Who: Léon Pierroux & Leander Durant What: Léon's getting some pre-baby jitters. Leander just happens to be in the wrong life at the wrong time. Where: Leander's penthouse in L.A. When: Saturday, July 2nd, very early hours of the morning Warnings: TBD
As much as he could, Léon had done his best to be as solid as he could, for Esmé. He'd told her that he'd wanted to be in his child's life, that he wanted to be as much a part of this as if they were truly a couple, as if they'd planned to have this child together. He thought they were even friends, now, instead of two people who had given into impulse and a desire to not be alone, just for one night. They didn't have to be friends to raise a child together, of course, but Léon thought it would help. It was a relief, but he still felt it was necessary for him to be the strong one. The steady one. After all, he wasn't subject to the whims of a growing life; the hormones, the cravings, a body that was doing strange things that you couldn't control, that was all Esmé's burden to bear. Léon owed it to her, for bringing their child into the world, to be as calmly supportive as he could.
Léon wasn't calm. Not by any means. He was, however, exceptionally good at denying himself the things that he needed, and so his own need for someone to take some of the burden off his own shoulders had been pushed aside ever since he'd told Esmé that he would be there for her, like the father of her child ought to be.
Even while he'd watched her body change, when he'd seen the ultrasounds, heard the doctor talk about what they should be expecting, part of it hadn't seemed real, at the time. After all, there was no baby yet. Nothing to touch and hold. He couldn't feel her like Esmé could. There had been a moment, when they were putting the nursery together, when the whole thing had started sinking in, but he'd pushed it aside then, too. There was too much work to be done, and they'd pushed it off for far too long already for Léon to stall it any longer with a panic that he, frankly, didn't deserve.
Nothing in particular had set this off. Or, perhaps, it was everything altogether. The due date was approaching, though he knew enough to know that you couldn't rely on that to be accurate. It was just as likely that his child would be early, or even late (he didn't want to think of Esmé's reaction if that were to be the case). He'd checked in with Esmé that night, the same as he'd been doing since they'd hit the final month of her pregnancy. Nothing serious, just asking how she was doing, if she needed anything. It was a routine, at that point, and perhaps that had made it surreal enough that Léon finally completely realized why it was that he was bound to this woman so closely.
He was going to be a father. In less than a month, there would be a tiny person that relied partially on him to make certain that she stayed safe, healthy, and happy. Léon would be a father, and he didn't have the slightest idea what to do about it.
There were people that he could have gone to. He could have spoken to his mother. His sister. Even Pandora, as displeased as she was by the thought of Léon bringing a baby around, would have listened, if he wanted to talk. The truth of the matter was that Léon didn't want them. There was only one person that Léon fixated on, and that was the most unlikely person to offer him any real sort of comfort about his predicament at all.
Léon hadn't bothered to change back out of the comfortable, well-worn sweater and jeans so old and worn that you could almost see skin through them that he'd put on when he'd decided that there wasn't anywhere he needed to go that night. If he'd been human, it would have been too warm for the season. To him, the sweater was comfortable. Comforting. It was the only thing he could really count on to be comforting that night, but he knocked on Leander's door, anyway.