#enjoy it

Leon had witnessed you purposely rotating your plate before you eat—he still doesn't know why. Then there are the times your eyes lock onto seemingly random objects, only to later blurt out a hex code—weirdly accurate, too.

Leon doesn’t get it, but he finds it amusing every time.

A quiet warmth blooms in his chest whenever he catches one of those little quirks in action. They’re strange, sure—but they’re yours, and he’s grown oddly fond of them.

Earlier this week, he noticed that you had picked up a new one. 

To be honest, he didn’t know exactly what it was. Though he did have a clue. Your eyes had been lingering on him lately.

Well, not exactly him. If he had to guess, you’d been staring at his biceps.

Don't get him wrong. Leon knows he has solid arms. Years of field work, training, and generally not dying had shaped his body that way. What he didn’t understand was why you’d suddenly become so fixated on them.

Today, however, was an uncharacteristically slow day. The two of you were holed up in your apartment, comfortably doing absolutely nothing.

Leon had gotten out of the shower and was in the middle of drying his hair when he walked into the living room.

And there you were.

Curled up in the oversized beanbag tucked into the corner, half-buried beneath your heavy weighted blanket. You were wearing one of his old hoodies, the sleeves far too long for your arms—just how you like them. Leon also caught a glimpse of fuzzy socks poking out from the folds of fabric.

The point being, you weren’t moving anytime soon.

“Darling, can you hand me that—um one of the books in the uh…third shelf from the top.” A smile curved across your lips. Too sweet. Too suspicious. 

“Just any book?” Leon raised an eyebrow, sensing something was afoot but lacking the context to call it out.

“Yep. Just wanna read something random.” 

Leon grew even more suspicious. Your reply came out far too quickly. You were definitely brewing something,  and he was thoroughly confused.

“Okay…sure.”

Reluctantly, he walked over to the shelf, keenly aware of your unwavering gaze. 

As he was reaching up to grab a book, the hem of his half-sleeve shirt shifted into his peripheral vision—and suddenly, he had an epiphany.

He’d been wearing these half-sleeve shirts on and off all week. And every single time your eyes refused to leave his arms…he’d been wearing one.

Leon paused.

Now that he knows what’s happening, if he plays this right, he could fluster the living hells out of you.

He glanced behind him and took note of your position. The shelf was a perfect view from where you were curled up, so Leon decided to take full advantage of that.

He made a show of reading the summary on the back of one book before placing it back and reaching for another—making sure to flex his arms just enough.

Subtle.

But noticeable.

He kept his expression neutral, like he had absolutely no idea what he was doing.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw it.

Your gaze locked in again.

The ends of Leon's lips curled into a smirk. If you actually wanted a book, you would’ve whined by now about how long he was taking.

When he decided he’d given you enough of a show, Leon finally grabbed a random book and turned around. Your eyes followed the swell of his arms; you looked seconds away from drooling.

You were such a weird pervert—non-deregatory.

He walked back over and stopped in front of you.

“Here you go, babe.” Leon bent down to hand you the book, but even as you reached for it, your eyes never left his arms.

“Thanks, dear,” you said absently.

You were so distracted by the movement of his arms that there was quite literally nothing else in your pretty little head.

Leon straightened and deliberately crossed his arms.

“So,” he said casually, “are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

“W–what?” Your head snapped up, eyes finally meeting his. You eagerly shook your head. “Nothing!”

“Darling, you have to lie better than that,” Leon smirked, one brow arching. “You look like a spooked goldfish.”

You immediately started spouting garbled nonsense before diving back under the blanket as if it might shield you from interrogation.

“You can't hide, little fishy.” Leon scoffed before unceremoniously ripping the weighted blanket off you. “Come on now. Don't get shy on me.”

“I refuse!” you squeaked, curling into yourself and hiding your rapidly fire engine red face.

Leon grabbed your wrists and tried to pry your arms away. Honestly, it wasn’t much of a struggle—even with you trying to brace yourself. He easily pinned your arms to your sides.

“Spill it, goldie.” He tried to sound stern in hopes of invoking fear.

It seemed to work—nevermind, it was a different kind of shiver. 

You pervert.

“Forget it,” he sighed, though he didn’t release you. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

Then he leaned back a bit, giving you a much-needed breathing room. Not that it would help much.

“Okay, a question then. Do you like my arms in this shirt?”

Your neck snapped toward him. Your eyes widened even further, lips parting as you tried to scramble together some half-baked excuse. None came out.

“Come on,” Leon teased. “I even made it a yes or no question for you.”

You tried to avert your gaze from his intense stare—a mistake. Terrible, terrible mistake. Because your eyes landed right back on his arms. The very root of this whole mess.

Leon almost missed it, but you did manage to pathetically mumble a tiny “…yes.”

“Darling,” Amusement thick in his voice, “you’re gonna have to speak up for me, yeah?”

“...yes.” Your face flushed even deeper. You shrank in on yourself like the beanbag might swallow you whole if you just tried hard enough—you hope it really does.

“That sounded like a whisper, dear.” Leon tilted his head following the angle of your slowly drooping head, trying to catch your eyes. “Not sure I heard that right.”

You whined, and he might've even heard a tiny whimper. “Yes.”

“There it is.” His mouth stretched into a satisfied grin.

Leon loosened his grip just enough to shift his hold, one hand sliding to rest against the beanbag beside your head while the other remained around your wrists—not tight, just enough to keep you from escaping again.

“So,” he continued casually, like the conversation wasn’t currently dismantling your dignity piece by piece—not that you had much to lose but the principle stays—“you’ve been staring at my arms all week.”

You immediately tried to look anywhere else.

Unfortunately, anywhere else still somehow included his arms.

Leon caught that too.

“Wow,” he muttered, glancing down at his biceps like he’d just discovered they existed. “Didn’t realize they had such a fanbase.”

“Leon—” You let out a mortified noise.

“No, no,” he interrupted lightly. “I’m just trying to understand the situation here.”

His gaze flicked back to you, blue eyes sharp with amusement.

“You asked me to grab a book,” he continued, “and then sat there watching me like I was the new episode of your favorite show.”

“I hate you.” You buried your face in your sleeve.

“Hey now.” Leon chuckled softly. “That hurts my feelings.”

You peeked out just enough to glare at him. “You knew.”

“Oh yeah,” he said easily.

Your jaw dropped. “How long?!”

Leon pretended to think about it.

“About…” he glanced toward the shelf, “…two books ago.”

“You’re awful.”

“Awful?” he scoffed. “You’re the one drooling over my arms.”

“I was not drooling!”

“You were close.”

You made another strangled sound and tried to roll away again, but Leon simply shifted his weight, blocking your escape with frustrating ease.

“Relax,” he said, his voice softer now, though the teasing never left his expression. “It’s not a crime.”

He leaned a little closer, just enough for the movement of his arm to make the fabric of his half sleeve pull tighter.

Your eyes betrayed you instantly.

Leon noticed.

Of course he noticed, he noticed everything that you do.

A slow, smug smile spread across his face.

“Wow,” he murmured. “You’re really not even trying to hide it anymore.”

“I am trying!” You desperately tried to wiggle your way out—it did not work.

“Could’ve fooled me.” He finally let go of your wrist, but before you could scramble away, his hand lightly caught your chin and tilted your face back toward him.

Not forceful. Just firm.

“C’mon,” he said, voice low with amusement. “Look at me.”

You hesitated.

Leon raised a brow. “…please?”

You reluctantly lifted your gaze.

The moment you did, Leon flexed his arm—subtle, but very deliberate.

Your brain, visibly short-circuited.

Leon actually laughed this time. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was laughing at you, you might’ve appreciated the sound more—but since he was, you had half a mind to throw him off a cliff. He’d probably survive anyway, but it’s the thought that counts.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered.

“You’re evil,” you whispered weakly.

“And you’re predictable.”

He finally stepped back, stretching his arms over his head like he was completely aware of the chaos he was causing.

Your eyes followed automatically.

Leon caught that too.

“Alright,” he said, a familiar crooked smirk on his stupidly handsome face. “Just some advice for you, cutie.”

"Ha?” You narrowed your eyes suspiciously.

“If you’re gonna stare,” he said, folding his arms again, “you might wanna work on your poker face.”

Your face immediately lit up red again. “Leon!”

“What?” he shrugged innocently. “You're not exactly subtle.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he gestured vaguely toward himself, “still your favorite set of biceps.”

You grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at him.

Leon caught it easily, laughing under his breath.

“Careful,” he said, tossing it back onto the couch. “You might miss the show.”

Your eyes dropped to his arms again before you could stop yourself.

Leon grinned.

“Yeah,” he said, satisfied. “That’s what I thought.”

You're so getting him back for this.

word count:: 1725