"Babe, stop moving, dammit."

(Leon swore under his breath, shifting in his seat.)

(He threw his head back when he lost a game of match with his friends, his eyes finding his microphone biting his lips to contain the groans)

(Well, you were the reason for that: You were in his lap. Sitting on top of him, desperate for his attention.)

(Leon knew you were trying to get a reaction out of him by distracting him from his game.)