#@abbii

“Didn’t ask you.”

And just like that, he’s already reaching behind him, pulling out that small flask. The cap twists open with a soft click. “I swear—” Chris starts, voice tightening.

“Leon, please. Just listen—” Rebecca tries, softer.

“I heard you,” Leon cuts in, not even looking at her. “I just don’t care.” And then he drinks. All of it. One go. Like it’s easier that way. “People are going to die,” Chris growls, low and sharp.

Leon laughs.

“Yeah,” he mutters. “They always do.” Silence follows that. Awkward. “So go be the hero, Chris,” Leon adds, almost lazily. “That’s your thing.” Chris just stares at him for a second, before exhaling hard through his nose.

“Fine.”

He turns. Walks toward you, each step heavier than the last. You’re still looking at Leon’s back, rigid and closed off, before Chris’s voice pulls your attention. “You talk to him.” That’s what makes Leon freeze. Mid-motion. Flask halfway up. Like the words physically hit him.

“…What?”

He turns.

And then he sees you. For a second, everything stops. “…You’ve gotta be shitting me.” A short laugh slips out, dry and humorless. He runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head like this is some kind of cruel joke, before turning away again, lifting the flask.

“Of course you’d pull this,” he mutters.

A pause.

“So what, this is your plan now? Drag the past into it?” The flask hovers near his lips. He hesitates. Just for a second. “…Didn’t think I’d see you again.” It’s softer.

The room feels smaller after that. Chris tries again. “Leon—”

“Don’t.”

“You shouldn’t be here.” He was... concerned... but at the same time regret. Rebecca sighs, glancing at you. “He won’t listen to us…” Leon shakes his head slowly. “This isn’t your fight.” “Exactly why you should listen,” Chris cuts in, arms crossed.

Leon shoots him a glare, then looks back at you. “Say what you came here to say.” He doesn’t look away this time. Like he already knows it’s going to hurt. “You look… tired, Leon.”

A small laugh escapes him.

“That’s what you came here to say?”

“No.”

Something in your voice makes his grip tighten around the flask. “You don’t know what happened out there…” he mutters, gaze dropping.

“Then tell me.”

Silence.

Then—

“My team is dead.”

“Every single one of them.”

The room goes quiet again. You close your eyes for a second—you know that weight. You know what that does to a person.

“So don’t stand there and tell me what I should be doing,” he adds, voice rougher now.

“I’m not.”

You step closer. Close enough to catch the sharp edge of alcohol in the air. “I’m asking you what they would’ve wanted.”

That makes him stop.

Really stop.

“Would they want you here?” you gesture slightly—to the flask, to the bar, to this version of him.

“Or out there…”

A pause.

“…finishing what you started?” Leon looks down at the flask. His hand trembles. Just barely—but it’s there.

“We can’t do this without you,” Chris says, quieter now.

“And we’re running out of time,” Rebecca adds.

Leon exhales, dragging a hand down his face like he’s trying to wipe the past off with it. A long silence. He looks at Rebecca.

At Chris.

And then—

Back at you.

“…Damn it.” The flask lowers. “…Alright.” Chris nods once. But Leon’s gaze stays on you. “This doesn’t fix anything,” he says, softer now.

“I know.” You look down.

Grace stared at the two of you, in awe. “Leon. (Y/n)” she greeted the both of you. “Mind if I ask something personal?”

You both looked at Grace, and then back to each other and back to Grace. “Depends” Leon replied with a half-smile. “What's on your mind?”

Grace folder her arms. Staring at the ground, “Are you two…a thing?” she then looked up at the two of you.

You frize, blush creeping in to your cheek. Snapping your head towards the horizon Infront of you. Leon exhaled slowly, his gaze fixated om Grace, but flickered towards you.

Grace leaned forward, “I mena no offense- but you two are always together…”

“Grace,” he said in a calm but firm voice “we're close. But a ‘thing’ sounds like its just a rumour”

Grace was uncertain whether to laugh or blush. So you took your gaze off the horizon, and look at Leon. He blinked once and then twice, then removed his gloves.

His hands worned and battle-scarred. There it gleamed, a simple band of silver and polished ring.

Grace just…stared at it. “Oh,” she whispered .

Leon rotated his hand slightly, his eyes admiring the ring in his finger.

“She picked it out” a chuckle left his lips.

Grace's eyes followed the ring, then to your face and then back to Leon. “It suits you…” “Really, its beautiful”

Leon's eyes gaze meet yours , that half smile tugging his lips again.

“Every day I wear it. Keeps telling me that there's something worth fighting for…”

“During a mission, I would make sure to put it to somewhere safe… I don't want to lose something precious while I fight bad guys, right?-” he smirked, looking at you.

You just giggled, “I'm surprised how did the ring survived in your pocked when your on your mission”

Grace let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “Soooo, you two are married.”

Leon gave a small shrug, “Yeah.”

There was no dramatic announcement. Just that simple, steady answer.

Grace’s made smile that spread across her face. “Wow.”

Emily’s going to like you,” she said to you.

Your eyes widened slightly. “You think so?”

“She has… good instincts,” Grace replied.

“And if Uncle Leon trusts you…” She trailed off with a playful look toward him.

Leon groaned quietly. “Don’t start.”

You laughed, squeezing his hand. “Pfft- Uncle Leon?”

You’re mid-sentence when your phone buzzes. 

3 new messages: 

mission’s done

I’m coming home. 

about 30 minutes. 

literally felt the weight lift off your chest right then and there. You looked over at your friends, Chyler was basically asleep, and Lexyy was doom scrolling. The audacity of them being the ones who insisted on "locking in" to study was not lost on you. 

“Guys, the deadline is next week, and we haven’t even finished the intro—” 

you were cut off by the low rumble of the garage door opening. You immediately bolted toward the window. 

Chyler woke up in a panic, and Lexyy actually dropped her phone. 

“Uh, are you expecting someone?” Lexy asked, squinting at you. 

“Ooh, is it a boyfriend??” Chyler teased with a huge grin.

“Why is he early?” You muttered to yourself, you were nervous and excited at the same time. 

Outside, the Porsche engine cut out, and you watched through the glass as he stepped out, looking every bit the exhausted. You scrambled to the front door, positioning yourself. Chyler and Lexy were confused in the background; they shared a “what is happening” look before scrambling to the windows themselves.

“A Porsche?” they whispered in unison. 

The heavy thud of hhis boots on the porch felt like a countdown. Leon was about to reach for the handle when you swung the door open, nearly catching him off guard. You didn’t even say anything at first, you just scanned him… Looking for a limp, a hidden bandage or a scar. 

“Hey, sweetie–”

He barely got the words out before you tackled him into a hug. He let out a soft oomph. You pressed your ear to his chest, the steady sound of his heart.

“You’re…home…” you breathed into his tactical jacket, the smell of his expensive cologne made you calm instantly.

Behind you, your friends were frozen in plaze. Then looked at each other. Shrugging their shoulders.

“Yeah… I am.” he murmured, his large hand giving your back a pat before you finally let go.

Leon stepped fully into the foyer. He paused, his gaze shifting over your shoulder to where Chyler and Lexy were practically watching with a mix of aw and pure intimidation. He raised an eyebrow, looking back at you with a serious expression.

“You never told me you had your friends invited over?” he asked, though there was no real bite to it. Hi sighed, rolling his shoulder as he shrugged of his heavy jacket and hooked it onto the coat hanger.

“Oh yea- we were just-” you started, but you didnt even get the chance to finish. 

“Hello, Mister Kennedy!” Chyler chirped, 

Lexy, on the other hand, just stood there, her eyes darting between Leon’s holsters and his very expensive car parked outside. 

Leon gave them a tired but polite nod, 

“Mister Kennedy, huh? Makes me sound like I’m about to give you both a lecture,” he joked, his voice low. He then looked at the mess of the notebooks scattered across the living room. 

He then turned back to you, a soft glint in his eyes. “I’m going to get cleaned up and maybe take a nap after that” 

"I'll cook something for you... That's the least i could do for you." you said softy.

He shot you a tired, melty sort of smile. “Thanks, kid... just try not to burn the house down while I'm in the shower,” he teased, that smirk playing on his lips before he turned and headed up the stairs, disappearing into the upper hallway.

You sighed, rubbing your temples as you turned back to the living room "Sorry, guys. I seriously didn't think he'd come home early… otherwise I would've given you a heads-up-"

"Okay, but... he’s actually fine though?" Lexy whispered-shouted, her brain clearly short-circuiting as she clutched a pillow.

"Huweerwew!" Chyler let out a weird noise, fanning herself with a history textbook and giggling.

You just stared at them, blinking in pure, unadulterated horror. "What-THAT’S MY DAD-" you shouting-whispered, looking at them like they had both just confessed to a crime.

Chyler and Lexy didn't even look ashamed. They just exchanged a very slow, very synchronized look that said everything.

"We know," they said in deadpan unison.

You let out a soul-crushing groan, dragging your hands over your face. "Can you both just... please start on the next slide while I go cook something before I lose my mind?" You sighed, spinning on your heels and walk toward the kitchen before they could say anything else traumatizing about your own father.

As you started pulling ingredients out of the fridge, you could hear the muffled sounds of the shower running upstairs and the frantic, hushed giggling of your friends as they "worked" on the Cold War. 

The kitchen soon filled with the scent of seasoned chicken and sides, the kind of "welcome home" meal that usually makes Leon forget he spent the last seventy-two hours eating protein bars in a damp warehouse.

Meanwhile, you kept one ear turned toward your friends. It was a cycle, they’d actually focus for a solid twenty minutes, typing furiously and arguing over the Cuban Missile Crisis, only to completely derail for the next hour.

You heard snippets of intense gossip about who was dating who in the drama department, a ten-minute debate on the best local boba spot, and Chyler’s very loud opinion on the school’s new dress code. Every time you thought they were finally finishing the "Space Race" slide, someone would bring up a TikTok trend. 

Honestly, it was a miracle they’d even finished the introduction.

You were just plating the food when you heard the heavy,thud of footsteps coming back down the stairs, much slower this time. The shower had clearly worked its magic, but he still sounded exhausted.

In the living room, their giggles died down instantly. One second they were debating which filter to use on their selfie, and the the next moment they heard Leon’s heavy footsteps hitting the stairs,

"And that is why the fall of the Berlin Wall was such a pivotal moment in late 20th-century diplomacy," Lexy said, her voice suddenly became confident of someone who definitely didn't just spend forty minutes looking at "get ready with me" videos.

Chyler nodded aggressively, typing random gibberish into a Google Slide just to make the keyboard click. "Exactly! The geopolitical tensions were just... so tense. Truly a Cold War."

Leon rounded the corner, looking significantly more human after a hot shower. He’d traded the tactical gear for a pair of gray sweatpants and a t-shirt that had seen better days. He stopped at the edge of the living room, leaning against the doorframe with a look that said he knew exactly what they were doing.

"Riveting stuff, girls," he said, his voice still a bit raspy. He looked over at the kitchen where you were finishing up the plates. "Smells like you actually listened when I told you to learn how to sear chicken."

He started walking toward the kitchen, passing right behind the sofa. Chyler and Lexy both went rigid, staring straight ahead at the TV screen like their lives depended on it, though you could see their eyes tracking his reflection.

"Thanks, sweetie," he murmured, giving you that tired smile. 

"Mhm," you nodded. You set a glass of water down next to his plate before going back to the living room and continue working. 

You let out a massive sigh, dropping onto the carpet. "Okay, for real this time... let’s actually finish. I hope you guys at least put the maps on the third slide-"

You stopped mid-sentence. You looked up, and both Chyler and Lexy were staring intensely at a spot directly behind you. You slowly turned, following their gaze, and realized they were basically tracing every muscle on Leon’s back through his t-shirt while he stood at the counter eating.

You groaned, snapping your head back toward them and waving your hands to break their trance. "I swear to god, you guys are actually hopeless-"

"I’m literally trying to focus on the Truman Doctrine, but the view is... distracting," Lexy whispered, her eyes still glazed over.

"He’s literally just eating chicken!" you shouted-whispered, feeling your face heat up. "Can we please just look at the PowerPoint? Please?"

From the kitchen, you heard a low, amused huff. "If the 'view' is that bad, I can go eat in my office," Leon called out, not even turning around, though you could hear the smirk in his voice.

Chyler actually squeaked and buried her face in her laptop. "No! No, sir! The view-I mean, the lighting! The lighting is great! Please stay!"

Your face was literally a shade of red. "STOP! Actually stop!" you begged, covering your eyes as if that would somehow make the situation less mortifying.

You stood up and clapped your hands together, "You know what? No. We’re done. Let’s just... continue this tomorrow at the library. Or a coffee shop. Or literally anywhere else."

"Will your dad be here tomorro—" Lexy started, her eyes hopeful as she began packing her bag with the slowest movements humanly possible.

"Out!" you pointed toward the door, not even letting her finish that sentence.

Chyler tripped over her own feet trying to give Leon a final wave. "Bye, Mister Kennedy!”

As soon as the front door clicked shut, you leaned your forehead against the wood and let out a long, pained groan. 

"What was that about?" he asked, his voice dropping into that low, "Did I do something?"

You could feel his eyes on you. “Good morning, hun,” you said softly, still focused on the pan sizzling in front of you. The sounds of breakfast filled the kitchen, but his footsteps brought a little shiver down your back. When his strong arms wrapped around your waist, you jumped a bit, caught off guard by the sudden hug. He rested his chin on your shoulder, and a giggle slipped out as you felt all warm and fuzzy.

“What’s got you laughing?” he mumbled sleepily.

“Your stubble tickled me,” you replied with a grin while turning off the stove. With a playful smile, you spun around to face him, taking in every little detail of his face. His tired eyes showed it was still early, and his scruffy beard was definitely due for a trim. It added some rugged charm to his look. 

Your fingers brushed over his face, feeling the roughness of his stubble. You can clearly see small cuts on his jaw that need cleaning. “I think it’s time for this to go…you'll get an infection,” You said, your eyes locked on his. “When’s the last time you did something for yourself?” you asked, your tone playful but with real concern. He looked at you for a long moment. “...I don’t really keep track,” he finally confessed, a bit sheepishly. You couldn’t help but laugh a little at that. “Yeah, I figured,” you replied with a grin, giving his cheek a gentle pat like you were nudging him to think about some self-care.

-

Chris sat comfortably on the closed toilet seat. In front of him, you sat on a small chair. You reached for the shaving cream, squeezing a small amount into your palm and rubbing your hands together to warm it.

“Hold on,” you murmured, your voice softening as your fingers tilted his chin slightly. “You’ve got cuts here.”

He barely reacted, just a quiet exhale as you carefully dabbed at one of them first, cleaning it before moving on. Only when you were satisfied did you start working the cream into the stubble, slow and deliberate, making sure to be gentle around the irritated skin.

“Try not to move,” you said quietly.

“Wasn’t planning to,” he muttered, though his eyes had already fallen shut, his head tipping back just a fraction as he let you work.

The razor came next. You moved carefully, guiding it along his jaw in short, avoiding the small nicks and bruises. At first, he was tense under your hands, you could feel it in the set of his shoulders, the way his breathing held but little by little, it eased.

“This is…” he paused, voice low, almost surprised, “…not bad.”

You huffed a quiet laugh, brushing your thumb lightly along his jaw to check your progress. “High praise.”

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t pull away either.

You kept going, slower now, more careful where the cuts were, your touch lingering just a second longer than it needed to. The roughness gradually gave way beneath your hands, the uneven stubble replaced with smooth skin as you finished the last pass.

When you finally pulled back, you rinsed your hands and glanced up at him, a small, satisfied smile tugging at your lips.

Chris touched his freshly shaven face, running his fingers over the soft skin. “Feels weird…” he said, surprise in his voice.

You laughed quietly, feeling your heart skip a beat at his new look. “It does, but you always look good,” you replied, leaning in to give him a quick kiss. “Now, go eat while I clean up here.”

“Do you want me to—”

“Just eat,” you cut in playfully, nudging him a bit.

The chilly morning air wrapped around you, sneaking through your blankets even though winter hadn’t officially hit yet. With a groggy groan, you rolled over, reaching out for some warmth. But instead of finding Chris next to you, your hand brushed against the cold, empty sheets. You let out a sigh. He must’ve gotten up early. 

You stretched your arms and legs, shaking off the sleepiness, and sat up as a chill ran over you. Automatically, you wrapped the soft blanket tighter around yourself, trying to block out the morning cold. After a big yawn, you swung your legs off the bed, feeling the cool floor send a little chill up your spine. As you quietly made your way to the kitchen, you hoped to catch a glimpse of Chris, his familiar figure holding a hot cup of coffee.

As you looked around the room, your gaze landed on Chris, lounging on the couch. The flickering light from the news broadcast highlighted his face, and the rich scent of his steaming coffee filled the air, sitting on the glass table in front of him. He caught sight of you and flashed a warm smile. “Mornin' honey…” he said. 

“Chrisssss,” you whined, as you hurried across the room. The soft blanket trailed behind you, pooling on the floor. You quickly settled in next to him, your legs fitting snugly against his thighs, searching for warmth. 

“Hey—” he grunted, feeling the sudden weight of you as you plopped down onto his lap. You nestled your head into the crook of his shoulder, and he couldn’t help but notice the chill of your legs against his thighs. “Damn your cold legs,” he muttered. He shifted slightly to accommodate your warmth against his side. 

"And wow, you're really warm," you said, sinking into the cozy heat coming from him. That warmth wrapped around you like a comfy blanket, making it easy to forget about everything that happened during the day. You could feel his big, gentle hand on your waist, calming you instantly.