leon's left pillow

The chicken noodle soup was bubbling on the stove and the house was quiet. Too quiet. 

Another cough from the bedroom, followed by a pained groan.

Ah, yes. Poor Leon was suffering unimaginable torture. 

You rolled your eyes, put the lid on the pot and reduced the heat down to a simmer. 

"Baby?" His voice was pathetically thin as he called for you from your bedroom. "Baby, can you come here?" 

"In a minute, honey," you yelled back, grabbing a bottle of Tylenol and the other remedies you had gathered to nurse your husband back to health. The same husband that had lived through cracked ribs, several other broken bones and unfathomable horrors multiple times, but for some reason the common cold was what made him want to write his testament. 

"Nurse is here," you announced yourself as you walked into the room. The curtains were drawn and Leon was sprawled out on the bed, arm theatrically draped over his eyes. "Do you need me to call the priest?" 

"Not yet," he croaked, breaking into a coughing fit. 

You sat down on the edge of the bed. "Oh my poor baby," you crooned, gently brushing a sweaty strand of hair out of his face. Leon closed his eyes and leaned into your touch like a stray kitten. “How are you feeling?” 

“Terrible,” he whined, sniffling. “I’m all congested, I have a headache, I can’t sleep because I’m coughing so much…”

“I made you chicken noodle soup,” you said.

“Thank you,” he whispered, reaching for you but you leaned back. 

“Leon, no. I can’t get sick, too. One of us has to keep this house running,” you said, firmly brushing his hands off your body. He whined again. 

“So you’re really going to let me die without a kiss, huh? Wow.” 

You chuckled. “You know, for being a tough government agent, you’re being a little bit dramatic right now.” 

He groaned, a cough racking through his body again. “That’s just not true,” he insisted, his hands wandering again, slipping under your shirt. 

“Leon,” you warned him, opening the bottle of Tylenol. “Here, take these.” 

He obliged and you pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead. “Good boy.” 

He chuckled and his hands immediately found your breasts, softly squeezing them. “You know, I think it’s actually very beneficial for my recovery to receive a kiss at least every five minutes. And body heat is also very important.” 

You tried to lean away from him to prepare what you actually came here for, but no matter how whiny, he was a trained agent with great reflexes after all. Before you could react, he pulled up your shirt and slipped his head under it, burying his face in your chest. 

“I thought you had a hard time breathing?” you asked, gently rubbing his shoulders. 

“It’s already getting better,” he murmured, his voice muffled by your boobs. You sighed and he pulled your bra down, gently slipping one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking on it. 

“Oh my god, you’re just like your son.” You let out a defeated breath. “Only that your son is barely two years old.” 

Leon let out a content sigh, as he kept sucking and kneaded your other breast with his free hand. “It’s actually also medically proven that sucking on boobies can help recover from any kind of illness.” 

“Leon, stop. That’s for babies. You’re a grown man.” 

“So?” he murmured, demonstratively coughing again, looking at you with puppy eyes. He knew full well those were your weakness. Jesus Christ, that man was impossible. 

You pushed him off you. 

“Here, open wide big boy,” you said, offering him a spoon with an entire clove of garlic covered in honey on it.

“Why do you always have to come in with your witchy shit? Why can’t we just be normal, take a Tylenol and call it a day?” He eyed the spoon in front of him and hissed like a cat. 

“Oh?” your eyebrows shot up. “Look who’s already feeling better and obviously doesn’t need any tiddy time. Well in that case…” You faked getting up from the edge of the bed and Leon’s hand shot forward, snatching the spoon from you and pushing it into his mouth. 

He grimaced as he chewed. “Happy now?” 

“Not quite.” You handed him a glass full of cloudy yellow liquid. “Turmeric ginger shot. It’s good for you.” 

He looked at you like you were about to betray him, then knocked back the drink in one go. He shuddered, sticking out his tongue. 

“Oh come on,” you mocked him. “Leon shooting-whiskey-like-it’s-nothing Kennedy can’t handle a ginger shot? Are you sure you’re my husband?” 

“Don’t ever question that, I love you,” he said, pressing his face back against your chest. “Thank you for taking care of me. You’re my favourite nurse.” 

“And you’re my least favourite patient,” you said, not getting very far because Leon pulled you into bed with him. 

“Leon,” you yelped, as he moved down, pushed your shirt up and cuddled up to your chest. 

“I’m already feeling much better, you know.” 

You huffed. “I have to get up to take the chicken soup off the heat.” 

Leon shook his head, nuzzling your tits. “No, you don’t.”

-----

leon, now retired, spends his time building cool shit for the baby. a fancy crib from scratch and the changing table, and a book shelf. yes, he’d bought the wooden planks, and he already had the supplies in the garage. he had also researched furiously about cribs, so much so that he could recite the entire history of cribs at this point. when you had walked in on him writing something over a large paper on the dining table, you were confused. turns out, he’d drawn a blueprint of the crib.

for him, creating something so meaningful after watching destruction everywhere he went time and again, it was healing, to say the least.

leon was learning one baby-related skill every single day—how to install car seats, how to baby-proof the lower cabinets, infant cpr, how to swaddle, how to burp the baby, how to check if the temperature of the milk is right, and on and on. you were happy to see that he’d crossed the line from scared future father to hopelessly excited dad.

as your pregnancy progressed, he would accompany you to the routine checkups and would make sure all your files were meticulously arranged in order. people sitting in the waiting area would sometimes stare at leon, because he did not look young exactly, but he didn’t care. well, it did bother him at first, because, he said and you quote, “i’ll be seventy when our kid’s twenty. that’s sooo old...” and you comfort him again, saying that it’s alright because the kid won’t remember his age, they would only remember the man who taught them to ride a bike or embarrassed them at school events (which he’d taken an offence at, because he’d never embarrass the kid, he would be the epitome of cool dad!!), that they would only remember their dad. not his age.

leon ends up creating an emergency binder with all the emergency numbers and pediatrician contacts, allergy information, vaccination schedules, and hospital routes (and backup hospital routes) and it was giant. the tabs were colour coded too, your husband wasn’t playing around. “jesus, is that laminated too?” you ask. and leon looks up at you. “yep. laminated.”

and because leon was scared of his joints fucking up as he grew older, once the baby was here, and not being able to give the child an active father who would join them in adventure, he began working out every morning religiously. you’d watch him work out in your backyard through the kitchen window while making breakfast, and he would look so handsome like that, all hot and sweaty. once, you accidentally burned the pancakes a little, but leon was content eating those because it was proof you still found him attractive.

leon refused to let you do any physically taxing work at all, and decorated the nursery all by himself. he painted the nursery and put in the crib, changing table, and the bookshelf he’d made all by himself. you had to admit, those looked better than the ones you would’ve gotten in the market. to show your appreciation, you kiss leon on the cheek, and somehow that turns into an hour-long makeout session and showing your appreciation in other ways as well.

the nursery still was incomplete, so leon takes you shopping for rugs and curtains, soft toys and children’s books you would need for the nursery. you return home well past into the evening with a lot more stuff than you had anticipated. you had to hire a mover with how much stuff there was, because in no world would everything fit in the car.

now that the nursery and baby-proofing the house was done, leon mostly read books about pregnancy and tried different tasty and healthy recipes to feed you. you were well into your second trimester and the bump was more evident now.

when you decided that you wanted to grow a garden, he was more than happy about it. he helped you do everything, and would also help you water it every day in the morning. it didn’t take long for the garden to finally take shape and blossom. the flower beds looked professionally done, and leon was very proud of you.

weirdly enough, leon had also learned how to make sourdough bread. you couldn’t do that even after multiple tries! and this guy somehow made the perfect one on first try! long story short, no more sourdough from the market, your husband always made the fresh ones for you.

sometimes, when you were asleep during the night, he’d talk to your belly. and it wasn’t anything specific, too. like he’d be gently caressing your baby bump and talk about cars, the engines, the braking system, and whatnot. once, you had caught him talking to the baby when you weren’t fully asleep yet, and he was talking about naval history. it had made you snort so hard you almost choked on your own spit.

leon’s frequency of telling you a dad joke had increased too. it was so stupid yet it made you laugh till you were crying. he told you he was practicing those for the baby. he was already excited about pissing off your kid by telling them dad jokes.

you both discuss names. “lily if it’s a girl, and benjamin if it’s a boy,” he suggests. and you nod because lily was a beautiful name. benjamin though... definitely not. “benjamin? that’s such a founding father ass name. maybe james...?” and he nods at that, “james is good for a boy.” lily if it was a girl, and james if it was a boy.

baby’s first kick was a huge turning point for both of you. you were well into your third trimester when it happened, having a movie date night with your husband, where you two were watching some cheesy rom-com. his hand was up your shirt, resting on your bump, caressing it absentmindedly. and when the baby kicked, both of you looked at it each other to see if the other noticed it. it was the most amazing thing in the world, leon decided. “hey there, little one,” he said, talking to the baby again, a big smile on his face.

you also had extremely specific cravings sometimes. because you wanted those potato wedges from that place. and he was left wondering what place was that place. you said the place had a red sign, because that is all you remembered from the last time you went there. so leon would drive around the whole city for forty-five minutes before it clicked into his brain and he remembered what place he’d taken you to.

when you got emotional and tried to apologise for your food cravings and making him run around for snacks, he’d immediately shush you. “you’re literally growing an entire human. i’m pretty sure i can survive a trip to the grocery store twice a day.”

when the day of delivery came, leon kept repeating the breathing exercises and urged you to do the same. he’d stood beside you the entire time you were in labour, which was nine hours. and he also did as you asked. held your hand, brought you ice chips, or fruit juice, whatever you wanted.

when the baby was born, leon checked up on you first, tuning out the wails of the newborn. the baby already had doctors and nurses cleaning them up and doing the necessary medical checkups. you were more important. you had just pushed out another human.

before leon takes the healthy newborn in his arms, he presses a kiss on your forehead, thanking you for being so strong. and the baby was so tiny and delicate he was afraid he might crush her if he held her too hard.

it took leon exactly one second of holding lily to fall in love with the precious bundle and know with certainty that he would do anything to protect her. you watched it unfolding in real time through teary and tired eyes, a big and beautiful smile on your face. he looked so at peace, it made something in your chest tighten.