doctor, doctor give me the news

boyfriend’s dad!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader (one shot)

ao3 request from do; I hope you like it! And thank you for your patience! 😭 💜

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, cheating, dirty talk, grinding, kissing, slight noncon (but reader’s into it, just pretending to be reluctant), nipple teasing, unprotected sex, creampie

not proofread ✌️

title from Magic Man by Heart (seemed fitting haha)

PSA: I definitely don’t condone cheating; find it vile to be quite frank. In this case reader is breaking up with the guy just hasn’t talked to him yet when stuff happens (not saying it’s right but she’s not going to stay in the relationship at the least)

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Since an extended holiday weekend’s on the way, your boyfriend invited you to stay with him at his dad’s place. 

“He’s been bugging me to visit for ages and I thought it’d be fun for you to meet him,” he tells you over the phone. 

Frowning at your history book, you tap your pen against it, “You sure this isn’t too fast? Or weird? I mean we’ve only been dating for a month.”

He laughs flippantly, making you frown harder even though he can’t see it. 

“It’ll be fine,” you hear a muffled voice from his end, “Jeremy’s here with pizza, gotta go. We’ll talk more later!”

The line beeps letting you know he hung up before you could even say goodbye. Opening up your calendar app, you mark off this weekend. At the very least, it would be nice to leave campus for a bit. Although you have a good feeling this’ll probably be the last time you’ll spend any quality time with Keith. 

He’s a nice enough guy, but still acts really immature and you’re not really interested in that especially when you’re only dating casually. 

The weekend rushes up on you and before you can say bon voyage, Keith picks you up and drives you the couple of hours upstate to his dad’s house. It’s a nice neighborhood and his dad has a lovely home. 

You know it’s lovely since Keith basically ditched you here to go hang out with some old high school buddies for the evening. 

“Promise I’ll be home tomorrow and I’ll show ya around!” he kisses your cheek as he heads out the door, “my dad will be home shortly so you can get to know each other.”

You give him a tight smile as he shuts the door, muffled laughter and talking dissipating as he gets into his friend’s car. 

You flop down on the couch and scroll through your phone, certain now that you’re dumping Keith as soon as you guys get back to campus. 

Later, the doorknob jiggles and you raise up to look over the couch into the entryway. All of the spit in your mouth dries up when you actually see Keith’s dad for the first time. He’s built, big biceps and thick forearms, not to mention his chest and shoulders and thighs and—

You pull yourself away from ogling your boyfriend’s dad, even if said boyfriend’s a complete ass. 

“Hi, you must be the infamous girlfriend I’ve heard so much about,” he walks further into the house after kicking off his shoes, “the name’s Leon.”

“Hi,” you clear your dry throat, “yep, that’d be me.” 

You give him an awkward little wave as his gaze roves around the living room before settling on you, a more serious look on his handsome face. 

“Where’s Keith?”

“Ah,” you give him a bashful grin, “he wanted to hang out with some buddies so he—“

“Ditched you?” His blue eyes narrow as he drums his fingers against his leg, “just a second, sweetheart.”

He steps back outside and you feel your heartbeat amp up from the nickname. Straining your ears, you can sort of hear Leon’s low voice but not what’s actually being said. After a few minutes, he comes back inside looking irritated. 

He walks over to the couch and rubs the back of his neck, “I’d like to apologize for my son’s shitty behavior. Unfortunately, I can’t seem to convince him to come back and actually spend time with the pretty girl he decided to bring home.”

Your fingers tingle as shyness steals over your demeanor, “Not your fault. Thanks though, I appreciate it.” 

He pinches the bridge of his nose letting you steal this moment to take in his chiseled jaw and spot a few freckles on his neck that you’d love to kiss.  

“Well, I can order takeout and we can watch something,” he offers with a half smile, “not the company you probably planned for.”

You smile at him, “That sounds really nice, Mr. Kennedy.”

“Oh uh,” a small pink blush fans put across his cheeks, “please just call me Leon.” 

The afternoon passes pretty lazily between Chinese takeout and some cheesy action movies. Leon’s a lot of fun; way more interesting than Keith, but you try not to dwell on the fact you’re starting to crush on his dad. 

Leon eventually offers you something a little stronger to drink which you gladly take him up on the offer. He must carry some high shelf liquor cause you feel the effects pretty quickly with a nice little buzz. At least, it’s the excuse you give when you slide into Leon’s lap and grind your wet cunt against his thigh as you kiss his neck. 

“Baby, what about Keith?” 

He doesn’t move you away but holds your hips still on top of him. 

“Gonna break up with him,” you murmur, “he’s a shitty boyfriend. No offense.”

“None taken,” he laughs, kissing you softly, letting you lick into his mouth. 

From there it’s a sloppy makeout session on his couch as you dry hump his thigh. He picks you up to let you straddle his chubbed cock, rocking your hips back and forth until you find the rhythm he likes. 

His phone rings and although he ignores it at first, with the constant noise he pulls away to check the caller ID. 

“It’s—I’ve gotta take this, honey,” he pats your hip and helps you move off of him. 

Embarrassment floods your body as you see how wet his pants are from your dirty grinding. 

“I’m so sorry,” you shakily stand up, “I’ll—it won’t happen again.”

“Wha—“

“I’m going to get out of your hair,” you give him a wobbly smile, “it’s slutty of me to not at least breakup with Keith first. It’s pretty fucked up actually.”

Reality’s a cold shower wiping out your arousal in a flash. 

“Goodnight, Mr. Kennedy.”

You disappear up the stairs toward the guest bedroom Keith pointed out earlier; you definitely weren’t going to share his room with him now since you practically fucked his dad on the couch. Grabbing your luggage from Keith’s room, you beeline it for the guest room. 

You change out of your clothes feeling horny and gross. As much as you don’t like Keith, you feel a little bad to just do something so scandalous. 

You hear two pairs of footsteps out in the hall making you pause as you shut the light off. 

“Fuck off, dad, what does it matter if I got a little drunk,” Keith slurs, “I wasn’t driving!”

“You’re irresponsible is what,” Leon’s deep tone makes your thighs press together, “you even left your girlfriend here alone for god’s sake!”

“She’s fine,” he scoffs, making you roll your eyes, “‘sides where is she?”

“In the guest room,” Leon states bluntly, “I heard her go in there a little bit ago.”

You hold your breath as you hear Keith stumble closer to your door. 

“Go to your room,” Leon’s sharp tone stalls Keith’s footsteps and you listen as he stumbles back over to his room. 

“You’re a fucking buzzkill, y’know that?” Keith mutters as he shuts his door hard. 

“What a fucking brat,” you hear Leon mumble to himself. 

Your heartbeat picks up when he pauses outside your door but then smooths out as he walks off down the hallway. 

“Wow,” you whisper to yourself, turning off the light and climbing into bed. 

 You toss and turn for what seems forever until you settle on your side. Cunt still thrumming with arousal, you slowly slide your hand into your panties, teasing your fingers across your swollen clit. 

Losing yourself to the sweet pleasure drifting through your body, you miss the door opening until a warm, bulky body slides in behind you. 

“Want some help?”

Before you answer, a hand slips down your body to cover the one you have in your panties.

“Gotta keep quiet.”

You press your lips together tightly as Leon spoons you from behind.  He puts his hands inside your panties to push yours away and slowly touches your clit. You’re laying on one arm so with the one he shoved away you try to grab his wrist to stop him but he pinches your clit roughly. 

“So wet,” he whispers hotly in your ear. “What were you thinking about, huh?”

“Nothing,” you whisper back, “now s-stop and get out please.” 

“Nah you like it too much,” he gloats letting his fingers circle your wet clit over and over.

You can’t really argue with him as you find yourself pressing your hips into his hand. Your hand is still gripping his wrist only now it’s to hold his arm while his fingers tease across your cunt. You honestly don’t mind picking up where you left off, even though it feels dirty. 

“Mmm so fucking sexy, y’like your own boyfriend’s dad playing with your pussy, huh,” he mocks.

“N-no s’wrong, L-Leon,” you hiss, eyes clenching shut as he pinches your clit again. 

“Didn’t seem to think so earlier when you were grinding that wet pussy on me.”

Slick gushes from your cunt, feeling hot embarrassment and arousal from the truth of his words. You feel his dick press against your ass as he rolls his hips to grind against you. 

Leon groans into your neck, hot breath fanning across your skin causing goosebumps. 

“Roll over and show me your tits you little tease,” he rasps in your ear. 

You ignore him and try to shove his arm away, but he grabs your hip and forces you to your back. He slides an arm underneath you then throws a leg over your hips to keep you from moving or pushing him away. His hand goes back down and dips underneath your panties to play with your clit. 

“C’mon, sweetheart, show me your tits already.” 

As much as you try to fight it, arousal is flooding your body. And it’s not like you aren’t interested in him. You feel more slick leak into your panties to coat Leon’s fingers. 

Your arms and legs are limited in their movement, but you’re able to do as he says. Feeling hot, you pull up your top to expose your breasts and hard nipples to his dark gaze. 

“There we go,” he groans, “look at those sweet fucking nipples.”

He grinds his dick into your thigh as his fingers rub across your swollen clit. 

“Really wanna taste’em,” he murmurs in your ear, “just suck on those pretty nipples til you’re creaming my fingers.”

You moan and arch your back, pressing your heels down into the bed. 

“C’mon, I’ll treat you right if you just let me,” he stops teasing your cunt and drags wet fingers up to flick your hard nipples. 

You’re panting now, hips writhing from the stimulation. 

“Let me suck’em baby.”

You bite your lip, brows furrowed with worry. 

“If you keep me waiting, I’m not gonna be nice,” he bites at your shoulder, blunt teeth scraping your skin. 

“O-okay,” you agree, feeling a sick thrill at the low groan Leon lets out. 

He moves his leg and helps twist your body towards him so you’re facing each other. Ducking his head, he drags his mouth across the swell of your breasts. 

“Hang on a sec,” he mutters into your chest. 

Leon’s hand moves to his boxers and pushes the band down until his cock’s free. He grabs your panties and pulls them down until he can slip his dick inside. You gasp at the feel of his hot cock rubbing all along your pussy, slipping in between your wet folds to drag against your clit and leaky hole.  

“There we go,” he grins at you, “try not to let me slip inside that wet little cunt. We wouldn’t want that now, would we?”

Wide eyed, you shake your head no even if the thought of your boyfriend’s dad plowing you in this bed is driving you a little crazy. His eyes never leave yours when his mouth dips down to suck on your sensitive nipples. As you feel the hot wet suction, your eyes slip close with a whine. 

You grind yourself down on Leon’s cock, dripping slick all over him. You feel him moan into your breasts as he slowly drags his dick back and forth inside your panties. The head of his dick leaks precum making your panties even stickier. 

Your hands drag through Leon’s soft hair, nails scratching at his scalp, as you sigh and mewl from his mouth suckling at your sensitive buds. 

“G-good, so good,” you arch your back, pressing more of your breasts into his face. 

The next time he catches your gaze you can see his pupils swallowing the blue of his eyes and a pink blush spread across the bridge of his nose. Leon bites and sucks a hickie under the curve of your breast, teeth digging into the soft skin. 

You gasp at the dull ache, hands tightening in his hair to pull him away.

“Don’t be like that,” his voice is low and raspy, tongue lapping at the bruise he left, “you were just gonna leave me with blue balls earlier, weren’t you honey? So mean to tease me with that wet drippy cunt.”

You whine and arch up into him more, “We really shouldn’t do this.”

“Why?” his grin is wicked as he kisses across your breasts, “don’t want my son knowing your little pussy’s aching for my cock?”

You gasp sharply as he roughly sucks on your nipples, swapping back and forth until they’re puffy and sore. As he works his teeth and tongue on your hard buds, he slips your panties off leaving your lower half completely naked. 

He grinds his cock up against your slick hole making you part your legs further. 

“Want it, sweetheart?” he moves up to whisper in your ear as he rubs the tip of his dick against your clit, “want my fat cock splitting you open? Show you how a real man fucks a gorgeous girl like you.”

His words make your brain feel like mush, nodding up at him before you can think twice. 

“Please, Mr. Kennedy, want you to fuck me,” you whimper, nails digging into his shirt. 

He groans and eases the head into your slick cunt, “Just call me Leon, baby. Y’r gonna make me cum too soon calling me mister.” 

Your body goes hot all over as he rocks his hips against yours, fucking himself deeper into your clenching heat. 

Wanting to tease, you pout up at him, “Sorry Mr. Kennedy— I mean Leon.”

Growling, he thrusts hard and buries himself balls deep inside your pussy, making you squeal. 

His palm covers your mouth, “Wanna get us caught? Want him walking in to see his dad fucking his girlfriend’s tight little cunt?”

You clamp down on his dick hard and he clicks his tongue. 

“What a slut,” he murmurs, making you buck your hips up. 

He keeps your mouth covered as he slowly fucks your cunt, really drawing your attention to how split open your pussy feels. You constantly whine and moan as his dick bullies into your fluttering walls again and again. 

“You’re so fucking tight, honey,” he grunts, “never had a cock this big stuffing this slutty pussy?”   

You shake your head no as best you can and he chuckles. 

“S’okay, you got one now.”

He moves his hand away to drop his mouth down onto yours. Trading sloppy, wet kisses between your moans, his fat dick ruts into your squelching pussy, dragging all along the spongy spot of your cunt that makes you clench down on him. 

Your mind goes fuzzy, completely oblivious to everything but the orgasm slowly coiling in your belly. 

“Cockdrunk already?” He laughs, “nothing but a sweet little hole to dump my load into, right pretty girl?”

You shiver and cling harder to him, “Yes, please, want you t’cum in me.”

“Mmm don’t worry, your hot little cunt’s getting creamed,” he kisses you messily, hips snapping harder against you. 

Leon fucks you quick and deep now, plunging his cock into your sopping wet hole making him have to cover your mouth again for being too loud. His other hand moves between your bodies to flick and rub your sensitive clit. Your head thrashes back and forth, tears running down your temples as he drives you closer and closer to climaxing. 

“That’s it, sweet girl, let that little pussy squeeze down on me, bet it feels so good,” he goads you, fingers rubbing over your pudgy clit until your back bows off the bed. 

You cry out behind his sweaty palm, eyes fluttering shut as the coil in your belly snaps, orgasm hitting you. Legs clamping around his waist, your cunt clenches down on his cock like a vice, milking him as slick gushes around his throbbing length. 

“Oh so good, such a good girl for me,” he pants, hands grabbing your thighs to press you open more, “gonna fucking cum in you baby, watch it spill out of your tight hole.”

You whine pitifully as he rails his dick into your sensitive pussy until, with a low groan, he thrusts deeply and spills, hot and sticky, all in your pulsing walls. He sighs as he rocks against you, stuffing your cunt with jizz until it leaks out around his cock. 

Pulling out with another sigh, he looks down at you with a sly grin. 

It couldn’t be him calling, then, it had to be something—someone—else. But who could be calling at such an early hour? Maybe someone had the wrong number. Maybe a friend was having a tough time and wanted to hear from you, momentarily forgetting that you did not, in fact, wake up before daybreak. Maybe some unexpected thing happened that you could get to in the morning. 

You hoped it was that. You wanted to believe it was that. The desire sat heavy on your chest, keeping you down from moving to grasp blindly at the bedside table for the source of the mocking noise. But stronger than the hope of a butt-dial, or anything else it could be that woke you from your slumber, was the fear that it could be Leon. 

Squinting at the screen once it was clutched weakly in your hand, you felt your thunderous heartbeat cease completely. It was him. Your thumb twitched over the answer button, picking up the call even though you couldn’t feel your own movement.

“Leon?” You whispered. Your own lips felt foreign to you. 

At first, there was no response. You could barely hear the crunching of something—debris, maybe—beneath the steps of his boots. His breath, too, was quiet, like he wasn’t holding the phone very close. It came in gasps, gulps, almost, like no matter what there would never be enough oxygen to satisfy him. You could only imagine what he looked like. Scratch that, you didn’t want to.

“Hey, honey.” Finally. You hadn’t noticed that you had been holding your breath until your throat began to feel less constricted at the sound of his voice; it was raspy and exhausted. Defeated, even.

“Leon, is everything alright?” You knew the answer, you were sure you did. Why else would he call at four in the morning while he was out on a mission? Tears welled up in your eyes. It was a small mercy that your voice hadn’t wobbled when you asked. The last thing Leon needed, surely, was to hear you so distraught. He’d called to hear you one last time, and he didn’t want tears. He didn’t need your weeping to be his exit music.

The crunching stopped. You would have panicked, thinking the call dropped and he was gone for good, if not for the muffled cough. He was still there. But he wasn’t answering. 

“Please,” you begged, a tear finally slipping down your cheek, “say something.” Your fingers clutched at the bedsheets—slate blue, he’d picked them when you’d first bought the house together—as if it would bring him back. As if it wasn’t the end, and if you held tight enough, it would suddenly be his shirt, it would be him draped over you, because having you in his arms helped him sleep. A deep inhale came from the phone, closer now. This was it. You steeled yourself, preparing to hear the dreaded, noble goodbye speech. 

“Can you come unlock the front door for me?” Your jaw, clenched to keep any sobs from spilling out, stilled. It relaxed, as did every muscle in your tightly wound body. You sank into the mattress. “Key must’ve fallen out of my pocket in the car. Don’t want to go back down the stairs to get it.” 

You laughed. It sounded more like choking; it was quick and humorless, a sigh of relief on its last legs. You wiped the hot tears from your cheeks, though a few more fell. Your chest quivered as it elevated and depressed, relishing each breath now that a weight had been lifted from you. Your mind seemed to remember how to live again. 

“You couldn’t come in through the garage?” A pause. A huff.

Then, gruffly, “It’s four in the morning, I’m dead tired and I went to the door without thinking. I’m at the top of the stairs now and I would like to be let in, please.” 

Despite it all, despite how you had already grieved his passing and prepared to hear his voice for the last time, here he was, bringing a smile to your face. Bringing the life back to your home. Bringing his tired old bones up the stairs to the front door and bringing his effortlessly amusing mannerisms with him. 

You pulled the covers off your body, shuddering at the loss of warmth (Leon ran hot so the fan was always on, and now you couldn’t sleep without its white noise). 

“Why’d we get a house with stairs to the front door? Why didn’t we get a ranch?” You grinned, shuffling sleepily through the pitch-black hall to the entryway.

“We were younger and you didn’t get winded from a few stairs back then, love.” You could almost hear the eye roll. Fumbling in the dark, you reached for the lock, finding it purely out of muscle memory. It clicked as you turned it, movements quickening now that you were more awake and eager to gaze upon your husband once more.

“I don’t always get winded from stairs. I’ve been working and then falling asleep at the wheel to get back to you.” 

“You’d better not have.” You pulled open the door, finally able to see him with only the storm door separating you. Your thumb ended the call without taking your eyes off of him.

Leon’s face was a little messy, smudged with what appeared to be dirt and ash. There were a few cuts and scrapes, most along his jaw and cheeks where he was likely nicked in a knife duel of sorts. You didn’t know, you weren’t the expert on the violent encounters of a D.S.O. field agent. His posture sagged with exhaustion, his hair was unkempt, and you were even a bit surprised to see that he hadn’t lost the jacket he’d left home with. 

But most importantly, he was sporting a lazy, lovesick grin, and his eyes were locked on you, softening as they scanned your face. He must have noticed the dried tears on your cheeks. He noticed everything, you’d learned. Leon lowered his phone into his pocket, as did you with yours, as you pushed the storm door open. He caught it, stepping inside to envelop you in a tight, all-encompassing hug, and paid it no mind as it nearly slammed shut behind him. 

“Wanted t’surprise you. Look at how that worked out.” One hand was planted firmly on your hip, the other slipping under your top to feel the skin of your lower back when he held you against him. He seemed to sink into you. He was home. 

“You’re early,” you whispered into his neck. His fingers pressed further into your skin.

“I missed you.”

He’s truly such a beautiful specimen, a fact that all the nosey old ladies in town couldn’t seem to keep to themselves. They would tell him every chance they got just how handsome of a man he is, petting his arm, giving him sloppy, lipstick-stained kisses on his cheek. Of course, to reach him, they'd have to rise to the ball of their Sunday's best (typically a kitten heel with a duck-mouthed toe box), holding down his forearm so he bends at the waist and meets them half-way. 

“Leon, move your leg, I need to get up.” 

He doesn’t fully wake, but he obeys the command, still half asleep, and removes his leg from across your thigh, freeing you from his hold. You want nothing more than to stay in bed all day with him, tossing and turning among the sheets, but alas, duty calls.

You get ready for the day, following your typical routine: freshening your hair, popping on something easy that can survive the bipolar weather of that limbo between summer and autumn. It’s a sundress today, one of Leon’s favorites. 

“I like that one,” is the first thing you hear him say, his body still tucked beneath the comforter when you glance toward the bed. Then, “Where are you going?” 

“Work.”

“Wait, what?” His dark brows cinch and he sits up, leaning back on a flexed arm. “I thought you were off today.” He blinks hard, kneading the heel of his palm into one of his eyes, rubbing the film of sleep from it. 

It’s unfair how handsome he always looks first thing in the morning. Absolutely unfair, but you’ll happily reap the benefits of such an injustice. 

You walk over to the bed after slipping on a pair of earrings. “I was supposed to be, but my cousin called in sick, so my aunt needs another set of hands. Why? Did you have something planned?” 

“Did I have something planned?” He repeats, chuckling, taking your hands into your grasp, tugging on your arms just an inch, threatening to pull you onto the mattress and not let you get up until the sun falls. “Yeah, keeping you in bed all day, making sweet love to you. That’s what I had planned.” He reaches up to suck your lips into a kiss. Such a sap. “Don’t go to work,” he says once he pulls away. 

It’s your turn to laugh, tossing your neck back as you keep your feet planted on the floor, unmoving. “Some of us have to make a living, Leon.” 

“You don’t. I may be retired now but I have more than enough to take care of you.” 

He looks up at you, sincerity welling in his eyes like thick, oily tears on his lashes. 

“Right. We’re not even married.” To everyone else besides the two people in this room, you’re not even dating. “I’m not that stupid.” 

“Hey,” he snaps, offended at the insinuation that he’d lure you from your job, your security, just to leave you and put you out on the street, helpless. He vocalizes the slight against him, and you roll your eyes. “I would never do that to you.” You’re inclined to believe him, never having met such an honorable, dutiful man in your life. If you were to settle down with anyone, you prefer it be with someone like him. 

“They all say that. I know too many girls in this town who have fallen for a handsome city boy like you, up and changed their lives for them, only to have to come crawling back to town with no job, no money, no ring. It won’t be me.” 

He shrugs. “Then I’ll give you a ring.” 

You giggle, patting his head. “You’re sleepy.” 

“I’m serious.” 

“Leon, you don’t even want people to know we’re dating. I’m not sure why you think I’d believe you want to marry me if you can’t even tell old Linda at the diner that you have a girlfriend. Even if it would mean she’d stop trying to set you up with her daughter.” 

“I’m just private about my personal life.” 

You bend at the hips to kiss him on the temple. “I know, honey.” He grabs your wrist as you stand up straight, turning to step away. He doesn’t speak, saying enough with the expression splashed across his face. “You don’t have to explain, Leon, I get it.” 

Coming to a small town, especially being the fresh meat that came in on a storm, paying in cash for three months at the local bed and breakfast, with unexplainable muscles and the kind of face people here have only seen on the television, the spotlight was instantly shone on him. 

Moving here, if just for a summer and a half, was supposed to be relaxing. He wanted to retire in peace, find a cabin further into the woods maybe, where he could chop wood and roast squirrels on a switch over a handmade fire (well, maybe not a squirrel). He wasn’t expecting to be, quite literally, photographed and put in the local newspaper on arrival. 

And he certainly didn’t expect to fall in love with you, the beloved daughter of two of the more prominent citizens–the girl everyone knew and watched grow up from the time you were no taller than a blade of grass. That’s how these small hamlets work. Everyone knows everyone, whether you were born and raised on the town’s soil, or a newcomer with a fancy car and a mysterious past. And nothing–nothing at all–is off-limits. Every juicy detail can be found out, picked apart, and passed around like a plate of rolls at dinner. 

There are no secrets. Privacy is a pipe dream. 

Plus, the two of you aren’t exactly close in age–at all–and he would never forgive himself if the revelation of your relationship with him managed to harm your reputation, or prompt any sort of damaging gossip, which it has the potential to do. He’s not ignorant or selfish enough to ignore that possibility. 

Knowing all of this yourself, you don’t blame Leon for wanting to keep your romance a secret. It’s much easier this way, though a quiet voice at the back of your head wonders if it’s because it’s so easy that makes it attractive to him. Easy to enjoy in peace for a season. Easy to leave without riot when the weather turns bitter. 

There’s nothing to tie him here. No mortgage, no career, no land. He could pack up and leave as quickly as he arrived. 

You, on the other hand, are tethered to this place, whether you like it or not, regardless if you wish for more–like many of the friends you grew up with who left and blossomed in the big city, now living among the clouds in swanky high-rises, carrying alligator briefcases to their corporate jobs. 

You can’t leave. You have the store, passed down from your grandfather’s father, to your father and his brother. It’s a family affair, the whole gang of you practically living inside the four walls. Silk ties and belt loops are in your blood. 

“I have to go.”

“I love you.” 

You look back at him, blowing a kiss his way. He catches it in his hand and places it over his heart. So cheesy. 

“I love you too, Leon.”

The morning has been slow, only a few window shoppers walking by, peering at the displays through the glass. Some regulars have stopped in for some tailoring. Other than that, it’s been quiet, and you’ve reveled in the peace, taking the time to tend to a few housekeeping tasks you’d been putting off.

Your aunt rounds the corner, luring your attention from the register where you were crunching the numbers of last month’s profit and loss. “Honey, will you come take this nice gentleman’s measurements?” She gestures behind her with a thumb. You were so enveloped in your work, you didn’t even hear the front door chime. “I’ve gotta call the warehouse again before they close for lunch.” 

“Sure thing,” you say, hopping off the stool, tossing the pencil down onto the counter. “Make sure to tell them we need to order more of those cotton-blend dress shirts with the wider necks.” 

“Will do, darling,” she responds as you make your wait to the back of the store, passing by racks of sports coats, shelved displays of folded polos where all the colors of the sunset are represented in the fabrics. You weave through another maze of racks, approaching the back of the store. That’s when you see him, your boyfriend behind closed doors, the exciting newcomer beyond them. 

When he sees you from his perch on the pedestal in front of the large, tri-fold mirrors near the dressing rooms, a wicked grin appears on his face, the corner of his mouth quivering in amusement. He’s wearing a plaid button-down shirt, untucked from a pair of navy pants. 

“Good morning,” he greets, that half-smile growing toothier the closer you get toward him as he extends a hand for you to shake. You do, if only to touch him.

“What are you doing here, Leon?” You ask, making sure to keep your voice down as you say his name. 

“I wanted to come by and see the store you’re always talking about.” And then, he shrugs, adjusting the cuffs of his dress shirt in the mirror. “Plus, I need some larger shirts.” He pats his stomach, the little layer of pudge fed by the diner’s signature apple pie which Leon never goes a day without getting a slice of, and the chocolate chip cookies he begs you to make every Sunday night. “Maybe a couple pairs of pants too. And a gym membership while we’re at it. Good grief.” 

He cinches his brows together at his reflection, puffing his chest on an inhale, watching the way the gaps of fabric between the buttons pucker beneath the tension.

“Looking for anything in particular?” 

You stand behind him, meeting his eyes through the mirror. 

“You look like someone with great taste,” he says. “Just pick out whatever you think will look good. I trust you.”

“Of course,” you say sweetly, clasping your hands in front of you. “Let me see what I can find.”

“Uh, Miss? Don’t you need to take my measurements first?” He bends at the waist to reach toward a limp tape measure hanging from a wooden valet. “Here you go.” 

“Right,” you say with a breath, taking it from him. “I’ll do that.” 

“Starting with the legs, thanks. Might have to kneel down to get the best angle.” 

After taking his measurements from calf to shoulder, you scurried off around the shop with your head down, cheeks aflame, searching for the most expensive pieces you can find, pulling from the shelves with enthusiasm. All cashmere and merino wool, brand names no one in this town can pronounce, and accessories Leon definitely doesn’t need but you will talk into buying anyway. 

When you walk out to the front of the store to grab a specific sweater, business has picked up. Even your father has stopped by to man the register, your mother and aunt working together to tend to the other customers that have come through the doors in drones. 

Finally returning to the dressing rooms with your hands full of clothes, Leon is there waiting, leaning against the wall with one arm folded across his chest and one ankle crossed over the other. He’s on his phone, thumb scrolling down the screen. When you approach, he glances up from the device, removing his back from the wall. 

“Show me what you’ve got,” he says, stepping toward you to relieve your forearms of some of the weight. You move past him quickly, not letting him lift so much as a single shirt, moving all the articles to balance in one hand as you pull back one of the curtains to a dressing room with the other. Hanging all the metal hooks on the rack, you dust off your hands, turning to leave the room. Leon stops you, his body standing in the gap between the long swaths of heavy velvet, barring you from entry back into the store. 

You peer over his shoulder, and though there isn’t anyone there to see, there could just as easily be, and his cover is blown. 

“Excuse me, sir,” you say. He looks down at you with a grin before stepping aside to let you pass. “Let me know if you need different sizes.” 

“Will do. Thank you.” 

He lifts his arms to close the curtains, which in turn lifts the hem of his shirt, giving you a peek at his abdomen. Though there has grown to be a healthy layer of flesh there, it doesn’t hide the muscularity beneath it, a small scattering of hair leading down to the band of his boxers. 

Before you can drool for too long, the makeshift doors of the dressing room close, and a customer approaches you from behind, asking where he can find the hats. 

It’s not long until you’re called back over to the dressing rooms by a voice on the other side of the divider. Leon says your name, a bare arm slipping from between the velvet, his biceps on full display. 

“Hi there. Could you help me with something?” He asks, beckoning you closer with a crooked finger. When you’re close enough, he says in a lower voice, “I can’t quite get my pants unzipped to try on the ones you brought me..” 

You roll your eyes. “Leon, we can’t.” 

Part of you is happy he’s being so bold in public. The other part is humiliated by his choosing to do so when your closest family members are on the other side of the store. 

Still, against your judgment, you enter into the dressing room, taking in the sight of his naked upper body, those broad shoulders, the gentle line of his collarbone, every ridge and valley of his abdomen, contracting and releasing as he shows you the “broken” zipper. 

“Help,” he says, a mocking pout appearing on his lips. “Stuck.” 

“What are you doing, Leon?” You ask, swatting his hands away from the malfunctioning fly, only to find out it’s working perfectly fine. 

“Supporting local businesses,” he quips with a wide, boyish grin. When he smiles like that, it seems to take ten years off his age, the wrinkles on his forehead relaxing though the ones near his eyes deepen. “Is that a problem?”

“It’s like you’re trying to get us caught.” 

He steps toward you, walking you back until your shoulder blades are flush to the wall, the cool plaster on your skin sending a chill across your skin. Goosebumps rise in their wake, but you have a suspicion they’re not from the cold. 

“I’m trying to fuck my girlfriend, like I planned to do. Not my fault you got called into work.” 

His voice is low and gravely, its typical dulcet tone completely overtaken by something utterly dark and wanton. He runs his hands up and down the sides of your middle, pulling and pushing the smocked fabric of your dress with every up and down stroke. 

“Leon.” 

You’re not sure why you moan his name. Perhaps to stop him from continuing. Perhaps to beg him not to. 

“Shh, baby,” he coos, pressing a cupped hand over your mouth. “Can’t let anyone hear us, can we?” 

You shake your head against his palm. 

“That’s it,” he says as you instinctively part your legs to accommodate his thigh, sinking down onto the thick sinew. Your clit catches on the dense fabric of his pants, making you yelp against his hand as you rock your pussy back and forth. “Shh, there you go. Keep going.” 

He continues to whisper praises into your ear as you climb toward your pleasure. Once it’s within arm’s reach, Leon removes his thigh from between yours. Still not able to use your mouth, you express frustration with your brows, bending them at him. 

“Not fair,” you bite when he removes his hand to shove down his pants and, while he’s at it, he yanks down your panties until they pool at your ankles.

“Hush now.” He frees his cock from the restraints of his briefs, pumping the muscle to its full stiffness in his fist. “Move your skirt.” 

You gather the fabric in your hands, pulling it up your legs until it gathers above your hips. Leon lifts one of your legs with a palm pressed into the back of your thigh, keeping your knee raised up by your shoulder as he lines himself with your entrance. 

He taps your cheek, applying the slightest unit of pressure to tilt your gaze toward the mirror. “Watch.” 

You follow his line of sight to your face in the reflection, studying the way your expression contorts as he enters you, his entire length at once, stretching you, threatening to tear you in half with his cock. 

You’ve never had to measure it. After all the years you’ve been helping your family at the store, starting in high school nearly a decade ago, you’ve come to memorize all units of measurement, knowing exactly what an inch looks like. Leon’s got eight and a half of them. 

And every single one is delicious, especially when it plows into you at such a punishing pace. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groans lowly in your hear, the sound muffled by your hair. “You’re doing so good. Takin’ it so good.” 

When you open your mouth wide, threatening to yelp, Leon covers it again. “Shh, shh, shh,” he coos. “I thought you said you could be quiet.” 

You shake your head against his palm. There’s no way you can trust yourself not to make sounds akin to those of a dying animal when Leon is pistoning into you at this angle. 

He chuckles. “Alright then, I’ll help you.” 

As he continues to thrust up into you, he keeps his hand on your mouth, the appendage swallowing each and every one of your muted whimpers. 

“Come on me,” he commands in your ear. “Wanna feel you squeezing me as I finish.” 

The two of you reach your respective highs together, Leon coming inside you as your own violent climax gushes around him, sucking every last drop. 

He pants at your shoulder for a while, caressing the thigh you have wrapped around his waist, such soft, soothing touches that nearly lull you into a standing stupor. You fold your arms around his neck, keeping yourself bound to him in fear that if you don’t, your leg, now turned to jelly, might not hold you up.

“Good job, baby,” he says, giving you one last kiss on the cheek before he pulls out, letting the evidence of your combined pleasure leak from your sore hole. 

“I’m taking these, by the way,” he adds slyly, crouching down to manually lift and lower your foot until he can free your ankle from the holes of your panties, stuffing the pair into his pant pocket. When he stands up, knees clicking, he reaches around to grab your ass, taking a handful in his grasp through the fabric of your sundress. “And don’t you dare clean yourself up.” He lowers his mouth to your ear, speaking in a near-whisper. “I want you to feel me dripping down your legs all day long.” 

The words send another wave of desert heat to your stomach, making your swollen clit throb once more, or maybe that’s still a lingering aftershock from one of the more intense climaxes of your life. 

Even though you thought his fears were ungrounded, you understood them. You and Leon had already met up with Grace and Emily on a few occasions for coffee and ice cream just to chat. Emily didn’t remember Leon – or anything that happened at Rhodes Hill, really. You tried reminding him of that, but he insisted that watching her at home "was different," a whole new level.

You stole a glance at the back seat of the Porsche, where a downright absurdly oversized teddy bear sat like a full-fledged passenger next to an art kit. The bear had been Leon's idea; he’d dug his heels in about buying something "proper," as if he wanted to make up to Emily for all those unwanted events. For once, you were the one who had to drag him out of a store, seeing that he would have gladly bought out the whole place instead of overthinking what to choose.

By the time you arrived, the tension radiating from Leon was almost electric in the damp air. You gave his forearm a reassuring squeeze and rang the doorbell while Leon stood beside you, his frame practically disappearing behind the massive bear.

Grace opened the door after a moment, her face a mix of relief and stress, likely due to her upcoming course. Her hair was a bit messy, and she was wearing one shoe and one slipper. She ushered you inside immediately, her eyes widening at the sight of Leon – or rather, his cargo.

“Hey! Thank you guys so much for being here. Emily, come say hi,” Grace called out, glancing toward the little girl who stood a bit behind her, hiding in her shadow.

Emily took a few timid steps forward, her small hands clutching the hem of her colorful butterfly shirt. You noticed her eyes light up the second she spotted Leon’s gift.

“Hey auntie, hey uncle Leon,” she said softly, offering a faint smile.

Leon jumped straight into action, looking utterly ridiculous with the bear, though you had to admit it was pretty adorable. He knelt down next to Emily and plonked the plushie right beside her. The little girl instantly sunk her hands into it, feeling how soft it was.

“Is this for me?” she asked.

“Sure thing,” Leon replied firmly. His voice, though soft, was a bit too serious. “Do you think you can handle a big guy like this? He needs a lot of looking after.”

“I think so,” Emily answered proudly, before shifting her gaze to the art kit Leon was still holding. “What’s that?”

“Guess you’ll just have to find out, huh? Want to open it?” Leon asked.

“Okay, let’s go to my room,” Emily chirped, disappearing down the hall as she dragged the bear along the floor. Leon followed right on her heels.

Grace, who had been watching the scene with you, shot you an incredibly expressive, shocked look.

“It was all his idea. There was just no talking him out of it,” you replied, giving a helpless shrug.

“Really, you shouldn’t have…” Grace said. “Is Leon okay? He seemed a little off. I hope I didn't ruin your plans,” she added a moment later, putting on her coat to leave.

“Are you kidding? No problem at all. He’s just a bit stressed about whether he’ll live up to Emily’s expectations,” you said, smiling faintly.

“Oh, I’m sure he will! After he got her two extra helpings of ice cream last time, she hasn't stopped asking when you'd visit us with the cool uncle Leon,” Grace laughed, adjusting her coat in front of the mirror.

“You better get going or you’ll be late,” you added with a smile, watching Grace flutter around the hallway, now double-checking the contents of her purse.

As she reached the door, she stopped dead in her tracks and spun back toward you, frustration written all over her face.

“I knew I forgot something! I didn't make any lunch. C-could you… c-could you guys just order something later?” she asked, worried.

You just smiled and gently nudged Grace out the door, saying, “Don’t worry about it, I’ll handle it. Go!”

And just like that, you were left alone with the mission of keeping Emily entertained until evening.

Instinctively, you wandered over to Emily’s room to check if Leon needed any backup, but as it turned out, he was doing just fine.

Leon was kneeling on the floor, setting up the easel with the canvas and paints from the art kit. Emily had already sat the teddy bear down at a small table and pulled a neat little stack of books from her shelf, placing them right in the middle of it.

“Emily, do you know what you’re going to paint yet?” you started warmly from the doorway to make your presence known.

“Yeah! Uncle Leon said I can start by painting the bear.”

“Great idea,” you noted, stepping into the room. Leon looked at you out of the corner of his eye, and you had to fight the urge to grin at how deathly serious he looked. “I see you’ve got quite the book collection. Show me which one we’re starting with, and uncle Leon will go take off his shoes and jacket, okay?” you asked, turning your gaze to Leon, who had just finished tinkering with the easel.

“Yeah, actually, good idea,” he agreed and slipped out into the hallway.

When he returned, you both invited him to the table, showing him the book you’d picked out – it was a sticker book packed with all kinds of animals and fantasy creatures. Your idea, and a good icebreaker, you figured.

The fun began as you started decorating the jungle page, taking turns placing stickers and suggesting where the animals should go.

“Why is the monkey on the ground instead of in the tree?” Emily asked, noticing where Leon had stuck it without giving its placement much thought.

“Uh…” Leon stammered, clearly caught off guard. “Because he’s afraid of heights.”

“Ohhh,” Emily concluded, and went right back to playing as if that made perfect sense.

Once the whole page was full, you moved on to the next one. Emily meticulously picked out the stickers she wanted Leon to place. As he started positioning them, she watched him intently. Noticing that he kept shaking his head to toss his bangs out of his eyes, she asked:

“Uncle, can you even see anything?”

The corners of Leon’s mouth twitched up in silent amusement. He was just opening his mouth to reply when he realized Emily wasn't waiting for an answer. With a swift, decisive move, the little girl reached for her wrist and slid off a thin, pale blue hair tie.

“Hold on, we need to fix this, or you’re going to miss and put the animal in the wrong spot again.”

You let out a soft snort at Emily's bossy tone and the pure mystification on Leon’s face. He froze completely. Or maybe he just froze because he had no clue how to react, looking like he was terrified that even breathing might scare her off. But as her small hands sunk into his bangs, he relaxed a bit, slouching down to make her job easier.

Emily swept his entire fringe straight up, mercilessly exposing his forehead, which was a shade paler than the rest of his face – built-in sun protection, you thought to yourself with a grin. Then, with absolute, childlike gravity, she tied it off right near the top of his head.

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from bursting out laughing. Leon's hair stuck straight up like a perfect little palm tree. His deadly serious expression did absolutely nothing to salvage his dignity; it only made it funnier. Emily looked thoroughly pleased with herself before going right back to her stickers. Leon shot you a sheepish look from under his raised brows, and you could see the tips of his ears flushing a faint pink.

“Don’t move a muscle, Kennedy. Emily, smile!” you whispered giggling, pulling your phone out of your pocket and snapping a quick picture before Leon could even think to protest.

Leon muttered something under his breath, letting out a heavy sigh. You decided to tease him a little more. Resting your chin on your hand, you eyed him critically before slowly shifting your gaze back to Emily, who was deeply focused on the task at hand.

“Emily, don’t you think uncle Leon looks a little… too gloomy?”

Leon didn't look up from the book, but you could tell he’d gone rigid, listening in.

“Just look at him,” you pressed on playfully, gesturing toward his massive frame. “Dark shirt, dark pants… it’s all a bit too serious, don’t you think? He doesn't really match this room… and he should, since he’s your guest.” You threw him a flirtatious wink on that last part, waiting for Emily’s verdict.

“Mhm, a little serious. Like he’s going to work,” the little girl agreed, wrinkling her nose.

“Exactly! Maybe we should pretty him up a bit?”

Emily nodded eagerly and scurried over to her toy shelf, rummaging through her things. Leon’s gaze was drilled into you, his eyes narrowed.

“Don’t tell me your pride is hurting,” you poked at him mischievously.

“No. But I guarantee something of yours is going to hurt tonight,” he muttered under his breath, straightening up slightly as Emily reappeared at his side with a fresh sheet of stickers. This new set practically screamed with bright colors; there were no animals here, just a collection of smiling suns, rainbows, and magical creatures.

Emily knelt down next to Leon, and he tentatively turned toward her, sitting cross-legged. The little girl peeled off the first sticker – a bright yellow sun – and with immense focus, aimed it straight at the center of his dark green t-shirt, right on his chest. Leon didn’t flinch. You almost wanted to remind him to breathe, but you decided not to spoil the moment.

“See, Leon? Way better.”

Emily, now completely in her element, really got into it. Leon adjusted the sticker after her, pressing it firmly against the fabric, and then simply allowed the stickers to rain down on him one by one, creating a ridiculous mosaic. A pink heart adorned his thick, scar-laden forearm, standing out sharply against his taut, prominent veins. A glittery unicorn found a home on his hard collarbone, just above the neckline of his shirt, and a tiny blue star decorated his neck.

The icing on the cake – or rather, the heart on the cheek – was a holographic heart that Emily slapped right on the middle of Leon’s cheek. You saw him close his eyes for a split second and clench his jaw at the touch. But when he opened them, his expression was the definition of a man resigned to his fate, though you couldn't shake the feeling that underneath it all, his heart had completely melted.

So there he sat right in front of you – a massive, gorgeously built agent in tactical gear, with a tiny ponytail sprouting from his head, plastered in sweet stickers, looking so utterly defenseless and endearing that you wanted to eat him right then and there.

“So, how do I look? Like a million bucks, huh?” Leon finally asked, turning his attention to Emily.

“You definitely match the decor better,” the little girl approved with a tiny smile.

When you finished up with the stickers and you and Emily were bouncing around ideas for what to do next, Leon, much to your surprise, beat you both to the punch. You quickly realized his sudden enthusiasm was driven by a desperate need to escape becoming the target of any more "girly" shenanigans. And so, building a fort became the next order of business.

“Climbing ropes versus a floral bedsheet… no real difference, just another day on the job,” Leon mumbled under his breath, stretching the sheets across the large armchairs in Grace’s living room. He moved them with careful precision, while you just stole glances every now and then, your eyes lingering on his back as his muscles flexed beneath the taut fabric of his shirt.

Tearing your eyes away, you and Emily took charge of the equally crucial decor department. Equipped with tape, you lined the sides of the fort (the chairs) with blank sheets of printer paper to serve as your canvases.

Once the structure was finally standing and Leon had double-checked to ensure not too much light leaked into your base, you all huddled inside to paint, letting Emily do the honors with the watercolor set you had bought her.

Everything was sailing smoothly until Emily decided she needed to explain to Leon how to make the color purple.

“Look, uncle Leon, first you mix the blue, but you have to scoop up a lot of it, and then… where’s the red?” Emily called out, spinning around in search of the paint.

Leon, who was sitting right beside her in the center of the fort, hunkered down beneath the low-hanging ceiling of sheets, didn’t manage to duck his head in time. Consequently, a broad, vibrant streak of bright blue now stretched from his collarbone all the way down to the middle of his shirt.

Leon froze, staring down at his chest in utter bewilderment, while you and Emily burst out laughing.

“Leon, your lack of reflexes is starting to worry me,” you teased, laughing properly.

“Auntie, it was supposed to be like that, uncle has camouflage now!” the little girl chimed in, trying to spin the accident into a deliberate tactical move.

“Oh, I see… or rather, I don't see,” you capped it off with amusement, pushing yourself up from the floor and crawling out of the fort. “I’ll leave you two to it for a bit. I’m going to whip us up some pancakes. Sound good, Emily?”

The little girl nodded fervently. “Can I have chocolate? Grace doesn't let me have it very often.”

“Chocolate it is, within reason,” you agreed, tossing her a wink before disappearing into the kitchen.

As you fried up the first batch of fluffy pancakes, Emily’s bright, booming laughter echoed from the living room time and again, letting you know Leon was holding his own. Besides, you had to admit he was doing a stand-up job. He could have been a bit less rigid, but at least he was being perfectly compliant.

At one point, you caught a strange, rhythmic thudding vibrating through the floorboards. You turned away from the stove, spatula in hand, and the sight that greeted you nearly made you drop it.

In trotted Leon. Literally. He was moving on all fours, trying to cushion every single step on the tiles so he wouldn't jar Emily, who was riding piggyback and clutching tightly to his t-shirt. Her face was radiant with pure, unbridled joy, and the little ponytail on top of Leon’s head swayed rhythmically with his every movement. It had been a long time since you’d fought so hard to keep from howling with laughter.

“Wow! Emily, you’ve got your very own pony!” you played along with a wide grin, crossing your arms. “So, how’s he holding up? Because I think I can hear his his joints creaking a bit when he moves.”

“He’s awesome!” little girl giggled, patting Leon on the shoulder. Leon merely leveled you with an unreadable gaze and walked over, stopping right beside you. He lowered his hips slightly so Emily would be closer to the ground and let out an ostentatious, heavy sigh, faking exhaustion before cutting Emily a wink over his shoulder.

“Uncle Leon, are you old?”

You couldn't hold it in; you snorted.

Leon froze for a second, then hoisted his head up as high as Emily’s weight on his back would allow, narrowing his eyes.

“Do I look old?” he asked, straining for a deadpan delivery, though you could see the corners of his mouth twitching.

Emily, with absolute concentration, pressed the pad of her finger against the deep crease between his brows – the one that always showed up whenever Leon was thinking intensely or scanning his surroundings with his trademark sternness.

“A little bit. You have a line right here.”

At that, Leon closed his eyes and let his head drop low, releasing a theatrical groan of agony to dramatize Emily’s diagnosis, which caused his ponytail to loosen slightly.

Seeing his reaction, Emily quickly patted his shoulder reassuringly and added:

“Don’t worry, uncle Leon, we’ll go back to the base and patch it up,” she declared with total authority.

Leon peeked up at you from below, and it only just clicked for you then – with that ponytail, the stickers, and the paint, he didn't possess a single ounce of his usual solemnity anymore. You noticed with relief that he had clearly loosened up, too. After all, he really was doing great.

“Yes, boss,” he murmured softly to Emily and slowly trundled back toward the living room, tossing a parting shot over his shoulder, directed at you this time: “I might not be a thoroughbred stallion, but at least I’m not burning lunch.” He chuckled under his breath, and Emily echoed him.

“Shit!” you muttered, realizing you’d completely forgotten about your own assignment.

Fortunately, things weren't too bad. A few moments later, the fluffy, steaming pancakes landed on the plates. You claimed the first batch – the most singed ones – for yourself, perfectly willing to face the consequences of your own mistakes.

You set to work spreading a thin, perfectly even layer of chocolate on Emily’s pancake, careful not to overdo the sugar high. You rolled it up neatly and set it down right under Emily’s nose just as she and Leon drifted into the kitchen and took their places at the table.

“Dig in, bon appétit,” you said warmly.

Emily thanked you in a quiet, timid little voice. Meanwhile, you started on Leon’s pancakes, preparing a healthier version for him by slathering it in jam and topping it with sliced strawberries and blueberries.

Leon, in the meantime, had stood up from the table. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him rummaging through the fridge before migrating to the cabinet you had just shut after putting away the chocolate jar.

When you turned around to set his portion down, you froze for a second.

With a stone face and a nonchalant flick of his wrist, Leon was laying out the items he’d just unearthed right in the middle of the table. First to catch your eye was a massive canister of whipped cream, and right next to it, the chocolate spread had made its triumphant return. As if that weren't enough, a package of crunchy coconut cookies sat right beside them. Was he pulling your leg?

Your mouth opened, ready to scold him openly and point out that he’d lost his mind, but you lost the brief, silent standoff that ensued. Leon locked eyes with you and raised his brows slightly, a downright disarming little smirk playing on his face. If he’d actually said anything right then, it undoubtedly would have been “drop it.” Under normal circumstances, you never would have, but this time you threw in the towel. Mostly because it would be a lousy move to snatch all of that away right out from under Emily’s nose, but the bigger reason was that you’d be throwing a wrench into Leon’s grand plan to win the little girl's approval. As if he even needed to work for it – you could see he simply didn't know how to say no to her, and probably didn't want to anyway.

You slid into your seat carefully, watching Emily's face light up.

“Wow,” she whispered.

Without a word, Leon grabbed the whipped cream, gave it a vigorous shake, and aimed it at Emily’s pancake, building a massive, fluffy mountain of white foam on top of it. He didn't even stop there. He fished two cookies out of the box and crushed them in his hands directly over said whipped cream.

You sat to the side with a slightly exasperated expression, savoring your charred pancake with a piece of strawberry.

“Just don’t tell Grace, okay?” Leon asked, looking for confirmation from Emily.

Emily pressed a finger to her lips and started eating. Leon did the same, he cut a large piece of pancake and popped it into his mouth, but he didn't chew yet. You blinked, and the whipped cream was back in his hand. He lifted it straight to his lips and, with a loud hiss of compressed air, squirted a solid portion of it directly into his mouth Emily watched him like she was under a spell. You caught your own heart beating a little faster in your chest as you saw him chew slowly, looking at the little girl with that tender little smile of his. The wrinkles around his eyes deepened, and you knew there weren't many people in the world who could put them there.

Eventually, when nothing was left on the plates but chocolate streaks and traces of cream – and on both Emily and Leon's faces, the crumbs of the evidence – you got up and began clearing the dishes.

“So, was it at least good?”

“Yeah,” Leon answered first in his low voice, licking his fingers, having decided somewhere halfway through that much like Emily, he was going to eat with his hands.

“Yeah!” the little girl chirped a second later, trying to mirror Leon’s answer with the exact same intonation.

You couldn't help but let out a snort, which only made Leon’s smirk widen. You headed over to the sink and started washing up. A moment later, Leon was at your side, intending to help dry the dishes, but you firmly nudged him away with your hip.

“Shoo, back to the living room. I heard from Grace that you're making huge progress with your reading, Emily. Why don't you show uncle Leon how you read?”

Emily just nodded and darted out of the kitchen. Leon hesitated, and you noticed that mounting panic creeping back into his eyes.

“What’s taking you so long? Did all that sugar slow you down?” you teased, adding a second later, “Just make sure to wash her hands before you start, or book is going to pay the price.”

Leon merely grunted under his breath but leaned in for a quick, fleeting peck on your lips before disappearing into the living room.

By the time you finished cleaning up and made your way after them, dusk had already settled outside, lazily creeping into the room, though it was firmly held at bay by the warm glow of the floor lamp. Leon was sunk deep into the armchair, and Emily was sitting on his lap, leaning her back against his broad chest. He held the book for her as she slowly traced her finger beneath the lines of text, stumbling through the syllables and piecing the words together. It was only during the long pauses, when she got stuck, that Leon would gently nudge her in the right direction, his voice low and incredibly soft.

You slipped into Emily’s bedroom to fetch a large, plush blanket to drape over them, calling out that you were going to brew some tea for everyone.

Once it was steeped, you watered Grace’s plants in the kitchen and swept under the table after noticing a few stray berries and cookie crumbs down there. But the sight that greeted you when you stepped back into the living room nearly moved you to tears.

They were both fast asleep. Clearly, the excessive helpings of dessert and all the earlier running around had taken just as much out of Leon as they had out of Emily. Leon’s head was resting against the backrest of the armchair, tilted slightly back, and his ponytail had slipped to the side, barely holding its ground. Emily, meanwhile, was curled into a ball on his chest, her little hands still gripping the book in a tight clutch.

They both looked so incredibly innocent that you caught yourself holding your breath as you sat down on the couch, setting the mugs onto the coffee table as quietly as you humanly could, resigning yourself to the fact that they would have to go cold, untouched.

A little later, deeply engrossed in reading articles on your phone, you caught the faint click of the lock at the front door. Grace stepped into the living room moments later, freezing mid-stride at the sight of Leon and Emily. You two simply exchanged a brief, warm look, and you flashed her a thumbs-up. Grace had to clap a hand over her mouth once the initial wave of adoration passed and she noticed just how ridiculous Leon looked – still covered in stickers, smudged with paint, and sporting that exceptional hairstyle.

Yet despite her whisper-quiet steps, Leon’s sharp instincts and training won out; he woke up barely a second later. He carefully transferred Emily onto the couch, tucking the blanket around her, and joined the two of you, rubbing the back of his neck with a soft yawn.

You began quietly gathering your things in the hallway. Grace whispered her thanks for the help and paid Leon a few compliments on his new look, to which he responded with a flustered smile and a faint flush rising on his cheeks.

You were just about to head out when a sleepy Emily appeared in the corridor.

“Will you come back again?” she asked quietly, rubbing one eye with the back of her hand.

You and Leon nodded almost in perfect unison. Grace gently encouraged Emily to say her goodbyes, which she did, approaching you first. You knelt down and gave her a tight hug, soothingly patting her back. When Emily turned to Leon, he immediately dropped to one knee, bringing himself down to her height. Emily took a step forward and threw her arms around his neck. Leon froze for a few seconds, utterly speechless, before finally wrapping his arms around her.

When the little girl pulled back, she pressed a loose, peeling sticker onto his cheek and added, “You were an awesome pony, uncle Leon. Next time we’re going to race.”

“You bet. I'll bring my special saddle with me,” Leon replied playfully, then, they traded high-fives.

A few moments later, you both piled into the car. You were rummaging through your purse, making sure you hadn't left anything behind, while Leon just sat there, fidgeting with something in his hands without turning the key in the ignition. After a moment, he nudged his arm toward you and opened his palm, revealing a tiny toy pony figurine.

“Oh?” you asked with amusement, trying to read any sort of emotion on his face.

Leon snorted under his breath. “Emily said it would keep me motivated for the next time I have to play horse. Promised her I'd practice.”

You laughed, resting a hand on his knee as he slid the toy back into his pants pocket. His face was unusually tense, so you spoke up.

“Hey, you did amazing today, love,” you said reassuringly, giving his leg a gentle squeeze. You hit the bullseye. He looked at you for a fleeting second before quickly averting his eyes, staring intently at the steering wheel.

“You really think so?” he asked, a genuine note of uncertainty clipping his voice.

“I don’t even have to think it, it’s plain as day. Emily absolutely adores you. And it’s hard to blame her,” you added, reaching over to fix his bangs, which were waving unpredictably after hours of being cooped up in that ponytail.

You saw his jaw clench as he flinched minimally. He parted his lips but said nothing. All the stress accumulated from the day was finally draining out of him, visible in the tightness of his face and the slight slump of his broad shoulders. He wanted to say something, but you knew exactly why he kept it in – he would have simply broken down.

Instead, he just intertwined his fingers with yours and lifted your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles, each one in turn. He let out a shaky breath through his nose, started the car, and pulled out onto the street.

“I really should start putting your hair up like that more often, though… I'll be able to see your eyes better when I'm looking down at you…”

“Don't even try it,” Leon cut you off, but you caught the small, involuntary smile tugging at his lips.

After about thirty minutes, you were nearing your apartment building, but instead of taking the familiar turn, Leon veered down a different street and, much to your surprise, pulled into a drive-thru.

“I need to get a coffee,” he muttered, shifting gears as he crept toward the window.

You practically spun around in your seat, arching a brow. “At this hour? Just so you can toss and turn in bed later and complain that you can't fall asleep? Oh no, my dear…”

You were, however, ruthlessly ignored. Leon pulled up to the speaker, ordering a black coffee with a double shot for himself, and one with milk for you.

“I have plans for tonight, sweetheart,” he announced in a low, rumbling baritone, laced with a dangerous hint of a flirtatious edge.

“Oh, is that so?” you caught his drift, biting your lower lip.

“Myeah,” he hummed, his lazy gaze sweeping over you from beneath half-lidded eyes. “I intend to see exactly how much life is left in me,” he added with a dramatic flair.

“Oh god, I was just kidding!” you laughed, recalling your exchange back in the kitchen.

“Well, I wasn't,” he said, leaning over to nipping gently at the very lip you had just been biting.

When you pulled up to the pickup window, a young girl, looking profoundly bored with life, sluggishly opened the glass to hand over the cups. But the moment her eyes landed on Leon, she froze mid-motion. Her eyes grew wide as saucers, and a faint blush crept up her cheeks as she desperately tried to maintain her professionalism.

Leon accepted the drinks and passed them to you, tossing the girl a gravelly “thanks” before rolling up the window and pulling back onto the road. After a moment of silence, he added:

"See? The younger crowd still thinks I’ve got it. She was definitely checking me out."

"I have no doubt, handsome," you commented. "It's entirely your personal charm, and definitely not the colorful stickers plastered all over your face." You delivered the line completely flatly, though a rich vein of amusement ran through your words.

Leon went rigid for a second, his hand involuntarily flying to his cheek, feeling the holographic heart sticker he had completely forgotten about.