AMERICAN WEDDING // L.K
AMERICAN WEDDING: Now whatās mine is yoursā thatās American Law
attention: fluff, fem!reader, married!leon ā im tired of the ada/claire discourse, heās married to me i donāt make the rules ā 1k
āM-r-s. K-e-n-n-e-d-yā
Leon remembers it like it was yesterday.
He watched you write with such enthusiasm, it almost washed away the skepticism he had of you ever becoming and staying his wife. The quick scribble of your hand and the shake in your giggle made his body jump; no one ever gave him the comfort of feeling loved just as intensely as he loved you. That was until he saw you jump for joy feeling him place the same ring you wear today on your finger all that time ago. The joy in your eyes, the content look of love on your face that beamed when you glanced at him, tossing the pen back on the desk after you signed your marriage license.
Heās 49 now, but when he was younger, he felt like the world was on his shoulders. The only salvation he had was his own autonomy and this decision was non-negotiable.
He thinks back to when he was scribbling vows to say to you even though it was just you and the judge. Those words meant the world to him even though they hardly left his mouth in such a mushy way in your shared day-to-day. When he wrote them the night before your wedding, he cursed himself while hovering over the desk in your bedroom as you slept. Chris told him when they first met that marrying would feel more like an insurance policy than a relationship, but when he recounted that memory as he scratched on the paper words his mouth wouldnāt let him say, Chris couldnāt have been more wrong.
Especially when it came to finally saying them. Leonās eyes met yours in nervousness, bright blond hair doing its best to cover watering blue eyes. His voice shook in worry like it all felt temporary. He loved you deeply and he could hardly contain it through the hard to read sentences that made him squint, stutter and restart. That was until you took his hand. You always proved to be a constant in his life.
He kept his words to a minimum, but with the blush forming on the apples of his cheeks, the thrill of genuinely being āMr. Kennedyā rattled the heart inside his chest. It was when you lifted your ring finger to show something only mildly flashy with a āhow do I look?ā made him respond with the sweetest, āyour eyes still shine brighter than that thing.ā
And yes, that was the fifth out of seven options he had for you.
That was just the beginning.
Though Leon never took off his ring, he tattooed the band on his finger just in case he lost it during a mission he was on. That ring was his favorite piece of jewelry. It reminded him of you. It didnāt matter if he was going to the store, grabbing a drink from the bar by himself or on a mission, he still thought about his Mrs. Kennedy.
And the missionsā this man didnāt think he would be able to survive with the idea of you stressed about his well being. But the show had to keep going. Leon made sure to show a side of himself that was filled with charisma and confidence that he thought every man should have at that age. But you knew better when he was fighting with you and Sherry in his ears. Sherry of course was there for the intel, but the minute his bluetooth call disconnected, heād talk you through his thoughts, even chuckling with blood all over his body as you jokingly tell him that heās responsible for dinner.
āLet me make it out alive and Iāll be home with your favorite.ā
His missions were as vulnerable as youāve ever seen him. You heard the shake in his voice, the grunt he released from the power of his weapons and the hopelessness when he grew too tired. Leon saw people die all of the time. From viruses, by his own hand, from natural causes. It was fair for him to assume that you would eventually do the same. The only thing he wouldnāt have been able to bear is divorce. He felt silly for it, but heād give you everything he had in his name and still fight to get you back. You being able to reassure him with your own round of jokes made his heart warm.
Of course, your favorite pastime was getting to just be with Leon, in his arms. Him being home was the equivalent of everything returning to base. Itās never been a question to him; heād rather be wrapped in your warmth than even a step outside. He always made sure to hold you close. So when he did come home from that mission with a tattered bag filled with a sorry excuse for dinner in his hand and bruises and wounds all over his skin and an outfit that was all too baggy to be his, you knew it was company issued so he could get home in something clean.
You were just happy to be with him again. So of course, the food stayed on the counter, you helped him get clean and let him drag you into bed with him. You couldāve talked to him for hours, but your internal clock was on a different schedule. At least that night.
āHeyāā he called out with a faux calm as you turned from him. It was a simple shift so you could get comfortable in bed, but he didnāt see it that way. āFace me,ā and the best part of you being his wife, you almost felt it in your bones to obey his instruction, pulled into his embrace as his breath shakes around you. āYou can do backflips in the bed for all I care, as long as Iām not here. But when Iām here?ā he started, looking you in the eyes. āYou, me,ā all of a sudden, you see a hand motion between the two of you, āhere. Like this? Got it?ā
āI love you too, Mr. Kennedy.ā
