(Dad! Leon Kennedy x Mom! Reader)
Now Playing: Orange Juice, Noah Kahan
0:01 ❍─────── 4:57
Summary: All the times in which Leon is forced to face the fact that his little girl is growing up.
Warnings: Pretty much pure fluff of Leon and his wife raising their very rebellious teenage daughter. Very brief mention of infertility/miscarriage before their daughter was born. Teenage rebellion, daughter is a carbon copy of Leon, swearing, Leon being overprotective. Unedited because I am a lazy loser.
DISCLAIMER: I have absolutely no idea how childbirth/development/etc works. I do not have children and never will, so this is purely second-hand knowledge from my sister-in-law lol. So probably super inaccurate, sorry.
A/N: WOOOHOO 200 FOLLOWER SPECIAL LETS GO BABY! The people asked, and I shall deliver. Enjoy! P.S., The dog being named Spider-Man is a very real snippet from my childhood but it was actually a horse and my parents were NOT thrilled. My older brother thought it was hilarious though so we kept calling him that until they gave up. RIP Spider-Man, you were a wonderful horse.
The scariest thing you and Leon ever did was have your daughter. Two seasoned DSO Agents who had survived BOWs, saved the world multiple times, looked the President of the United States directly in the eyes and shook his hand like he was just another acquaintance. Yet still the scariest person you’d ever met lay in your arms, a tiny four-pound ball of flesh and bone.
You were terrified. Absolutely shitting yourself. And Leon, well, he looked like he just ascended to another level of heaven he didn’t know was possible. He was petrified for nine months straight—didn’t think he could cut it as a dad—but now that she was there in front of him, all his doubts went out the window. Because the moment he looked at those little eyes, he knew there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her; and that’s all that matters, isn’t it?
Your pregnancy was horrible. You and Leon had been trying for a baby for years by that point, nothing but a long list of positive pregnancy tests that never made it past the first trimester. It was devastating in a primal way you can’t explain; having the one thing you want most in your reach, only to be ripped away from you. Leon struggled too. He’d never admit it to you, preoccupying himself during the day picking up your shattered pieces and gluing them back together. But at night, after he thought you were asleep, he would shy away to his study and cry. You tried to bring it up, only once. That didn’t go very well. It was the only explosive argument the two of you had ever had.
You didn’t find out you were pregnant with your daughter until you were already nine weeks in. Irregularities associated with your infertility were common, so it wasn’t until Leon was cooking your favorite meal and the smell alone made you sick, that you knew something was up.
The two of you didn’t want to get your hopes up when that positive pregnancy test rested on the bathroom vanity, but something felt different that time. Before he could even process, like a man possessed, he got down on his knees and wrapped himself around your waist and pressed a kiss to your stomach. “This one’s gonna stick, baby. I know it,” he whispered, a tear slipping down his cheek. “She’s gonna be beautiful.”
You still don’t know how he was so certain she’d be the one, or that she’d be a girl. Some sort of sixth sense, maybe, but he was right. Maybe they were just that attached from the very start.
The DSO put you on leave immediately, something you had a sneaking suspicion Hunnigan had something to do with. Claire stayed with you on the days Leon was deployed. She never said it, but you knew it was because she was worried it would happen again, and didn’t want you to be alone if it did. Leon called every single day he had cell service, talking to the baby through the phone, “Be good for your mom. Don’t cause any trouble, that’s my job.” Then to you, “I love you so much. You’re doing so well, baby. I’ll be home soon.”
Elena was born on February 19th, 2008, at 35 weeks and 4 lbs., 7oz. Being born premature and underweight meant you’d be staying in the hospital for a few weeks, but you and Leon didn’t care. She was here. She was yours—your Elena.
“Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Kennedy,” The doctor said. “You’ve got a healthy baby girl. Ten fingers, ten toes. Would you like to hold her?”
You were exhausted, tears streaking your face and hair plastered to your forehead with sweat. Still, you nodded eagerly and stretched your arms outward. Your whole body burned and ached, but all of that disappeared when you held Elena in your arms.
Leon all but collapsed onto his knees beside your bed, letting out a long-held breath that broke into a sob at the end. He pressed his forehead to yours, hushed rambling meant for only you. “I’m so proud of you. She’s beautiful. You did good.”
“She looks just like you,” you beamed.
Oh, how lucky you were. All of that grief and agony was well worth it, as the miniature version of the love of your life looks up at you like you’re her world.
Leon had been washing the same plate for three minutes now. Not because it was still dirty, but because his attention was anywhere but the sink. Elena raced around the yard like she was training for the Olympics. Anytime he thought she had to be out of energy, she’d run another dozen laps around the perimeter of the house, making ‘whooshing’ noises with her mouth and flapping her wings like a bird. He wondered what was going on in that little head of hers. Your family dog, a German Shepard named Spider-Man—your superhero-obsessed child’s idea, obviously—followed her around like it was his only goal in life.
“You’re hovering,” you told him sweetly.
“I’m observing,” he corrected.
You smiled at his protectiveness, moving to wrap your arms around him from behind. He melted into your touch, his muscles loosening and his breath slowing.
“Nothing’s going to hurt her. Not with Spider-Man out there,”
Leon’s chuckle reverberated through both of your bodies. “Why’d we let her name him that?”
“Because she begged, and you’re a pushover,” you reminded him.
He twisted in your hold, pushing your chests flush. “Only for my girls,” he told you, planting a sweet kiss on your lips.
His girls. God, did you love that, a sweet reminder that you’d succeeded in having your own little family.
Elena was perfect in every way. Beautiful and smart, curious and kind. A carbon copy of her dad, down to the blue eyes and dirty blonde hair. The most perfect in the world, because she’s yours. Your baby girl.
The universe has a funny way of humbling people, and that day was no different.
Elena’s wail immediately set Leon off, practically leaping out of his skin to get out the back door. He tripped on the porch stairs on the way down, but his pace never faltered as he rushed into the garden. “Elena? Elena!” he grew louder and more frantic the longer he went without her in his sight, tearing up the grass from moving so fast.
Leon was always your anchor. So when he panicked, so did you. You were both practically ripping the garden apart looking for your daughter until you heard a singular sniffle. You reached out to Leon, gripping his shoulder to get his attention. He looked at you, eyes wide with terror as you motioned for him to listen. The silence was suffocating, nothing but the running sprinkler and the beat of your heart against your ribs.
Another sniffle, coming from the empty shell of the in-ground pool that hadn’t been filled for the summer yet. You rushed to it, a blubbering Elena awaiting rescue and her beloved Spider-Man, sitting right by her side, wagging his tail.
Leon jumped in without hesitation. “Lena,” he cooed, wrapping an arm around her. “What happened?”
“I–I–I–” She hiccuped through tears, unable to form words.
“Hey now, shh. It’s okay. Deep breaths. Remember what we talked about?” he soothed, brushing wet hair out of her face. He took a deep breath, making a show of it, holding it for a few seconds before slowly releasing it.
She said nothing, instead pursing her lips and taking a big breath that made her red cheeks swell. She repeats it a few times, matching his breaths until the shutters subside.
“Good girl. Now, want to tell us what happened?”
“We were playing, and I tripped on that,” she explains, pointing to the drain sticking out of the pool floor. She pulled her capris up enough to show him the scrape on her knee. “I fell real good.”
She said it with such a pout that you had to stifle a laugh. “Well, that just won’t do. Might be broken, I’m not sure,” Leon smiled, scooping her up into his arms. He climbed out of the pool using the steps on the opposite side, which is probably how she got down there in the first place. Spider-Man follows on his heels. “We’ll have to get you into emergency surgery. Now I’m no doctor, but I’ll see what I can do,” he’s teasing her at that point, something he loved to do because she took everything he said to heart. You follow them into the bathroom, watching Leon set your daughter on the toilet seat. He rolls her pant leg up the rest of the way, observing the scrape with faux intensity.
He shook his head solemnly. “This is bad, ma’am. We’re going to have to cut it off.”
“Leon!” You scolded, but you couldn’t help but laugh. You smothered it with your hand and bent down to be eye-level with her. “He’s kidding, Lena.” You kissed her head.
She humphed and crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re mean,” she told Leon.
He raised his eyebrows, shaking his head. “Now, that’s no way to talk to someone who saved your life,” he joked. He reached into the medicine cabinet for a box of Band-Aids. “Now, what did we tell you about the pool?”
Realizing she’s been caught, she deflated, going mute.
“Elena,” you encouraged warily.
“Don’t go near the pool without Mommy, Daddy, Uncle Chris or Aunt Claire. Ever,” she recited the rule you gave her. You were so incredibly nervous about buying a house with a pool. You’d heard the horror stories, so you drilled into Elena’s head that she was absolutely not allowed to go near it without an adult.
“Even if?” Leon emphasized.
She let out an annoyed huff. “Even if it’s empty.”
“That’s right,” he said, unwrapping the bandage. “Now do you understand why?” he quirked a brow, awaiting her answer.
“Good,” he replied simply, pasting a red and blue Band-Aid onto her scraped knee. “A Spider-Man one, for your bravery,” he ruffled up her hair. “Our little superhero.”
“Maybe we can hold her back for another year,” Leon suggested, arms folded across his chest.
“Leon,” you deadpanned, zipping up her backpack.
“What.” He said flatly, raising his arms defensively.
“It’s Kindergarten. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“She could get bullied,” he shrugged.
You stopped dead in your tracks. “Your child? Be bullied? Right,” you snort. “Leon. She thinks that showing people pressure-point takedowns is a party trick. If anything, they’ll be afraid of her.”
He simpered in his disapproval for a moment. “It is a party trick.”
You groaned and rubbed your temple. Good God, your child’s never going to have any friends. Is it too late to homeschool? Would that be worse?
“Daddy!” Elena squealed, skipping the last stair as she leaped off the staircase to reach him quicker and show him her new dress you’d picked out together. Your heart damn near dropped onto the floor, but Leon was there, like he always was, to catch her.
“Look at you!” he gushed as they twirled around. He placed her on his hip, looking at her seriously. “You better be good for Mommy today, yeah?”
Elena nodded enthusiastically. Your whole body was swarmed with the feeling of love just watching them interact.
“Good. Can’t have the boss upset, y’know.” He joked, setting her down beside you. You snorted, handing Elena her Spider-Man-themed backpack from the countertop. You checked the Dutch braid you’d carefully done in her hair one last time before ushering her towards the front door.
Leon had to go to work, which left you alone to take your daughter to school. You tried to be brave, smiled the whole way to the front door, but the moment you were alone in your car, the tears slipped through. Not because you were all that sad. No, this was different. Happy tears, maybe? Proud, of course. Perhaps a little afraid, because going to school meant your baby girl was growing up.
This is good for her, you reminded yourself. She needs to interact with other kids.
You watched the clock the entire day. Didn’t get an ounce of work done, not mission reports, not house chores. No. You sat, for six whole hours, in front of the clock hanging above the kitchen doorway. 1:45 PM came, and you were already outside the school’s front door, counting the brick columns to keep your brain busy. You glanced at your watch. Only three minutes had passed.
Is this what being a helicopter parent feels like?
Mercifully, the bell finally rang. Kids flooded out the glass doors in waves, but your eyes were locked on that sparkly pink dress. She walked out of the school with another girl in tow. You called out to her, waving to get her attention. Her bewildered expression flipped like a switch as she dragged the other girl towards you.
You crouched to eye level, soothing the unruly strands sticking out of her braid. “Hey, Love, who do you have here?”
“This is Amelia, and she’s my best friend.” Your daughter said simply.
You held in your laugh because, of course, it’s that simple for five-year-olds. You were just happy she had a friend at all. “Is that so?” you smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Amelia. My name is Y/N.”
It was an average, quiet evening in your household. You leisurely chopped vegetables at the counter while you waited for the soup on the stove to reach a boil. You occasionally glanced out the window, watching the yellowing leaves drift from the trees outside your house and onto the grass. Autumn had set in early this year, sweeping away the remnants of summer within mere days. Not that you minded.
Carefully, you swept the chopped vegetables into the pot, wiping your hands on your already dirty skirt. As if on cue, two pairs of footsteps came thumping down the stairs.
"Mom!" Elena called, springing off the final steps of the staircase and making your heart leap in the process. Amelia followed her like a shadow across the house. Since that fateful first day in Kindergarten, the girls hadn’t spent a single day apart. On weekdays, Amelia stayed at your house, since your family had a rule about staying away from home on school nights. On weekends, Elena was allowed to spend the night at Amelia’s.
"Stop that, you're going to break your ankles," you scolded the girls as they entered the kitchen too fast, socked feet slipping against the hardwood floor. They almost barreled into you as you turned to pull the rolls you were baking out of the oven, but missed you by just an inch.
"Do we have any Kool-Aid?" Elena asked, trying to seem inconspicuous.
Your first mistake was trusting her. Your daughter loved Kool-Aid, maybe to a concerning level. Nevertheless, this addiction to the sugary beverage didn't make you think twice about nodding and pointing to the snack cupboard. "Don't put too much sugar in that. You've both got school in the morning, and I don't need you bouncing off the walls."
"Yes, Mom!" Elena squealed, climbing the countertop to reach the snack cabinet.
"You got it, Mom!" Amelia added.
The appearance of the girls left a quiet warmth blooming in your chest. Elena was your one and only child. You were never able to give her a sibling, as much as you tried, and a part of you always felt guilty for the loneliness. You’re thankful for Amelia, the girl you’d adopted into your little family, she was just as much your daughter as Elena at this point, and Elena didn’t have to grow up alone.
You were so busy with dinner, you didn't notice that the girls snuck away with the Kool-Aid packet without the necessary supplies; no pitcher, no water, no sugar. Just the packet and spoon. Suspicious, of course, but you weren't paying attention.
Imagine your surprise when you go to fetch the girls for dinner, just as Leon's Porsche pulls into the driveway. You climb the carpet stairs, hand brushing along the cream walls as you inch closer to your daughter's bedroom. Your eyebrows furrowed when you heard hushed, panicked whispers from the other side of the door.
Trying to respect your daughter's privacy, you knocked instead of barreling in like you wanted to.
She ripped the door open all too quickly, like she was expecting you, wearing a sweatshirt with the hood tightened as much as possible around her head.
You quirked a brow. "Cold?" you bluffed. You knew damn well she was hiding something under there.
"Yup." She popped the 'p' and rocked on the balls of her feet. That's when your brain started to spiral. Is she wearing a crop top she'd borrowed from a friend again? A hickey? Fuck, you hope not. She's thirteen.
"Mhmm," you hummed casually. "Dinner's ready, and your dad's home. Time to come down."
She nodded, shutting the door before you could get another word in. You groaned. A part of you was frustrated by the secrecy, but you remember what it was like being a teenage girl. Always tired, always arguing with one friend or another, trying not to fail school when you couldn't care less to do any of the work. Miserable. It's miserable. So you give your daughter some grace, because some battles are really not worth adding to it all.
Leon was waiting for you when you made it back downstairs, loosening his tie. He immediately brightened when he saw you. "Hey, gorgeous," he breathed, opening his arms to you.
You hooked your arms around his shoulders, burying your head into his chest. "Hey, handsome," you smiled.
"Where are the girls?" he knows Amelia is here without having to ask.
"Upstairs. Up to no good, I'm sure."
"Hmm." His hum reverberates through his chest, making you dig yourself deeper into his embrace. He chuckled, planting a kiss to the crown of your head, then your temple, then your cheek. A calloused hand softly brushed your chin, lifting it so you're looking at him. When your lips meet--just like every time you kiss--it feels like the first time. He's gentle with you in a way no one could ever predict. This hardened, seasoned Agent, all but putty in your hands, for you and you alone. His rough lips danced against your soft ones, and the rest of the world disappeared. No more work, no more household chores or grocery shopping or taking Elena to swim practice. Just you and your husband.
You carded your fingers through his hair, drawing him impossibly closer to you, your chests flush. Just as he deepened the kiss and slipped his tongue through your lips, a sound startled you.
Elena made a dramatic gagging noise. "Ugh, love. Gross!"
“I think it’s cute,” Amelia sang.
“Those are my parents, Melia. It’s icky,”
Leon wrapped a thick arm around your waist. “Icky, huh? You know how you were made, right?”
“Oh my God, shut up!” she squealed, and you shoved Leon for his brashness. He laughed.
The girls brushed past, and still your daughter kept her hood up. Once they had their backs turned to the two of you, Leon gestured around his own head, a question of your daughter’s strange behavior. You shrugged.
Elena had been acting peculiar lately. Everything was fine on the surface: her grades remained high, her swim performance spectacular, her assigned chores timely done. She was a disciplined child, you and Leon made sure of it. Her responsibility was not lost upon the two of you, so you respected her the way she respected the two of you. She had freedoms—a list of dos and don’ts, of course—but for the most part, she was a tactile decision maker. Though lately, you’d noticed things. She swapped out the pink dresses for ripped skinny jeans and band t-shirts, only wore the darkest colors out of the nail polish set you’d gifted her, and you even caught her getting into your makeup a couple times. She began asking to go out more, hang out with friends after school. When you would pick her up, you noticed it was always a park or diner and never someone’s house.
You tried not to worry, and wanted to trust your daughter. After all, she’d never given you a reason not to. You chalked it up to simply getting older. Leon was a tougher nut to crack than yourself, though. In his eyes, she was still that little girl he’d plastered hundreds of Spider-Man Band-Aids on. As he grew older every year he seemed to expect her not to, like she wasn’t supposed to grow up at all. That’s the unfortunate part about parenthood, you reconciled, is that no matter what you do, they’ll always grow up.
You sat at the dinner table, the air heavy. Leon and you sat across from your daughter and Amelia, eating mostly in silence. It was unusual, Elena was usually a talker at dinner, especially when Leon was home. She’s such a daddy’s girl, cataloging all the things she wants to tell him until he returns from wherever the DSO sends him. That night, however, she was silent, a particular glint in her eyes. Guilt.
Leon stood abruptly, clearing his throat. Without a word, he crossed the kitchen to the thermostat on the wall. He cranked the heat all the way up. He sat back down next to you, a shiteating grin on his face. You side-eyed him questioningly, and he shifted in his seat. “‘M getting cold.”
Bullshit. Absolute, total bullshit. You knew so because as long as you’ve known Leon, he has always run hot.
Elena squirms uncomfortably in her sweater, and immediately you catch on. He’s baiting her to take it off. Her father has caught onto the fact she’s hiding something, and he’d like her to reveal it willingly rather than him forcing it.
The unfortunate thing about your daughter being just like your husband, though, is that she inherited his stubbornness. Leon stared down his mini-me across the table, piercing blue eyes clashing. They even had the same scowl. If you weren’t so uncomfortably hot, you’d have laughed.
“What’s under your hood, Lena?”
“I’m just cold,” she pouted.
“You’re sweating,” he countered.
“Maybe I’m getting sick?”
“Hmph.” Leon hummed, taking a bite out of a dinner roll.
Elena had stopped eating entirely, instead focusing all her energy on not looking uncomfortable, which she was failing at.
“You,” Leon turned his focus to Amelia. Not mean, just stern. Firm.
“You gonna talk? Or do you wanna go down for her crimes, too?”
“I—I—Uh,” Amelia stammered.
You covered your mouth with your hand, doing your best to look serious. In all honesty, you really loved when Leon went all ‘serious dad mode’ on the girls. Maybe you liked it a little too much.
“Melia I swear to God if you say anything I’ll tell Connor about your crush on him,” your daughter snapped, making you straighten up.
“Hey, that’s not nice!” You scolded, clenching your fists to ease yourself.
Leon let out an annoyed huff, standing so fast his chair scratched against the hardwood. He rounded the table at breakneck speed, ripping the hood off your daughter’s head before he could be stopped.
There, the big secret was revealed to all. Elena’s once beautiful blonde hair that perfectly matched her father’s, now stained a splotchy pink. It looked like what it was, which was an awful at-home job done by a thirteen year old.
“What in the hell?!” Leon gasped.
Elena’s face was beet red. “It’s Kool-Aid, it’ll wash out!”
“Elena Claire Kennedy. I don’t care if it’s fucking chalk. Why is your hair pink?!”
“It’s trendy!” she defended.
Leon rubbed both hands down his face before turning to you. “You hear that, babe? It’s trendy. That means it’s okay,” he huffed before turning back to her. “You are grounded, young lady. Until college or death, whichever I decide.”
That’s when you decide it was time to step in. You and Leon have an agreement to try not to overrule each other when it comes to discipline, as to stand in a united front for your daughter, but you felt things had gotten out of control. You stood slowly, composed. “Elena, go to your room. I will come talk to you in a minute,”
“Am I in trouble?” she pouted.
You pursed your lips. “We will talk. Go.” you emphasized the last word sternly. Very rarely did you use that tone with her, so she immediately high-tailed it up to her room. As for Amelia, well, your daughter isn’t permitted sleepovers when she’s grounded, so you called Amelia’s mother to come pick her up.
Once you were down to one child, you soothed your hands over Leon’s heaving shoulders, letting him rant his frustrations out to you. “Pink. Her hair is pink,” he groans, shaking his head. “She’s thirteen. What’s next, makeup?” You tried real hard to suppress the look on your face, truly did, but he caught it anyway. He clutched his chest painfully. “What?! Already?! Oh God. I think I’m having a stroke.”
You couldn’t help but laugh. “Leon. She’s a teenager,” you shook your head. “Remember the kind of shit we got up to as kids? Be grateful she isn’t like that,” you remind him.
“God. Don’t even bring that up. I think I’ll actually have a stroke,” he grumbled.
You kissed his chin. “I think you need to calm down. I’ll handle this one. It’s more of a girl thing anyway,”
“Girl thing?” he quirked a brow.
“Self expression,” you explained. “How about… I take her to the salon tomorrow? Have my hairdresser get that Kool-Aid out of her hair… and maybe—if we think she’s ready—we can talk about a couple highlights instead?”
“Hmm…” he trailed off, unsure.
“At some point, we’ve got to let her grow up a little bit,” you informed him.
You remember being a teenage girl. Everything changes so fast and it feels so overwhelming, so why not allow her a bit of self-expression?
He clenched his jaw. “I don’t think I’m ready for that,” he admits.
“I know, but no matter what, she’s always gonna be your baby girl. You know that,” you whispered, digging your face into the crook of his neck and squeezing him tight. He held you like that for a while, silence occupied by the occasional sway back and forth of your bodies.
“...a couple highlights,” he relented finally. “If she comes back with a head of pink hair she’s going bald.” that last part was a joke, you know he’d never do anything like that, but you shoved him playfully anyway. You sent him away to the garage to blow off steam working on his bike while you went to talk to Elena.
You knocked once to let her know you’re coming before entering. She was on her bed, stomach down and sketching something on a notebook. You stopped a few feet in front of her, enough distance to not suffocate but close enough where she couldn’t ignore you.
“Mom,” she said, looking up at you.
“Elena,” you said flatly. For a moment, the two of you sat suspended in tense silence, staring at each other. After letting her sit in discomfort for a bit, you smile. “You took five years off your father’s life tonight, you know that?”
Her deep frown flipped upside down, and she laughed. You joined her, the sound of laughter filling her bedroom just like it did when she was younger. You crouched in front of her, smiling softly. “Why didn’t you tell us you wanted to change the way you look?”
She sighed at that, hanging her head. “You’re always saying how much you love that I look like Dad and… I don’t know. I didn’t want him to think that’s why I wanted to change how I look,”
Your shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly, but she caught it. Observant, just like her dad. “Lena. We will love you no matter what, you know that. If you want to dye your hair, okay. But we expect honesty, and you were not honest. So for that, you’re in trouble.”
She pursed her lips, nodding. “Grounded ‘till college?”
You squinted in thought. “Hmm. Maybe just ‘till high school. We’ll see what Dad has to say once he’s cooled off a bit,” you leaned forward, kissing her forehead. “We will go to the salon tomorrow and fix your hair. And maybe afterward, we will go to the beauty store and get you some makeup, so you can leave mine alone,” you teased.
Her face went pale. “Y-You know about that?”
You cocked your head. “My dear. I worked for the United States Government for a whole decade before I had you. Trust me, there’s not a thing that goes on in this house that I don’t figure out.”
When Elena told you and Leon that she’d been asked to prom, the happiest smile ever on her face, you were overjoyed. Leon was happy, somewhat. Of course he was, his baby girl was smiling. However, there was a problem. The person who asked her to prom. Not just anyone. A boy.
A boy! Taking his child on a dinner date and then prom! His only child, his daughter, his sweet baby Elena. He tried to remind himself that she’s not a baby anymore, and that hurt somewhere deep in his chest.
He didn’t know what to do with that ache, didn’t know where to place it. So instead he ignored it, replacing it with aggression as he sat patiently by the front door. He pulled an arm chair from the living room into the foyer, leaning back in it just enough to show off the pistol strapped to his belt.
His girls were upstairs. You, Amelia, and Elena, elbow deep in makeup and hairspray.
A knock on the door. He straightened immediately, ignoring the cracking in his back. He’s getting too old for this shit. Grunting, he swung the door open to meet his opponent. There, clad in a perfectly pressed tuxedo, stood a trembling young man with big brown eyes and curly hair. He held a bouquet of pale pink peonies, the same color as Elena’s selected dress.
“G–Good mor–I mean, evening, Sir. You must be Mr. Kennedy,” the poor boy could barely get the words out, hands shaking as he reached out to shake Leon’s hand.
So maybe Leon squeezed the kid’s hand a little too hard, yanked him inside the home like he owed the family money. Maybe he wanted to freak him out, just a little bit. The boys sat in the foyer, the distant laughter of the girls dancing down the staircase.
“I’ve uh… I have heard so much about you, Mr. Kennedy. When Lena told me who her dad was, I almost couldn’t believe it,” he squeaked out.
Leon hummed. “So you know I kill people for a living?”
“A-And save people, sometimes! You did save the President’s daughter, after all,” the boy chuckles.
Leon glares. “What’s your name, kid?”
“Okay, Cameron,” Leon grumbled, leaning close, still shoulder-to-shoulder with the boy. Instinctually, Cameron leaned in to listen. “If you don’t have my daughter home by midnight, I will hunt you down and kill you myself.”
Leon straightened back up, staring forward at the staircase like nothing had happened. “Do we understand each other?”
Leon was wholly unprepared for when Elena finally emerged. He’d seen her dressed up for family events and dinners, sure, and the occasional funeral. This was another beast entirely, however, because she truly looked like a young woman. Not the little girl who scraped her knee or named her dog Spider-Man. Not the rebellious kid who dyed her hair with Kool-Aid. No, the girl that stood before him, the one he swore would stay little forever, looked so grown up. Made worse only by you excitedly trampling down the stairs, squeezing Elena’s shoulders from behind.
“Doesn’t she look beautiful?” you asked him and goddammit, you were right.
Leon swore he wasn’t going to cry. He was a big fucking liar. “You look beautiful, baby girl,” he breathed shakily, pulling her into a big hug. There, consolidated by confidence between himself and his daughter, he whispered, “y’look so grown up. Gonna make your old man cry.”
Elena pouted, pulling away only a bit to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, Daddy.” she grinned. Under that makeup, he could still see her. That little girl. Maybe she’d just always be that to him.
“I hear you’re going to dinner,” You chimed in.
This made Leon’s grip tighten on his daughter. “Where?” he asked her.
“That new fancy Italian place downtown,” Elena beamed.
Leon raised a brow at the teenage boy. “And how’d you manage to afford that?”
“Saved up from my job, Sir,” Cameron answered too quickly for Leon’s liking.
“Maurey’s Diner, Sir. I’m a dishwasher.”
“So if I dug into it, I could confirm you work there?”
Cameron, sensing the challenge, straightened his posture. “Yes, sir.”
“Okay then. What’s your social security number?”
“Leon!” You squealed, coming to his side and squeezing his arm before looking at the boy apologetically. “Don’t answer that,” you lean in to kiss Elena’s cheek and then Amelia’s. “Have fun, kids. Stay out of trouble.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Kennedy.”
“See you later, mom!” Amelia skipped.
“Bye, Mama!” Elena called.
And then the door shut and the house was plunged into silence. You still clung to Leon, more for comfort now. Your head drifted to his shoulder, laying there sleepily. You thought about Elena: her good grades and her spunky attitude, the swim captain uniform hanging in her bedroom, the streaks of pink still in her blonde hair, the small group of wonderful friends she’d acquired over the years.
“We did good,” you murmured, sleepiness overtaking you.
Leon relaxed at that, kissing the top of your head. “Yeah,” he agreed, relaxing. “We did good.”
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