#yes leon the mistletoe is corny as hell

[porcelainseashore]

Thank you so much for this gift, Ghostdog!! I still can't believe you totally went for it with the Cowboy AU request, that's mighty fine of you. I hope this event helped with getting your writing mojo back, because this piece was so enjoyable to read 🫶

Mistletoe

A secret Santa gift for @porcelainseashore and @leonsecretsanta

Prompt: Mistletoe. Trope: Childhood friends. Wildcard: Cowboy AU.

I'm so sorry I misread the deadline!

--

“No, no, no…” You plead in vain as the engine splutters, the car kangarooing forward at the loss of power as you manage to steer off to the side of the road. Well, if you could technically call it that – it was definitely more of a dirt track than anything else. There’s an awful sound as the carefully wrapped presents are thrown around and you’re hoping the vase you’d bought for your grandma has survived in the layers of bubble-wrap.

Damn it all. You’re so close too – just over three miles from town – but the whisps of smoke now emitting from the engine doesn’t seem promising.

Wait.

Smoke?!

You fumble with the handle, yanking it hard and flinging the door open in an attempt to throw yourself out of the car, nearly forgetting to unbuckle your seat belt as you do so. It’s not a graceful exit, a panicked tumble, scraping your palms on the dirt as you scramble up to your feet and try to create some distance between you and the machine you’re so is about to burst into flames.

Only to hear a dry chuckle.

You spin around in fright, barely keeping your balance – you swore there hadn’t been anyone in sight when you’d pulled over, the track had been dead as a doornail since you’d turned off the highway – but there, leaning against the beaten-up fence that lined the path is who you think is a man, the dipping winter sun silhouetting his figure, a stetson hat shading his face from view.

“Howdy, little lady”, a deep, oddly familiar voice greets. “Car trouble?”

“I…” You turn back to look at the vehicle, the smoke that had been emitting from under the hood is now just a non-threatening whisp. “I thought it was gonna explode. Complete hunk of junk.”

“Junk? Nah, she’s just a classic  - like all the machinery on my ranch. Probably just needs a gentler touch. Mind if I take a look?”

Before you can answer, he’s hopping over the fence with the assistance of what you can now see is a particular toned forearm, clad in a grey – but what was once white t-shirt –sturdy denim jeans and striding over to you in a pair of black leather boots, finally lifting his head to reveal his face.

This is screaming stranger danger – out in the middle of nowhere, the setting sun, there’s never been any cell service on the outskirts in the town that you’d grown up in and you’ll be lucky to get a smidge of a bar when you even get there, and now you’re gonna be a headline on the town gazette about the abandoned truck on the side of the room, full of Christmas presents and-

Wait.

“Leon?”

His eyebrows furrow beneath the rim of his hat, blue eyes widening in realisation and suddenly you’re pulled into his chest by those muscular arms, an exclamation of your name into your crown in greeting.

He smells ridiculously good – a combination of musk, hay, a hint of oil from the machines at the aforementioned ranch… It’s only then that you realise your arms are still hanging limply by your sides that you return his embrace.

“I near about didn’t recognise you in the city get-up!”

You pull back, an accusatory look on your face that immediately falters when your heart skips a beat.

Of course he would only become even more attractive in your time away.

Leon S Kennedy had always been blessed in the looks department, that and his boyish charm had meant he’d always had a line of interested girls in high school and, with the way he seems to have aged like a fine wine, you don’t doubt that he must’ve made one his wife…

You shake off the thought, lying to yourself about why it had made your stomach sink in the first place.

“Uh-huh. My ‘city get-up’ compared to your look right now.” You can’t help but lift your hand and nudge the rim of the hat up with your forefinger. “When did you start wearing this?”

“Somewhere in the last, what, five years since you visited, right?” Leon tries to tease with a smile, arms still wrapped loosely around your waist, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Yeah. Well…” You shrug, the uneasy feeling in your stomach now replaced with a knot of guilt. “There was classes and work, hard to get back down here. And Grandma liked to come visit.” It wasn’t a lie – she did. “But with her health not being so great this year…” You trail off, not really wanting to think about it.

You step back out of his embrace at last then, immediately feeling a little colder for doing so. You lift an arm to scratch the back of your neck and Leon immediately recalls it as an anxious tell from your youth.

“Yeah… I’m mighty sorry to hear about that. She seems fit as a fiddle to me, you know? I still see her every Sunday at the market. Hell, if I’m particularly lucky, she’ll let me carry the bags to her car.”

You force a smile. “That’s sweet of you.”

“Nah, it’s the least I can do.” He shrugs, looking like he wants to say more.

Instead, he claps his hands together and jerks his chin towards your car. “Let’s see if we can get you on your way, huh?”

“Sure. I’ll… I’ll pop the hood.”

--

As Grandma would say, gosh darn it all to heck and back.

You thought you were over him.

Leon had been your best friend since practically birth, right up until the end of high school when you’d headed off to the city for college and he’d stayed to take over his father’s ranch. It was the summer before college that something had changed, how butterflies had started to blossom in your stomach every time he smiled at you, despite doing it hundreds of thousands of times before and had made the goodbye as you’d packed up to head off to the city bittersweet.

You’d promised each other you’d stay in touch – every Thursday night you had a scheduled phone call where you’d tell him all about your classes, what annoying thing your room-mates had been up to, how your manager had changed round all your shifts at the coffee shop again… He’d regale you with tales of home, what he was planning on changing around the ranch, what the latest uproar was in the town meeting.

Thursday evenings had quickly become your favourite night of the week, sacrificing sleep as you and Leon would talk into the early hours of the morning, sometimes finding yourself even drifting out to the comforting sound of his voice, and looking forward to every night when you could cross another day off the calendar until winter break began…

The butterflies are swirling around your stomach now, sure, but you also remember how much it had hurt when you’d raced up to the ranch as soon as you’d got home, only to find him kissing Lorelie Becker the front of the stables, a solitary sprig of mistletoe hanging from the arched doorway.

You’d turned heel and sprinted off as quick as you’d ran there. Grandma had commented on how quick a visit it had been and you’d dug your nails into your palm, shrugging it off that, oh, he hadn’t been around and you’d catch him tomorrow, fibbing that you were tired and going to have an early night, sobbing into your pillow for being so stupid in the first place to think that he’d thought of you as anything more than a friend.

That winter break had been awkward. Interactions with Leon felt too forced and you’d fed him excuses about having to help your grandma out at home instead of any of the plans you’d made over the phone the weeks prior. You’d even headed back up to college early, managing to snag some extra shifts to fill the weeks – all just to get away from the heartbreak. Slowly, those scheduled Thursday calls turned into messages left on answering machine, the occasional game of phone tag in an polite attempt to reschedule and then, eventually, stopped altogether.

You’d shrugged off the feeling of loss whenever you thought of him, or been reminded of something that would’ve made him laugh, something he’d like, or when Grandma had mentioned seeing him in town.  

The days had turned into weeks, months, and years…

And now, as you find yourself stood by the fence he’d hopped over, his hat resting besides you on one of the posts, staring at how dang good his rear looks in the well-worn, yet still stupidly fitted jeans, as he leans over, elbow deep in the components of your engine muttering under his breath, you realise how completely and utterly wrong you’ve been.

“Let’s see now...” Leon’s words break you out of your fixation as he stands up straight. He takes a moment to wipe off the oil from his hands on his jeans, drops down the hood with a satisfying thunk and turns to you, pushing the bangs out of his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Keys, darlin’?”

Your scalp tingles at the term of endearment and you could swear his cheeks are tinged red, but he clears his throat with a forced smile before clarifying.

“Your keys. Wanna make sure she turns over.”

“Oh.” You nod, stepping away from the fence. “Yeah, they’re still in the ignition.”

You walk over as he heads to the driver’s door, still open from your hasty exit, and watch as he leans in and turns the keys. The engine appears to start as normal - not a sputter to be heard nor a whiff of smoke to be seen.

Leon’s face erupts into a triumphant grin, but you can’t mirror it.

“It’s… It’s definitely safe to drive, right?”

The smile drops as he nods. “It’ll get you back to your grandma’s right enough. Mack took over the autoshop – I suggest you visit him before you head back down the highway…” He steps out your way and you hop into the driver’s seat, hoping to make a hasty exit.

“Thanks – saved me having to walk into town.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He shrugs. “Glad I was around.”

“I should…” You nod towards the open door. “Sorry, Grandma will start getting worried.”

“Yeah, ‘course.”

--

“I always thought he was a nice boy.”

“Hm?” You mumble in reply, too focused on rolling out the dough on the wooden table in the middle of the kitchen. Grandma liked to make gift baskets for the neighbours as presents – packed full of home-made preserves and baked goods – and you’d been trusted with making the sugar cookies, acutely aware of how strict she was about achieving the perfect thickness before she’d even entertain the idea of getting the cookie cutters out.

“Do you need these fangled hearing aid things, sugar?” Grandma teases, tapping the device on her ear. “I said – I always thought that Leon was such a nice boy.”

“He’s not a boy anymore, Grandma.”

“Nice man, then. You know, I always thought you two would end up together…”

“We were just friends, Grandma.” You reply on default – it’s not the first time she’s brought up the conversation after all. You’d dated, of course, over the last couple of years, but every time they’d fizzled out Leon’s name would eventually be mentioned.

“No, not just friends. I saw the way he looked at you! Besides, it’s not like he’s dating or anything. All the ladies at church are constantly pushing their granddaughters on him and he’s nothin’ but polite. Why, Maureen Becker has been going on and on about her Lorelie-“

“Grandma!” You snap – emotions still high, nerves frazzled after seeing Leon yesterday. You knew it had been a possibility but, heck, you wanted to be more prepared, more put together your first time seeing him face to face again. “Leon didn’t like me like that, okay? I don’t know what happened between him and Lorelie, but they looked pretty cosy that night I saw them under the mistletoe at the ranch, so just stop, okay?”

“What’s all this now?”

“Nothing. Forget I said anything,” you try and backtrack, leaning down onto the rolling pin a little too hard and with the next roll the dough is almost translucent.

“Well, all right, then.” Grandma purses her lips. “Say, I think we’re almost out of butter. You re-roll that dough and get the next batch on whilst I go fetch some.”

“That’s okay – I can go grab it and you just rest.”

“Hush”, she chides, already heading towards the door. “Doctor said it was good for me to do a little bit of a walk each day. I won’t be a tick.”

--

“Well, howdy, ma’am,” Leon dips his head in respect as he spots Grandma approaching, a determined look on her face as she stalks up the path to where he’d been mending a broken panel. “What can I do for…? Hey!”

She swats the hat off his head with a firm hand.

“Don’t you hey me – I’d love to take that hat and stomp it under my foot. Why, it would be mighty appropriate, don’t you think, the way you broke that poor girl’s heart? I would never-“

“Whoa, now.” Leon raises his hands in a practiced gesture – too often having had to use it on spooked horses – and takes a step back. “I’m afraid you’ve lost me, ma’am.”

Grandma takes a breath and scowls. "Lorelei Becker."

"Lorelei..." Leon trails off as he scratches his chin, trying to catch up. “From high school?”

"Yes.” She punctuates her response with a firm poke to his chest.

“Well, what about her?”

“The last winter break my sugar came home - she came straight here, only to find YOU smoochin' Lorelei under the gosh darn mistletoe!"

"What? No - that..." Leon backs up as Grandma pokes at him again, the jabs feeling like they’re already going to bruise. "That's not what happened."

"Here I was, thinkin' you were a fine, upstandin' fella and all this time-"

"No - I'd set that up for her! I...” He steps to the side, finally managing to dodge an assault. “I put up that mistletoe. Heck, I know it was corny, but I thought she'd like it… Then Lorelei showed up and just grabbed me – I didn’t even see her that night-"

Grandma stops and stares at Leon – it took him right back to his youth, stood in the kitchen at your house where the two of you had been scolded for taking the tractor out on a joyride in the dark – and he shrinks back in himself.

“You promise that’s the truth?”

“I swear, ma’am.”

“Well,” her face relaxes, “seems this dilly-dallying has all been a big misunderstanding all these years.”

“Er, dilly-dallying?”

“Dilly-dallying.” Grandma bends down before Leon can stop her, picking up his abandoned hat and dusting it off before offering it back to him. “You swing by ours in about an hour and we’ll sort out this mess once and for all.”

--

You’re about to take the next batch of cookies out of the oven when there’s a loud knock on the front door and Grandma is quick to whip the oven mitts out of your hands. “Get that, will you, sugar? I’ll get these.”

“But surely it’ll be for you-“

“Go on now,” she swots you with the gloves on the back of your legs, urging you towards the door. She’d been in a weird mood since she’d returned with the butter, not letting you leave the kitchen for a second, whilst she’d fussed around with something in the hall.

You swing open the door only to feel something swipe across the crown of your head – mistletoe dangling on a red ribbon from the doorframe between you and an equally looking surprised Leon, before realisation sets in across his face.

Your stomach sinks at what he must think.

“Wait, I did not put that-“

He smiles. “It was for you.”

“Huh?”

“The mistletoe. Not this one.” He clarifies, the plant still swinging side to side between the two of you. “Last time you came back from winter break. I’d hung it up at the entrance to the stables for you getting back, wanted to surprise you and then Lorelie Becker walked up, got all giddy, pulled me forward. I didn’t know you’d seen-”

You shake your head. “Look, I don’t know what Grandma told you, but-“

“Can I kiss you?”

“What?”

“I said,” he dips his head to remove his hat, “can I kiss you?”

You don’t respond – your body apparently switching into autopilot instead to those four words. You stand up on your tip toes, a hand flat on his chest for balance and kiss him ever so gently on the lips before your mind finally kicks into gear and you begin to retreat, an apology on the tip of your tongue.

But there’s an arm around your waist now, fingers threading through your hair on the back of your head as you’re pulled back into a desperate and long overdue kiss.

Grandma’s voice rings out from the kitchen.

“About dang time!”

--