Chapter Text
It was a long and busy day. So long and so busy that you felt like you were sleepwalking all the way to Cabin 9. The sun had already started to set, taking the light and the warmth with it as it set over the Long Island Sound. The majority of your day was spent training, so you were sore. The kind of sore that made you want to curl up with your boyfriend and not move for the next ten hours.
“Hey, beautiful girl,” is what cut through the haze as you entered Bunker 9. Leo was perched on a stool in front of his workbench, grease smeared across his nose, and goggles pushed up into his curls like the world's worst headband. The lamps over Leo gave his hair a warm, coppery glow. Almost like a halo made of light and curls and him.
Your half-lidded eyes and hunched-over shoulders were more than enough to tell Leo that you were tired.
So he did what he usually did.
He scooted his stool back and opened his arms, making enough room for you between him and his workbench.
And with a mumbled “c’mere,” Leo tucked you close to his chest, chin hooking over your shoulder so it was easier for you to bury your face into the crook of his neck. Right where his curls tickled your skin.
You stood between his legs, his thighs bracketing your own legs, arms thrown over his shoulders as you slumped over.
Gods, Leo was warm.
Like a furnace.
A divine heating blanket if you will.
And after the day of training that you just had? Yeah, you weren’t moving.
So like any sane girlfriend, you decided to wordlessly climb onto his lap—no warning, no heads up. Just swinging one leg over Leo’s and then the other.
He could adjust.
And he did.
With a strangled noise from the back of his throat because Leo was nothing if not dramatic, he scooted you closer to him, so your chest was flush with his own. So you were secured against him.
One of his hands instinctually went to the small of your back, fingers splaying across the skin that your shirt failed to cover once it rode up.
His hands were warm enough against your chilled skin to give you goosebumps.
“Long day?” Leo asked, speaking into the side of your head, into your hair right behind your temple.
“Yeah,” your voice was soft in a way that only Leo ever got to hear. Tired. You nuzzled into his neck with a sleepy little huff, and he felt your arms wrap around his neck, fingers clumsily playing with the worn material of his shirt.
Leo started rubbing gentle circles into your skin, right between the waist and of your jeans and the hem of your shirt, on the skin that got exposed as you slumped over on him. He couldn’t see your face, but he could practically sense your eyelids getting heavier, your breathing was evening out in record time. Leo made a mental note to write down that this was the quickest he had ever gotten you to fall asleep. It would be a fun conversation piece.
He decided he could finish working on his newest contraption could be worked on one-handed, for the rest of the night.