TOO SWEET by hozier
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HAPPY SEPTEMBER 30TH!!! i just wanted to pop something out for the day, so have this really badly written one-shot that i'll maybe (or maybe not) fix up.
but that doesn't matter because i am no writer and this is all for shits and giggles.
tw: implied drugging and implied kidnapping
âË⚠ἍáĄ. đ
leon was too old for this. for this crush thing that he's been dealing with recently. a thirty-six-year-old man shouldn't have to deal with the butterflies, the random flustered faces at work, and the fantasies that were too explicit to share.
yet she's absolutely enamored him. heart and soul, he'd say, she's taken it. while she, his darling angel, has no absolute idea what she's done to him.
she started as the new F.O.S intern, tasked with the job of helping leon out with his daily schedule there at the office while learning a few things from hunnigan. yes, it wasn't all about him, but it was still something that leon wasn't too fond of. sure, he's gotten lazy on paperwork, but leon didn't see a need to have a babysitter. it's demeaning and insulting. especially for someone who's given all his life to this goddamn coun-
leon's internal rant was cut off when he saw her, sitting down in the conference room waiting to meet him. she was in her early twenties, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. she was the prettiest little thing he'd ever seen.
leon had changed his mind in an instant. with those berry pouted lips, she could absolutely demean the life out of him if she wanted to. command him like an absolute dog.
and that's how it's been for the past year now, moving from F.O.S intern to leon's personal assistant. leon had somehow convinced her that it was a much better position for her than being an F.O.S agent. and for whatever reason, she agreed.
since then, leonâs joked that she was his work wife. she got him to meetings on time, made sure all of his paperwork was filed properly, and made sure he looked presentable wherever he went. and he would take her out for lunch and buy her presents. itâs a fair trade, she thought. but she never figured that he would take her job description too seriously. that he would look at all the things she was supposed to do as anything romantic.
but she should've known better. leon had always been a bit too touchy with her. a hand always placed at the small of her back, the soft touches on her cheek, and the excuses to always have her hand in his. not to mention the way he looked at her. goodness, she would've guessed she hung the moon, created the stars, and lit up the sun every day. leonâs love-stricken gaze went right over her silly head.
what an idiot.
leon thought it nice to finally have someone to dote on, much less someone to dote on him too. it was something he had only ever dreamed of. and with his approaching birthday, leonâs fear of growing old with no one was steadily becoming a reality.
he needed that to change, and she was going to help him.
leon will invite her to share an early birthday meal with him in his office. maybe some greasy chinese takeout and a bottle of whiskey. but he'll leave a small surprise for her in her glass.
they'll both eat and share a few laughs.
but halfway through, she'll start to feel sleepy, and he'd assure her that it's okay to take a nap. he'll wake her if someone comes looking for her. but that nap will last a few hours, which will give him enough time to sneak her out of the building and into his car. or maybe he won't. maybe leon will parade her around in his arms, tell people that she wasn't feeling well, and he's taking her to the on-site clinic and then home. ya'know like a good supervisor.
It's Christmas Eve and Leon can't quite wrap his head around his drop-dead-gorgeous girlfriend's need to be 4 inches off the ground, but maybe there's more to your fashion choices than what he considers a faux pas.
f / m, established relationship, tooth ROTTING fluff, the barest baby twinge of angst and surprise ending ehehehe. also, super short!
word count: 898 // read on ao3
a/n: christmas in july oh my lord. tmi i'm on my period and i've had lover by taylor swift on blast for 3 hours :( give your girl a break and pretend my dividers match
this fic belongs to sketches for my sweetheart the drunk, a collection of bite-sized fics to stretch out my writing muscles :) i hope you enjoy!
âNo, sweetheart, the- no, the buckle comes off the other way.âÂ
If he were a lesser man, Leon would be laughing his head off at your flushed cheeks and bleary pout. You were going to do this right here, right now, plunked on the frozen stoop of your front door, mere steps from the warmth of your apartment.Â
âI can take off my own shoes! I bought them my- hic! -self.â
âYou did, sweetheart, â Leon soothes as he gets down on one knee, âand I know you can take them off fine, but you werenât drunk when you bought them, were you?â
âIâm not drunk. Iâm just...â you sulk. You would have sold the act too if it wasnât for a sleepy jerk of your head. You always get sleepy when youâre, â...tipsy.âÂ
Ah, there it is.
Your toes are a half-frozen cherry red as Leon unclasps the buckle adorning your beloved heels.Â
Thereâs not much Leon can do about your affinity for heels, even in the winter, so he grew a sixth sense for detecting falls around the time you almost tripped headfirst into the Christmas table at your parentsâ house. You havenât quite put together yet why heâs so on his toes when you wear stilettos, but Leon is okay with that. Batman never reveals his identity and if this is how he keeps Gothamâs urgent cares a little less occupied, so be it.
The fact of the matter is that Leon has perfected his method to three steps:
Watch for abnormal movement in your fingers. You start fluttering them like youâre Tinkerbell. Like youâre trying to take off from the ground and fly right back up to heaven without him, and he canât have that just yet.
Assume position when you start laughing too hard at his jokes to distract from the fact that youâre about to fall. You never laugh at his one-liners (the best heâs ever gotten out of you is a giggle and that was on his birthday).Â
Engage nearest mode of rescue the second your eyes start flitting around in search of a place to land.Â
But above all, the one condition that puts him on red alert is when youâve been drinking. His sweetheart is a complete lightweight.Â
And tonight, youâd had too much fun at Claireâs Christmas dinner.
It takes a little longer than usual for Leonâs icy fingers to undo the buckle on your other shoe. âThe mulled wine was that good, huh?â he asks, his lips curving into a smile as he looks up at you and your crossed arms.
He gets a hmph! in response.
âYou look beautiful. You always do, itâs justâŚcould we maybe save the ankle-breaking shoes for when the groundâs not frozen over?âÂ
The frown flies back on your face within seconds. His peace treatyâs gone south. âBut Leon, theyâre my Christmas heels! I always wear them on Christmas.â
Oh, he knows.Â
âThatâs why theyâre Christmas heels,â you point out.Â
Of course, youâre right. Theyâre the very same Christmas heels that so rudely interrupted his enjoyment of your momâs to-die-for lamb roast. Leonâs also sure that theyâre the ones that got repurposed on New Yearâs Eve two years back. He had to kiss you under the table next to the girls chowing down grapes, and itâs a lot less romantic when half of them shoot you death glares while theyâre wishing to not spend Valentineâs Day alone again. Come to think of it, Leon hasnât had grapes in a while.
âItâs not Christmas if I donât wear them,â you mumble.Â
You donât sound so sure of yourself.Â
Leonâs plea deal might be back on the table.
His thumb rubs circles on your ankle as you swallow. His kneeâs freezing over, almost attached to the sidewalk by now, but your mouse-quiet confession glues him to the spot.
âI lied.â
âThese arenât your Christmas heels?â
A snowdrop tear rolls down your cheek.Â
âI didnât buy them. You did, for me. I love them. Love you.â
You sniffle so sweetly, your cheeks still candy-apple red as he wraps your scarf tighter to keep you from catching a cold on his account. But itâs not enough to distract Leon from the fact that he bought you these shoes?
Oh no, no, no, youâre nodding as Leonâs face freezes into a horrified grimace. Heâs responsible for the Heels from Hell?
âSweetheart, I just donât want you getting hurt.â He takes your hands in his as your lower lip wobbles. He feels just awful. âItâs Christmas because I get to spend it with you, okay? Heels or no heels.â
âYou mean it?â
âThose damn things have nearly sent you to the hospital, of course I mean it.â
And finally, finally, you smile. Hark! The herald angels sing.Â
âLetâs get you inside.â Leon smiles back, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Heâd have gotten up too if he hadnât suddenly come to a comical stop, his left knee still perpendicular to the ground.
You look down and stifle a giggle. âLeon, youâre frozen to the sidewalk.â
âSo I am. Ow.âÂ
You lend him a helping hand as the two of you stumble inside the warm apartment, and Leon thinks heâll go online shopping once you fall asleep. For less dangerous Christmas heels, sure.
But also something else. Something shiny.Â
He really didnât mind being on one knee for you.
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