Despite its unclear and less than straightforward nature, what you and Leon have is something that he holds dear, and he doesn’t have much to hold dear anymore. In his life, most things are classified. Even if he wanted to tell you, he couldn’t. He likes to think that your connection is the same way, except it’s him that can read the words underneath the black bars hiding the contents from the rest of the world. You’re written in invisible ink on his heart, only visible when the light in your eyes or curve of your smile breaks his chest open and reveals the depth of his care for you.

Leon watches as you nap beside him on your couch. After such a strenuous and perilous mission, the sight of your steadily rising chest and unmarred skin is a blessing to his eyes. Eyes that trace the swell of your body underneath the blanket wrapped around you two with an affection he never thought himself possible to have.

You are true comforts physical form. The embodiment of peace that many would have killed and died for. A well of the freshest and purest crystal clear water that his parched soul would gladly drown in.

The few inches of distance between you two closes slightly as he takes the opportunity of you waking to wrap a hand around your wrist as it rests over your stomach, feeling the melodic thud of your pulse underneath the pad of his index finger. Despite how feather-light his touch is, you stir, and he smiles.

“Sorry.”

His voice is a low hum that vibrates through his chest, pulling you further away from the throes of unconsciousness and back into his arms.

“Couldn’t help myself.”