Chapter Text
With a steady tap tap tap rhythm on the side of the coffee cup, Leon sat lounging in his seat. His stubbled chin was propped up on his other hand as he stared out of the window, watching the people pass by. He should have been up and moving with them, the time on his watch already past when he should have been in the office, but still he didn’t make a move. The report he had been working on could wait an extra hour or so. With a steady hand, he took a small sip of his coffee, the brew having grown cold with his procrastination, but he was used to it, shrugging off the chill as he indulged in the bitterness.
The coffee shop was relatively quiet, which would be unusual if not for the majority of customers taking their drink to-go, only the occasional solo patron staying. There were only a couple of others typing away at their laptops while ignoring everything else going on. Leon didn’t pay any of them mind. He was just getting ready to head off himself, downing the last of his lukewarm coffee, when a pair of young women headed back from the counter, snapping up the table beside his as they sat giggling between them. The pair were keeping to themselves, passing a phone between them as they pointed and laughed.
Leon was content to leave them be, head off to finally go to work, when he heard a stray comment that gave him pause.
“It’s impossible to find a good man.”
The complaint was odd to him, but the way the woman said it made it seem like it was a fact. Normally he wouldn’t care for the conversations of others, especially strangers, but it was a topic that caught his attention. He wasn’t blind to the fact that his dating life hadn’t exactly gone swimmingly lately, he could count the amount of times he got a second date on one hand, and the amount of third dates was none existent. It looked like the problem wasn’t just one he was facing. His manners told him to leave them be, ignore the comment of a frustrated fellow singleton alone, but the lonely part of him wanted to hear what he could have possibly been doing wrong.
He didn’t feel good about it, but he settled back in his seat, pulling out his phone to fiddle with while he listened on.
“I don’t know, this one looks good.”
So they were looking at pictures of guys on their phone? Leon had to wonder how they knew anything about them and whether they were “good men” just from a pic.
“You can only see his bare chest.”
Well, he got part of an answer with that. Maybe he wouldn’t be learning anything at all from their conversation if all they were doing was discussing six packs.
“And? What are you looking for? To know if he follows the 666 rule?”
That comment had him pausing, his mind working overtime to try to recall if he had ever heard of the 666 rule before, and coming up short. Maybe it was something the men he knew had failed to mention to him, a missing piece that could explain a couple of things.
“And what the hell is the 666 rule?”
Apparently he wasn’t alone with being ignorant as the more disregarding of the two young women seemed to be at a loss too. Too bad the answer wasn’t what he thought it would be.
“Oh you know. Six figures, six feet, six inches.”
…What? He had never heard of any rule like that before, and he could make some guesses at just what each of those meant. Did women really have those specific expectations for men?
“Like, salary, height and…? Oh.”
Clearly he wasn’t the only one catching on to what her friend meant, though she didn’t seem as disagreeable to it like Leon was, just sounding curious. Oh Leon was curious about the reasoning behind it, but he had to admit he was also slightly disgusted at the idea to begin with.
“It’s all over the internet. So not looking for a guy that lives up to the rule, then?”
All over the internet? Was the entire world really buying into that bullshit metric? Leon didn’t think that was the case, at least nowhere he spent his time doom scrolling entertained such ideas.
“No. Besides, that just makes for even less potential dates.”
She had a point, she already apparently had a hard time finding “a good man”, so to add even more stipulations would make things impossible. Leon may be easy going with asking a woman out, preferring to go for someone he thought he clicked with, but just the thought of having extra specifications before even considering a date left him annoyed. He wouldn’t ever turn a woman down just because she was too short.
“Maybe you should try being more picky.”
Clearly her friend hadn’t caught on to what the other woman was talking about. From his position of staring at the same screen for almost too much time, all Leon could do was hear them as the two started shifting, a chair scraping across the floor as they both seemed to take their leave.
“Maybe you should try not listening to what random people on the internet think.”
Leon couldn’t agree more, feeling like maybe there was still hope for him. With just one final word, they headed out the door.
“Oh don’t worry, I don’t.”
With an audible thunk, Leon dropped his phone down on the table, his mind elsewhere while it ran back over the overheard conversation. Surely his problem wasn’t a superficial one, people had called him pretty often enough that he started to resent it, but the thought that the problem could be something even more specific than that had him through a loop. Six figures, six feet, six inches. Who came up with that?
If that was the case, he was in for a rough road right from the first part. The job he had been so kindly “asked” to join didn’t pay as well as it really should. He wished he made six figures, would make risking his life to fight man made abominations a little more palatable, but instead he was treated to the occasional bonus and utilizing mission expenses as best he could. He had what could be considered a prestigious job working for the government, but that wouldn’t be considered enough because he wasn’t paid enough for it?
Not to mention, at 5 '11 noted down at his last check up, he struck out on the second one too, and by a single inch. If he was wearing shoes, it was practically the same thing, but did it really matter that much? Was any kind of height difference that palpable that someone would be rejected because they missed out by an inch?
Then there was the final point. Six inches. Of course it was a measure a lot of men critiqued themselves on, especially the inexperienced ones. But for what it was worth, he’d had no complaints in that department. Whether he hit that magical six number, well-
Leon had done enough thinking, suddenly shaking himself out of the stupor of thought he had locked himself into as he suddenly stood up and snatched his phone, making a hasty and probably not too quiet exit. But he needed to get moving, and from the quick snatch of a glance at the clock on the wall he saw as he headed for the door, he was getting too late that not even he could excuse.
Whatever problem he had finding the right partner, he was sure some bullshit rule had nothing to do with it.
A report. It was always a report. You hummed to yourself, a nonsensical tune that was low under your breath. It wasn’t that you were happy per se, work was work after all, but you had something to do. You couldn’t even pretend to be surprised when you went to file your latest mission report, only to find out Leon hadn’t filed his. Of course he hadn’t, and probably wouldn’t for a few days yet. It was too bad that it would come down on you too if they weren’t submitted and done. But you weren’t the golden boy, so instead you needed to give him a kick up the ass to get his work done. No one said being his partner was easy.
You knocked on the door to his office, perhaps a tad too hard with how loud it sounded. Despite the knock you didn’t wait to be let in, turning the handle to open the door almost straight away. You were met with the blinking eyes of Leon, the man slouched in his chair and with absolutely no paperwork in front of him. Typical.
“Do you have to keep just walking in?” he asked as he scowled at you, chin resting on a fist and looking every part the moody teenager arguing with his mom. In the space of a blink you took him in, from the blond bangs hanging shaggily but still styled to the strong, carved face that could render a person weak at the knees from just a look. Whether he knew the effect he had on people was still yet to be seen.
“What’s the big deal?” you countered as you closed the door behind you and rounded his desk, perching on the corner of it as you plucked up a hefty paperweight and juggled it between your hands.
He reached for the cracked glass ball in your hands, snatching it back as he answered, “Maybe I needed some privacy.”
You just stared at him before looking around the room. “In your office?”
“Maybe.”
He was back to sulking, clearly not at the top of his game that day. Best you could do was address why you were there and move on. “Whatever. Your report is due.”
“They always are,” he muttered as he shuffled the paperweight himself, not at all looking like he was about to start typing.
“Yeah I know. What I mean is the report for our mission is due,” you explained, hoping the thought of you getting in trouble too might be the push he needed. From the sigh he answered with, you guessed not. “I’m not getting in trouble with old Smith just because you’re lazy.”
“I’m not lazy. Just bored,” he countered as he dropped the paperweight back down with a loud thump.
“Nobody likes reports. Write your chicken scratch and call it a day,” you told him. At his noncommittal shrug, you gently added. “All you have to do.”
Leon didn’t look at you at all, just shifting to stare out of his window as he muttered, “Cluck cluck.”
That was a bad quip, even by Leon’s standards. You watched him closely, noticing the clench of his jaw, the slight frown on his brow. He wasn’t just off, he was practically fuming. “What’s wrong?”
“What makes you think something is wrong?” he retorted in a sharp sounding huff.
“I don’t know, the major sulk you have going on?” you replied, shifting around on his desk to get closer to him. That was when he turned to look at you. Too bad he had a terrible poker face.
He smirked forcedly, blue eyes lacking their usual spark. “Sarcasm is the funniest form of wit.”
“You should know,” you said. It was true, there wasn’t a single person who worked in the building who had a better sarcasm game than Leon. Usually, anyway. He was still staring at you expectantly, and you guessed that he wanted you to drop it. You wouldn’t. “I’m not leaving.”
Leon didn’t seem to move, clearly taking your waiting for a challenge. He oddly gave up pretty quickly. “Maybe it’s because it’s dumb,” he mumbled as he looked away from you again.
Slowly he was cracking and you were getting somewhere. “Probably. But it’s bugging you, so tell me.”
With a long drawn out groan and his head between his hands, he finally returned. “I was at JavaJoe’s Coffee this morning-”
“Explains why you were late,” you cut him off. It was well known he was often tardy, very rarely could you find him in the office before ten.
“What, are you my mother keeping tabs on me?” he snarked back. Even though he was snappish, he at least seemed to have perked up a little. “Anyway. There was a couple of girls-”
“They both turned you down?” you joked. His struggles with dating were well talked about in the office. Honestly the more you thought about it, the more you realized what a mess Leon was.
“You want me to talk?” he said with a sharp look.
“Sorry, go ahead.”
With another sigh and a promise from you that you’ll let him talk, he carried on. “They were talking, and said something.” He stopped for a dramatic pause, one that had you raising an eyebrow for him to continue. “Ever heard of the 666 rule?” he eventually asked.
You just blinked at him, confusion threading through your mind as you tried to think back on if you had heard that before. You came up with nothing. “No, what is that? A satanist rule?”
Leon let out a huff, what you assumed was the closest thing to a laugh he could manage. His explanation didn’t clear much more up. “No. Apparently it’s the rule for the perfect man.”
“What?”
At your stunned comment, Leon just carried on explaining. “Six figures, six feet, six inches.” Said simply but dramatically, you just fell deeper into disbelief with each word.
Tracing your mind over each word, you considered just what each of those ideas could be. It came surprisingly easily. “So six figure salary, six foot tall and packing six inches?” you asked him for clarification.
“Right on the mark,” he replied, perhaps a little too cheerily despite what he had just came out with.
There was only one word to sum up the “rule” Leon had just told you. “Bullshit.”
“Glad you think so,” he said with a genuine chuckle, his mood lightening somewhat. It was clear then that he just needed someone to vent to.
“This is actually bugging you, isn’t it?” you questioned, wondering if it really did get under his skin so much. The noncommittal shrug he gave you pretty much confirmed it. It was the why that got you. For all intents and purposes, Leon was a catch, just a little unlucky at finding “The One” if you had to guess. You never would have thought that his single status bugged him that much. It was then that it fully clicked into place for you. Leon was looking for a reason as to why he couldn’t make dating work, and unluckily for him, he didn’t fit the bill for those rules. Well as far as you knew anyway. It was time to analyze that. “You barely get paid better than me, so I know you don’t make six figures. And last physical before our mission, you were 5’10?”
“5’11,” he corrected.
Damn he struck out the first two. “So that leaves…” You couldn’t help it, your eyes darting down to catch a glimpse of his crotch. He moved out of the way just as quickly.
“Did you just try to look at my dick?” he accused as he shuffled his chair to tuck himself under the desk and out of your line of sight.
“Sorry,” you mumbled, trying to ignore the flush creeping through your skin at the realization of just what you tried to do. All you could do was move on and not think about his dick. “As I said, it’s bullshit,” you began, getting back to your original point. He didn’t seem to be buying it, so all you could do was up the ante. “What about us women, is there a rule for us?” you asked him, but from the look on his face you could tell he didn’t consider that. You hummed trying to think of what those rules could be. “Make six sandwiches in a minute, or tits six times the size of our waist? Oh. Deepthroat six inches.”
“You can’t do that?” Leon snidely asked you with a smirk.
You just bit the tip of your tongue, the flush beginning to simmer again. He could be one hell of a charmer when he wanted to be. But he was also your colleague, one who was struggling with something, so again you diverted back on track. “What I’m saying is, do you have such high expectations for women?” you finally asked him.
“No.”
You nodded at his answer, sliding off his desk as you stepped back towards his door. It was time for you to make your exit. “Then don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’re adequate.”
“Thanks,” he sarcastically muttered, but the smile on his lips was genuine. Hopefully you had put him at ease.
“Anytime, dork,” you called him, pulling open his door to finally head out, but not before leaving him with a parting command. “Do your report.”
You shut the door firmly behind you, blocking out whatever comment he was going to throw back your way. Rather than taking off down the corridor to your own office just a few doors down, you instead just shifted over a couple of steps, sagging back against the wall with your mind running rampant. You never would have thought something so stupid would get to Leon of all people. He always seemed confident, witty and sure. Even after getting turned down by various colleagues, some which even you were actually privy to, he just shrugged it off and went on his way. You just assumed he wasn’t bothered, but now you had to wonder if there was more to it. What else could he possibly be hiding? It was a question that lingered, but nothing you could do more about. Instead all you could do was head off to your own office and hope that your impromptu pep talk would do its trick. Unfortunately a part of you deep down doubted it.