Simple Pleasures: Annie Leonhart x Reader

Chapter 4: Vulnerability

Now changed into your bathing suit, you grab two beach towels from the bathroom: one for you and one for Annie.

"Hey!" you shout from the bathroom. "You ready? I think my parents are already down there."

You hear a plain "yes" come from the bedroom. As you exit the bathroom, you see Annie come out of the bedroom. The confident, stern air around her seems to have faded and given way to what seemed like slight nervousness, maybe even insecurity; she seemed on edge. Not in an aggressive way, but in a way that a bird might be on edge as it perches in an unfamiliar tree. She stood at the doorway, holding one of her arms with the opposite hand and looking down at the floor. She is wearing the same gray t-shirt, but you can tell from the straps hugging her bare shoulders that she is wearing a two piece swimsuit.

"You okay?" you ask her, concerned.

"Will your parents be okay with me wearing this in front of them?" she asks meekly.

Despite comprehending what she had asked, you do not quite understand the question.

"What?" you start. "Yeah, of course they will! We're swimming, after all," you say with a smile, trying to ease her nerves.

"You're sure?" she asks one more time.

The request for reassurance was unexpected. Usually, Annie is confident and self-possessed. You know her as a decisive, unrelenting force, always steadfast and determined in whatever task she executes. Yet, here, you sense something in Annie that you are not used to: vulnerability. Perhaps this vulnerability is mental; she could be feeling out of her element with your parents and the overall circumstances of the trip. Or maybe the vulnerability stems from a place of physicality, being that she is physically more exposed than she is used to. You are not sure. Regardless of the cause, though, you could tell that Annie was not happy with how she felt: you want to change that.

"I'm positive." you say, walking up to her and grabbing her hand. Trying to reassure her even more, you start up again. "I mean, we're going to have to do our annual midnight skinny dipping at some point, so," you say as seriously as you can manage.

She looks up at you, eyes wide and face flushed in red. Before she can even formulate a response, you put an end to the list of questions that she is undoubtedly asking herself in her head.

"Kidding, totally kidding," you say, bumping her with your hip. You give her a hug, which she returns—but only after giving you a soft punch in the back.

"You're not funny," she says.

"I know, I'm sorry for lying," you respond. Still holding her, you whisper in her ear one last message: "It's actually more of a 2 AM skinny dip."

Before she can wrestle you to the ground—as you know she is going to try—you break the embrace and rush towards the stairs, exiting the cabin. She runs after you, with a determined, steely look on her face. There she is: Annie Leonhart.

Your plan had worked. You knew that if you could rile her up, she would slip out of her funk. And now, seeing her sprint towards you on mounds of dirt, bark, and pine needles, you knew that she had forgotten all about her nerves.

You are aware that all of these jokes and bits of banter are juvenile. You know that many of your one liners are cheesy, cliché, and, well, by now, probably overdone. Even still, you continue your verbal poking and prodding at her. You found that the playfulness you bring to the relationship balances well with her consistent and relatively unchanging sternness. Though this type of silly communication is already second nature to you and simply part of who you are as a person, you tend to lean into it even more when you are around Annie. Not in some desperate attempt for attention, especially given that it seldom elicits any sort of grand reaction in the first place, but because something about Annie encourages you to be your true self around her, goofiness and all. Her very energy makes being playful—makes being you—comfortable.

She catches up to you, and gently pushes you. You stumble a bit, but regain your balance. She laughs, and you laugh with her.

"Are we friends again?" you ask, sticking out a hand for a handshake.

"Shut up," she responds, grabbing your hand and propping herself up on her toes to plant a kiss on your lips.

Hand in swinging hand, you walk down to the lake, careful not to slip on any gravel. The lake itself is below the circle of cabins; to get down, you have to traverse some poorly made trails among the towering evergreen trees. It was already certainly cooler, though. Only a few feet away from the cabin, and the temperature feels as if it has dropped nearly ten degrees. Between the shade of the trees and the chilled breeze, you almost wish you had brought a sweatshirt down with you.

Soon enough, you see your parents, who have set up all four chairs.

"Well, look who decided to show up!" jokes your dad.

"The lovebirds have arrived!" your mom proclaims to no one in particular.

You laugh, and squeeze Annie's hand—your signal for "I'm happy you're here." She squeezes back.

"Well," you say, looking at Annie, then your parents. "Shall we?"

With a symphony of agreements from the three of them, your dad unbuttons and removes his shirt, your mom slips out of her sundress, and Annie slides off her t-shirt. You shed your covering too, joining the swimsuit-clad group.

"On three," your mother says.

"One... two... THREE!"

All four of you race down to the lake, letting out screams of joy as the cold water splashes your warm bodies. As the water droplets fly to the air, the world around you slows down. You see your dad grab your mom by the waist in an attempt to pull her into the water, you see a group of startled ducks fly away, you see Annie. And, as you watch her, truly watch her, you see her open mouth transform from shock from the cold to a genuine, unbridled, unrestrained laugh.