Leon’s body is warm against yours as the two of you rest in your shared bed, backs propped up against the headboard and your head on his shoulder.

It’s your day off and Leon’s not due to be sent away on a mission for the foreseeable future, so your schedules lining up call for a cozy date at home. In fact, it’s so cozy that all you can hear is the low dialogue emitting from the TV show you’re watching and the sound of Leon’s pencil scribbling against one of the thin pages in his word-search book.

Actually, you were the one who bought it for him. That, and the other word-search books that sit on a pile on his work desk that have yet to even be cracked open. Perhaps your bulk purchase was a bit much, but it was done with good intentions.

After reading that dedicating some time to doing word-searches can help with cognitive function, you were so set on getting them for Leon. You figured it would be incredibly effective in combating all the bruise and batter Leon’s head endures during each mission.

Whether the puzzles will actually help Leon or not when he reaches the age where people tend to be forgetful, neither of you will know until that time comes. On the bright side, he seems to have taken to his new hobby with gusto. If you glance over at the book in his hand, you’ll see that he’s already on his sixth puzzle of the day.

Leon sighs through his nose, leans his head down to press a kiss to the top of yours while still keeping his eyes glued to the scrambled map of letters beneath his pencil. He does this whenever he’s been hunting for a word for more than five minutes.