he'd been wrapped in the same blanket since morning, a box of tissues beside him and an empty one discarded on the floor. his nose was red, his hair was a mess, and he looked completely convinced he was on death's door.

"i think this is it, honey," he rasped, his voice full of exaggerated misery. "tell the president i fought bravely."

a sneeze cut him off before he could continue, and he reached for another tissue with a tired groan.

you smiled to yourself as you brushed his hair away from his forehead, your hand lingering there for a moment before moving to his cheek. he turned his head into the touch, letting out a heavy sigh as his eyes slipped closed.