Summary: Some battles don’t end when the mission does. When Leon returns home carrying more than he can bear, you stay by his side through the sleepless nights, the nightmares, and every fragile moment in between – loving him through the parts of himself he struggles to face.
Word count: 2k
Featuring: comfort, fluff, light angst, hurt/comfort, nightmares, post-nightmare comfort, emotional vulnerability, gentle touch, hugging, kissing, helping Leon shower, established relationship.
A/N: In my HCs, this poor man rarely has peaceful nights, so I decided to put my own visualization into writing, where we properly comfort him. Insert your favourite Leon here. English is not my native language, sorry for any mistakes.
Leon’s returns from missions were always difficult for him. Coming back to reality after all the horrors he’d endured never happened overnight. And while your presence was the best remedy he had, sometimes even that wasn’t enough – sometimes the memories haunted him in the one place you couldn’t follow him: his dreams.
Leon had come home at dawn. He hadn’t slept a wink that night, only curling up against your back and gently stroking you, careful not to wake you. During the day, he’d been distant – lost in thought, absent-minded, needing a few extra seconds to answer even the simplest of your questions.
You knew he couldn’t help it. All you could do was stay by his side and surround him with care every step of the way – and that’s exactly what you did, never leaving him alone for a moment. Though he couldn’t quite put it into words, you knew he was grateful; the way he held you close, lingering in your warm, safe embrace, said more than a thousand words ever could.
By evening, his exhaustion was showing badly. He was noticeably worn out, dropping things from his hands, struggling to focus. When he sat with his laptop on his lap and you watched him take three times longer than usual to read a single email, squinting at the screen, you shut it with one firm motion and ordered him to bed.
It always started the same way – lying beside him, running your fingers through his hair while he tossed and turned endlessly, unable to find a comfortable position. At times like these, none of them felt right. All that mattered was that you were there.
Once his eyelids began to droop, you gently pulled him against you, guiding his head onto your chest just the way he liked it.
Listening to your heartbeat and feeling your arms wrapped tightly around him was always the fastest way to lull him to sleep. Soon enough, his quiet, steady breathing filled the room. Stroking his scalp gently, you drifted off not long after.
You were woken by a sharp shove, your eyes flying open in alarm.
Leon was lying slightly below you now, on his back – he’d accidentally hit you in his sleep, his arm now resting across your stomach. One glance was enough to tell you he was trapped in another nightmare.
His breathing was quick, a light sheen of sweat on his forehead, muttering under his breath as his head tossed side to side. You sat up and placed a hand against his cheek, which only made him flinch and roll onto his side, turning his back to you.
You scooted closer, stroking him slowly from elbow to shoulder. When you noticed him calming slightly, you decided not to wake him, afraid he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again afterward.
You watched him for a while, catching half-formed words slipping from his lips every so often – “shit,” “don’t.” You wanted so badly to pull him free from that endless loop of memories. It hurt knowing he was reliving it all again, even when he was no longer physically trapped in that hell.
Eventually, exhaustion won over, and you drifted off again lightly, one arm around his waist, your hand clasped tightly with his.
The next time you woke was to exactly what you’d feared most.
The darkness and silence of your bedroom were shattered by a shout –
“Let fucking go!”
Your eyes snapped open as Leon shot upright in bed, breathing heavily, head hanging low, his hair completely hiding his face. Instinctively, you reached out to brush it aside.
“Leon, it’s okay, it’s me – ” you started, but the second your fingers brushed his chin, he jolted violently and recoiled, bracing himself on his hands.
He lifted his head, but he wasn’t looking at you – his gaze was vacant, panicked.
You reached for him again, trying to grab his hand, but before you could, Leon scrambled to the edge of the bed in a split second, arm reaching toward the nightstand.
“Where’s my fucking gun,” he muttered frantically.
“Leon,” you repeated, knowing your words didn’t matter right now – he just needed to hear your voice until he found his way back to you.
He tried to stand, but the hand he braced against the nightstand slipped, knocking the lamp down with it. Leon stumbled forward and crashed onto the floor.
“Fuck – are you okay?” You jumped out of bed and rushed to him, kneeling beside and grabbing his shoulder firmly.
For a moment, he stayed there, palms against the floor, before sitting up and leaning against the bed frame.
His eyes were glassy, lips parted, hair plastered messily to forehead. But this time, he was looking directly at you. His mouth moved, though no words came out.
You placed one hand on his chest – heart was pounding violently beneath your palm – and the other against his cheek, stroking gently.
“I’m here, Leon. We’re home. You’re safe.”
He exhaled shakily, lifting his hand to place it over yours, as if reassuring himself you were real. That he was real, too.
You gave him a moment to breathe before sliding your hand to the back of his head and pulling him gently against your chest, letting him bury himself into you.
He gave in without hesitation, one arm wrapping around your waist while the other stayed planted on the floor to keep from putting all his weight on you.
You rubbed slow circles into his back – not lightly. You wanted him to feel your touch, grounding and undeniable.
It didn’t escape your notice that his shirt was nearly soaked through. His body trembled every so often, still shaking off the remnants of the nightmare.
Eventually, he pulled away, hand running through his hair.
“Sorry...” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
You simply squeezed his hand.
“We’ve talked about this. Don’t apologize for something you can’t control.”
You leaned in and kissed his cheek deliberately.
He responded with a faint nod before standing, placing the fallen lamp back upright and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
“I... uh, gonna take a shower real quick,” he muttered, heading for the door.
“Want help?”
“No, ’m fine. Get back to sleep, hun,” he replied far too quickly before disappearing from sight.
You knew that even if he wouldn’t admit it, he was upset with himself for waking you in the middle of the night. Typical Leon. Instead of worrying about the fact he couldn’t sleep, he only cared that you had been disturbed.
You had no intention of listening to him and simply going back to bed – but you decided to give him a moment to breathe.
You opened the window to air out the room, fixed the blankets, grabbed a glass of water and set it by the bed, picked out a fresh shirt for him, then headed to the bathroom.
You found Leon sitting in the shower stall, his back against the wall, knees pulled to his chest, sitting motionless beneath the water.
“Hey,” you announced softly, not wanting to startle him.
Water streamed down his skin, hair soaked completely, and you couldn’t help but think he looked like a drenched puppy.
“It’s cold over there without you. Don’t make me wait too long,” you said with a shy smile, crouching beside him so you were eye level.
He turned toward you, thoughtful.
“Just a minute. Almost done.”
“You don’t look very busy, Leon...” you laughed, flicking his nose gently.
A small smile tugged at his lips as he shook his head.
“Right.”
“Up. Let the expert handle this,” you said casually, standing and waiting for him to follow.
You angled the showerhead aside so the water only hit him and not you, then grabbed a sponge and your favorite body wash.
“And lavender?” he asked, sounding mildly betrayed.
“You had plenty of time to pick something else. Your loss,” you replied, dabbing foam against his chin.
He rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitched.
He stood still, watching your every movement as you carefully washed over his stomach and lower abdomen.
“Turn around, mister,” you ordered, and he obediently did as told while you began washing his back.
He was still tense – you could feel it in the way he held himself – so you took your time, making sure every touch was slow and deliberate.
You knew your touch meant everything to him. Though he’d never say it aloud, he’d probably only been waiting for you to come after him.
Only with you could he fully let his guard down. Only you were allowed to see this vulnerable side of him.
“There. Clean, pretty, and smelling nice. Out you go,” you declared, waiting with a towel.
Leon stepped out and took it from you, drying himself off.
The second he had his shirt and pajama pants on, he grabbed your hand and pulled you into him, hugging you tightly.
“Thanks. Needed that,” he admitted.
“I know,” you said smugly, puckering your lips expectantly for your reward.
Which didn’t come.
Instead, Leon kissed your forehead. Then your right cheek. Then your left – painfully slowly. Then your nose.
Only then did he glance down at your lips, now twisted into an exaggerated pout.
“So eager,” he chuckled quietly before finally pressing a sweet kiss to your mouth. His hands wandered across your back.
“Come to bed,” you whispered, your lips still close enough to feel his breath.
He simply nodded, pressing one last peck to the corner of your mouth before leading you back toward the bedroom, his hand in yours.
You climbed into bed and lay back, waiting for him.
Leon sat on the edge first, sneaking a glance your way before drinking the water you’d left for him.
Then he finally climbed over you, settling his body between your spread legs, his head once again resting on your chest.
You ran your fingers through his hair, gently brushing it aside – it was still damp. If he left it like that, he’d wake up looking like he’d been struck by lightning. That sight never stopped amusing you.
“You okay?” he asked after a moment. “Am I crushing you?”
There was uncertainty in his voice. Remnants of guilt.
“With you here? Never better,” you chuckled, tracing your finger slowly along his jaw.
“I hate when you see me like this,” he murmured, tilting his head up to meet your eyes.
Even in the dim light, you could tell he was searching your face for reassurance – that you weren’t upset with him.
How could you ever be?
“You hate when I see my beloved husband? Because that’s what this comes down to, Leon. I don’t care if you’re angry, sad, or scared. I want to be by your side through all of it. For better or worse. Isn’t that what I promised when I made my vows to you?”.
“I know,” he whispered. He knew he couldn’t argue with that. He knew you were right.
Leon lifted your hand from his cheek and pressed a long, gentle kiss to your wedding ring.
“Luckiest man on earth...” he mumbled.
“Well, aside from stealing your shirts, I really don’t have many flaws,” you teased, returning the gesture by kissing his ring the same way.
You lay there quietly for a while, basking in each other’s warmth before Leon asked shyly –
“Will you scratch my back?”
“Sure.”
Keeping one hand at the back of his neck, you slipped the other beneath his shirt and began scratching gently, moving slowly up and down his back.
He answered with a pleased hum.
Twice, you tried to stop, thinking he’d fallen asleep – but each time he let out a sleepy, protesting groan, so you obediently continued, fighting off your own exhaustion.
Eventually, sleep claimed you both.
You slept peacefully, tangled together, until the first rays of morning began slipping through the bedroom curtains.
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