Patience: Chapter 1 Leonardo x Reader
word-count: 7k
summary: It’s hard to be surprised by someone you’ve known forever, whose story is so deeply intertwined with your own, you almost wouldn’t know yourself without them. But, Leonardo had surprised you tonight.
warnings: blood mention, canon-typical violence, friends to lovers and slowest of slow burns <3
ao3 link
When you were ten, you cut your finger with a knife.
You don’t remember the pain. You don’t even really remember the sight of the blood. What you do remember is how your older cousin ran to you. You remember the sight of his larger fingers gently cleaning the wound, then wrapping a band-aid around your pointer finger like he was swaddling a baby.
From that moment on, you knew it was your destiny to heal. To help.
And when you were thrust into the Hamato family, with their constant bickering and overall vigilantism, you couldn’t help but laugh at the red temptress that is Fate.
“I swear to god,” you mumble, watching Mikey test Donnie’s newest mech suit prototype, “You idiots are going to give me gray hairs before I’m thirty.”
“I had a chasm before I turned sixteen,” Raph responds from beside you.
“I don’t even know if I’m supposed to be gray,” Splints grumbles.
You blink at him in surprise. “Wait, really?”
“Re- lax , mi amor,” Leo chimes in, sliding in on your other side so he can throw an arm around your shoulders and shake you gleefully. “How could you not have faith in our dearest Angelo? Is he not the spryest, most nimble, most unkillable –”
The mech suit engine explodes in an extraordinary flash of color, sending Mikey flying across the room until he collides with the skate ramp, all culminating in a resounding BOOM .
You sigh and shrug off Leo’s arm. “I’ll get the kit.”
Miraculously, Mikey still has all four limbs, so you only have to patch up some minor cuts before dinner that evening. Donnie calls in pizza (like every other time you’ve exiled his little brother from the kitchen), and you enjoy a casual meal with the Hamato Clan.
But it’s been a hell of a week, so it doesn’t take long before the tiredness settles into your bones, especially after stuffing yourself with pizza.
Unsurprisingly, Leo notices first. You haven’t even realized you’d zoned out until his gaze catches yours from across the table.
The look in his eyes makes you frown instinctually – it’s a look you’ve never seen before. There’s a pensiveness in the crinkle of his stare that speaks of maturity, and his smile is inexplicably fond.
“What?” you whisper, though you know he can’t hear you over Draxum and Splinter’s loud bickering on your left. Leonardo just shakes his head, still wearing that damn smirk . The sight (well, that and his huge arms crossed across his chest) causes a bloom of warmth to spread across your body, seeping into your bones, your veins.
You ignore it.
(Actually, you take out a sledgehammer and pummel the unfamiliar feeling down into the ground.)
Leo just smiles before breaking his laser focus, leaving your shoulders to drop like you’re a puppet on strings. “Alright, bros! I should get little miss Cinderella home before she turns into a pumpkin,” he announces. You cover your next yawn with your hand, flipping him off as you do.
“That’s not even how the story goes,” you whine, but prove Leo’s point by slipping carefully off your stool without argument.
Four hugs and a threatening finger pointed at Mikey to get some rest later, Leo leads you up to the street and helps you out of the sewer.
“No portal tonight?” you ask as Leo slides the manhole cover back in place. He shrugs and starts walking out of the alley, a silent cue for you to join him. You do without question.
“Felt like getting some fresh air now that it’s not a million degrees,” Leo responds, then wraps a cheeky arm around your shoulders to jostle you back and forth for the second time that day. “Plus, I feel like I haven’t seen much of you lately.”
You frown and peer up at him suspiciously, allowing the force of his arm to guide you around the corner and onto the street. “I see you all the time, Nardo.” Your best friend snorts.
“Yeah, with my brothers or April and Casey around. When’s the last time we hung out just the two of us?”
And it takes you a second…but you realize he’s right. Work has had you all over the city recently, so your evenings have mostly consisted of slouching through your door, stripping yourself of your bra, and flopping into bed. If you’re feeling a little crazy, maybe you’ll have a glass of wine and smoke the rest of whatever Casey left on your balcony last time he was over, then flop into bed.
Heart sinking slightly, you wrap an arm around Leo’s waist and tug yourself closer as you walk. You snuggle your chin into his plastron in silent apology, then look up to meet his eye. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”
He smiles softly and rubs the top of your head with enough force that you shove him away. “Don’t apologize, stupid – I’ve been crazy busy lately, too. We’ve got a new guy running around during our night job.”
That catches your attention enough to make you pause in fixing your hair. “Yeah?” you prompt, sliding back into familiar step beside him. Leo just nods, and your heart sinks slightly when he doesn’t expand. You know it’s because you’ve been tired lately, and he doesn’t want to burden you (stupid)…but now you’re noticing there are bags under his eyes too.
And it doesn’t matter how tired you are, you’re always there for Leonardo.
“Want to grab ice cream and talk about it?” you offer.
~*~
You take him to a little mom and pop joint in the East Village for gelato instead, luckily not having to veer too far off your path home. It’s a familiar routine, having done this together since before the Kraang. Familiar enough that it’s become a bit of a challenge to find new places to try.
On the way, Leo tells you about this new guy, Bishop: There’s nothing about him online that Donnie can find (a fact that’s caused quite a few outbursts, apparently) except for a single, blacklisted FBI file that says he was dismissed for, incredibly vague, “Dishonorable Conduct.” Lately, he and what seems to be a small private army have been kidnapping yokai from around the city and draining them of their mystic energy…sometimes to dire consequences.
You take Leo’s hand at that and rub your thumb across his knuckles in as much of a soothe as you can manage. You know how deeply he takes a civilian even getting injured, let alone not being able to save someone altogether. He squeezes your hand back gratefully and holds the door open for you to pass under his arm when you get to the gelato place.
That warmth from earlier returns at the move, and you whip out the sledgehammer again as you approach the counter and order a limoncello. The teenager behind the counter’s eyes are tired when she punches your order into the register, but her demeanor totally changes when Leo sidles up beside you, eyes widening in a way that tells you she knows exactly who he is.
“Hi!” He greets her kindly, eyes scanning the menu. “Can I please do a scoop of the hazelnut and one of the mint?”
You squint at him in disgust. “What kind of combo is that?” He shrugs innocently and shoots you his most winning, “Face Man” smile.
“I want to test the full range of flavors.”
The teenager is quick to fulfill your requests, all the while glancing between you and Leo as you bicker playfully, sliding easily into a warm rhythm until you can continue your conversation from the walk here.
You grumble to yourself when Leo beats you to paying, earning you yet another curious glance from the teenager. And in that moment, you suppose you do look like a couple with the casual way Leo touches you, his insistence on paying, the fondness in the crinkle of his eyes.
(Sledgehammer. Sledgehammer. Sledgehammer. )
You thank the girl on your way out, Leo once again reaching to pull the door open for you when she speaks up: “Um!” Her volume in the small shop makes you both jump a little, and a furious blush blooms across her face at your most likely bewildered expressions.
She ducks her head sheepishly and continues, focusing on Leo: “I just wanted to say…you guys saved me and my sister once, in Times Square when that weird Hippo man attacked. So, um…yeah. Thank you.”
Leo smiles and drops the door with a click. You expect him to preen a little bit, to boast and brag about some little anecdote from that day.
Instead, he faces the girl and bows deeply at the waist.
When he straightens back up, she’s not the only one feeling a little warm.
“It was our pleasure,” is his only reply. He opens the door again, and you come back to yourself enough to tell the teenager to have a good night before letting him escort you back out into the oppressive summer air.
The two of you settle on a bench in Tompkins to enjoy your sweet treat, and Leonardo slips seamlessly back into his rant.
You try to pay attention, you really do. Apparently, their last raid on one of Bishop’s locations turned up medical equipment – a discovery that has been deeply disturbing for all of them. But half of your mind is still on the sight of the back of Leo’s head when he bowed to the gelato shop girl.
It’s hard to be surprised by someone you’ve known forever, whose story is so deeply intertwined with your own, you almost wouldn’t know yourself without them.
But Leonardo had surprised you tonight. Surprised you with his easy maturity. His casual, yet no less genuine kindness. And you’re realizing now, watching him eat his stupid gelato combination that absolutely cannot taste good, that the two of you have grown up. Grown up together, at that.
You take a big bite of your limoncello, swallowing it down quicker than you probably should in an attempt to dispel the warmth in your chest. “Medical equipment,” you repeat, half for Leo and half in an attempt to reorient yourself in the conversation. “I’m assuming you’re not just talking about some gauze and scalpels.”
“Nah,” Leo shakes his head and sneaks a bite of your gelato, much to your dismay. “I’m talking MRI machines, hypodermic needles, and a disturbing amount of beakers holding stuff Donnie can’t even identify.”
“Jesus.”
“I don’t think he’d be much help here.”
You roll your eyes and smack his shoulder, the two of you settling into a comfortable silence. “Is there anything I can do to help?” you ask.
Leonardo smiles and offers you a bite from his dish. You choose hazelnut.
“Just what you always do: Be there for us when we need you,” he responds. “You’ve never failed us. That’s enough.”
You hope the lack of streetlights around you keeps him from seeing the wetness in your eyes. “Ditto,” you promise him. He grins and tries to spoon another bite of your limoncello, but you lift it out of the way just in time. “No! There’s only, like, two bites left.”
“There’s still at least half a dish in there – ”
“Ugh!” You huff and hold out your dish. Leo’s expression is smug when he dips his spoon in, so you steal a bite from his with as much retaliation as you can muster. “You’re the worst,” you grumble around a bite of mint this time, nose indeed crinkling at the horrid combination of flavors. You spoon yourself some more limoncello to cleanse your palate.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m a horrible monster,” Leo gripes, and you roll your eyes. “Enough about me, though; it’s your turn. Lay it on me.”
You gape at him. “I’m sorry, did you just say, ‘Enough about me’?”
It’s Leonardo’s turn to roll his eyes. “Oh, come on…”
“Who are you and what have you done with Hamato Leonardo –”
His scowl turns positively affronted. “Hey!”
“– I just wish Raph could see this, he’d never believe you’re willingly shutting up–”
“Would you stop ?” Leonardo laughs and grabs your shoulder to rock you gently into him. “I want to hear about you , dummy. Your gelato’s almost gone, and we still need to get you home.”
At the reminder that this is, in fact, a give and a take, your heart sinks a little. You look down at your dish and swirl the last bits of gelato around, passively enjoying the melted blend of color. Leo stays silent, waiting, so you allow yourself to take in the sounds of the park, letting them soothe your suddenly aching soul.
Night bugs chirp in the trees even this deep into the city. People are laughing on the street, their joy echoing off of trees that are older than the city itself. Next to you, Leonardo’s equipment clinks as he shifts to cross one leg over the other.
He lays a hand over your knee, ever patient.
Donnie laughed in your face so hard you felt spittle hit your cheek.
“ Patient?! ” he shrieked, completely unfazed by your shrieking back in horror, grabbing him by the goggles, and shoving him back down into his seat. He continued on without pause: “I can’t believe – you’ve seen Nardo on pizza night, right? He doesn’t even let his box get to the counter before it’s gone!”
You smacked him once more upside the head for good measure and hissed, “I’m being serious!”
“So am I.” Donatello deadpanned and turned back to his work, leaving you to rub at your cheek ruefully behind his back. “Yes, Leonardo is patient with you. Exceedingly so.”
You threw your hands toward him and curled your fingers, imagining you were strangling your resident genius.
“Are you Scartlet Witch-ing at me again?”
“Yes!” you shouted, throwing your pen onto the charts you’d been trying to fill out for hours. “Would it kill you to not be so fucking roundabout with your answers?”
At that, Donnie finally turned back to face you. He flicked his goggles up onto his forehead and said your name so softly, so intently, you absolutely froze.
“You know very well that I’m only ‘roundabout’, as you say, when I want to be,” he said seriously. “I’m incredibly straightforward. But I’m trying to make a point here: Leonardo is the most impatient person I know. He’s volatile, he’s reckless – well, I guess not so much anymore, but still.”
Donnie leaned toward you, eyes so fierce you found yourself leaning back, trying to escape the sudden intensity of his demeanor. “He’s a walking hazard on a good day. But he’s patient with you , Sis. What does that say?”
Sitting in Tompkins Square Park on a humid summer night, it says more than Donnie could ever know.
There’s worry in Leo’s eyes when you finally look back up at him. You offer him the last bite of your limoncello and feel yourself smile so gently you can see the effect of it on Leonardo – his mouth goes slack slightly, gaze turning somewhat wondrous as you drink each other in like honey in the sun.
You’ve never felt safer in your life.
“Tell you later?” you request. “It’s been a long few weeks.”
And you can tell Leo doesn’t like it by the way the corners of his mouth turn down, but you also see the moment he acquiesces. He spoons the last bit of your gelato and holds it out for you instead. You accept the peace offering for what it is and bite down, savoring the flavor of lemon and vanilla on your tongue.
“Later,” he repeats, and you nod in promise, missing the way his eyes have gone dark.
Leonardo’s a fixer by nature, especially when it comes to his loved ones, so you know that taking a step back right now is like asking Mikey not to razz his tazz. You know he’s fighting absolutely every instinct to stay silent, not to push because you asked him not to. And the fact that he’s doing so anyway, without question, brings that warmth in your chest back.
It travels all the way to your fingertips when you look back up at Leo to find him watching you with that inexplicable something back in his eyes.
At this point, your grip on the sledgehammer is loose at best.
Breaking eye contact is a physical effort. You stand up and walk to throw away your empty dish, internally proud of yourself when your legs don’t shake. Leo’s presence behind you is a weight as he follows your lead. Where one of you goes, the other follows, just like it’s always been.
Your hand finds his on the walk home, and his fingers curl around yours without a moment’s hesitation. It’s everything you could ever need and more.
~*~
Ever since you can remember, you’ve never really been interested in a romantic connection.
It’s not that you’re against it. Your bookshelf is full of every kind of love story under the sun, and you turn to those stories for comfort more often than you care to admit. You just haven’t experienced that fluttery feeling yet, the reckless desire that makes you want to try something new with someone else.
If you’re being honest with yourself, you’ve always craved the opportunity. It just hasn’t happened yet.
But, all that certainly isn’t to say you’ve been lacking in the love department – far from it, actually. Since April practically kidnapped you into her life, arms are constantly slinging around your shoulders to pull you into a conversation…or out of the way of a missile.
( “It wasn’t even close, mami!” “My eyebrows are gone, Blue!!”)
Every Monday, without your need to ask, a purple Genius Tech (trademark pending) drone drops groceries at your doorstep, its contents always exactly what you need. It was Raph’s giant presence at your side that got you through your aunt’s death, and Mikey’s hand in yours, dragging you to graffiti some random sewer tunnel he found. And Leo…it was rare that you didn’t wake up to find Leo knocked out on your couch.
So, yeah – with the coolest best friend you could ever dream of and a mutant family watching your back, your days are enveloped in love and laughter. You’ve never really felt that something could be missing.
Until Hamato Leonardo.
It’s hard to pinpoint when everything changed. You’ve known the idiot since you were fifteen. You’ve seen him eat a pineapple whole only to throw it up two minutes later, still whole. And yet here you are: A fully grown adult fighting down a blush whenever he so much as smiles at you. Something in your heart has begun to quiver at his touch...a want that has taken root in your chest and now refuses to leave.
It terrifies you more than anything you’ve ever known – except maybe the Kraang Invasion.
But what’s even more terrifying is that April knows.
She hasn’t said anything (yet), but you can feel it. You feel it in her insanely piercing gaze on your back as Leo twirls you around the Summer Solstice party. You feel it in the way she raises her eyebrows when you tell her you can’t come over because Leo’s spending the night.
Lately, she’s even started to “Hmmmm” whenever the leader in blue is mentioned in conversation.
It all comes to a head after a brutal mission against the new guy.
“ CODE PURPLE!” You shoot awake with a scream at Donnie’s voice blaring from your phone: “YOUR ASSISTANCE IS NEEDED AT THE LAIR!” Then, quieter: “ Your designated transportation will be arriving in 3…2…1…”
And right on cue, as always, a bright flash of cyan announces Leo’s arrival at the foot of your bed.
“Blue.” His nickname is a sigh of relief, and you smack your hand against your chest at the sight of his safe, familiar presence. Leo starts going through your drawers for a change of clothes, and you allow yourself a moment to breathe.
Code Purple means someone is hurt. Code Purple means I need to be on .
After a few seconds, you drop your hand from your chest and push back your blankets so you can stand. “What happened?” you ask calmly, taking your favorite pair of fuzzy pants when Leo holds them out and pulling them on.
“Mikey’s hurt real bad,” Leo mutters, hands twitching at his sides. The light from his portal exposes the exhausted shadows on his face, and you shove down every instinct that wants to reach for him, to comfort him in this moment. “Donnie did the best he could, but –”
“Okay,” you interrupt, years of experience allowing you to easily shove down your concern and panic into the little box you keep open just for moments like this. “Take me to him.”
As it always is, the first fifteen minutes are a flurry of gauze, shouted orders, and the sharp beeping of machinery.
It takes you no time to slide into the now-familiar rhythm – and responsibility – that is saving a life. Your hands don’t think about who’s on the table while you work. The screams you’re hearing and the wounds you’re stitching don’t belong to anyone.
It’s better that way. Easier.
Three hours later, Mikey is high on Donatello’s in-house pain meds and bragging about his new scar.
“With this baby, I’ll definitely get into the Salty Splatoon,” he slurs, looking up at his father with a dopey grin. You’re on your third scrub at the sink in the corner, and exhaustion has settled deep into your bones, but you still crack a smile at the youngest Hamato.
“I dunno, Mikey,” Raph says, deciding to play into Mikey’s loopy state. He points at his eye. “I’ve been, and it wasn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
“ Aaaaawww ,” Michelangelo whines. You turn around to see him try and fold his arms in a pout, but Splinter stops him just in time with two gentle hands and a few murmured words. “But I want to get into a bar fight!”
Donnie pipes up from the foot of the bed: “I don’t see how those two things are mutually exclusive…”
Next to you, Leonardo holds out a towel, so you tune out the brothers’ inane conversation and take it with a grateful smile. “Thanks.”
“No problem, señorita.”
“You sure you’re not hurt?” you ask him. You give him another once-over as you dry your hands, but just like the other fifty times you’ve checked tonight, he remains uninjured.
“I’m fine, jeez. You’re such a nag,” Leo replies with a smile, and you scoff when he snatches the towel back from you. “But, Casey’s hiding from you.”
Your eyes widen, and you turn to scan the lab. “That little sneak . He’s just like you, I swear to god –”
You set off to make sure Casey isn’t hiding the fact that he’s bleeding out ( again ), but Leo’s large hand stops you. Smoother than silk, he tucks you into his side so you’re looking up at him, and the tender way he hugs your waist makes your heart skip a beat.
But what gets you is that you lean into him. Into his warmth, his strength.
You don’t lean into anybody.
“It’s been a long night, amor,” Leo murmurs. His breath brushing across your nose makes you fight to get in control of your knees. “You holding up okay?”
And even though it’s Leo – Leo, who regularly acts as your emotional confidante, and you his – the way his touch is making you feel now is foreign. Uncomfortable.
So, the familiar lie comes quickly.
You smile and elbow him gently before stepping away. “I’m fine, Leo. I’ll be better when I get my hands around your son’s neck.” Then, you turn to fish Casey out from behind Raph’s conveniently large form.
If you’d stayed a moment longer, you would’ve seen the corners of Leo’s mouth turn down.
Of all things, Casey is hiding a fucking dislocated shoulder. An easy enough fix, but not exactly a fun one. April saunters over while you’re numbing her boyfriend’s shoulder and, to your horror, sets her sights on you.
In a million years, you never would have guessed what she says next:
“Girl, I can’t believe you never told me you’re a prima ballerina. And I’ve known you for almost a decade!”
Casey and you look at each other in bewilderment for a moment before both of you look back at April. The best response you can come up with is, “Huh?” The signature smirk of “Apriiiill O’Neil!” curves across your best friend’s face, and you fight the urge to run away begging and screaming for her mercy.
April jerks her chin toward where Leo is speaking with Draxum across the lab and says, “Dancing around those feelings like a pro,” all without breaking eye contact with you. Next to you, Casey snorts out a laugh, and you wrestle down the urge to hit him in response.
Instead, you turn to face your patient and send him a smile that has his own sliding off his face. “Jones. I can make this real easy, or real hard. It’s your choice.”
Casey nods emphatically. “Yes, ma’am.”
With that settled, you turn your attention back to April, using Casey as a shield to hiss behind his back, “ I knew you knew. ”
April’s triumphant smirk only widens. “You, me. Brunch tomorrow,” she orders, but then, to your surprise, her eyes soften. “You gotta talk to someone before you go crazy, sister.”
You turn back to Casey and begin to manipulate his arm, preparing the muscles for relocation. Behind you, Donnie says something that makes the whole family erupt in laughter…though you can only really hear one voice.
Under your breath, you whisper: “I know.”
~*~
You find a quiet moment to collect yourself, later in the night.
April and Casey have long since gone home. Mikey is asleep in the lab with his brothers and father to keep watch over him, and you trust them to handle any complication (as improbable as that possibility may be) that may come up.
So, you retreat to the kitchen, rest your head against the fridge, and breathe.
It’s quiet in here. The metal hums beneath your forehead, and you find it vaguely pathetic how you lean into the soothing sensation.
Is this really what you’ve come to? Are you so used to taking care of yourself that just leaning into lifeless metal feels like it’s enough to keep you standing?
The thought makes you push away from the fridge in frustration. Even on your worst days, you know that’s not true. Life has just been a lot, lately. Today was a lot.
You’re used to being overwhelmed. You’re used to being tired. It’s the nature of the life you’ve chosen. But working on someone you know, having the survival of a familiar life placed in your hands…there’s nothing more draining. It feels like your body could fall asleep at any moment, but your mind won’t ever let you sleep again. Every part of you aches, from your muscles to your soul.
Leo finds you there a few minutes later, still slumped against the fridge. He doesn’t make a sound, he never does, but you feel him the moment he steps in the room from the way the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.
He scuffs his feet purposefully when he approaches, and you close your eyes, tears welling up at his clear attempt not to startle you. “How’s Angelo?” you ask quietly. Your voice is unbearably loud, a harsh interruption of the sacred silence.
“Fast asleep,” Leo replies. He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into his side, forcing you to meet his unbearably soft gaze. “Raph’s on watch. He’s fine.”
Then, he says the words that rend you through every time. His grip on you is firm, grounding you when he presses a kiss to your temple and whispers: “You did great.”
You crumple.
You collapse into Leonardo until he’s the only thing holding you up. You press your heaving, aching chest into his as if you could absorb his strength through osmosis and sob. It’s ugly, and it's loud, every bit of exhaustion and fear and anger you’ve felt in the past weeks projected into sound.
Leo holds you through it all.
“ – It’s alright now, mi amor. You did it. You did amazing , I’m so proud of you – ”
Eventually, your sobs turn into cries. Cries turn into hiccups and the occasional sniff. Leo keeps holding you, whispering quietly, and brushing your hair from your sticky face. Eventually, you find the strength to peel your cheek from his shell and look him in the eye.
He smiles and wipes the last of your tears with his thumb, eyes brighter than you’ve ever seen. “I got you,” he whispers, the words a promise to the universe itself. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”
And you believe it when he says it. You believe it from the way he holds you like you’re something precious, speaks to you like every word is a vow, even when you’re covered in tears and snot. He would never lie to you. If there’s one constant in this world, it’s that you can trust Hamato Leonardo.
It would be so easy to love him. Like breathing.
There’s no other word for it, this selfish thing that has begun to fester in the cracks of your heart, this yearning . Looking into his eyes right now, you have no choice but to call it love.
If you had an ounce more energy, you might lose your mind at the mere thought that this is love. Right here, right now, standing with Leonardo in a kitchen you’ve known longer than the place you call home, is love. All you can think of is the beat of his heart beneath your hands, how firmly he’s holding you, yet how gentle his touch is all the same.
How relieving it is to be held up by something other than a cold, metal fridge.
“I’m sorry for crying,” you whisper, to which Leo vehemently shakes his head. You continue on before the lecture can begin, explaining, “It’s just hard sometimes. I don’t regret it, but…it’s hard sometimes.”
Leo sighs at that, adjusting his hold on you so it’s less purposeful, more casual. He runs a soothing hand down your arm and responds with a simple, “I hear you.”
There’s so much more to say, and both of you know it. But the events of the night are too fresh to confess even now, in this little bubble of safety you’ve created for each other.
You hold Leonardo closer and let the unspoken words speak for themselves.
~*~
The next day, April meets you at your favorite brunch spot, orders a pitcher of peach mimosa, pours you each a flute, and gestures for you to begin all within thirty seconds.
“Spill. I want it all. No holds barred,” she orders. And because it’s April, your best friend in the whole world, every wall you’ve ever built up breaks down faster than a politician’s promise.
“Okay. Just remember you asked for this – and don’t make fun of me,” you plead. April rolls her eyes in a way that says I would never! And deep down, you know she wouldn’t, but…friends have in the past. Shaking off the uncomfortable feeling that that thought brings you, you take a large gulp of your mimosa to steel yourself, then begin:
“I…I never really understood everyone’s fascination with dating. I’ve never, like, actively wanted to have a partner and be in a relationship, or even really kiss anyone. But…” You pause and take another sip of your drink. “Anyway. It never really bothered me. I had you, I had the guys, and I was so focused on becoming a nurse anyway that I didn’t even have time to focus on it.”
“But now…” April nods along, silently urging you to continue. “I want it. For the first time, I want it, and I’m terrified. And the fact that it’s fucking Nardo only scares me more because he’s Nardo . And lately, he’s been acting like he might be interested too, so –”
“Hang on, pause,” April interrupts you with a raised hand. “ Might be interested?”
The glint in her eye tells you there’s a rant incoming, and you sink into yourself slightly. “April…”
“ Sister.”
Her tone shuts you up and forces your gaze back to hers. You’ve never seen April O’Neil more serious than she is now. “That idiot has been in love with you since you first put a band-aid on him. He follows you around like a lost puppy, and when you’re not around, he’s texting you. He just loves you so much he’s scared you’ll say no, so he doesn’t ask.” April smiles slightly and sips her mimosa. “I swear, it’s like me and Casey all over again.”
Meanwhile, on your side of the table, your jaw has dropped to the floor. You barely remind yourself to shut it before you catch flies, and try to mask your absolute shock by taking a shaky sip of your drink, then shoving the empty flute in April’s face. “I need to be so much drunker for this,” you mutter.
April grins and tops you off. “Why do you think I got two pitchers?”
You end up calling Casey to escort you two drunkies home. None of you works today, so you all while away the afternoon together with a few more drinks and good conversation. And when the clock strikes 10, April shoves Casey on the couch and screams, “Girls' night, babe! Bestie takes priority.” You hear him laugh before April shuts the bedroom door and herds you toward the bed.
An hour later, Brooklyn Nine-Nine is on the TV, and your best friend is wrapped around you like a koala. With the quiet of the night comes the barreling realization of all that you’ve learned today…and now that your buzz has worn off, you feel your heart sinking despite it all. April’s arms tighten around you, as if she can feel it.
“I’ve never done this before,” you whisper into the dark. “I don’t know what to do.”
April takes a moment to gather her thoughts. Your quiet confession hangs in the air between you, but despite how the words make you feel, your chest is somewhat lighter after having said them. On the TV, Jake and Amy share a tender kiss. April hugs you closer, and you hug her back just as tightly.
“I know. It’s okay to be scared. It’s scary,” she affirms. “No one says you have to do anything. Sometimes…sometimes just realizing it is enough. And life will do the rest.”
~*~
Nothing really changes, after that – at least not right away. You keep to your shaky routine that allows enough flexibility for your “other” job, seeing your patients all across the city, meeting Raphael for lunch on Wednesdays, and going to the farmer’s market on Sunday. Pigeons fly past your window, and life goes on.
But every night, when the world gets quiet and you’re having a moment of peace to yourself, Leonardo portals to your balcony.
This isn’t a new routine – Leo’s always been antsy, never quite able to settle in one place for too long. You’ve long gotten used to seeing a flash of blue announce his arrival in the other room, or coming home after a long shift to find him playing video games on your couch.
No, what’s new is how you keep clamming up like a goddamn teenager.
Like, really? You’re stumbling over your words while talking to Leonardo , the same man who you’ve seen faceplant on the ground from five stories up. Multiple times. The same idiot who belts Celine Dion at karaoke has the irreparable ability of conjuring butterflies from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.
And isn’t that just stupid.
“Are you okay?” Leo asks, and it’s only his raised eyebrow that makes you realize you’re scowling.
You clear your throat, fix your face back into a neutral expression, and stab your chopsticks into your noodles. “Sorry. My brain won’t shut the fuck up.”
Leo hums thoughtfully and takes another bite of his ramen, slurping it obscenely. Your scowl returns at the way he smacks his lips, but his gaze is earnest when he looks at you again. “Anything I can help with?” he offers, and you have to physically stop yourself from swooning a little.
Instead, you focus intently back on your meal. “No, I’ll be okay. It just happens sometimes.”
You blink in surprise when Leo takes your chopsticks so he can wrap your hand in both of his. And dammit, you cannot help the heat that rushes to your face at the way he’s looking at you. He looks…concerned. He looks like he cares.
“I know you’ll be okay,” Leo murmurs. “You’ll always be okay, especially if I have any say about it. But I want to make sure you’re good right now .” He leans back in his seat, keeping your hand trapped in his. “You’ve been quiet lately, that’s all.”
You gape at him for a moment. From the day you met, Leo’s always been able to see right through you – a trait of his you equally admire and despise. And he’s right, of course. It wasn’t on purpose, but you have put a bit of distance between you the past week as you’ve sorted through your feelings.
Apparently, your silence makes Leo nervous, because he rambles on, “And we never did get to you on our gelato night. Don’t think I forgot about that.”
You groan and rub your eyes with the hand that isn’t trapped in his. “I know you didn’t forget about it. But you’ve been dealing with Bishop and then Mikey got hurt, and then my six-year-old in Park Slope got the fucking flu –”
“Okay,” Leonardo interrupts. “Let’s start there. Tell me about the kid.”
You shake your head in disbelief. “You’re really not going to give up, are you?”
Leo cocks an invisible eyebrow and grins. “Do you even know me?” You can’t help but smile back.
The rest of the meal, you tell him about your life: The six-year-old, who decided to get the flu right when his mother was postpartum – You had to find a way to keep mother and baby separated from him in a New York apartment (a near impossible feat), but somehow you managed with minimal tears from both the boy and his parents.
You tell him about rehabilitating a teacher in Midtown after she broke her hip, your patient in Harlem who’s comatose and needs round-the-clock care, but sometimes her mother needs to sleep. The veteran with Locked-In Syndrome, who’s steadily working to be able to hug his kids again.
“That one’s been toughest,” you tell Leo, after he’s finished your ramen for you and ordered a small bottle of sake. “He had a seizure. His daughter found him. And I had to tell him that he’ll probably never walk again, but his response was that he’d be okay if he could just hug his daughter.”
Viscious tears well up in your eyes, and you instinctively frown at the bitter feeling. It’s just so unfair . It’s unfair that anyone could live fifty plus years, only to be trapped in their own body and find a way to deal with it. To live with it.
A lot of people don’t.
When Leonardo takes your hand, you feel some of that bitterness in your chest seep away. You squeeze his fingers gratefully and sigh, letting him anchor you until your anger gives way back to a clear conscience.
“We’re actually doing this thing called the ‘Alexander Technique,’” you explain. “Actors use it, believe it or not. It’s a very ‘mind-body’ approach, but we’ve seen a lot of improvement.” You meet Leo’s eyes and smile, internally pleased that his attention is rapt on you. “He can lift his arms all the way now. Some people with Locked-In never even do that again.”
“That’s amazing,” Leo congratulates you, and you squeeze his hand gratefully. “You’re amazing. But still, that’s…a lot.”
And just like that, your smile drops again. “Yeah. I’ve been really tired, honestly, but I’m okay.”
“Are you though?” Leo demands, and you blink in surprise. His face drops at your shock, and he sighs, rubbing a soothing thumb across your knuckles. “I’m sorry. I’m just…I’m worried about you. Everything happened with Bishop and Mikey, and then you just kind of went MIA –”
“ Leonardo .” Your friend blinks in surprise at the full-name pull, but you cover his hand with your free one and duck your chin to catch his eye. “I’m okay, I promise. I’ve just been…figuring some things out, I guess. Life is a lot right now, but I promise: If I weren’t okay, you would know. It’s just been a weird week.”
Leo nods emphatically at that, having told you about how things with Bishop are heating up. You rub your thumb gently over his pulse point. “I’m sorry I worried you, Blue,” you whisper.
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, and you’re proud to say you only fluster a little when he lifts your hand and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “I’ll always worry about you.”
You don’t really remember leaving the restaurant, focused as you are on the ghost of Leonardo’s lips on your knuckles, but you do remember the feel of his hand on your back, guiding you out onto the street.
The walk back to your apartment is slow. The buildings are tinged gold with the sunset, and a breeze picks up about halfway home, bringing the smell of rain.
“I think it’s going to rain tonight,” you announce, and though you don’t look at him, you feel Leonardo look at you.
“Yeah,” he mumbles. “I think so too.”
