Sep 30, 2023
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The Breaking Point
Re4!Leon x Gender Neutral Reader
Working admin as an agent, you were used to filing away the worst of the worst. You knew every agent had a breaking point, no matter how strong their exterior can be. When Leon’s acting off after a particularly long mission, you can’t help but wonder if he might finally be reaching his.
Word count: ~3k
Tags/warnings: re4!Leon, agent!Reader, hurt/comfort, reverse-comfort, physical whump, emotional whump, implied/referenced ptsd, crying, mentions of vomiting, mentions of canon-typical violence, soft content, stomach ache, sickfic (??), cuddling, anxiety, panic attacks, vulnerable!Leon, caretaker!reader, angst with a happy ending.
A/N: Yeah so. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t actually wanna write porn and I kinda just want Leon to suffer?? I feel like there’s no content where Leon’s the one getting comforted by you so if you’re like me, this is for you.
Leon was an expert at hiding how he felt.
You’ve seen it time and time again, how easily he’s able to keep his emotions from bubbling to the surface. Each time he’s come back from a mission just to be thrown into another one. Each report he’s had to make in your home office and recount every gruesome detail of what he’s seen. Leon was good at making sure the mask didn’t crack until he had no choice.
It wasn’t like you judged him much for how he acted. It was natural to stay closed off in this profession. You were no stranger to work that hurt, feelings you’d prefer be stored in old boxes. Filing away the government’s dirty secrets wasn’t the happiest job, not when you knew the kinds of things that happened out in the field. But it gave you Leon. So long as he stayed working for these people, you knew you would, too.
When you picked Leon up from the airport that evening, he seemed restless to get in the car. He dumped his duffle in the back seat and tried not to wince when you snaked a hand through his bangs.
You felt your chest tighten when Leon’s face set in a scowl instead of smiling back instinctively. He looked wrung out. Since meeting him through the agency, he’d always been a tough egg to crack.
“Mission go sideways?” You asked. You knew the drill. It wasn’t right to poke around for bad details. Leon would give them to you if he thought it was necessary, usually disguised as him asking to proofread his reports. “They kept you for a while before they cleared you.”
Leon offered you one of his famous smirks, tainted by the uneasy look on his face. He looked a little too nauseated for you to buy it.
“I made it out,” Leon swallowed hard and shrugged. He wouldn’t look at you when he said it. “So did the rescue target. Best case scenario, right?”
“Sounds like it,” You nod softly. If he didn’t want to talk about it, that was fine. You knew it would trickle out eventually.
Without a response, you shift gears and head towards home—which was really your home that Leon had slowly moved into in between missions. It was one of those times you were thankful you worked up in admin instead of on the field. The idea there was a stable place for you both to go back to when you weren’t drowning in work made all the difference.
It was hard to mind your own business when Leon’s leg bounced feverishly up and down in the passenger seat. Eyes glued to the highway, you caught a glimpse of him every few seconds. His compression shirt seemed too tight on him, arms squeezed over his stomach like his innards might fall out if he didn’t. You watched him swallow compulsively, again and again until he let out a shaky breath and turned to the window.
“Motion sick?” You keep one hand on the wheel, reaching another one over to rub at his shoulder. Leon tenses up at your touch, face a little too sweaty. You could tell he wasn’t feeling himself.
“I’m fine,” he shrugged you off, looking out toward the endless grey roads and occasional trees.
“You’re looking a little gray,” you comment anyways, because you cared more about his paling face ruining the detailing of your car than you did his mission confidentiality. Leon choked back whatever feelings he kept lurking somewhere beneath his skin and chuckled.
“What, you saying I’m getting too old for you already?”
You snort, feeling some of the tension dissipate with his words. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
The moon was high in the sky by the time you pulled into your building’s parking lot. Leon kept a hand brushing gently over his stomach on the elevator ride up. He tried to make small talk about the weather and the time of day and the houseplants of his that you managed to keep alive.
You could see through it almost as clear as he probably could. Pretending he was alright was better than isolating himself, you figured. Maybe that was what he needed.
Leon showered as you put away your dried dishes from earlier that day. You crossed off a few items on your shopping list and tried not to think about how long Leon was taking to decompress.
Suggestions of a late dinner, a movie in bed, a normal talk about your days like normal people were swiftly rejected by the time the shower stopped running. Leon had sprawled out on his side of the bed, staring down at his phone when you headed into the bathroom. When you came back out in your pyjamas, the lights were already out.
Leon sighed, slow and sleepy as you crawled under the covers and kissed the back of his head. Leon turned around to press his face into yours, arms brushing over you. He kept you at an arm’s length, determined not to cling to you after being away for so long.
You tolerate his subtle, avoidant pushes away from you until you feel your eyes closed, Leon’s body warmth just a few feet away from yours.
Things were fine until they weren’t.
The night went on peacefully until you felt yourself lulled awake by certain sounds, certain motions from beside you. As you slowly awaken, moon still in the sky, you turn to the back of Leon’s sleeping frame.
As your eyes adjust to the darkness, you realize he’s no longer sprawled, instead curled into himself, face pressed into his pillow like he’d make less noise. You could hear the short, uneven breaths escape him, the occasional whimper of discomfort making your heart heavy.
“Leon,” you snake your arms over, touching his now-sweaty hair and pressing a palm to his back. You can feel him shaking under your touch. “Leon. Hey.”
“G’back to bed,” Leon chokes out so harshly, it sounds like he’s holding back vomit. His body convulses again before he mutters out a painful, “Fuck.”
Leon seems to curl in tighter when he realizes you’re awake. You sit up, more awake now and aware that Leon is holding his middle like his stomach is about to break out of his skin.
“Hey,” you inch forward, pressing your body up against his back and spooning him from behind. You can feel his heartbeat hammering away against your chest. “Talk to me. You feeling sick?”
Leon turns, his head coming up and under your chin. You brush back his bangs, feeling his hot breath on your arm while you check for a fever. You wonder for a moment if he’s caught one of those bad bugs from the airport.
“Wasn’t s’posed to—” Leon turned, pressing his knuckles up to his mouth. He let out a thick, sour-sounding burp that devolved into a panicked-sounding groan. “Sorry—I’m sorry, this is so stupid—”
Leon hugs himself tighter, and alarm bells go off when you recognize the desperate, apologetic tone he uses when he’s pushed things too far into his own head. The strong agent veneer they all thought they knew at the agency was covered in cracks tonight. This must have really been a rough mission.
“Come here,” You lift the blanket with one hand and wrap you both in it, your hands snaking around his middle.
You pull him close, your fingers hike up his shirt and go straight to his stomach, feeling the contents churn and jostle with what you can only recognize as the worst case of anxiety you’ve seen from him in months. He lets out a groan of indignation as you encourage him to accept the touch.
“I know. You’re the big guy at work, and you think you have to be him right now,” you murmur, letting your hand drop from his belly and up to his rigid shoulders. “You can put that away. It’s okay to feel bad. You’re okay.”
Leon needed to let things out, one way or another. You didn’t think it’d be like this. It was worth it, reminding him he could be smaller with you. His best qualities were the ones that made him human, even if human meant ruminating until he felt sick to his stomach.
Leon’s breathing picked up, his heartbeat in his throat as he turned around and pushed himself into you. You rubbed his back in slow circles, patting him gently when his stomach groaned low and painfully loud.
“Thought it would—get better,” Leon tried to save face, but it was hard when everything felt so wrong. “It wasn't so bad during the flight. Didn’t wanna talk about it. Didn’t think—”
You’d only seen it happen a few times with him. Watching the anxiety he filed away turn into something more physical. It was usually a headache, loss of appetite, maybe he felt more irritated or isolated than usual. This seemed a little different.
“Is that when it started? The flight home?” You keep Leon in your embrace, hands trailing over his arms, back and stomach. You hummed in sympathy when his stomach churned from the tough.
Leon shook his head, and you carded a hand through his bangs again. “Before.”
“And they cleared you medically,” you repeat the words you’ve had to say since what happened in Spain. That nothing was left inside of him, that there wasn’t anything physically wrong with him.
“They said I was fine,” Leon pushed out through his teeth. It felt like every breath was torture, though you had a feeling from the start that it wasn’t because of any physical injury.
“Okay. So you’re wound up. You’re having a strong reaction,” you suggest gently. You slipped back into your work voice, hoping Leon would take it better. “If you don’t talk about what’s setting you off, it bubbles up in worse ways.”
“Don’t say it like that,” Leon muttered, a little too desperate. The edge to his voice was back. You knew it was hard for him to admit when he didn’t feel strong. For someone in the field, it was unnatural. Dangerous, even. You had to remind him this wasn’t the field.
You pressed a gentle kiss to the back of his neck. “I think you’d feel better if you talked about what’s bothering you.”
“You shouldn’t have to know about it,” he swallowed. It seemed he’d forgotten exactly what you did for a living.
“I’ve dealt with bad. You know I have. You don’t have to worry about that,” You reassured him. Leon tensed up hard enough for you to get your answer.
You both lay there, wide awake as Leon kept himself turned away from you in your arms. He wouldn’t budge on it, no matter how much you tried to coax it out of him, remind him that he was safe and that this wasn’t your first bad mission rodeo. You could tell the thought was stuck in his head. You hated seeing him get so torn up about things beyond his control.
It was not soon after that Leon let out a groan, much sicker than before. You held him, letting him ride out the nausea until he jolted up and out of bed.
“Don’t—don’t follow,” he gagged, gruff voice trying to mask its unravelling. You let him go, and Leon scrambled to the bathroom connecting to your bedroom.
You sat up, turning away as you heard him purge whatever he’d eaten on the plane. It was better to respect the boundaries he put into place. You’d realized that over the years of knowing him. Pushing him made him feel unsafe. It would only set him off, even after he’d already fallen apart.
Leon was troubled, every agent was a little bit troubled, but he wasn’t as detached as he wished he was with you. You knew if you gave him time to fall apart on his own, he’d come back. He knew you’d wait for him here without judgement.
Wordlessly, you felt around for your bottle of ice water sitting on the nightstand. You lifted up the plastic waste basket you kept by your bed just in case, eyeing the antacids you always kept in your bedside drawer.
You winced at what you heard in the room over. The thought of leaving Leon there any longer tore you up, but you knew better than most how Leon needed to process things. He was used to being alone.
Sure enough, he emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later. His shirt was gone, his breath still unsteady. You could smell the mouthwash on his lips from your spot on the bed. Leon stared at you with glassy eyes, keeping a part of that cold persona intact despite the wetness that leaked from the corners.
“Feeling better?” You offer him a smile. That seemed to break him more than any forceful push to talk could. You watched Leon stumble forward, hand still pressed to his stomach, and fall right into your arms.
“Leon. Honey,” you wrapped him up and pulled him close. When you started seeing each other and became whatever this was, you both couldn’t stand the nicknames. This one always felt right in the moments where Leon didn’t seem to want to hear his own name.
“I shot a kid,” Leon whispered. You felt a weight fall on your chest as a deep, guttural sob broke the silence. Thick tears stuck to your night shirt as Leon gripped onto you, rocking you both back and forth like he couldn’t quite rid himself of the energy.
“Okay,” you cradle his head against your chest and shoulder, under the crook of your neck. “How did it happen?”
“Looked like a kid. A little girl,” Leon’s voice broke when he said it. His breath came out in laboured bursts, like he couldn’t get enough air in. “Was—wasn’t herself anymore. Dead already—didn’t have a choice, but it—she looked at me like a little kid would—before I—”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry it happened,” you squeeze him tighter. No wonder he felt sick to his stomach thinking about it. You understood how rough the field work could be, even if you never did much of it yourself. “She wasn’t there anymore. You were able to let her rest, Leon. I know it’s hard to think of it that way—”
“I kill everyone,” Leon whimpered, “Can’t be around anyone normal, feels like I hurt people for a living, I never wanted to kill anyone—wanted to help people, I just—”
Your heart hurt for him. It took him years of after-work drinks and midnight dates and sleeping in the same bed for him to tell you why he really joined the agency. Like most of you, it wasn’t by choice. Leon was damn good at pretending like this job didn’t get to him.
Anger simmered deep beneath you as Leon let everything spill out into your embrace. His handler should have made him speak with a professional after sending him away for so long. Clearly, they hadn’t let Leon unpack his mission beyond the physical assessment.
“You saved who you could have saved,” you reassured him. His shoulders trembled at your kind words, and he pressed himself so close to you, it felt like he’d crawled under your skin. “You’re even braver for talking about it. It’s so hard to say out loud. But you’re gonna be okay.”
The two of you went back and forth for what felt like hours. Leon letting all his demons run out in the open. You beside him, ensuring his thoughts didn’t spiral.
When Leon had his breathing under control, you stretched your arm out and wriggled your fingers towards your water bottle until it was in your grip. He drank half of it, still rocking back and forth against your chest from the excess adrenaline. You ran a line over his bare skin, tracing each scar, burn mark, and bullet hole.
“Sorry,” he choked out. Hydration seemed to bring him back to his senses. He laughed, even though he didn’t look very amused. “Didn’t…think I’d do that. I just couldn’t stop thinking about it and…”
He didn’t look like agent Kennedy. Instead, Leon felt like the rookie cop he’d once described to you in detail after sharing two bottles of red wine.
“You had a lot of things build up before that moment. Sometimes you just need to let it happen,” you kept a hand on his back, the other tracing over his stomach muscles, which seemed to settle from earlier. He hadn’t thrown up since having to scramble out of bed earlier. “Still feeling off?”
“Mmmh,” Leon breathed into your neck. The tension in his shoulders was still there, but nowhere near as tight.
“I’ll get you some tea,” you kissed him tenderly on the cheek, ruffled his hair and untangled yourself from his hold. When a strong arm grasped onto your shoulder, you fell back with a laugh. “You can come with me if you’re feeling up for it.”
“Only if I can hold you the whole time,” Leon looked up and smiled back at you weakly. “At least let me feel like the big strong agent.”
“I’ll let you project all you want if you get some sleep after,” you throw back.
Leon stifled a yawn, shoulders still a little shaky. “Deal.”
As Leon trailed behind you to the kitchen, strong arms hanging weakly over your shoulders, you wondered if you’d finally cracked Leon open wide enough to keep his needy side open. That wouldn’t be so bad, you thought. The way he’d trusted you completely in your arms made you feel warmer than anything.
All you knew now was that Leon was getting at least a month off after you called HQ tomorrow. After all, you were known to be very persuasive with your work.
A/N: Letting big strong character become weak vulnerable character does things to me. Let Leon cry. Let Leon be a wreck. Yum yum yum.
Mmmghdgdhbdhdhdg there’s nothing cuter than when an upset tummy makes a guy all whiny and vocal about how uncomfortable it feels… repeating how “he ate waaay too much” and how his belly “is SO full,” clutching his distended gut; burping and groaning. And of course those those classic lines that get you every time, hearing them out loud; “ohhh my tummy…” “it hurts…”
Bonus points for any self-soothing belly rub action, watching them slip a hand under their shirt (hehe, if you’re lucky this is when you might be able to spot a little bit of belly bloat sticking out) and wince as they weakly try to massage out the waves of sickness rolling through their guts.
Makes me weaaaak seeing him rendered helpless over all that trouble his poor tummy is stirring up inside 💘💘
Silly wip Just a nice belly rub. Totally nothing sinister gestating inside He TOTALLY isn't going to burst open.
lowkey not sure how to do asks but maybe leon x m!/gn!reader w a nauseous re4 or re9 leon…(ur choice!)..bonus points for leon being vulnerable and going up to reader cause his bellys upset n he doesnt wanna be nauseous alone..ahh idk
Settled
Re4!Leon x Gn!Reader
On a lazy afternoon while you work from home, Leon stumbles into the living room after sleeping in a little too late. But…something else seems off, too. Leon never turns down brunch.
Word count: ~2.7k
Tags/Warnings: re4!Leon, gender neutral reader, light angst, hurt/comfort, sickfic, reverse-comfort, physical whump, mentions of nausea (NO vomiting), soft content, stomach ache, cuddling, vulnerable!Leon, caretaker!reader, minor separation anxiety.
A/N: Anon, you have, in fact, successfully sent in an ask because this prompt had me in a CHOKEHOLD today. Nausea’s such an unwillingly vulnerable side to bring out in front of someone it’s just ghhhuhhhhh. re4!Leon ended up being easier to bend for this but I’ve got a juicy post-re9 idea sitting in my head now where reader helps Leon through some bad nasty side effects from elpis (if anyone’s actually interested?? lolol). For now, I hope this appeases your hunger!
You were filing a chain of overdue work reports when you realized Leon hadn’t gotten out of bed yet.
He came in late last night, late enough for you to already be showered and under the covers, the book you were halfway done face-down and abandoned somewhere in the duvet. You knew Leon was wired coming home when you woke up the next morning to find a tall glass of water on your nightstand. Your book was closed and bookmarked next to it, your reading glasses folded gently on top.
When you rolled over that morning, you spotted him sleeping soundly on his stomach, bangs pressed into the pillow he’d been clutching. Leon had been kind enough not to wake you when he returned, even if you wouldn’t have minded him wrapping his arms around your back and burying his face in between your shoulder and neck.
It was rare for both of you to have so much off-time together, but with the overflow of reports you had to get in and the big mission Leon had finally wrapped up, things had aligned nicely.
Well…nice enough for Leon. He could lounge around in bed all he wanted, but your supervisor would throttle you if your work wasn’t done and sent in by the end of the week.
When you’d gotten out of bed that morning, Leon hadn't woken up. It was rare, watching him sleep so deeply. He usually had the nerve to stir and roll over, complain about waking him up or pull you into him before you could leave. Instead, he kept his eyes closed peacefully, an arm curled under his pillow and the other pressed soft against his stomach.
You wished you could watch this rare side of him for hours. But you knew you wouldn’t get any work done from bed—not when sleep was so tempting. Sighing, you left him untouched and didn’t bother changing out of your pyjamas as you trudged over to the living room, where your mountains of paperwork still lay on the coffee table.
The time flickered by as you marked up, signed, and sealed each form. You cradled another cup of coffee in your grasp and the last of the muffins you’d baked earlier that week as you worked on.
You didn't bother looking at the watch sitting flat on the table. You hadn’t noticed how much time passed by since waking up. Not until you heard the bedroom door creak open from deeper down the hall. Leon’s half-asleep footsteps wandered into the living room. You glanced down at the clock and realized that the morning had long gone. By the time you saw Leon’s head poke into the room, it was well into the afternoon.
He must have been extra tired, you thought. Leon was usually up before you after a longer assignment. He winded down best the morning after, when you were more awake and the two of you could do something relaxing together.
“Rise and shine,” you spoke without looking up, scribbling down a few more notes for the paper-clipped pile of jargon sitting in your lap. “What time did you get in?”
“Four,” Leon murmured from across the room. You hummed in acknowledgment. He’d gotten more than eight hours this time around. It had been awhile since that happened.
“You were sleeping so soundly, I almost wish I took a picture.”
Leon ignored your teasing about his beauty sleep, heading into the kitchen. You heard the water running, but not the hum of the obscenely expensive coffee maker you splurged on last summer.
When Leon emerged, he had a tall glass of water in his hand. He drank half of it, setting it down on the coffee table, far enough away from your stack of paperwork. He sat down, quieter than usual. You wanted to poke fun at his sleepy silence, but figured he was just being considerate as you trudged through your work.
You flipped the page as Leon settled into the couch, staring off at nothing in particular. He held himself just inches away from you, knuckles brushing against his lips, other hand resting loosely against his abdomen.
“Want coffee?” You asked absently. Leon shrugged from beside you, muttering something you couldn’t quite hear. “If you give me until the end of this stack, I can make us brunch.”
Leon seemed to sink further into the couch at the mention of food. You registered it as a tired yes until your arm came out to wrap around his shoulder. Leon stiffened, his heart thumping nervously in his chest and pulsing through his back. You pulled your arm back and froze. The numbers on your page didn’t seem so pressing once you really realized how little Leon said since coming in.
You pulled your eyes away from your work, noticing only now that Leon looked far from relaxed. He looked like he was holding something back, shoulders hiked up to his ears, face set in a glassy frown.
“You’re quiet today,” you said, rubbing your hand up and down the curve of his spine. You expected a classic one-liner, some kind of joke about how you worried too much. Instead, Leon let out something in between a sigh and a groan.
It was enough to officially set you off.
You set your papers down and leaned into him, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into you. Leon seemed overwhelmed at first by the touch, before reciprocating the gesture more gently. He swallowed against your collarbone, his forehead sticky with sweat.
“Hey there,” you kissed the top of his head, smiling when he seemed to melt into your touch.
“Hi,” was Leon’s muffled response, breath hot against your sweater.
You knew Leon wanted to talk. He wanted the attention. Otherwise he would have spent the rest of the day alone, which…would have been okay too. But it had taken a long time to get here. Too much of swallowing down feelings and squashing old habits. You were both guilty of it, but what you loved most about Leon was how much he was willing to work at it. Leon worked so hard at everything he did.
“Doing okay?” You finally asked.
“Who says I’m not?” Leon quipped softly. You could tell by his voice that he didn’t feel like himself. Sweat stuck to his forehead, and you felt his breath jump as you let your fingers run through his hair.
You sighed, half-amused, and pulled him closer into your embrace. You let him rest his head against your chest, your legs tangled together.
“Because you never turn down brunch,” you murmured. “Today’s a slow day. I’m here if you need me.”
You squeezed Leon softly, feeling his exhale come out in short bursts through his nose. It always took a fair amount of coaxing to get him to admit what was on his mind. He’d been deployed for a while, but it wasn’t a field mission. Nothing violent. Nothing that might have set him off, unless there was something you didn’t know.
Leon swallowed again, breathing in sharply when he did.
“I just…I don’t feel good, I guess.”
You blinked back your surprise. The admission still sounded like he’d rather gargle glass, but you expected more pushback, a cutting remark or a quick subject change.
You could feel the heat radiating off his face and arms and felt a pang of sympathy in your chest as you stared down at Leon’s half-melted form. He must really feel rough if he was so ready to admit it.
“You’re not feeling well?” You sat up straighter, gathering the rest of him into your arms until you straddled his upper-half. Your hands swept his body up and down, as if trying to pinpoint the parts that hurt. “You wanna tell me in what way?”
You knew the difference by now, between a spiral of guilt, a bout of burnout, a physical wound, and the flu. But that was usually because Leon would conceal it until he couldn’t and came staggering toward you leaking with honesty. This time felt different, like maybe he was finally testing the waters of trust between the two of you and coming before things got bad.
“It’s really not a big deal,” Leon muttered into your upper arm. “Felt off going to bed and…you weren’t there when I woke up, so I just…”
He just didn’t want to be alone, you realized. Was that his way of telling you that?
Leon sounded so painfully out of his element. You knew it was hard for him to admit he just wanted someone around. He once told you after a few drinks that asking for what he wanted felt like he was jinxing it. It tore you up just thinking about it.
“You do feel a little warm,” You let your fingers fall from his hair down to his forehead. When you trailed down his chest through his t-shirt, you didn’t catch how his shoulders shivered a little against you. A fever might explain the lethargic symptoms, the loss of appetite. Maybe a case of the chills?
Your speculations halted when you brushed across his stomach and he flinched. You felt his abdominal muscles tighten, body tense as a painful-sounding hiccup wracked his chest. You felt Leon swallow instinctively against you, and your brain clicked with the realization.
“Your stomach doesn’t sound too happy,” You ghost a hand over Leon’s back until he seems to settle. Your heart plummets at the frustrated noise that came out of him.
“Yeah,” you watched him grit his teeth and breathe a little too shaky. “Yeah. Maybe that’s it.”
You slip a gentle hand beneath his shirt, warm hand on his even warmer skin. Leon curled into you, trying to stay silent as you traced comforting circles over his churning stomach. He hiccuped again, this one resulting in a thick burp. He stared up at you with a face so mortified, he looked like he’d rather be dead.
Oh, Leon.
“That sounded like it hurt. Are you nauseous?” You asked, knowing damn well that Leon didn’t want to talk any more about where exactly his weak points of the day were. He nodded, eyes a little glassier. You pressed on. “Do you think you’ll be sick?”
Leon shrugged at that. He’d taken to breathing slowly through his nose, some kind of grounding technique he’d probably picked up from training.
“Sounds like you caught something at work,” you tried to sound as neutral as possible. He didn't like coddling unless he was at the end of his rope. You didn’t want to push him any further. “You should sleep more. I can set you up in bed.”
“But you’re warm,” Leon muttered back, and your heart nearly skipped a beat. It was rare to see Leon so clingy. He tensed in your arms when his stomach flipped on its side again. He tried to backpedal, even if it was already too late. “I know you’re working today. S’okay. I can…”
“Stay right here?” You finished his sentence, though maybe not with the intended words. “I’m almost done for today. Why don’t we both sit tight for a bit?”
“…whatever you say.”
Leon’s head fell softly back onto you, one arm cradling his stomach while the other one curled around your waist. To appease Leon’s strange complex about needing others, your work was back in your hands within minutes. You didn’t want to risk asking him if he’d eaten anything weird. Whether food poisoning or a bad bug, the outcome would probably end up the same.
As you annotated with one hand, Leon had migrated downward, squished between your side and the couch cushion. He rested his head on your stomach, trying his hardest not to audibly react each time his body sent a dangerous signal down to his belly. You scratched the top of his scalp with your free hand, migrating down to rub softly at his upper back each time he muffled an uneasy burp into his fist.
When your stack of papers was finished, Leon was boneless pressed into you. Even asleep, he still held that frown that you’d always known as his hardened default.
Setting down the last of your work, you slipped off the couch and into the kitchen. As you waited for the kettle to boil, you rummaged around the medicine cabinet for the Tylenol and thermometer. The fact that Leon couldn’t stop shivering made you wonder if his upset stomach came with a fever, too.
The kettle hissed, and you poured the hot water into a mug bagged with ginger-lemon tea. When you came back out, Leon was sitting upright on the couch, arms wrapped tentatively around his stomach. His irritated face softened when he saw you.
“Have a nice nap?” You asked, grabbing the big blanket folded on the other end of the couch. You draped it over his shivering shoulders and sat down next to him. Leon grunted in response, nausea making him sway a little to the side.
“Fine.”
He sounded gruffer, like he was actively trying to shake off the clinginess from before. Once you were back down at his level, you turned Leon toward you and stuck the thermometer in his mouth.
“Open up.”
“N’t n’cess’ry,” he grumbled, the metal stick under his tongue muddling his speech.
“Pretty necessary,” you countered once the thermometer beeped a little too urgently. The fever was mild, but it was there. You passed him the Tylenol and the rest of his water from earlier. “This’ll make you stop feeling so hot. Can you stomach taking it?”
“You think I’m a kid or something?” Leon swiped it from your hand, clearly frustrated with how bad he felt. You didn’t miss the way his body convulsed after swallowing the pill. You could see him starting to detach, even if you knew that wasn’t what he wanted.
After drinking the tea in slow sips, Leon fell back into the couch, holding himself with a tired frustration. You waited for him to turn and look as you before you brought an arm around his shoulders again, pulling his head to rest lightly against the side of your arm.
“Sorry,” Leon finally muttered, a little breathless. “I’m not being fair.”
“You get a free pass. I’m sorry if you felt alone when you woke up,” you pressed a kiss to his forehead. Leon’s breath faltered at that. You knew you hit the nail on the head.
“Six years working as an agent, and I’m taken out by this,” Leon chuckled, a sarcastic smile on his face. His breathing started to return to normal. It hopefully meant the nausea was finally subsiding.
“Sickness doesn't discriminate,” you joked. “If it means I can get you in one place for the day, I’m not complaining.”
You shift your back up against the couch’s arm, opening yourself up so Leon can rest his head on your chest, body straddled between your open arms and legs. When you rubbed a soothing line from his upper back and down to his stomach, you kept yourself from giggling as Leon’s noises of approval vibrated against your skin.
“…m’taking you out for dinner once this is over. G’tting you whatever y’want…” Leon barely got out of his mouth, eyes closed and body limp. Of course he wanted to take back control. You knew it made him feel less exposed after vulnerable situations. You’d let him have his way tomorrow when he felt less gross.
Leon pushed through so much. You felt grateful that he came to you this time to get through it.
“Live through this first,” you snorted, holding him close as he finally drifted off.
Your work lay untouched for the rest of the afternoon. For Leon, your paperwork could wait.
A/N: and that’s itttttttt. There needs to be more sicky Leon in this world. And also I’ll never get enough of big spoon reader x little spoon Leon. Like…..he’s been through enough I just wanna hold himmmmmm
And of course, send asks, reqs, headcanons my way if we’re living on the same wavelength!!!!
i love when people sound so incredibly nauseated without vomiting. hiccups, huge wet burps, whimpers, moaning about how sick their tummy is, gagging, dry heaving, and yet whatever’s making them so sick refuses to come out