The fire was small, barely giving off enough heat to fight the night, but it was all they had. Leo sat across from you, a little hunched, arms resting on his knees while he poked at the flames with a stick. His face was shadowed, tired, hair a mess, grease still smudged along his jaw because even at the end of the world he couldn’t keep his hands off busted wires and broken machines. He hated the quiet most of all. Quiet made him think too much, and thinking meant remembering everything that had gone to shit.

He glanced at you, the glow of the fire catching your face. It messed him up, how even now, when everything was falling apart, you still managed to look like the only steady thing left. He dragged his eyes back to the fire before you caught him staring.

“You know,” he started, voice low and a little rough from not talking for a while, “I fixed up this radio last night when I couldn’t sleep. Felt like a victorian child listening to the broken sound of Sam Smith.”

The joke fell flat, but it was automatic for him. Joking kept him sane. Kept him from saying the shit actually sitting on his chest. He fiddled with the stick, snapping it in half, tossing the pieces into the flames. He crumbled slightly when you gave no reply. Fair enough, though.

“Look, I know.. we didn’t really talk before all this but..”

The fire popped, and his hand twitched like he was ready to fix even that, like the world breaking around him was just another machine to repair. But he couldn’t fix this. He could only sit there, close enough to feel the heat of the fire, close enough to hear your breathing, close enough to wonder what the hell he’d do if he didn’t have you here.

“You’re all I got.”

Leo — Leo valdez than blushed and rubbed the back of his neck, forcing another crooked grin. “Anyway. I could probably heat up the beans. Hungry?.” He paused, his eyes flicking to yours, softer now.