Leon had long days.

More often than not, his job meant exhaustion layered over old injuries and new ones he refused to complain about. Missions ran late. Briefings ran earlier. And somewhere in between he was expected to fight bio-weapons like it was just another Tuesday.

Years of that kind of work did things to a person.

In Leon’s case, it meant stubbornly bad posture and a back that constantly reminded him he wasn’t twenty-one anymore.

You noticed it long before he did.

The slight hunch when he was reading reports. The way his shoulders tightened after long drives. The subtle stiffness whenever he stood up after sitting too long.

So you started correcting it.

A hand on his shoulder pushing him upright. A quiet “Sit up straight, Kennedy” whenever he slouched. At first he complained about it, but eventually the habit stuck.

His posture got better.

The back pain… not so much.

You suggested he get professional massages more than once. Some licensed therapist who actually knew what they were doing.

Leon shot that down immediately.

“No way.”

He didn’t want some stranger working their hands into his back, and in his mind there was no point paying someone when you were right there anyway.

So you started doing it.

At first you had no clue what you were doing. Leon didn’t either. It was a lot of trial and error. Too much pressure. Not enough pressure. Learning where the knots were and what spots made him tense up more.

Eventually you figured it out.

Now it was just part of the routine.

Bad mission. Sore back. You fixed it.

Which was exactly how you ended up here tonight.

Leon had just returned from another operation. The kind he brushed off with a dry joke even though it clearly kicked the hell out of him.

He had just returned from another job that sounded like something straight out of a nightmare. Zombies. Old enemies who apparently refused to stay dead. And, according to his own reluctant confession, an unnecessary backflip that looked cool at the time but completely wrecked his back afterward.

So here you were.

Leon lay face down across the bed, arms folded under his head. His jacket and shirt were tossed somewhere on the floor, leaving his back bare beneath your hands.

You straddled his lower back to keep steady pressure while your thumbs dug into a stubborn knot near his shoulder blade.

Leon let out a quiet grunt.

“Lower…”

His voice was muffled by his arms and rough with exhaustion.