Work Text:
The world is quiet as a blanket of white covers the earth. The cold from outside was combated by the cackling warmth of the fire. The rich scent of burning wood fills the living room with the only other sound coming from the turning of pages. The warm light of the fire, lights from the green Christmas tree in the corner and the soft glow of the lamp by the couch keeping back the darkness.
Luis’s steel-colored eyes scan over the words, while a tanned finger gently ghosts over the silky paper. His body nestled into the plush couch with a fuzzy blanket - lips parted and hair falling in front of his eyes slightly but that doesn’t seem to pull Luis’s attention. The only thing that seems to shift Luis’s focus is when the sound of the front door opening and closing mixes with the scent of winter that wanders into the otherwise cozy house.
“Ah, look who’s finally back.” Luis doesn’t bother to look up from his book. The only movement comes in the form of him pulling his blanket closer to himself. “How was the party?”
“Would’ve been better if you came with.” Leon admits, tapping the toe of his boot onto the mat. The snow already beginning to melt. “Other than that, it was fine.”
Luis only lets out a small hum as he hears Leon take off his shoes and coat. The world around the Spaniard slowly turning into a soft static. His eyes heavy lidded, thumb tapping against the page. He can’t be bothered to focus on anything else, that is - until the book is snatched from his hands.
“¡Oye!” Luis’s face shoots up. His brows furrowed, mouth slightly agape as his gaze fixated on the blonde. “What the hell!?”
“La familia de Pascual Duarte.” Leon mumbles as he reads the title. The red hardcover held in a loose grip. “Didn’t take you for the murder novel type.” He states looking back at Luis, smirk playing at his lips.
Luis scoffs as he reaches for the book. His jaw tight, eyes narrowing. “Damnit, Leon.” His voice coming out clipped, “give me my book back.”
Leon quickly swipes the bookmark off the coffee table before taking a step back. He clips the magnet onto the page before closing the book. Leon makes sure to keep the book just out of reach, eyes shining as he leans himself forward. “Or what?”
“Sancho - you do realize I’m technically a war criminal. Right?” Luis quirks a brow, lips pulling into an almost smile as he watches Leon pause. “Are you going to give it back?”
Leon’s tongue peaks out to wet his lips. His body suddenly felt like he looked Medusa in the eyes. He then smartly and slowly gives Luis his book back. "You know you can’t keep pulling the war criminal card every time I do something you don’t like, right?”
“Then stop letting it work.” Luis is about to go shift back to his original position before he notices Leon sitting on the other side of the couch.
Leon takes his socks off with his toes before grabbing the blanket. His torso twisted to better accommodate another body. His leg comes up to lay on the couch as Leon’s arms open just enough that Luis gets the memo.
Luis moves to where Leon is. His back coming to rest against the agent’s chest, body sliding down just enough to where the American can see over his shoulder. With one hand, Luis holds the book and with the other he attempts to get the blanket to cover their legs. The scent of gunpowder, whiskey, and earthly cologne mixes with Luis’s own scent of cigarettes, spiced cologne and leather.
Leon’s arms come to wrap around Luis’s waist. The blonde presses the other man closer to him as he buries his face in the crook of Luis’s neck. “I missed you.” Leon’s voice comes out muffled before pressing a kiss to Luis’s skin.
Luis can’t help but smile to himself at the feeling, “someone’s in a mood.” He comments, body nearly melting into Leon’s. “But I missed you too. Even though you’ve ruined me - amor. How dare you?”
“It’s not like you didn’t ruin me too.” Leon is quick to point out. His body finally catching up that the buzz of the party is over. “The entire time I was just waiting to be able to leave so I can come back here.”
Luis can’t help but feel the flutter of butterflies in his stomach. The stupid romantic part of his brain firing signals off left and right as he processes those words. Luis can’t seem to ignore the way his heart skips a beat at the idea alone.
The idea of Leon anxiously looking at the clock, counting down the second until he can finally come home. It’s all so cliche, and yet also so endearing at the exact same time.
“Careful, I might start to think you like me.” Luis teases as he rubs Leon’s arm when the other man tightens his grip. A warmth that has nothing to do with the fire or blanket spreads through Luis. The kind of warmth that one only reads about, sees in coming-of-age movies. The warmth of true - proper, first love.
“I love you.” Leon doesn’t hesitate to let the words slip through. His voice carries a sort of finality to it as he lifts his head to look at Luis. “Even if you are technically a war criminal. I love you.”
Luis turns his head to look at Leon, steel eyes moving from looking into a sea of blue to glancing down at full lips. For once there isn’t a thought going through Luis’s brain, no witty remark or sarcastic comment. Just silence - complete, and utter silence. “I love you too.” That’s all Luis is able to manage out. His voice uncharacteristically soft.
Leon lets out a small hum before pressing a kiss to Luis’s lips. It’s not heat filled or hungry. It’s slow, and careful, as if Leon’s afraid of hurting the man he loves. As they pull apart, Leon moves to rest his chin on Luis’s shoulder. His eyes glanced at the clock. “Hey Luis?”
“What?” Luis notices where his lover is looking on the wall. On the wall rests a clock, its hands showing what time it is: 12:00am
“Feliz Navidad.” Leon whispers to Luis. The words roll off his tongue in a way that scratches an itch in Luis’s brain.
“Merry Christmas.” Luis presses a quick chaste kiss to Leon’s lips before turning back to his book. He takes out the bookmark and goes all the way to the beginning, “I’m about to show you why this is my favorite murder novel.”
Luis clears his throat, voice coming out like thick, rich honey. “Yo, señor, no soy malo, aunque no me faltarían motivos para serlo….”