Leon had always been broad.

Even back when you first met him, there was a solidness to him. Now, after years of missions, fighting things no one should have to fight, and somehow surviving all of it, his build had settled into something stronger. Wider shoulders. Defined muscle. A back that carried more than just physical weight.

To you, though?

It was a canvas.

So when you both finally got a rare two days off, and a package showed up at your door filled with tattoo markers, Leon didn’t even bother asking questions.

He already knew.

Which is how he ended up stretched out on the couch, shirtless, one arm tucked under his head while some random show played on the TV that he wasn’t really paying attention to.

You, however, were very focused.

Sitting comfortably on his lower back, you leaned forward slightly, one hand steadying yourself while the other carefully dragged color across his skin.

Leon exhaled slowly, the faintest hint of amusement in it.

“…Should I be concerned?” he asked, voice lazy.

“Nope.”

That was not reassuring.

He shifted slightly under you, just enough to get comfortable again.

“What are you even drawing?”

You didn’t answer right away, too busy adding another line, another detail.

“Art,” you said simply.

Leon huffed a quiet laugh.

“That narrows it down.”

Your fingers pressed lightly against his shoulder as you adjusted your position, the marker gliding across the muscle there. His skin was warm under your touch, steady and relaxed.

“You’re ruining my reputation,” he added after a second. “What if someone sees this?”

You snorted.

“Please. You fight bio-weapons for a living. I think you’ll survive a few doodles.”

“Depends what the doodles are.”

You paused just long enough to tap the marker against his back.

“Maybe I’m giving you a full sleeve. You don’t know.”

“…You better not be drawing anything embarrassing.”

The way he said it made it very clear he absolutely expected you to be doing exactly that.

You smiled to yourself and kept going, adding another flourish, another line that curved with the shape of his back.

Leon went quiet after that, letting you work. Every now and then he’d glance toward the TV, but mostly he just laid there, relaxed in a way he didn’t get to be very often.

After a few minutes, he spoke again. Leon shifted his head to the side slightly.

“You almost done, Picasso?”