mcfuckin-mctruckin:
If there was anything that Leon was expecting to find when he got home, it was probably not this.
Because there scrunched up amongst the pillows of his couch with a little pile of random stolen snacks and a game controller in his hands was someone all too familiar.
Though Al makes no move to get up or even explain how he got here, he gives a quick nod of his head in greeting.
“Holy shit, what is uuuuup. Heard you got out of hiding and thought, damn dude, should totally do that too. So here I am, coming out of my cage, doing just fine, you know. The whole deal. Been a while, huh? Like damn, where did time even go. It’s been.. . It’s been.” Giving a noncommittal flick of his wrist, he concludes that thought immediately and instead holds up an empty brightly colored bag that was once one of Leon’s snacks. “Anyway, you’re all out of these. Waited so long that I ended up raiding your cabinets. What are these anyway, they’re bomb dot com.”
Refocusing, he grins.
“Soooo. Wanna hang out?”
Oh what the fuck.
A tiny underwhelming wave of surprise washes over Leon, making him jolt to a halt in his own doorway, after which he recovers his composure basically immediately. The shock is about as hard to deal with as a gentle ripple of water slapping him in the shins as he meanders along the beach. Except in this case the beach is the door to his flat and the wave is an outrageously influential nation (one who Leon exists maybe two or three degrees of kevin bacons away from) chilling on his couch and getting into all his shit.
This is basically not even a problem, is the point here.
“Oh. Hey. My horoscope warned me something weird would happen to me today.”
Leon drops his bag of groceries on a little table directly to the left of his front door - already cluttered with a stout electric fan, a half-empty pack of water bottles, and a coat sagging onto the floor. He finds room for it though.
But on second thought, since Al is flapping an empty crisps bag at him like a shitty crinkly flag, Leon pulls another new one from his groceries bag, which is evidently not so much ‘groceries’ as ‘i stopped by a convenience store on my way home and went sorta bonkers’.
He ragdolls onto the couch at Al’s side, and drops the new bag of crisps on his chest. “Calbee. I got the curry one today. Felt like branching out. What’re we playing?”














