Morning At the De Leon's

Posted on 21 Mar 2024 @ 12:09 by Gwen DeLeon & Corporal Miguel De Leon

3,814 words; about a 19 minute read

Mission: April Fools
Location: De Leon Home
Timeline: Early April

The thud of Miguel's running shoes echoed off the pavement as he ran up the small hill along the side of the road. The streetlights were placed far apart, so he was in darkness until he would reach the crest. The weather this morning was relatively cool, though the sun would bring with it the usual warmth of springtime. He'd woken early as he usually did and slipped out of their house for his customary three mile run. He varied his route, and today had opted for one that would have more hills to climb. His reflective belt was over his shoulder, a carryover from his days in the Army. While his badge hung around his neck on a chain under his shirt, he carried a Sig Sauer P938 in a ankle holster. The small 9mm was the gun he usually took for his runs since it weighed less than his Sig P229 that he normally carried off duty.

Miguel checked his watch when he was in the glow of the light. The G-shock he always wore was on his left wrist, facing inward, before looking ahead again. Plenty of time to finish his run and make it into the office. He remembered Sergeant Nell telling him he'd have a new trainee today, so he wanted to be in early enough before the start of his shift. He rounded the soft corner and spotted his driveway at the end of the street. He slowed his pace as he made his way up the drive, before stopping at the gate to their back yard. His chest rose and fell as he caught his breath and checked his stop watch. Pleased with the time, he unlatched the gate and stepped through before relatching it behind him.

He made his way to the back door and topped by the pullup bar that he had installed on the back porch. Gripping the bar, he pulled his chin up and over in rapid succession as he completed 15 reps in groups of five. Dropping back to the ground, he found pulled his keys from his pocket and unlocked the door before stepping inside quietly. The house was dark and his eyes quickly adjusted as he made his way towards the master bedroom. He paused at the door to his son, Mateo's room, as he opened it and peeked inside. The little five year old was fast asleep, posters of dinosaurs festooned the walls. Smiling to himself, Miguel closed the door before making his way into the bedroom.

He saw Gwen's form and made his way over to kiss to top of her head softly. She stirred when he drew near, her ability to sense his presence as he smiled down at her.

"Sorry cario. I didn't mean to wake you," he said softly.

Her murmured reply was unintelligible, voice laced with the lingering edges of sleep. Twisting away from the edge of the bed, she arched her back and tugged her arms out to her sides, taking up the whole bed for a moment as she stretched. It was a luxurious sort of movement but when she released it, her eyes were open and on her husband. Mateo didn’t need to be up for another hour and a half to get ready for school and she could easily sleep another hour. But Miguel had seemed a bit more withdrawn this week and she wanted a few minutes alone with him even if it was just to stare blearily at each other over a cup of coffee.

"Good morning, guapo," she said, eyeing him. The use of the Spanish word for handsome usually garnered her a smirk. She'd never quite perfected her pronunciation, though she tried.

Miguel smiled at her before giving her a soft kiss on the lips. "Mateo is still fast asleep," he said before standing and glancing at his watch again. "Is it alright if I pop in the shower amore," he asked indicating the master bath with his thumb. Normally Miguel would've had a bit more time to spend in bed, but he wanted to be in early since he was getting a new rookie to break in today.

"'Course," she murmured, sleep still coloring her words. She saw the quick glance at his watch and her lips twitched slightly upward. Fastidious. That's probably the best word for him. Miguel was one of those people who bought into the idea that if you wanted to be on time that meant be there fifteen minutes early. When he paused for just a moment longer, ducking to grab one more kiss she met his lips, but then pushed back on his chest with her hands--a bit like pushing against a wall. "You smell," she teased. "Go get clean."

"I thought you liked my musky smell," he said teasingly as she pushed him away again. He turned made his way over to the bathroom door. He turned the lights on and left the door open a crack, a small stream of light showing into the bedroom as he let the shower heat up. He removed his watch and set it on the counter top before stripping off his damp cloths and throwing them into the hamper. The dog tags he still wore from his days in the army jangled slightly as he stepped under the hot stream from the shower.

Once he was finished, he stepped out of the shower and dried himself off before hanging the now damp towel on his hook and slipping on a clean pair of compression shorts. He stood in front of the sink and looked at his reflection in the mirror as he always did, the scars along his abdomen from the wounds he'd sustained in combat featuring prominently. He felt eyes on him as he met Gwen's gaze as she stood in the door way watching him.

She met his eyes in the mirror, expression still sleepy, but eyes sharp. Her gaze drifted, appreciative, but it wasn't the usual look of desire that the two of them passed back and forth. This was more thoughtful and after only a second she pushed off the door frame and came to stand behind him, wrapping her arms around his middle and resting her head on his back. "What's going on in that head of yours?" she asked quietly against his skin.

Miguel leaned back into her as he sighed slightly. "Just the usual you know," he said softly before pausing. "They're back," he said into the silence, knowing she would not need an explanation.

Gwen held still, letting the fear that statement engendered roll through her before setting it aside. Quietly she slipped around, wedging herself between Miguel and the sink and then sliding her arms around him once more. She breathed him in, all warm clean skin and a scent she recognized solely as her husband's and asked the question she knew she had to. “How long?”

He let her slip around him and he rested his chin on the top of her head before wrapping his own arms around her and pulling her closer. "The last few weeks. It was just one time, but after we heard about Thorpe...," he said softly before trailing off, "Now it's been every other night." He was referring to the nightmares that had all started back from when he was wounded in Afghanistan. After his medical discharge, there'd been no talk of PTSD. But, after suffering through the nightmares and hitting a low point, Miguel had finally sought help from the VA. He was seeing a therapist regularly now, and until the last few weeks, he had controlled most of it.

She breathed in slowly, half of her mind slipping into the checklist she had memorized–things she knew to ask in a bid to understand how bad it was. "Any panic attacks?" She asked, nuzzling his shoulder as she did.

He increased his grip on her as he felt her gentle movements. “No, just the dreams for now,” he said in response.

She breathed a sigh of relief. "And have you needed the rescue meds?"

“No, but I’ve made sure to keep them handy just in case,” he answered before he relaxed his grip slightly and pulled back to look at her in the eyes. “I haven’t said anything to Nell yet. He knows I was on the meds but I’d been weaned off them,” he said referring to his shift commander.

Gwen held his gaze, studying him. There was an earnestness to his face, a vulnerability that she knew very few got to see. There wasn't an inch of him that she didn't know and yet she found herself memorizing the way the dampness of his hair, the set of his jaw, the quirk of his lips.

"Didn't Dr. Peterson give you an idea of how soon you should speak up? Have you called him yet?" She asked. Her own expression was frank, concern mixed in with a gentle resolve. She knew he had worried about how medication might be perceived, but she worried what his shift commander might say.

Miguel shook his head as he avoided her gaze. She was well aware of the instructions he had received from his VA appointed psychiatrist, and she kept him on the assigned regimen. “He mentioned in our last session that if they persist for a week, then I should come back in and we will discuss it. He left it up to me if I should tell my superiors. I just,” he said before trailing off and turning to look back to her, “I don’t know if I’m ready to tell Nell officially yet.”

“You don’t need to tell him yet. Dr. Peterson first. And me. And that part’s already done,” she said gently, placing both of her hands on either side of his face. “I love you Miguel De Leon. We’ll figure this out. Together.”

“Last time ….you remember what a stir this all caused,” he offered as he remembered the period in question. He was fresh out of the police academy and working as a probationary deputy. Not wanting to admit he had an issue at the time, his condition progressed to where he had a few breakdowns while he was working. His status as a veteran had saved his job, though the Sheriff's Office had mandated he seek help which he did. The medication he had taken was approved by the command staff, but he was always worried about relapsing. He remembered the weird looks people had given him, and it was one of the reasons he had requested a transfer to the mid-watch. Mid-watch generally had a slower pace and allowed him to return to a semblance of normality.

Gwen frowned at that. She did remember and had been beyond indignant about it. From her perspective the “stir” was completely unacceptable. There were plenty of men and women on the force who had prior military service and the numbers alone suggested there had to be plenty of others experiencing the same difficulties. What had Dr. Peterson said again? One in four people? Something close to that at least. “That was then,” she reminded him. “This is now. We know a lot more now. We know the signs and the steps to take.” She leaned in, hugging him again and pressing her lips to his shoulder affectionately. “We’ll figure this out,” she repeated. “Together.”

He felt her lips on his shoulder and he melted into her embrace. “I love you Gwen, always,” he said softly as he closed his eyes and placed a kiss on top of her head. He held her there in that moment, the two of them one. He could feel her hands snaking up to wrap around the back of his neck while he leaned back and found her upturned lips. He kissed her softly, and held her there. Her fingers traced the outline of his hair at the base of his neck.

As they stood locked in their embrace, Miguel finally sighed before looking down at her to smile again. "Oh no, looks like my morning run stank has gotten on you. You'll have to join me in the shower to get clean," he said with a mischievous look and grin.

She barked a laugh, the intensity of the moment dissolving as she took in this wet hair and damp towel hanging from its assigned hook. "Were you that bad at washing the first time around or is this just a ploy to get my clothes off?" She asked teasingly.

It was an interesting thing, the way a very serious conversation could lead to moments of passion–sometimes with greater intensity because of the emotions stirred up. How playfulness and amusement could exist in the same space as worry and uncertainty.

“I did lock the door,” she murmured mischievously when she'd stopped laughing. Her statement was more for confirmation that they could take this as far as they wanted without fear of needing to explain their activities to an inquisitive five-year-old. She raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for his reply.

---

Miguel pulled on his shirt before grabbing the fresh uniform which hung on hangers from the shared closet. He walked down the small hallway and headed towards the kitchen where he heard the voice of Gwen and Mateo. He hung the uniform up on the small hat rack next to the entry hall before stepping into the kitchen.

“Papi,” came the excited cry from Mateo as the young boy ran over to Miguel with arms outstretched. Miguel knelt down and embraced his son with a big bear hug. “Mateo, Buenos días hijo,” Miguel replied in Spanish as he scooped the boy up and looked at him. Miguel and Gwen had agreed after Mateo was born that they would teach him both Spanish as his second language. “Did you sleep well buddy,” he asked. He saw Gwen watching them out of the corner of his eye as she stood by the stove with a smile on her face.

“Si, I told mommy about the dream I had last night,” Mateo replied as Miguel carried him towards the table in the kitchen. “Really, and what was your dream about hijo,” Miguel asked as he gave Gwen an upraised eyebrow.

There had been time that morning, even despite their extracurricular shower activities, so Gwen had started work on omelets while Miguel finished getting ready for work. She simply gave him an amused shrug at Mateo’s enthusiasm. The five year old had started telling them the elaborate dreams he had a few months ago, corresponding, Gwen had noted, with a tendency to get up somewhere around 1 am and make a mad dash half asleep to the bathroom. The dreams themselves, though, were wildly imaginative and she hadn’t decided how much was truly a dream her son had and how much was his enthusiastic telling of the story--a bit like a fisherman whose fish seemed to get bigger with each telling.

Miguel sat Mateo down in his chair as the young boy regaled them with tales of running through the woods and chasing after dinosaurs. They had recently taken a trip to the La Brea tar pits, and Mateo had become enamored with dinosaurs. Miguel smiled to himself as he made his way over to the coffee maker and gave Gwen a wink as he pulled his mug from the cabinet. He filled it with the fresh coffee and added the appropriate sweetener and cream. He then sat down at the table as Gwen placed his breakfast in front of both father and son.

“Sounds like you had a good night’s sleep hijo,” Miguel said as he blew the steam across the surface of the coffee and took a sip.

Gwen returned with her own plate and sat on the other side of Mateo, her own mug of coffee appropriately doctored and steaming in her hand as she sat. She didn’t bother setting it down, but instead lifted it for a sip, eyes dancing across the table at her husband as she gave him a mischievous wink.

Miguel caught the look from Gwen, and in their brief eye contact, he gave her a small smile as he picked up his fork and took a few bites of his omelet as he watched the back and forth between his son and his wife. Mateo was getting bigger every day. His parents liked to say he would be tall and lanky like Miguel had been, but time would soon tell. So far, most of Miguel’s dark complexions had shown on the boy. But, the one thing everyone could agree on was he had his mother’s eyes. His smile grew for a moment before his gaze turned down to the plate in front of him. He could feel his chest tightening, his emotions trying to fight their way to the surface. He still could not believe that this was his family. Here was his son and wife, who both loved and adored him. And the whole time, all Miguel could think about was how close he had come to losing this all. He could feel his eyes getting moist, and he quickly wiped them away. Mateo, in all his excitement, had not noticed the act, but Miguel could feel Gwen’s eyes on him.

"Mateo, why don't you go make sure your library book is in your bag?" Gwen said, tone light and encouraging. The little boy shoveled the last mouthful of eggs into his mouth and slid out of his chair, padding off in the thunderous way of 5-year-old boys. "Shoes in ten minutes!" She called behind him.

She craned her neck, watching until he was out of sight and then she slid her hand across the table and wrapped her fingers around her husband's. There were days where knowing what to say felt nigh on supernatural and now was no different. "We're not going anywhere my love," she said softly, squeezing his hand. "I love you."

He had watched Mateo run off towards his bedroom. He looked over at Gwen as her fingers wrapped around his own. He squeezed her hand back and gave her a small smile. “I love you too,” he said softly. He knew she meant every word, and she knew what to say to keep him grounded. He looked off towards their son’s bedroom. He cleared his throat lightly before speaking again, “I just….I catch myself thinking lately about where I’d be without you and Mateo.” He then looked back at her, “But then I get mornings like this and…I just want to savor each and every moment.”

A momentary frown of concern crossed her face at his admission, but it cleared quickly. Still, her mind spun. Thinking about what could have been wasn't, in and of itself, a problem. But coinciding with the return of his dreams… "You know that all of this… us… it wouldn't be possible without you too?" She squeezed his hand again then released it, reclaiming her coffee mug and sipping. "Mornings like this only exist with you in them."

He nodded again, twirling his own mug around to grab the handle and sip. “I know amor,” he said before smiling up at her again. He checked his watch before washing the last of the omelet down with his coffee. He picked up his plate and brought it over to the sink. He turned the water on but felt her wrapping her hands around his waist. He closed his eyes and turned around to face her, wrapping his own arms around her race and pulling her close. He pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes. “I love you Gwen,” he said softly.

"I love you too," she whispered back, shifting to kiss him gently.

"Mooom! Papi!" A small voice exclaimed.

Gwen broke off their kiss dipping her head against Miguel's shoulder and turning it to look at Mateo. "Mateo…" she sing-songed back at him in a near perfect imitation of his plaintive complaint.

"Papi why do you like kissing Mom?" The little boy asked with all of the disgust a 5 year old could muster.

Miguel smiled at Mateo before looking down at Gwen. “Well hijo, Let’s just say that mom…well…she had some food stuck to her mouth so I was just helping her to clean it up,” he said giving Gwen a wink. Mateo rolled his eyes before looking at them both. Miguel was proud of himself for the comeback, but he knew Mateo didn’t buy it. Thankfully a five year old’s attention span was fairly short and Mateo looked to Gwen, “Can I watch TV before school,” he asked his eyes hopeful.

"No " Gwen said, firmly. "You know we don't watch TV on school mornings. It's time for shoes anyway. Go." And she shooed him in the direction of the door where there was a small pile of shoes.

Miguel checked his watch again. It was time for him to head to the station now, and he kneeled down so he would be more to Mateo’s height. “Hijo, where’s my hug before I head to work,” he asked, opening his arms expectantly. The young boy quickly ran over to his dad and Miguel enveloped him in a bear hug. “What do we say hijo,” he asked as he looked at his son.

“Te amo papá. Rezo para que tengas un buen día,” Mateo said in Spanish. “Yo también te amo hijo. Tener un buen día en la escuela,” Miguel replied. As the boy ran into the living room, Miguel stood and made his way over to the counter. He grabbed his badge and pulling out his dog tags, he hung it from them before returning it to a place under his shirt. He then pulled the hem of his shirt up and checked that his Sig Sauer was secured to his hip. He made sure Mateo was not watching when he did this, lest the young boy ask questions about the weapon. He grabbed his keys and turned to look back at Gwen, “Text you when I start my shift,” He said before blowing her a kiss.

"Nope," she said, chuckling and closing the distance between them. "I only accept real kisses on work mornings." She pressed a quick kiss to his lips before pulling back and calling. "Mateo… Shoes now please."

With a smile, he turned and headed towards the back door, grabbing his uniforms as he did so. His heart was full of the love he had just experienced from his family that morning. He felt that today was going to be a good day.

 

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