Chapter Text
Leon doesn’t have the immense fanbase that Gordie does, nor the star power Nessa has, but he still has his admirers; those who throw him shy smiles, quick waves in the hallway. He’s always the gentleman, waves back, and even appears bashful. Flushed cheeks and twiddling thumbs that just add to his boy-next-door appeal.
“Country boy,” Raihan tells Leon when he stops to tie his shoe. “That’s what got all the honeys losin’ they shit over you.”
“Yeah, what about you?”
Raihan smiles. “Nah, I just think you a fox.”
“I’m more than my looks, Raihan, no matter how good they are,” Notice the disguised self-compliment. “Besides, I haven’t lived in the country for years.”
“Yah, but you still go back every summer,” Raihan hands him his books once he stands. “And it’s like in you, shit, I dunno. You don’t act like most’a the boneheaded jocks ‘round here. Not about jive. Kinda innocent.”
“That’s really sweet, Rai.”
“I’m known to be that at times, yes.”
Leon laughs.
He’s from Postwick, this little country town several hours away. His grandparents are farmers there, Leon’s told him his little brother Hop even has a pet sheep there. What type’a country, backwoods shit?
“I guess it’s that you’re nice,” Raihan goes on. “Not stuck up.”
“I don’t think I am,” Leon says. “Half the time I feel like I’m an asshole to everyone.”
“Not to me.”
“Especially to you! You my man, and I’m not even holdin’ your books! Here, gimme those.”
Leon all but snatches the books from his hands, tucking them under his other arm.
Raihan hums. “See, you got class. None’a these turkeys know how’ta act. They’d rather beat up on a brotha.”
Leon turns. “They stopped, right?”
“Yeah.” Shortly after it was clear to everyone they were an item. Raihan still doesn’t know what happened. All he knows is he doesn’t get pushed around anymore.
“Good.”
They walk in silence other than their footsteps. Leon’s quick, solid steps, and Raihan lazily dragging his feet.
“This’s me,” Raihan gestures to Missus Melony’s room.
“Okay, you want me to bring your books in?”
Raihan breathes a laugh. “Nah, baby, I think I can handle that much.”
Their fingers brush as Raihan takes his books back, and then he’s pressing a quick peck to the underside of Leon’s jaw, beard slightly scratchy against his nose.
Leon’s smiling that country boy smile. “See you later?”
“Bye, Lee.”
…
“Leon! Lee! C’mere!”
He turns, looks this way and that with an arm raised to shield his eyes from the bright, bright sun. Completely defeating the purpose of his baseball cap, which is turned backwards.
“This way, fool!”
Seems such an insult makes him get it right. He looks over at Raihan across the chain-link fence, yells something to his team, then makes his way over. His uniform is stained with grass, even some smudges on his cheeks and forearms. Even dirty as hell, Raihan can say it’s one of his favorite things to see Leon in. Hugs his body snugly, tighter than a pimp on the prowl. Especially around his biceps. Woof.
“You didn’t have’ta resort to name-calling, y’know?” Leon pulls off his cap, wipes some sweat from his forehead. His normally puffy, kinky hair looks damp. Ew. “Anyway, what’s happenin’?”
“You, apparently. Only thing everyone’s talkin’ ‘bout is you’n your game tomorrow.”
He gets this smug look on his face. “What? You jealous?”
“Nah. Think I’m envied in my own right. I’m the cat that got the baddest dude in school’s hand!”
Evidently, Leon’s mere presence was enough to both keep jive turkeys away and bump Raihan up the social ladder. Seriously. A bunch of folks had told him they wished they were in his place. Raihan wondered if this was going to make Leon’s already big head even bigger.
“Charmer,” Leon says, laces his fingers through the little holes in the fence. Raihan stares for longer than he’s sure is necessary.
He has a thing for Leon’s hands. His fingers are shorter and stumpier than his own, but thicker and wider. A few nicks and cuts on his knuckles. Neatly-trimmed nails. Calloused fingertips from pitching. These are hands that drop suckas. Hands that throw forkballs no one can hit. Hands that hold Raihan’s own. Gently, gently, gently.
“But you’re right,” Leon continues, bringing Raihan back from the depths of Leonland. “I’m glad everyone’s psyched for the game! Sonia’s s’posed’ta be interviewing the team, which is gonna be a total drag. Speaking of, here she comes now.”
Raihan looks over his shoulder to where Leon’s nodded, and sho’nuff, the perky redhead’s coming up the sidewalk, waving to the both of them. Miss Sonia Nash, the lead reporter for their school’s newspaper. All did up in her preppy threads and expensive-looking messenger bag.
“Hey!” She bumps shoulders with Raihan. “What’re you doing here, Rai?”
“Just visitin’ this turkey.”
“Yeah, I’m s’posed to interview him.”
“Which I never agreed to,” Leon huffs.
Sonia huffs back. “But everyone wants to hear from the ace pitcher!”
“The only pitcher,” Leon corrects. “You know how stressful this shit is?”
“But you wear it so good, baby,” Raihan rests his fingers atop Leon’s still in the chain fence. “Just like your uniform!”
“Don’t patronize me,” But he curls his fingers around Raihan’s tightly, and Raihan curses this damn fence, keeping him from kissing his man.
“Adorable,” Says Sonia. “Truly. Now will you let me interview you, Leon! Go get Coach Kabu!”
Leon snatches his fingers back unceremoniously, hands on his hips and a mean look to boot. “Don’t tell me what to do!”
Then they’re bickering. You couldn’t tell they’re childhood friends. Or maybe you could, Raihan supposes. You certainly can only talk to someone you’ve known a very long time with such virulence.
Leon screws his face up, gold eyes literal slits. “Get real! Who actually reads the paper? I sure as hell don’t!”
“Then there’s no reason why you can’t just tell me! No one’ll even see it!”
“I am not telling you my chest size, Sonia!”
Raihan nearly chokes. “Your what! Nah, Sonia, don’t nobody need’ta know all’a that but me!”
“Exactly!”
“But it’s what the people want!” Sonia nods so earnestly, her hair clips threaten to wiggle loose. “Who am I to deprive them of it?”
“Alright, I’m gone,” Leon throws his hands up, starting back towards his team. “This’s just too weird.”
Raihan elbows Sonia. “Now, look whatcha did! Ran him off!” Though there’s one upside. Getting to see how snug Leon’s uniform is around his endowed backside.
“He’s way too timid about this stuff. This’s what sells! Folks eat it up!”
“You know this’s a school paper, right, Sone?”
“Yeah, totally, but that doesn’t mean I can’t practice for when I’m in the big leagues. Pun intended!”
If anything, he can say he admires her tenacity.
The two watch as Leon and the team get started on what looks like fielding practice, or rather, a whole lot of sliding around on the ground. Raihan cringes. Athletes are another species.
Sonia sees the whole thing differently. Awe and admiration. “He worked so hard for that spot. Ace. I’m proud of him!”
Out on the mound, Leon looks elated. Filthy and muddy, but sporting a big ass grin.
Just seeing him has Raihan cheesing too. “Yeah. Me too.”
…
It’s lunch, and they’re sitting down with huge ass slices from the pizza joint down the street. The lunch of kings. Or at least when one of them’s got enough bread at the end of the week. It was Leon this week.
Raihan sets some napkins on the table, rubs his hands together to dig in when Leon asks him something. “Hey, you know where Nessa modeled last? I heard someone in the hall say she was in the middle of the ocean, Raihan. I swear, these rumors are out of control.”
“I dunno,” He shrugs, fills his mouth with warm, cheesy goodness. “But the way she was acting, you’d think she was Jet Beauty of the Week.”
Leon chortles, which quickly turns into a coughing fit because he had a mouthful of pizza. Raihan waps him on the back a few times—“Dang, Leon, drink somethin!”—and when Leon finally unlodges the food from his windpipe, there’s still a trace of a smile on his face. And also someone else sitting at the table with them. Nessa. Frowning something fierce.
“That’s what you get!” She tells Leon. “I could be a Jet Beauty if I wanted to.”
“Oh yeah,” Raihan snorts. “Like your folks would let that fly.”
Nessa rolls her eyes, crosses her arms, and the whole motion looks very… model-esque. Even though she looks like a different person at school, significantly dressed down in a simple skirt and tee, she carries herself like the camera’s still there. “Whatever. For your information, I really was on a boat in the sea. It was a shoot for a new fragrance.”
“You jivin’!” Raihan says. “How long it took to get out there?”
“Not long. We weren’t very far from the coast. I spent most of the time afterwards swimming.”
Leon looses a long whistle. “You sure live a charmed life, Ness. Wish I could go fancy places every week.”
Oh shit. Raihan clears his throat, bumps his elbow against Leon’s, trying to steer the conversation away from this. Alas, Leon doesn’t pick up what he’s putting down.
Nessa folds her manicured hands together, purses her lips. “Oh, is that so? I’m sure you’d love being away from your friends, having no social life, and barely staying afloat in school. I’m hip, I do lead quite a charmed life.”
Damn. Damn it. He peeks over at Leon, sees his eyes are wider than a big-bodied Chevy. Complete and utter confusion.
Raihan sighs. “Ness, he ain’t mean it like that.”
Nessa gives an even bigger sigh. Like she’s been holding it all day. “I know, I know. I’m just. Fed up with it all. I know you didn’t mean it, Leon. Sorry for snapping at you.”
“Um. S’all good. I’m sorry too.”
There’s a bit of an awkward silence. Leon stares down at his lap. Nessa smoothes down her hair.
Just when Raihan thinks he can’t take it anymore, Leon finally says, “Maybe you should tell your folks, Ness. ‘Bout how buggy it’s making you.”
“I know my parents would let me stop. They tell me all the time. But I know we… need it. Daddy barely brings in enough from the wharf,” She pauses. Takes a deep breath. “But I’m good. Really. I think I’m just hungry.”
Nessa then picks up Leon’s paper plate, takes a generous bite of his slice.
Leon nearly has a cow. “That’s mine!”
“Consider it a peace offering.”
“You’re a model! Ain’t you supposed to survive on lettuce and water?”
Raihan facepalms.
Nessa shrugs. “That’s no different than saying meathead athletes like you survive on raw eggs and stupidity,” She stands, Leon’s pizza still in hand, or rather, mouth. “I’m taking this. Gotta book. See y’all.”
“Chicks,” Leon huffs with a disgraced shake of his head.
“Mhm. Looks like you got some sense,” Raihan says. “You waited till she was good and gone ‘fore you said that.”
“Even I know better than to argue with all’a that mouth.”
“So. Still wish you had her life?”
“Nah. I couldn’t make it on just lettuce.”
Raihan laughs.
When he looks back over at Leon, he’s making a face. A bit peeved, a little puzzled, mostly cute. “I would’ve never known Nessa was having a tough time dealing with it all. She always looks… capable, I guess. Like she’s got everything under control.”
“Yeah, she don’t let many people in. Hell, she only told me ‘cause I kept pushin’.”
“I can’t believe I said that to her. Ugh, God, I’m an idiot.”
“You didn’t know, Lee. And anyway, y’all both apologized. It’s done.”
“I still feel like a jerk.”
Maybe they have two different definitions of the word ‘jerk’. To Raihan, a jerk isn’t someone who’s been stuck in detention with him countless times for sticking by his side. Or someone who shares snacks with him on the bus when he forgot his lunch money. Or someone who helps out their friend on the newspaper by giving a long, essay-worthy interview, though without mentionings of chest size. Nah. Leon makes mistakes, maybe has a mannish way about him at times, but he’s by no means a jerk.
He’s a really nice guy.
Raihan doesn’t realize he’s voiced this manifesto until it’s out. Oops.
And Leon looks downright sheepish, pushing some thick hair away from his face. It’s a sight to see. Stocky, stacked ass dude unnerved by a little honesty. “Man. When’d you get so wise?”
“Whatchu mean?” Raihan dusts off his shoulder. “I’ve had this wisdom for years. You just lucky I’m bestowing it to you.”
“That I am,” Leon presses a quick peck to Raihan’s chin and squeezes his thigh with a firm grip from years of pitching. “Immensely lucky.”
Raihan’s face feels like it’s on fire.
“So lucky,” Leon continues. “That you gon’ share your slice with me.”
“You ain’t that lucky, Lee.”