Work Text:
Time flies. Before you knew it, nearly another year had gone by, along with its series of missions done and dusted. It was a week before Christmas, and a particularly unassuming mid-December morning when you stepped into the office elevator, engrossed with your phone and the multitude of messages coming in from your family group chat. The screen lit up with a loud ping each time a new one was sent.
“Aunt Gretchen won’t be able to make it this time.”
“Damn, that’s a shame /s”
“Language!”
“Yes, mooooommmm…”
“Anyway, don’t forget the dessert!”
“And the dress code!”
“Hey! Could you hold the doors for a sec—” A deep baritone voice rang out in the distance, interrupting your reverie.
Oops. You shook your head from your thoughts, glancing up at an all-too-familiar face and a pair of cerulean blue eyes piercing through dirty blonde curtain bangs. He made a run for it as you slammed your hand against the closing elevator.
“Agent Kennedy,” you greeted politely with a simple nod.
“Uh-uh,” he wagged his finger cheekily, somehow managing to slide through the doors gracefully without breaking out into a sweat. “It’s just Leon.”
“Leon,” you acknowledged.
It was refreshing how he didn’t have a stick up his ass like the rest of the goons who worked in the DSO, regardless if he was the golden boy or not. However, since you were in different departments, you hardly interacted with each other outside of the required formalities. It didn’t help as well that you considered yourself more of a wallflower than anything. Surely he wouldn’t—
As if right on cue, he uttered your name, followed by, “Angela’s PA, right?”
“How did you—”
“You think I wouldn’t know who the amazing PA of the head honcho is?” he rebutted, his lips curling up in a smile as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.
You were at a loss for words. “Um,” was about all you could manage.
“Come on, don’t die on me now,” he laughed, shrugging as he continued, “I’m just good with names, faces, you know, all that jazz.” He fanned his hands to illustrate his point before pausing abruptly and dropping them down to his sides, as if he had remembered that he was in a security division, not a children’s playground.
Clearing his throat sheepishly, he turned to the control panel. “Second top floor, right?” Without waiting for you to answer, he punched the button and the lift started to move.
The silence in the space was awkward and deafening, so much so that you felt an innate desire to make small talk to pass the time.
“So, you doing anything for Christmas?”
For a split second, you spotted a wince in Leon’s expression before he masked it, and you instantly regretted the words you had blurted out.
“N-nah, not really,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze as he forced out a cordial smile. “Not my thing.”
Pursing your lips, you recalled the way your colleagues often heaped praises and compliments onto the man before you, only to gossip about his personal life in hushed whispers behind his back. That was the double-edged sword of being something akin to a celebrity hero in the office. It usually went along the lines of:
“Poor Leon, that guy’s a loner. No partner, no kids, no family.”
“No wonder he’s a workaholic!”
“I heard he’s pretty good friends with the bottle, if you know what I mean.”
“With the kinda shit they put him through? I’d be damaged goods myself.”
You had heard it all. And though you were never consulted for your opinion of him, you found their talk a little mean-spirited.
Without thinking, you stated, “We’re having a small celebration at my parents’ house. It’s only about an hour and a half’s drive away. You’re welcome to join if you want?”
Your hand flew to your mouth, shocked that you had actually uttered the first thing that came to your mind. Leon just stared at you, seemingly having trouble finding the right words to say.
Scrambling to come up with an excuse or to backtrack, or both, you sputtered, “Well, uh, you see, we have this thing where, uh, it’s not great to spend the holidays alone. You know? So, well, sorry, forget what—”
At this, Leon chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it,” he reassured you. “Thanks, really, it’s nice of you to offer, but I’ll be alright.” On my own.
You had no idea what possessed you to do what you did next, but you whipped out a sticky note from your bag and scribbled down your number with a ballpoint pen.
“Here,” you thrust it into his hands. He looked just as surprised as you. “Just… think about it, okay?”
Ding.
The doors opened and you hastily made your exit, mentally cussing at yourself for being so bold and assuming toward an almost-stranger.
“What’s the dress code?” you heard his voice call out from behind you.
Spinning around, you caught a glimpse of his lopsided grin as you smiled back. “Ugly Christmas sweater, of course.”
“No promises.”
That was the last text you received from him on the day of the Christmas Eve party. Leon appeared to have cold feet, which didn’t take you by surprise, seeing as he had been hesitant to begin with.
You sighed.
Perhaps it would take him a couple more years to come round to it. What on earth were you thinking anyway, inviting him to a family-do like that? Not to mention, you had already written in the group chat about bringing a plus one. Jumping the gun much? Well, at least you still had an afternoon’s worth of errands to run and distract yourself with. You could worry about the explanation later.
Soon, the gifts were wrapped up and ready to go, and the spiced ginger Yule log you had baked sat pretty on the counter. After loading all of the goodies into the backseat of your car, you started the engine and embarked on the long drive to your parents’ house.
In the meantime, Leon had been lounging on his living room couch, complete with a tumbler of whiskey in his hand as he swirled the melting ice in it lazily. Such a let-down, he thought. You didn’t deserve that, and as a matter-of-fact, you didn’t deserve any of this. He peered at the liquor bottle he had just cracked open, mocking him as he gulped down the remnants of the liquid from his chilled glass.
Smacking it onto the table, he was about to pour himself another shot when his phone buzzed. He saw your name flash up on his screen. Normally, he wouldn’t bother to check or answer it during his drinking sessions, but this time, curiosity got the better of him. It was a message with an attachment. Hmm, interesting.
Upon opening it, he saw a selfie of you posing in your horrendous-looking sweater and a mouth-watering dessert behind you. You were holding a present in one hand and making a funny face. The message read, “Come to the dark side, we have cake…”
He burst out laughing—he had to admit, it was rather cute of you to try, especially when no one else had before. Fiddling with the device in his hand, he hesitated, wondering if he should spend another night drowning himself in alcohol at home, alone, or whether he should take a chance on you and celebrate the holiday he hated the most with a bunch of strangers.
“Ahh, what the hell,” he mumbled before pocketing his phone and coming to his decision.
It was half past seven in the evening when you reached your parents’ house. Most of the guests had arrived by then and the celebrations were underway. The hallway was bathed in the warm glow of fairy lights and a large fir tree stood by the corner, decked out in festive garlands and ornaments as presents were tucked beneath its coniferous branches. The delicious smell of stuffed turkey, rib roast, baked ham, mince pies, and eggnog wafted through the air. Your family had prepared a feast and you were surrounded by your close ones. All was in its rightful place, but there was just one thing missing— Leon.
“So… I’m looking forward to seeing this plus one you’ve been talking about,” your mom nudged you as she sauntered over with a plate full of food.
Sensing your unease, your older sister came to the rescue, which you were ever thankful for. “Mom, stop, give it a break already.”
“I’m just curious! It’d be nice to meet this mystery person, hmm?”
You shifted between your feet uncomfortably. At this rate, you were pretty sure that Leon had bailed on tonight’s plans, so you might as well come clean about it. “Well, um, he—”
Before you could finish your sentence, the doorbell rang. Wait, could that be him? Your heart leaped in its cage.
“I’ll get it!” your younger brother yelled as he ran toward the door and you chased after him.
Yanking it open, both of you were greeted by the devil himself. The corners of his eyes crinkled, deep blue set against his pale skin, flushed from the cold.
“Sorry for being late,” he said, extending his arms toward you as you froze up in astonishment. Your younger brother stealthily gave you a push forward and you stumbled—quite literally—into Leon’s awaiting arms.
“Oof, hey!” he laughed. “Nice to see you too.”
“Sorry,” you stammered while you held onto him to find your footing.
Once you had regained your balance, the scratchy material of his outfit caused you to have a proper look. From the porch lights, you could just about make out the knitted design. There was a figure of who you assumed was meant to be Jesus, sitting on a reindeer and riding it into an explosion of stars with an assortment of ill-matching Christmas trees in the background.
Noticing the perturbed expression on your face, Leon asked with a tinge of anxiety in his voice, “Ugly sweater, right?”
That was when you started giggling, realizing that his sweater definitely outclassed yours in whatever imaginary competition you had in mind. “God, that’s terrible! Okay, you win.”
“Oh yeah? What’s the prize?” he smirked.
At this point, your parents had come to the door to see what the commotion was about. Upon seeing Leon standing outside in the cold, they ushered him in quickly, asking him to make himself at home.
As Leon settled in and went through the customary round of introductions, the topic that you had been dreading came up—naturally, from your nosey mom of course. “How well do you two know each other?” she pried. “Are you two…”
Leon glanced between you and your mom as she trailed off purposefully, and while you nearly choked on your saliva, he didn’t seem fazed at all. Instead, he responded with a disarming smile, “Yes, we are.”
Your mom emitted a contented hum, turning to your dad with a knowing look, and your eyes shot up to meet his in panic. However, he placed a hand on your shoulder comfortingly, mouthing the words, “Relax, I got this,” as he gave you a brazen wink.
You had no idea what sort of game he was playing or where he was going with this, but he had a way about him that made you want to place your trust in him. And so, you eased up, allowing him to take the lead in the conversation while showing him to the dining table. Your dad served him a plate and Leon poured out the wine he had brought as a gesture of appreciation.
Dinner went on without a hitch, filled with warm-hearted chatter and a never ending supply of food and beverages, in which all of you ate and drank until you were stuffed. Although your family could use a lesson in minding their own business, they were relatively easy-going and laid-back, so much so that Leon appeared to be enjoying the company. He seemed brighter and lighter than when you usually saw him in the office, away from all the scrutiny and judgment that could be found there. It was as if he was getting energized by the banter and a social environment which expected nothing from him, but to just be himself.
Your parents took to him and so did your siblings, being none the wiser to the fact that you and Leon were still practically strangers. Well, strangers was too harsh a word. It was more like: not quite friends yet not quite strangers. Occasionally, you would sneak a peek at each other from across the room, sharing shy smiles and furtive glances.
You were pleasantly surprised by how smooth Leon could be when he wanted to, considering that your earlier exchanges with the man had been stilted at best. It was never like how it was in the movies, where couples would hit it off instantly at ditzy meet cutes. Hold on a minute—couple? You mentally berated yourself for thinking about you and Leon on romantic terms. It must be the holiday season making people feel lonely, you figured. How many times had you received drunken, emotionally-wrought texts from exes, only to have them fumble with excuses for sending it out the next day? Anyway, this was nothing. What you had with Leon would only last for tonight, like a trick of the light. You went back to rearranging the gifts under the tree for the umpteenth time.
It was getting late. As your family had a tradition of only opening their presents on Christmas Day itself, they wanted to head to bed soon.
“Leon, you’re very welcome to take the bed in the guest room if you like,” your father offered.
“It’s a long drive back after all,” your mother hinted with a wily grin on her face. Your sister sighed and rolled her eyes while your brother suppressed an obvious laugh.
You saw a slight blush creep up Leon’s neck, but he relented. “Well, if you insist. I can’t thank you enough for all your hospitality.”
Your parents waved off his comment as everyone helped to clear up the dishes. When the remaining chores were finished, you brought Leon to his room, giving him a fresh set of towels, toiletries, and spare clothes from your dad as the rest went to sleep.
“You didn’t have to lie about us, you know?” you mentioned, touching his arm gently. “I mean, I appreciate it.”
“I know.” He brushed his thumb against the back of your hand, causing it to tingle. “It’ll be our little secret.”
You scoffed at his quip, shaking your head in mock disbelief before pulling away. “Well, I’ll get ready for bed. Let me know if you need anything, alright?”
“Mm-hmm.”
After you cleaned up and changed into your pajamas, you went outside to sit on the old wooden swing by the porch. It was draped with fluffy cushions and a thick fleece blanket, which you snuggled under to get comfy. This was your favorite time of the night, when the world was quiet and through the darkness you could spot faint glimmers of light from the street. The air was frosty and you could see your breath condense into puffs of mist.
“Is this a party of one?”
You were so lost in your thoughts that you hadn’t even heard the front door creak open. Leon was standing beside the swing, motioning to the empty spot beside you. “Mind if I join you?”
Scooting over to give him some room, you jested, “Sure, as long as you don’t steal the whole blanket.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he smirked as he sat down, wrapping his body with the covers.
You trembled as the chilled air hit your skin and he raised an eyebrow. “Cold?”
“No—” But your body betrayed you as you shivered uncontrollably again.
“C’mere,” he muttered, shifting his position as he opened his arms so that you could scuttle in between them.
You gulped nervously but gave in, moving closer as you leaned your head against his chest, catching a whiff of his musky cologne. In response, he snaked an arm around your shoulders in the form of a semi-embrace. His chin rested on the top of your head, and the warmth radiated from his body to yours and back again as you heard his heart beating—maybe a little faster? If someone had told you that you would end the night cuddling with Agent Leon Scott Kennedy, you would have said they were out of their mind, but yet here you were.
“Your Yule log was delicious,” his voice cut through the tense silence and you could hear it reverberating through his chest.
“I knew it’d sway you over to the dark side,” you teased. “Aren’t you glad you didn’t miss out on that?”
His fingers stroked through your hair absentmindedly. “I’m glad I didn’t miss out on all of this.”
You peered up at him inquisitively as he continued, “I haven’t… done something like this in a long time. I kinda forgot how nice it can be…”
Reaching out, you took his hand in yours and squeezed it. “I’m happy that you’re here.”
“I’m happy that you’re here too.”
It came out as a barely-heard whisper, but before he could speak any further, a crystallized snowflake fell onto your cheek. You thought it might have been a fluke at first, but soon, more and more feathery flakes landed on your clothes and hair, littering the floorboards of the front porch in a myriad of geometric shapes.
“It’s snowing,” you gasped.
“First snow of the year.” Leon looked up, similarly in awe at the blinding yet beautiful scenery before him.
You stuck out your tongue to taste the fluffy, sticky ice which fizzled and melted on it. Then, a sudden thought struck you.
“What time is it?” you asked.
Leon untangled his arm from underneath the layers, squinting at the clock face of his leather-strapped wrist watch. “Just past midnight—”
You jolted up, taking him by surprise. “It’s Christmas?”
Grinning at you, his hands encircled your wrists, the palms of which still laid on his chest. “Uh-huh, so, about my prize…” he tapered off suggestively.
“We’ll unwrap the gifts later with the rest of my family,” you scolded playfully.
“No, I mean, the prize I get for wearing the ugliest sweater in town,” he snickered.
Your heart was in your mouth as your mind raced, simultaneously attempting to come to terms with what he was implying and second-guessing yourself.
“What kind of prize…” you began, but didn’t manage to complete the sentence as you found yourself drifting toward him on your own accord, closing the gap as you licked your lips and watched with bated breath.
His gaze dropped to your lips as he caressed your cheek with his knuckles. Cupping your face in his hands, he tilted his head, nudging his nose against yours as he planted a tender kiss along your parted lips. You stayed like this for a while, tentatively exploring, soft kisses and skin upon skin, tasting each other until the both of you were satisfied.
When you finally broke away, there was a fond look in his eyes, as though he were seeing you for you, just like you did with him. “Merry Christmas,” he murmured, voice half-dazed and husky.
“Merry Christmas, Leon,” you smiled.