#willofoak

“i thought i’d find you out here,” leon said, his voice low, in an effort not to startle...well, not so much her as the weather. he cast an uneasy glance at the sky, part wary squint, part angry scowl. it looked like it might snow soon. or hail, if he was particularly unfortunate. and leon was not feeling particularly fortunate. not with that look on will’s face, not with that gunshot still ringing in his ears. after a moment, he glances down again, tearing his eyes from the gray sky and focusing them, instead, on the gray ground. snow had been scuffed with dirt until it was chaotic black and gray mess, shaped mostly by boot prints, except for one little pristine corner. the powder there was almost fresh, still not turned to ice, and something not quite a grave and not quite an altar resided amongst it. his hands flexed, itching to rest on her shoulder, itching to lift her off the ground, off the snow seeping through the knees of her jeans. it’s so cold. aren’t you so cold? instead, he unwound the absurdly long scarf from his neck and draped it over her shoulders, looping once, then again, and pulling the edge over the crown of her head. he pulled up the hood of his jacket once he was done, feeling it press down against his head and then bounce back up from his curls. he’d been meaning to ask will to cut it for him all week. now he wondered if he’d have the chance before... “penny for your thoughts?” he asked, breaking his own line of thought. he paused, then thrust his hands into his pockets, digging around for a moment before triumphantly removing a fist. he opened his fingers, and glanced down at his palm. “actually a...a nickel, a piece of pocket lint, three cat treats, and a five dollar bill for your thoughts?”

He couldn’t be mad. He had no right to be mad. They had thought him dead... and Mar was free to sleep with whomever she wished. She was always free to sleep with whomever she wished, her body, her choice. Yes they had been married and committed to each other and monogamous but it was all... none of his business.

Her vow had been ‘til death do us part’, and she believed him dead.

He didn’t fault her at all for what had happened. Again, he didn’t have the right to fault anyone. It wasn’t his business to fault anyone.

Will, though. Will had thought him dead too... and Mar was, in fairness, the most beautiful individual on the planet...

Still. Mar Sandoval. Sandoval. She had to know, right? Was it a one night stand? Did she not know her full name? Again, none of his business. Was it because they bonded over missing him, or was that arrogant to consider? Was it simply because they were both two attractive ladies?

He and Will weren’t related by blood, but that didn’t matter. She was his family. She was his little sister.

A ‘sister’ who slept with her ‘brother’’s widow.

One would have thought, that out of respect for his memory... she would not attempt to put the moves on someone who for all intents and purposes, was basically her in-law. One would have thought she would not allow said basically in-law to put the moves on her.

Granted, if Mar was going to move on with anyone, Will at least was the best person he knew... aside from her. They weren’t in a relationship though, and Dante didn’t think (again, it wasn’t his business) they had even dated. That it could have been called a fling. Twas just casual sex.

Casual sex. With your dead best friend slash surrogate brother’s widow.

"...that’s poetic.” A twist of the knife, but not undeserved.

“Never,” he swears, the word jumping to his tongue easily, too easily. He’d be embarrassed, if he had a single ounce of self respect left inside of him, but he can’t find it now. He’s on one knee, for god’s sake, staring up plaintively at Will like she is some divine figure, a queen knighting her loyal and faithful soldier. Is that what he is? Her soldier? He’s certainly loyal, certainly faithful. If she asked him to swear that he would cut his arm off, would he do it? He hates that he doesn’t know. The answer should be no. It is no...isn’t it? This kind of devotion can’t be healthy. But she gave him purpose. She put faith in him. And that is worth everything he is. Everything he will ever be. “I would never leave you, will never leave you,” Leon promises, one hand over his heart, the other draped at the elbow over his knee. These were the conditions. Get your shit together. Don’t lie to me, don’t ever lie to me. And do not leave me. Swear that you will never leave me. She doesn’t even have to dangle a reward in front of him, a promise, an end result. He wonders if she knows. She could demand these things of him and offer him nothing in return, and he would still swear. His eyes are soft, almost sad, as he watches her accept his fealty. He will never leave her. He knows this. No matter what she asks of him, what she requires, what she wants and what she does not, he will always be here.