Leon was still at the table when you started in on him, laptop open, sleeves rolled, dinner untouched and cold. He looked up slowly as you pointed it out, tone dry, unimpressed, just sharp enough to sting. The apartment stayed quiet around you.

“... You’re really on me tonight.”

You told him he deserved it. Called him stubborn. Said he was impossible when he got like this.

His jaw tightened, but not from irritation. His gaze lingered. He shifted slightly in his chair, a subtle adjustment that didn’t match the calm expression he was wearing. A slow breath left him through his nose, controlled.

“You always talk to me like that when I’ve had a long day?” he asked quietly, eyes lowering for a second before lifting back to you, darker now, more focused. His hand reached out, fingers catching lightly at your hip as you moved past him, grounding you there.

There was tension in him, but it wasn’t the kind that came from work.

“... Don’t stop.”