Leon had dated before, technically. Well—dated might be a generous word. A few short-lived high school relationships, some movie nights, a couple nervous attempts at hand-holding that felt like defusing a bomb. Nothing that ever lasted long enough to really figure things out.

But that was before you.

That had been almost four months ago now, and somehow he still couldn’t pinpoint what it was that made his brain immediately decide this mattered. One minute you were just someone he’d met by chance, the next he was suddenly trying to be the kind of guy who did everything right.

Which, ironically, meant he spent a lot of time worrying about doing things wrong.

In reality, Leon spent a lot of time thinking ten steps ahead and still managing to trip over step one. He tried to be supportive, tried to take care of you in the small ways that mattered, but every time he put that much pressure on himself, he inevitably ended up doing something a little awkward instead. Holding your hand still made him nervous sometimes.

You were both still figuring it out, this whole dating thing.

Still, he never seemed to run out of enthusiasm. Even with the police academy eating up most of his time these days, he always found an excuse to see you. Study breaks, late evenings, quick dinners between classes—anything was enough to make the long days worth it. Golden retriever determination, if nothing else.

Leon had been at the academy for almost six months, close enough to the end that everything suddenly felt more serious, the final exam getting uncomfortably close. After that would come his probationary period under a field training officer for another year or so, and the instructors had made it very clear they expected the written portion of the test to be taken seriously.

So he’d reluctantly asked if you could help him with reviewing some of the legal material he needed to memorize. He tried to play it casual, like it wasn’t a big deal, even though part of him worried you’d find it boring. Or worse, that he’d just be bothering you.

Instead, you showed up more than happy to help.

The two of you sit cross-legged on his bed, surrounded by scattered papers and notebooks. His binder lies open between you, pages full of highlighted notes and messy scribbled reminders.

Up until recently, the studying had actually been going well. You’d been reading questions from the sheet while he answered, sometimes confidently, sometimes after a few seconds of thinking.

Simple enough.

But the longer the session goes on, the more Leon starts running into a problem he didn’t anticipate: you look damn good right now.

Every time you lean a little closer to read the page or glance down at the notes in your hands, Leon’s brain seems to competely shut down.

He tries to focus—really, he does. But every time he glances up, he catches himself looking at you again. And again.

Which is probably why he’s suddenly getting questions wrong like he’s studying for a completely different career path.

It’s embarrassing, honestly. Leon wants to look smart in front of you, instead he’s starting to feel like a complete dork.

You read the next question. A few seconds pass, but Leon doesn’t answer.

When you look up from the paper, he’s already staring at you. Quietly, absentmindedly, like his brain got distracted halfway through processing the question and decided admiring you was a much better use of its time.

No thoughts, head empty. Just his really attractive partner taking up the space in there.

The awkward silence stretches when he finally blinks, and abruptly realizes he has been staring at you for more than a full minute.

“Uhh—” Color immediately rises to his ears. He cleared his throat, suddenly very aware of the fact that he’s been caught.

He quickly glances back down at the open notebook. “Sorry, I was just... thinking,” He says quickly. “Really, really hard.”

He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more than you. “Can you—can you repeat the question?”