SheWhoDabbles

You were scrolling on your phone, leaned against your husband as you were half paying attention to a sitcom playing on your bedroom television. Your eyes flickered back to the characters on the screen when a sudden joke had you and Leon chuckling together in the dim evening light. It was one of your favorite shows, partially due to the whimsical plot, but mostly because it was one of the few things that truly made your husband crack up.

Another chuckle overtook him, quickly turning into a laugh that made his torso shake, rousing you from where your head was resting. You turned to look at him, a smile pulling at your lips as you watched the way his eyes creased happily, baby blues shining against the screen's reflection. He didn't seem to notice as you continued to admire him, gaze trailing down the stubble adorning his jaw, eventually drifting to the deep cut black t-shirt hugging his broad chest. As the effects of the joke subsided, you couldn't help but notice the way he rolled one of his shoulders back uncomfortably, a subtle sign that he was trying to shake off pain. Anyone else might have missed it, but after several long years of patching him up after missions, you knew his tells like the back of your hand. Your suspicions were confirmed when he stretched his arm on the same side, his hand balling into a tight fist above the blanket before opening and flexing.

"You okay?" You asked him softly. His eyebrow twitched up in acknowledgement before he answered you, gaze leaving the TV as he turned toward you, his movement slightly stiff.

"Yeah, of course. 'm great." The tiny smirk he gave was laced with affection.

"You hurting?" You decided to be more specific, knowing he would avoid admitting it unless confronted.

"It's fine, nothing to worry about."

"You always say that." Your tone was teasing as you glanced toward the spot you knew was the culprit, an old bullet wound scar on his arm that seemed to flare up at the most random times.

You were up before he could protest, leaving him to watch as you pattered out of the room towards the kitchen. When you were out of sight, he moved to sit up straighter, rubbing at the old scar with a calloused hand as it seared from within, an aching sensation radiating outward from the round, dull indent. The older the scar got, the more the surprise pains seemed to embarrass him. Psychosomatic, the doctors called them, but the fire beneath his flesh begged to differ.

When you came back in the room, he was silently relieved to hear a familiar crunching noise coming from your hands as you brought him an ice pack covered in an old Grumpy Cat dish towel that had seen better days. You joined him again on the bed, sitting this time on the side where his scar was biting at his arm. With a gentle movement, you pressed the ice pack to the wound, causing Leon to release a sigh he didn't realize he was holding in.

"Better?" You asked, your other hand coming up to brush his cheek.

"Yeah... " He admitted, his expression softening as he submitted to your tenderness. Your trained familiarity with his body's inconvenient spells never ceased to amaze him. His body slumped back down into the pillows before he grabbed your free hand to press a grateful kiss to your palm. "Thanks."