berry

more giggles pass your lips as you recall the situation in your mind. leon is older than you by a fair amount and truthfully, you’re shocked that it’s taken as long as it has done for him to be mistaken for your father, “he felt real bad after though, huh,” you snicker

leon leans against the counter opposite you, folding his arms over his broad chest, “yeah well, you didn’t exactly help—answering the way you did,” he scolds, frowning at you with the softest eyes you’ve ever seen

“i don’t know what you me—”

“you said yes,” leon cuts your bold face lie off with a snap that doesn’t really have any heat behind it as he shakes his head slowly and then raises his eyebrow over the smile that’s pulling the corners of your lips upwards

“well,” you hum, coy and dragged out, “i mean, was i wrong?” you ask before you shrug your shoulders and suck your bottom lip between your teeth, leaving leon looking wholly unimpressed

“don’t start,” he warns and pushes off of the counter he’s leaning against to saunter slowly in your direction. his body pushes between your thighs, forcing you to make room for him as his hands plant onto the counter on either side of your body

he leans in slowly, kissing you quick and fleeting three times while your hands smooth against his face. greying, prickly hairs scratch against your palms and the underside of your fingers, tickling in a sharp kind of way as you drag your nails up and down his jaw

after a moment, leon turns his head and kisses your palm before hanging his head, allowing your fingertips to stroke through the—also greying—hairs at the nape of his neck, “my old man,” you tease lightly and grin whilst he's not looking

leon resigns to your teasing almost immediately, sighing and shaking his head for a second time as he commits to you getting it all out of your system. you tease him all the time and he never minds, especially not when you’re giggling and smiling whilst you do it

“what was your weapon of choice during world war two?” you ask, still scratching gently against his neck when he tilts his head up to fix you with a deadpan stare, “oh yeah, you’re right—silly question—definitely the guns,” you agree mockingly as well as nodding your head for good measure

with rolling eyes, leon puts his head down again and just grunts, low and rough, in response. for all that it’s worth, you adore leon just as he is, with his greying hairs and thin smile lines, certainly with his calloused hands that he’s worked hard for many years to get. he’s perfect to you but still, you’ll always tease and he'll always let you

“did you have to write on wax tablets in school? is that why your handwriting is so awful?” you giggle, eyeing the scattered notes that he leaves you before he goes away on an assignment. they're stuck all over the door to your fridge with location magnets from the many places he’s been to over the years

“uh huh,” he answers with sarcasm lacing through his tone because even he can admit to having awful handwriting. he once wrote a grocery list and then when you got to the store, neither of you could read a single thing from it—which is why the lists are your responsibility now

for a second, you fall into a comfortable silence while you conjure up something else to tease him with. he knows something is coming, you’re still giggling so you’ve clearly not flushed your system of your current form of entertainment

“you know what, you’re so lucky henry the eighth didn’t know about you,” you say suddenly with an obscene amount of—faux—seriousness that makes it really hard for you not to laugh over your own stupidity, “he would’ve had to behead you,”

leon’s head snaps up and confusion is written all over his face, “yeah, why’s that?” he asks, feeding into your teasing, even if it is just because he’s genuinely curious as to where you could possibly be going with it

you sigh deeply and pause for dramatic effect, bringing your hands back to his jaw and stubble, “you’re just too girl dad coded, you couldn’t have ever given him a son,” you explain, feeling laughter bubbling up within you, “and for that, he would’ve beheaded you, which is a shame, your head is very handsome,”

a frown pulls at leon’s eyebrows and then just as quickly as it arrived, it leaves, smoothing the creases out that formed on his forehead. he chuckles afterwards, low and breathy, gruff in that special way that older men do—it’s attractive and you love it

“fucking hell,” he mutters, though he’s smiling and watching you laugh more than he is. whilst you do that, he stands up straight, takes his hands off of the counter and relocates them to your waist, where he squeezes just enough to make your squirm, “are you done?” he asks, still sounding amused

in an attempt to get him off, you wriggle and try to knock his hands away but alas, he’s much stronger than you are—even in his old age, “yes! i’m done, m’done!” you yelp and hold your hands up either side of your head, surrendering

your laughing gets temporarily muffled by a solitary kiss. leon hums against your lips, pretending to be annoyed, regardless of the fact that you know he definitely isn’t, before he steps back and crosses his arms over his chest again while he waits for your incessant giggling to end

eventually, it does slow to a stop but by that time, tears are clinging to your lashes and your ribs ache. panting breaths escape past your lips, preventing you from speaking immediately. so, instead, you just blink at leon’s stoic self

“c’mon, we’ve still got groceries to put away,” he says once your breathing evens out. he steps towards you again, hands out and ready to grab you off of the countertop. except, he freezes when your fingers loop around his wrists to stop him

you gasp, “waitwaitwait—what pen did you use to sign the declaration of independence? did abraham lincoln really wear a big top hat? was the great depression really that depressing and—and was your childhood best friend a dinos—”

for a second time, leon cuts you off. this time he does it with a crushing kiss that silences your rambling upon impact. your spine goes rigid as he presses into you, growling as he slots your bottom lip between his own and grazes teeth over your sensitive skin

“you’re done,” he decides, once and for all, with his lips still against yours to keep you quiet. but, before you even have the chance to fail an attempt at replying, he leans over you and—with ease—hoists you up over his shoulder in one swift move

your hands dig into his lower back as you twist and flail, not really trying to get out of his hold but rather trying to see where he’s taking you as he’s strides out of the kitchen, but to no avail, “where are you taking me—what about the groceries?” you shriek when he rounds the corner and heads towards the stairs

“we’re going to find out if you can keep up with this old man,” leon drawls and you can quite literally hear the smirk on his face while he reaches up, slaps your ass and finishes lowly with, “maybe we’ll even find out if i’m just as girl dad coded as you seem to think i am,”

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a kiss if you do, mwah ily! send prompts to my ask box!