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The walk up the stairs was a long one, the exhaustion set deep in Leon’s bones. He’d just come back from a mission debrief, filled out the necessary paperwork thrust upon him not two seconds after returning to American soil. Hunnigan had done her best to lighten the load though, and he couldn’t be more grateful. It meant he could return home quicker, back to comfort, back to his bed.
Back to you.
A glance at his watch told him it had just gone eight, too early for you to be in bed. The thought of coming home and seeing your face gave him the energy to put one foot in front of the other, and it was with a sigh of relief that he opened the door and entered their home. He shucked his boots off and left his motorcycle helmet on the nearby counter, and as he shrugged his jacket off he heard your sweet voice call out his name.
“I’m back,” he called out in reply, and there was a bit of clatter in the living room before he heard a familiar set of footsteps approaching, and then there you were and it was like a weight had been lifted off his chest. A beautiful smile was on your face, your eyes sparkling in that way they only seemed to sparkle when you looked at him. He hung his jacket up and then you were hugging him and this , this was what kept him tethered. Your arms were wrapped around him, hands rubbing soothing circles into his back, face buried in his chest. He hugged you back, held you close, resting his head on yours and breathing in your familiar scent, so refreshing and comforting after trekking in the middle of nowhere for weeks.
“You smell like shit,” you said, cheek pressed up against him. He breathed out a laugh, tickling the top of your head.
“I’ve smelt worse.”
“Shower or bath?”
He hummed. “Shower.”
A bath sounded nice, but honestly, he just wanted to collapse with you on the sofa as the TV droned on. Lay down with you, regain his sense of self in your warmth – as much as he had left, anyway.
“You take a shower then, and I’ll get you dinner. I just made pasta – I didn’t know you were coming home tonight so I don’t have anything better.”
His arms tightened around you, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.
“Pasta’s fine.”
Before you, he honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a home-cooked meal made for him. You’d told him you weren’t the best cook, to not judge your basic dishes, but every meal you cooked tasted wonderful to him. It tasted like home, like love, like someone cared about him enough to cook for him.
Pasta was more than fine.
“Cool, I’ll get that heated up for you then,” you said, and he eased up his hold to let you go, immediately feeling the loss of your warmth and having to stop himself from chasing after it. “Now go clean up, stinky.”
He snorted, punching you lightly in the arm as he set off towards the bathroom, your subsequent laughter washing over him like a balm.
Stomach full, clean, and dressed in his comfy clothes, the two of you were cuddled up together on the sofa, lazily watching a shitty B-movie. You’d started off sitting apart but sometime during the movie you’d drifted closer together, and now you were nestled in Leon’s arms, practically on top of him, you holding his hand and idly stroking it with your thumb. There were a lot of explosions and yelling going on in the movie, but Leon found his gaze drifting to you instead, like a magnetic pull. You were dressed in his old hoodie – one of the ones you’d deemed part of the ‘communal wardrobe’. He’d acted grumpy about it at the time but he honestly loved seeing you in it, and if he’d left a few more of his hoodies around for you to steal then that was between him and the God he didn’t believe in.
His gaze drifted down to your hand holding his, then zeroed in on a marking on the inside of your wrist.
“Hey, what’s this?”
Curiosity piqued, he grabbed your hand and pulled it closer, making you yelp in shock.
“Leon, give off!”
“Just looking!” He said, curiosity piqued even more by your protests. He turned your hand to see the inside of your wrist, and his breath hitched.
It was his name written in pretty cursive, with a heart around it. He stared at it, lips parting slightly. His first thought was that it was a tattoo, but there were some little smudges here and there.
He looked down at you, your face redder than before and pointedly avoiding his gaze.
“You wrote this?”
“Who else?” You replied, which was a fair point. You tried to tug your wrist back but he held firm, not done looking at it. The heart was a little wobbly, and he could see where you’d rubbed off ink and redrawn certain parts. His name was smoothly written though, and in the prettiest cursive he’d ever seen you use. He’d made fun of your typical handwriting before for somehow being worse than his own, so this was new.
“I... I write it when you’re not here,” you said, voice quieter than normal, as if you were going all shy on him. “Like, when you’re on missions and stuff.”
“You’ve done this before?” He asked softly, and oh God, his heart feels like it’s about to burst out of his chest. You nodded.
“I dunno, it’s just, like,” you’re looking at the floor like it was the most interesting thing in the world, you were definitely going shy on him, “you’re not here, so I write that and it helps. With, y’know, missing you. I usually wash it off when I know you’re coming back home but I had no heads-up this time so I forgot.”
Leon swallowed. God, you were perfect. Dressed in his hoodie, his name on your wrist, waiting for him to come home. How many years had he spent just coming home to an empty apartment, nothing to greet him except the utility bills, no one to miss him except the mould growing on the food he accidentally left out? On every mission there would be a not-insignificant part of him that contemplated just... not coming back. Letting the bioweapon with its hands around his throat snap his neck. Letting himself bleed out on the floor. Letting go of the ledge and falling to his death. He was going to die on the job - might as well have it happen sooner rather than later.
Then you came along, and he found himself wanting to come home. Your face flashed through his mind when he parried an attack, when he shot an approaching threat. He wanted to come home and see your face again, wanted to feel you again, wanted to live to see tomorrow if that tomorrow would be spent with you.
“Maybe I shouldn’t give you a heads-up from now on,” Leon said, then pulled you across until your face was closer to his, laughing at the surprised little noise you let out. Your face was still red and he could see the question forming on your lips, but he swiftly leant down and kissed you with all the affection that had been bubbling up inside his chest. He let go of your wrist in favour of circling you with his arms, another wave of adoration washing over him as your lips moved against his, fingers tangling in his hair.
I love you, he thought as he held you close.
I love you, as the kiss deepened, you making the little noises he loved.
I love you, as you separated for air, breaths mingling.
You laughed softly, and God if that wasn’t the most beautiful sound.
“This is so embarrassing,” you whined, practically hiding your face in his chest. He wanted to make a little teasing remark, but as you lay there, dressed in his hoodie, his name on your wrist, all he could think about was that he loved you too fucking much. He took your hand, stroking his thumb over your knuckles.
Imagining how it would look with a ring on it.
“S’not embarrassing,” he replied, “it’s cute.”
“You weren’t meant to find out,” you went on. He laughed softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You looked up at him, and if he could have this view for the rest of his life, he’d die a happy man.
“Yeah? Well, I’m glad I did.”
You were stood at the kitchen counter, chopping up some potatoes. You’d finished work earlier than Leon today and so had bought a couple of steaks on the way back home, intending to make a better dinner tonight to make up for yesterday’s basic pasta with store-bought sauce. Not that Leon had voiced any disappointment with the dinner, but you liked making his favourite meal when he came home after a mission.
Leon had texted you to say he’d be home soon, so you put the potatoes in the oven then got ready to work on the sauce. You caught sight of his name on your wrist and smiled. You didn’t tend to write it when he was around, but he’d seemed very happy to learn of your little habit , and so you figured you might as well re-write it on your wrist today. And every day after that, you supposed.
A tattoo would solve the re-drawing issue, but you liked writing it. It felt romantic. Plus, you got to add little embellishments, depending on how you were feeling. Sometimes little stars, or dots around the heart. You’d opted for a classic design today, an arrow through the heart.
A short while later you heard the front door open, Leon coming into the kitchen soon after, looking tired but thankfully without that dead, empty look he got after missions. He smiled when he saw you, that beautiful smile you treasured so dearly.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he said as he approached you, hugging you from behind and resting his head on you. “Nice day?”
You shrugged, turning the cooker off on the sauce. “So-so. You?”
“Better than usual.”
“Oh?” You said, turning round to face him properly. There was a little sparkle in his blue eyes, a little grin tugging at his lips. It was rare to see him like this after work – it normally took him a bit to shake the work off, so to speak. It was making you smile too. “And why was that?”
“Because,” he said, then raised his left hand and shifted his watch to reveal your name in wobbly cursive, encased in an even wobblier heart. “I had you there with me.”
Your face broke out into a smile, laughter bubbling up as you drank in the sight. He was fully grinning too, a dorky little grin with his eyes crinkling in such a way that had your heart doing topsy-turvies. You pulled up your sleeve to show him your matching inscription.
“What a coincidence - you were with me, too,” you said, and Leon laughed, joy evident. Seeing him this happy melted your heart, and as he took to admiring your wrist again, blue eyes alight with adoration, blond hair loosely falling over his face, framed by the overhead lighting, he looked positively angelic.
Truth be told, he was your angel. He’d disagree, would say he’s ‘just a guy’, but in him you’d found a love you’d only dreamt about. He wasn’t perfect by any means, but that didn’t matter when he held you so tenderly when you cried, when he supported you through thick and thin, when he made you feel so, so loved.
Watching him like that, stroking your wrist with his thumb, looking at you like you hung the stars when all you did was write his name on your wrist, you knew that this was the man you wanted to spend forever with.
“Can I have my hand back?” You asked teasingly, and Leon’s smile turned a little sheepish as he lowered your hand, but didn’t relinquish it, instead simply shifting so he was holding your hand instead of your wrist, fingers intertwined with yours.
“I’ll let go if you give me a kiss,” he teased back, leaning in expectantly, and you gave an exaggerated eye roll before leaning up and pressing your lips against his, smiling into the kiss. He released your hand in favour of winding his arms around your waist, and your heart fluttered as he gently pulled you closer, enveloping you in his warmth. Your hands came up to embrace him in turn and the two of you stayed there, enjoying this time you had together, enjoying each other’s touch, enjoying the feel of the other’s lips, a feeling that was so familiar but never got old.
Eventually you pulled apart, all lovestruck smiles and little laughs when your eyes met.
“I love you, you know that?” Leon said, thumbs stroking circles into your skin. “I know I don’t really say it often, but I do. I love you.”
You smile. “I know.”
“Y’know, I figured out of the two of us I’d be Han Solo.”
“Nah, you’re my princess.”
“I’m not dressing up as Leia if that’s what you’re hinting at.”
“Boo, you whore.”
Leon snorted, rolling his eyes fondly before pulling away. “Alright, I’m gonna go get changed. See you in a bit.”
He pressed one last kiss to the top of your head before walking off, and as you watched him you felt that certain fondness swell in your chest. He was your everything, the one you loved most ardently, and who, by some grace of God, loved you so ardently in return.
“Hey, Leon?”
Leon turned around, having just entered the hallway. “Yeah, sweetheart?”
“I love you too.”
He smiled softly, and that was your raison d’être. You could see a million stars, watch thousands of meteor showers, look up at a twilight sky, and none of it would compare to the view right before you.
“I know.”